The air inside Jaded Brews is thick with the aroma of hops and barley, a familiar comfort that does little to ease the turmoil churning in my gut.
I’m slumped at the bar, a half-empty pint of the brewery’s signature ale in front of me, and I’m totally lost in thought.
The past week has been a whirlwind.
One week ago, I’d been a bundle of nerves, getting ready to go to an event that would totally rock my world. I just didn’t know it yet.
One week ago, I’d forgotten about the shitstorm my life had become, thanks to Jillian and her infidelity.
One week ago, I’d had the most mind-blowing sex of my life—all with a mysterious woman I know I’ll never have the opportunity to see again, thanks to Club Nocté’s rules.
Then … in walked Carlie.
All thoughts about the woman from Nocté left my brain and instead, had me focusing on her. I can’t help but think about how differently things could have turned out if only ...
My thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Dylan slides onto the stool beside me, his arrival marked by a cheeky grin.
“Adam, my man, staring into your beer won’t give you answers. Tried it last week. All I got was a headache and a weird conversation with a barstool,” he teases, tipping his chin in hello to my brother.
“That barstool probably made more sense than you on most days.” Brian, ever the keen observer and part-time philosopher behind the bar, fires back.
I manage a half-smile, still lost in my own world. “You guys wouldn’t understand.”
“Man, try me. I can’t go through another Friday night with Mr. McMopey,” Dylan comments, signaling Brian for a drink. “You look like someone ran over your dog”
“More like someone ran over his pride,” Brian mutters, eyeing me with a combination of concern and amusement. Fucking siblings.
I shoot them both a glare and place my palm over the center of my chest. “Thanks for the support, guys. Really, truly touching.”
Dylan leans in, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “So, what’s got you all twisted up? Daydreaming again about the mystery woman from last weekend?”
I turn to him, incredulous. “What? No, you asshole. I got fired.”
He winces and part of me can’t help but feel smug about it. “Oh, shit. Sorry, man. I figured this was woman trouble again. What happened?”
“PR nightmare,” I offer, returning my gaze to the bottom of my beer.
“The IG situation didn’t hit right with the hospital?” Dylan guesses.
I shake my head.
“Shit, now I wish you were daydreaming about last weekend,” he mumbles into his beer.
Brian pauses in the middle of pouring a beer and looks up sharply. “Are we talking about the one-night stand Adam won’t talk about?”
Apparently, his interest is piqued, because he forgets about the drink he’s pouring, causing it to overflow. He shuts it down quickly, cursing under his breath.
“I’m not gonna discuss this,” I mutter, trying to wave off the subject. The last thing I want is for my brother to dive into my love life—or lack thereof on top of all the other shit.
Dylan, however, isn’t one to let things go. “Come on, man. Maybe you should find her again. Have another wild night to get your mojo back. Nothing shakes off some bad luck like a good shag.”
I shake my head, taking a sip of my beer. “It’s not that simple. I can’t see her again.”
“Why not? Did she turn into a pumpkin at midnight?” Brian jokes, still wiping away the overflowing beer.
I roll my eyes. “Funny, Brian. No, it’s just ... not gonna happen. I can’t really explain why.”
“Well, what about that new client you seem to have the hots for—what did you say her name was? Carmen?” Brian interjects, throwing his wet dishrag under the bar and grabbing a fresh one.
“Carlie,” I respond before I can think better of it. I wince, bracing for it.
Dylan turns to face me, his left eyebrow arched high. “Wait, wait, wait … Carlie—as in the infamous woman from said IG scandal? You have the hots for her?”
I groan.
Brian, however, smirks mischievously. “Adam let slip that Carlie reminds him of his mystery woman.”
“Interesting …” Dylan says, waggling his eyebrows. “Tell us more about this Carlie.”
I sigh, taking a sip of my beer. “Carlie’s ... she’s real, you know? There’s no pretense with her. It’s refreshing—but confusing as hell.”
Brian leans back, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like she’s got you all twisted up. What’s the plan, then? You gonna pursue her or what?”
I hesitate, the image of Carlie’s smile flashing in my mind. “I don’t know. After losing my job and dragging her into this mess, I’m not sure she’d appreciate that.”
