Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3) (4 page)

“Me?”  Carter objected, exasperated.  “What about you?”  Brooding, he dropped into the backseat and crossed his arms over his chest.

“The women I sleep with are adults!”

Indignant, Carter sat forward.  “They were
eighteen
!”

“I’m sure you checked their fake IDs before you invited them back to your hotel room.”

“Up yours!”  Carter stabbed a finger in my direction.  “She’s barely older, and you brought her along!”

“I didn’t bring her,” Jake argued.  “Marshall did, and he’s responsible for her.”

“I’m twenty-one,” I assured.  “I can show you my ID.  It’s real.”  I glanced between the two of them, feeling like an idiot.  I shouldn’t have come.  The whole thing was a bad idea.  Second guessing my decision, I looked toward the driver.  “You know what—pull over.  There’s a bar in the shopping center just ahead.  I’ll get out there.”

I was met with a round of objections I thought were more obligatory than sincere.  The driver was the only honest one among them.  “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you there alone, ma’am.”

“It’s fine.  I go there all the time.”  Trum’s.  Ironic I was going to end up there after all.

“Keep going,” Marshall demanded.  “It’s cool, kid.  You don’t need to get out.”

Rather than arguing a disagreement I wasn’t going to win, I settled in for the ride.  It was going to be a long one.  More often than not, I caught myself fidgeting with my hair or dress.  Forcing myself to stop, I folded my hands together on my lap and stared out the window.

I felt like a complete schmuck.  Pax had nothing to worry about.  The only one that hit on me, I wanted nothing to do with.  He was practically a pedophile.  The other two thought of me as a kid sister.  Whatever.  It wasn’t as if I’d ever see them again.  I’d be home in a few hours, and my life would go back to its un-extraordinary self.  Good riddance.

“Jaxon—the one with the glasses,” said Marshall, over his shoulder, “Shane’s training him for Coop’s band.  He plays the drums.  He’s gonna play on stage tonight.”

“Really?”  It was apathetic at best.  “That’s cool.”

“He’s your age,” Jake added.  “Just turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm.”  Wonderful.

“Fuckin’ talented,” Marshall continued.  “Can’t hardly see his hand in front of his face, but play a clip of music for him, and he can memorize it by sound.”

“Just had surgery,” Jake explained, “cataracts.”

“So young,” I threw out there.  I didn’t want to be rude.  “That’s a shame.”

“His eyesight’s improving.  The doctors expect him to get full use back.”

“That’s good.”  I nodded because I couldn’t manage a smile.  “He’s lucky.”

“He’s a great kid,” Marshall reflected.  “Hard worker.  Devoted.”  Good god, I think they were trying to fix me up with him.

“You should come listen to him play,” Jake added.  “You’re already out.”

My eyes rolled toward the heavens.  Lord, have you no mercy? I muttered internally.  This is what I got for getting in the car, despite Pax’s warning.

“Are we boring you?” Carter whispered in my ear.  His tone was wry, amused.

I turned my head, glanced over my shoulder.  “You’re a bunch of old heads,” I whispered back, smiling.  “Boring without Tate Watkins around.”

Carter barked out a laugh.  The others turned to look at the two of us.

“What were you expecting?”

“To get trashed and wake up next to someone I don’t know, and will likely never see again.”

“Stick around, sweetheart.  You still have a chance.”  Lounging back in his seat, Carter kicked up his feet between Jake and me.  “So tell, me, Violet, what’s the grossest thing you’ve ever seen while on duty?”

I had to think about that a moment.  I’d seen a lot during my short stint in nursing.  I wanted to leave them with something memorable, so every time the subject came up, they’d think of me.  In a flash of genius, I had it.  “There was this guy.  He was easily three hundred pounds plus.  Had his back tattooed.  Well, he came in, complaining that it hurt.  There was a circle about the size of a bowling ball that had abscessed.”

“A bowling ball,” Carter repeated, skeptically.

“A bowling ball in complete circumference.  The doctor sliced it open with a scalpel, and this mixture of blood and pus started pouring out like a garden hose, no exaggeration.  It took over three basins to drain the thing.  Toward the end, he had his hand inside, nearly to his wrist.  He was just scooping out all this dead cells and debris like he was gutting a pumpkin.”

“Dear God,” Carter muttered.  “Are you serious?”

“No lie.  I’ve seen everything—boils, cankers, sores, impacted bowels, diarrhea, vomiting, larvae or bugs pulled from people’s skin or ears—but that was, by far, the worst.”

“Weirdest?”

“A guy came in complaining of blinding headaches.  They ended up pulling a tooth from his brain.  He’d absorbed his twin in utero.”

“Perverse?”

“A woman got a hardboiled egg stuck in her vagina.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

I shrugged and smiled.

