AUSTIN
The minute I got that phone call, I knew this had to do with Lauren. Ever since she came into my life, it’s been one crazy, fucked-up episode after another. There has never been a time when I’ve frowned more than I have lately, but I can also admit that I’ve laughed more than I ever have as well. She brings out not only this insane, absurd awfulness in me, but also a fun, silly, playful side I didn’t even know I had.
A month ago, I would have had her fired without a second thought, but now, she quits pretty much every day, smiling each time she gives me her notice.
But her not paying my tickets was a low blow. My car—my baby—was impounded, and I have an important meeting with Denis on site at the restaurant so we can finalize a couple of things.
Now, I’m walking out of the office with the keys to her bus in my hands. Okay, so it isn’t an actual bus, but it’s damn close to one.
I click ‘unlock’ on the key fob and get in. My knees are pressed against the dash, and the steering wheel is so close it’s practically cutting off the air to my fucking throat. I fumble around on the side for the buttons to change the seat’s position and give me some leg room.
Once I’m situated and circulation returns to my legs, I touch the keyless starter button, and the car starts right up.
I buckle in and am on my way. Soft music plays in the background when all of a sudden, a girl’s voice starts filling the car.
Soft at first, and a bit annoying, so I push the button on the touch screen to switch to the radio. After clicking it once, nothing happens, so I try it again. And again, nothing happens.
I’m too busy trying to weave my way through traffic in this huge behemoth of a vehicle, so I try to block it out. And I’m somewhat successful, that is, until the shouting starts and scares the shit out of me. Someone yelling about letting it go.
What the fuck is this? I press the button again, this time for the satellite radio, and still the fucking song about letting it go is playing. The voice gets higher and higher. The music gets louder and louder as I desperately try to turn it down.
Unable to silence this current Lauren-induced nightmare, I grab my phone, dialing her number, still trying to turn down the volume but having no luck.
She picks up after one ring.
“Yes,” she answers, obviously annoyed that I’m bothering her if the tone of her voice is any indication. Well, good, I’m annoyed, too.
“Something is wrong with the car,” I yell into the phone that I’m holding in my hand as I tap the screen, putting her on speaker.
“Well, whatever you did, undo it,” she advises then continues, “I told you before you took it that if you break it, you pay for it.”
I breathe out an aggravated sigh. “I didn’t break anything. I can’t get the radio to shut off.” Meanwhile, the song has started—again —the voice breaking in with the fucking letting it go.
“Oh that, yeah, I know. I have to get it checked. It’s like it’s frozen,” she says and immediate starts laughing at herself. “Get it? Frozen?”
I look at the phone, wondering if this is really happening, if I’m really having this conversation. “I don’t get it,” I huff while the lady sings about the cold never bothering her anyway. “How the fuck do I get her to shut up?” I shout over the music.
“Oh, yeah, I don’t know. I tried to Google it, but nothing came up.” I hear her typing like this conversation isn’t even bothering her.
“You ‘Googled’ it,” I deadpan and then repeat because surely, I heard wrong. “You Googled it?”
I can practically hear her eyes rolling. “Yes, I Googled it. What else would I do? Google knows everything.”
“Lauren, I’m about to puncture my eardrums if I have to keep listening to this girl go on and on AND ON about letting it go and the fucking cold never bothering her. How do I turn this shit off?” I touch every single button on the screen.
“You aren’t the only one. I just don’t know what to do. I guess I have to call the dealer.” Her voice is flat.
“You should call them the minute you call impound and find out how the fuck to get my car back,” I snap, right before the radio yells ‘let it go’ again.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m on it. Is that all you called for?” She is brushing me off. Just when the piano drift starts again.
“That’s all,” I grumble. “Thank god, I just got to my meeting. This fucking song is the soundtrack from hell, I’m sure of it,” I state before disconnecting and turning off the car. Of course, I’m shocked and dismayed that I can still hear it playing. It isn’t until I open the door that the radio finally shuts off. I’m hoping—praying, really—that it resets itself. Grabbing the keys and my phone, I shut the door and don’t even bother to lock it, thinking Lauren would be lucky if someone stole it.
When I open the door to the restaurant, the smell of wood and paint hits me. This is my favorite part of my job. Creating something. I may not be good with my hands, but I have the gift of vision and conceptualization, which is what I get paid for.