Dylan claps me on the shoulder. “First step, stop moping. Second, maybe your brother is right for once. You’ve already done the damage. Maybe you should see if she’d be willing to give the rumor mill something real to gossip about.”
Brian chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s Dylan’s solution to everything—face it head-on with a dash of reckless optimism.”
Dylan grins unapologetically, the lenses of his glasses refracting the lights behind the bar. “Hey, it’s worked more often than not.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling the weight of their words. “It’s not just about what I want anymore. This whole situation with the gym, Jillian ... it’s messed up. And Carlie, she’s caught in the middle of it. She’s just trying to get her confidence back up. I can’t fuck all that up.”
“That’s the thing about being in the middle, though,” Brian comments, leaning on the bar. “Sometimes you get a clearer view of both sides. Maybe she sees something in this mess worth exploring.”
Dylan snickers and a shitty grin replaces his features as he giggles darkly. “In the middle. Now there’s a picture.”
I roll my eyes, though the thought of being in the middle of two redheads could certainly be worse …
“Get your minds out of the gutter,” Brian dictates, lowering his eyebrows as he stares Dylan down.
Yet, it’s pretty damn clear we’re all thinking it, now.
Dylan clears his throat and itches the side of his head. “Anyway … speaking of messes, guess who strutted into the coffee shop today, complaining about having to pick up extra work?”
My interest is piqued despite myself and I hate it. “Shit, let me guess … Jillian. What did she say?”
Dylan takes a sip of his beer, watching me carefully. “She was ranting about having to cover for someone who got fired. Little did I know that was you. Thanks, by the way. Ever heard of sending a text, man?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, rubbing my temple with my middle finger.
He harrumphs, but continues, “She was irritated because she had to pick up the slack and train ‘some floozie.’ Piecing it all together, that’s gotta be this Carlie, I’d wager.”
My heart sinks at his words. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s her. Dammit.”
The thought of Jillian, with her manipulative ways, training Carlie makes my skin crawl. It was different when Carlie was just a new client with no association.
But now… Fuck, Jillian will put the screws to to Carlie and probably injure her in the process—all because she’s a vindictive bitch.
Dylan downs his beer and extends the glass to Brian for a refill. “She seemed pretty ticked off about it. Made it sound like she was doing the world a gigantic ass favor by taking over the extra clients.”
My fist clenches around my beer. “Fuck, I never wanted Carlie to have to deal with Jillian’s ... Jillian-ness. Especially not after everything else. I should have tried to convince James to have Marc take her on when I was leaving.”
“Too late now,” Brian mutters.
Dylan leans forward, his expression serious. “Man, you can’t let Jillian or this situation dictate your next move. If you like this Carlie, you should ask her out. You’ve always been the guy who makes his own path. See where it leads. If nothing else, you could hep her find a different trainer.”
I sigh, the truth in his words resonating within me. “I know, I know. I just ... I don’t want to make things worse for her.”
“Sometimes, the risk of making things worse is worth the chance of making them right,” Brian says as he shakes a cocktail mixer—the clanging of ice temporarily drawing my attention.
Dylan clinks his glass against mine pulling my focus back to him. “You’ve got an opportunity here, Adam. Don’t waste it living in regret and what-ifs.”
Brian, who passes the cocktail to a woman at the other end of the bar, gives me a sly look. When he returns, he says, “You know, Adam, for a guy who’s usually so sure of himself with women, you’re awfully hesitant about this Carlie chick. What’s the deal?”
I shake my head, trying to mask my frustration with a half-hearted chuckle. “It’s just ... complicated, you know? With the job situation and now this IG bullshit. Seriously. Why won’t you guys drop this?”
Dylan, now with a freshly refilled beer, leans in. “Complicated, huh? Is that what they call it these days? I recall a time when ‘complicated’ was Adam-speak for ‘I’m attracted but too stubborn to admit it.’”
I can’t help but smile, despite the turmoil inside. “All right, maybe there’s some truth to that. But it’s not just about being intrigued or stubborn. There’s a lot at stake here.”