“What else?”

“I once had a patient come in.  His dolphin got caught on his girlfriend’s hood piercing and pulled the rear ball halfway through the shaft…”

“Enough!” Marshall pleaded.  “Taylor’s a lightweight.  He’s looking a little green around the gills.  You need to stop.”

“Wait—wait—wait!” Carter protested.  “One more!  One more!”

“Jesus, Carter,” Jake scoffed uncomfortably.  “She’s not telling bedtime stories.”

“The most amazing.” Carter pressed.  “What’s the most amazing?”

“Pregnancy.  Birth.  Without question.”

“Huh,” Carter said, sitting back in his seat again.  I swear the guy never sat still.  He was probably on coke.  “You going to have fourteen of them to trump your mom?”

“Me?  No.”  The smile faded from my face.  “No, I don’t want children.”  I knew what would come next. 
Well, not now, you’re still young.  Give it a few years.  You just need to find the right man
.  The right man had nothing to do with it.  I didn’t want children.  Period.

“You’re still young,” Carter dismissed.  “Give it a few years.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“You’re appeasing me, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“What do you have against kids?”

“Nothing, except that being the third oldest out of thirteen, I know what it takes to raise a child.  They take time, patience and sacrifice.  Call me selfish, but I don’t have any desire to be woken at ungodly hours of the morning so that I can change a dirty diaper.  I don’t want to give up my beachside vacations so that I can catch up on laundry and all the other chores I can’t maintain because I’m busy with ballet and soccer practice.  I don’t want to cash in my 401k, and work until I’m on my deathbed so that I can afford the braces they need.  I don’t want to play referee to the bickering of who is touching whom, and who is in one another’s space.  Besides, one less Shaw in the world isn’t going to be missed.  I have twelve brothers and sisters to carry on the family genes.”

“Wow, you really don’t want kids.”

“No,” I reiterated, “I don’t.”

“I don’t know…” Carter pressed.  “The right guy comes along; you might change your mind.”

“If the right guy comes along,” I argued, “I won’t have to change my mind because he won’t want children either.”

“I’m just saying, you meet someone.  You have the same interests.  You fall madly in love.  Your biological clock, which has been lying dormant, kicks into second gear to make up for lost time.  Suddenly, you might want tiny likenesses of him running around.”

“If I ever get the urge to nurture something, I’ll get a dog.  They listen better, and they make less of a mess.”

“You haven’t met Rake and Fiend yet,” Jake commented.  The others laughed along, and I wanted to crawl farther into my skin.  I wanted to crawl so far inside of myself, I’d implode and disappear.  That was how incredibly small I felt.  I didn’t even need my brothers to humiliate me, not when I could do it myself.  Why didn’t I just keep my big mouth shut?

Chapter 4
 

“
A
nother?” the bartender shouted.  She finished drying out a shot glass and then proceeded to wipe down the bar.  I hoped she didn’t go back to shot glasses when she was finished.  The bar was far from clean.  Some girl’s nether regions were resting there just before I sat down, and I mean her dress was so short it barely covered her, let alone acting as a barrier between her lady bits and the countertop.

Shaking off the thought, I nodded and pushed my glass toward her.  I planned to get drunk enough that I wouldn’t care how much Pax yelled at me when I called him to ask for a ride home.  I certainly wasn’t hanging with the old heads.  I’d learned my lesson.

They had their own private booth.  It was decent, with several tables and a clear view of the stage, but I’d snuck away as soon as I could with the pretense of using the bathroom.  I wasn’t up for being lectured about my age and maturity, not by a Carter Strickland or Jake Whalen.  They didn’t know me.  They had no idea what it was like growing up in my shoes.

“That’ll be five,” the bartender shouted.  I was slipping a five from the cash in my wallet, when a deep voice boomed from over my shoulder.

“It’s on me.”

I turned in my chair.  I could almost feel myself shrink back.  My mouth went dry.  Dear God.  He put all other men to shame.  He was tall, dark, and heavily muscled.  He displayed them well, with a muscle shirt torn at the shoulders.  His arms were covered in tattoos, so densely I could barely see the color of his skin.  He had a beard. 
A fucking beard
.  I wasn’t sure how I really felt about beards until that moment.  He was Paul Bunyan minus the flannel shirt.

My God, I think my panties were wet.

“Actually, I’ve got it,” said another voice.  This one, I recognized.  I glanced over my shoulder.  Jake Whalen stood behind me in all his golden glory.  He slipped his arm around my waist, a clear staking of claim.  And we were back to playing chaperone.

The lumberjack flashed a fierce show of teeth.  I think it was meant to be a smile.  “She with you, Whalen?”