Denis walks up to me, wearing his regular cargo pants and construction boots. “Hey, you look much better than you did last time.” He holds out his hand to shake mine. No kidding, I almost died the last time he saw me. I just nod to him and head over to the bar area where the plans are spread out.
I look up seeing the staircase coming along nicely. I notice that the glass blocks are installed exactly as I intended them to be, so that when patrons head up the stairs, they can see through them to the downstairs area. The rounded booths will be great for a group of friends who want some privacy; each booth can be seen from downstairs as well. I can’t wait until the draping comes and is installed, completing the look that I was going for—like a cozy fort. A sexy high class but still cozy fort, obviously.
I look around to see the tables that will be scattered throughout the middle of the vast space are all stacked up in the corner. “You also got some high-top tables, right?” I ask as I look around for them.
“I did, yes. Those are coming in next week along with the stool version of those chairs.” He motions toward the chairs stacked next to the tables. I run my hand along the bar top, a heavy mahogany wood that is smooth and shiny, sexy. It’s the only rustic touch in the space; the base of the bar is a frosted glass with lights that appear to be embedded in its panes. The barstools look like they’re made of thin metal rods, giving them a sleek, modern appearance. The whole back wall of the bar area is mirrored, causing the space to look bigger. The shelves, which will be made from the same frosted glass as the base of the bar, have yet to be installed.
I see Serena heading toward me. Oh, Serena, with the glossy brown hair that flows down to her waist and those long, lean, toned legs that she’s flashed at me enough times in her efforts to entice me. Her eyes never wavering from mine, she saunters over to me like a huntress tracking her kill.
I smile as I take in the red suit that pours over her curves like it was made just for her. With the money she has, it probably was.
Serena is one of the backers of this venture. It’s one of her ‘side jobs’ as she calls them. She made the bulk of her money from the style app she created.
“Austin,” she sings in her Southern accent. “I didn’t know when I got here that my day was about to get a million times better with a visit from you.” She walks right up to me, hugging me close as she tilts her head and kisses the underside of my jaw.
I move away from her and her blood red-stained lips. “Serena, I didn’t know you would be here,” I say over her head and mostly to Denis.
As hot and gorgeous as Serena is, my dick knows that if I go there with her, she’d do whatever she could to sink those bright-red talons into me. Plus, she sucked off Noah and swallowed. So, yeah, I know it’s crazy, but my mouth is never getting near hers. Ever. For those reasons, I haven’t taken even a little sip of what she’s constantly offering.
I disentangle myself from her clutches and look around. “This is going to be a huge success, I can feel it,” Serena states as she continues to eye me up and down with blatant carnal interest.
“I think so, too. Denis, you said you had something to discuss with me, something in the kitchen?” I look at him pointedly, seeing a look of surprise before he finally gets it.
“Right, right.” He nods. “I think the plumber said something about…” He stops talking once we get inside the kitchen and the door slides closed behind me.
“Fuck me, she’s like a vulture.” I try to shake her touch off of me.
“Opening night will be interesting.” Denis knows she’ll probably plaster herself to my side and never let go.
I shake my head, not wanting to even think about it. “What else do we need before the final touches come together?” I ask him as my phone beeps in my pocket. I take it out, looking at the screen and seeing a text from Lauren.
Car will be out of impound as soon as you head down there and fill out a form. Sorry, I can’t do it, because the car is in your name.
I shake my head.
You have to drive me there. This is your fault after all.
She answers in a matter of seconds.
Great, I can’t wait. Good news, I can sing along to the song!
Fuck me, that goddamn song starts up in my head again.
Forget it. I’ll ask Noah.
I text Noah next, asking him to pick me up at my office in an hour. Looking at my watch, I notice that I have to get back or I’ll have to drive the car to Lauren’s house.
“Okay, so when are we doing the photos?” I ask Denis as we walk back out of the kitchen. I scan the area and see that Serena has either left the building or is hiding somewhere, probably ready to pounce.
“I have to talk to Jake at the PR firm, but I’m thinking the night of the opening before everyone comes in would be best.” Denis replies while taking his own phone out to take some notes.
“Perfect.” I say good-bye and head back out into the hot sun. My good mood is short-lived when I see what is sitting there, awaiting me, in front of the restaurant. What I begin thinking of as the vessel to hell, aka Lauren’s minivan, waits to transport me back to the office on a ride filled with the song that will surely haunt my nightmares for a long time to come. Fuck my life.