Brian nods, adding, “Yeah, like your reputation and your heart, for starters.”
Dylan snorts into his glass. “His heart? Since when did we start talking about that mushy stuff at Jaded Brews? Aren’t we supposed to be stone-cold heartbreakers?”
I roll my eyes, but there’s a lightness in my chest that wasn’t there before. “Since my life turned into a daytime soap opera, apparently.”
Thankfully, the conversation shifts as Dylan and Brian start to reminisce about past escapades and misadventures, each story more exaggerated than the last.
They poke fun at my previous romantic endeavors, bringing up hilariously failed dates and my inability to write even the simplest of social posts without at least one misspelled word.
I find myself laughing, the sound is genuine and freeing after one of the crappiest days I’ve had in a long time. It’s moments like these, with my brother and best friend, that remind me life isn’t all doom and gloom.
Even when it feels like everything is falling apart.
Brian, joining in the laughter, suddenly turns to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, Adam, remember that time you tried to impress that jujitsu instructor with your MMA expertise when you were nineteen?”
Dylan howls with laughter, nearly spilling his beer. “Oh man, I’d forgotten about that! She handed him his ass in the first three minutes of sparring with him.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Let’s not forget Dylan’s karaoke disaster on his birthday last year,” I say, jabbing a finger his direction.
Dylan holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, we’ve all had our moments.”
“Some more than most,” I say, shooting him a pointed look.
He only nods in agreement. “Speaking of moments … Seriously, Adam, back to Carlie. What’s your game plan?”
I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity. “You know what? I’m going to talk to her. I just don’t know how to make it right with her. You know?”
Dylan snickers, then takes a quick swig of his beer. “You’re kidding, right? You’re Adam Fuckin’ Foxx, for crying out loud. Do you own your platform or what? Make a statement on your account. Go big or go home.”
I blink, surprised. “What?”
“Make it right, you big baby,” he says so flippantly, that I doubt he realizes what kind of gift he just handed me.
I look up, their words stirring something within me. A flicker of determination starts to replace the helplessness I’ve been wallowing in.
Holy shit. He’s right.
I can’t just sit here brooding. I need to take control of the situation, for my sake and for Carlie’s.
The laughter and reminiscing fade into a comfortable silence, and I find myself staring into the depths of my beer, my mind racing with how I’ll do it.
“What’s the plan, Adam?” Dylan’s voice cuts through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. “I can see the wheels turning in that head of yours.”
I look up, feeling the weight of my decision. It’s not just about making a move—it’s about making the right move.
Step one—make a statement on IG. Step two—ask her out.
“I don’t know, man,” I admit. “I mean, what would I even say? ‘Hey, sorry I got fired and dragged you into a gym scandal. Want to grab coffee?’” I huff a dry laugh.
Brian chuckles, but his eyes are understanding. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Adam. Just honest.”
Dylan nods in agreement. “Yeah, and who knows? Maybe she’s waiting for you to make the first move. Girls love that sorta shit. You won’t know until you try. She followed you into partner yoga, after all.”
Their words resonate with me, and a plan starts to form in my mind.
I could call her, but that might be too forward given the circumstances.
A message, perhaps?
Casual, but direct. Something that shows I care without overwhelming her.
Besides, I told her I’d be in touch.
I take a deep breath, a sense of purpose slowly replacing the uncertainty. “You’re right. I need to do this. I’ll send her a message. Keep it simple—see if she’s open to talking.”
Brian slaps me on the back, a broad smile on his face. “There you go. That’s the Adam we know.”
Dylan raises his glass in a toast. “To Adam, stepping out of his comfort zone and with a little luck, into the bed of another redhead.”
I roll my eyes, snickering softly.
When I leave the bar I’m a bundle of nerves and anticipation.
The message to Carlie is already forming in my head.
It’s a risk, but Dylan and Brian are right.
It’s time to stop living in the shadow of what-ifs and take a chance on something real. I mean, it can’t get much worse, right?
The cool night air hits me as I step outside, and I pull out my phone.
This is it.
The first step towards hopefully mending things with Carlie, and maybe, just maybe, towards something more.