I shook my head.  “No—”

“Yes,” Jake interjected, cutting me off.  I glanced up at him, my teeth gritting together.  He was totally cock-blocking me.  His hand tightened around my waist, warning me to keep my mouth shut.

“She looked bored and lonely.  You should take care of your pets better.”

Was this guy for real?  Did he just call me pet?  I was so out of my league.

“Fuck off, Cade.”

This time, the lumberjack’s smile was real, stretching ear to ear.  “She related to you?”

“Something like that.”

Oh, hell no.  I can’t believe he did it.  He marked me off limits.  It hadn’t bothered me when Marshall had done it, but Jake was different.  While he and his friends had laughed at me in the car, I was attracted to him, and some absurd part of me had secretly hoped I had some small chance with him.  How stupidly naïve of me.  He was Jake Whalen, after all, and I was, well,
me
.

“
Actually
,” I spoke up.  “We’re not.  Not at all.  And I would love a drink.  A few of them,
actually
.”

“Paisley,” Jake warned.  “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

I looked the lumberjack up and down, taking in his rugged appearance.  “Actually, I think I do.”

Letting go of my waist, Jake stepped back and folded his arms across his chest.  I lifted the shot glass from the bar and downed it with a quick flick of my wrist.  When I turned around again, the lumberjack’s hand was waiting.  I placed my hand in his, and slid from the stool.

“Thank you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, pet.”  Lifting my hand, he pressed his lips against my fingers and gave them a gentle bite.  My breath caught in my throat.

“Mother fucker,” Jake growled.  Looking back, I watched him push his way through the crowd, walking away in a huff.

“Hey Whalen!” shouted the lumberjack.  Jake turned, his eyes furious.  “You gotta little dirt or something on your chin.”  The lumberjack stroked his beard, grinning over the gibe at Jake’s less impressive venture at growing facial hair.  Regardless, I would’ve chosen Jake had he truly given me the time of day.  But as I watched him flip the lumberjack the bird and stalk off, I was reminded that wasn’t the case.

Laughing to himself, my impromptu date turned to the bartender.  “I’ll take the bottle.”  The bartender passed him a full bottle of Jack, and two shot glasses.  With our drinks in one hand and mine in the other, he began leading me away from the bar.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a booth just over there.”  He gestured to a private booth off to the left.  The floor was packed with bodies, pushing their way forward, trying to get a better view of the stage and the band.  As he led the way, they reluctantly gave ground, but not without a curt stare.

A few short minutes later, we were seated in his booth, and he was pouring us both a drink.  I was going to have to pace myself.  I had a couple already.  I wished I’d gotten a bottle of water when I was at the bar.

“So how’d you get involved with Jake?”

“I’m not.”

“You arrived with him.”

“I was invited out of goodwill,” I explained.  I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell him anymore than that.  Though I didn’t work at the hospital anymore, I respected Tate and Coop’s privacy, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain about Henry.

“Their goodwill—my good fortune.”

“Cheers to that.”  I held up the glass he handed me.  The lumberjack flashed a smile and tapped my glass with his.  I downed my fourth shot.

“So tell me about yourself.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Secretive.”

“Boring.  I’d rather hear more about you.”

“His name’s Cade ‘the cock’ Mathers,” Jake shouted in my ear.  I shied from the proximity of his voice.  He’d caught me by surprise.  “Sound familiar?”

Flushing, I glanced up at Cade, who was smirking back at me.  Marshall stood not far away.  The older bodyguard stood to his right.  Jake had returned with a little muscle.

“You have no idea who he is,” Jake pressed, “do you?”

I made the mistake of looking at Jake.  He looked furious.  He looked like Pax when Pax was angry.  I immediately dug my heels in.  “Maybe I don't care who he is.”

Jake snorted derisively.  “He’s a porn star, Paisley.  He fucks like a bull, and he’s as big as one too.  He’d break that sweet little cunt of yours right in half.”  He said the last part low so that only Cade and I could hear.

“You flatter me, Whalen,” Cade drawled with a smile.

I'd had enough.  Sliding from my stool, I held out my hand.  “It was nice to meet you, Cade.”

“Leaving so soon, pet?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”  I'd been humiliated enough for one night.  I had no desire to stick around for more abuse.

“More’s the pity.”  Taking my hand, he leaned forward.  “Answer me one question before you go. Are you purple down under, too?”

Despite myself, I smiled. “No.”

“You would've been when I was done with you.”

“Tempting.”  What a charming guy.

“If you change your mind.”

“Doubtful.”  I didn't like to share my possessions, let alone my boyfriend, and Cade made a living at sharing his body.  With a look of disappointment, Cade released my hand.  I turned, stepped around Jake, and headed for the exit.

“Where're you going?” Jake asked, following me.

“Home.  I'm calling it a night.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“Come on, kid,” Marshall chimed in.  “We’re just looking out for you.”  Grabbing my arm, he spun me around to face him.

“Look, I appreciate the invite, but I'm gonna go.  I'm sorry to have been any trouble.”

“That?” Marshall pressed. “That was nothing.”

It didn't feel like nothing.   “I don't need a babysitter.”

“It wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for my friends.”

“Really,” I insisted. “It's ok.  I can get a ride from my brother.”

“You call your brothers for a ride home and you're only going to prove them right.  They'll never let you live it down.”

God, he was right, and I hated that.  Pax and Peter would never let me out of the house again, even if it was
my
house.  I was torn.  I couldn't leave.  I didn't want to stay.

Marshall smiled, aware that he was winning. “Come on, kid. Let's go have a few drinks. At least stay and watch our boy Jaxon play.”

“I'm not a kid,” I argued.  I had to win some small concession, no matter how petty or insignificant.

Once again, we began winding our way through the crowd.  Marshall had to shout over the din so I could hear him.  “Can I call you pipsqueak then?”

“Not if you like your testicles intact.”

“There's no need for violence.”

“There won’t be as long as you don't call me that.”  I almost tripped over the stray feet of some chick moshing.  Jake caught me from behind and set me straight.  But when she stepped on my foot a second time, I gave her a hard shove.  In some mystic feat of intuition, Marshall turned around at the right moment and tugged me in front of him, preventing any further discord.

“You're a surly little shit, you know that?”

“I was defending my feet!”

“Just do me a favor,” Marshall pleaded, “don't wander off unless one of us is with you.”  He gave me the palm when my mouth popped open in objection.  “Don't get all bent out of shape; I barely turned my head for a second when Coop was attacked.  It’s not something I care to repeat.  Crowds…they tend to make me nervous.”

I bet. “Ok.  Fine.  I’ll behave.”

As we broke through the crowd and approached the booth, Carter Strickland’s face brightened.   “Look!  Violet’s back!”  He slung his arm over my shoulder and passed me a beer.  “How was Cade
the Cock
?”

“Shut up.”

“Hey,” he said, tightening his arm and pulling my ear closer, “I told them you were looking to nurse your broken heart but they weren't having any of it.”

“That’s
so
considerate of you.”

“What can I say—I’m an upstanding guy.”  Who slept with eighteen-year-olds.  “What?  What’re you rolling your eyes for?”

“I didn’t roll my eyes.”  I totally rolled my eyes.

“You did too.  I saw it.  You rolled your eyes.  There—you just did it again!  That’s a terrible tell you’ve got there, Violet.”

I rolled my eyes a third time.  “Did you really sleep with two eighteen-year-olds?”

“Are you judging me?”

“Come on.”

“You chose Cade the Cock Mathers over my boy Jake.”

My face flushed with color.  Was he serious?  No, Jake wasn’t really interested in me.  Carter was just fucking with me.  “There was no choice.”

“You say so.”

“Are you going to answer the question?”

“Who said there were two?  Maybe there were three of them.”

“Don’t retort and feed his ego,” the brunette told me.  “Do what the rest of us do and tell him to fuck off.”

“That’s not very devout of you, Emster.”

“Like, OMG, did you hear something?” the brunette said to me in the best valley girl impression I’d ever seen.  “No?  Me either.  Just a bunch of, like, hot air.”

This, for some reason unknown to me, pissed Carter off and sent him stalking off into the crowd.  The bodyguard with the crewcut named Evan followed him.

The brunette slid down from her stool.  “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.  My name’s Emelia.  You can call me Em.”

I took her outstretched hand and shook.  “Paisley.  Nice to meet you.”

“This is Shane.”  She gestured to her left, at the drummer with the black hair.  He’d gone short recently.  I’d seen the before and after in the tabloids.  I had to admit, he looked much better.  He looked reasonably healthy compared to a few months ago.  I wondered if his most recent overdose had scared him and set him straight.

Surprising me, when I shook his hand, he leaned in and kissed one cheek and then the other.  It wasn’t a real kiss, like one of those cheek to cheek jobs, but I hadn’t expected it.

“Caio, Paisley.”

Em was laughing when I glanced back to her.  “We just returned from Italy,” she explained.  “He likes the custom.”

“It’s a great custom,” Shane stated with a wink.

“When it suits you.  You weren’t nearly as accommodating with Enzo or his brothers.”

“Well they’re guys so…”

Watching the two converse felt like an intrusion of their privacy.  They were so attuned to one another.  His hand rested at the small of her back.  Slowly, his thumb drew small circles against her skin.  As she shifted her weight toward him, he peered down into her eyes, a smile stretching across his face.  Their connection was palpable, their love undeniable.