Live for You (5 page)

***

Tonight the bar is alive
while I feel deader than ever.

Back in the day, The
Double Deuce was
the
place for up and coming country music acts. When my Uncle Max
ran it, he had to turn acts away because so many were clamoring to
get booked. Photographs lined the wall, with him, my mom and
musicians that go by one name only now. One of those even has my
sperm donor in it.

Or at least that’s what my
mom claims. She claims that Parker is his, too, but my brother is
bi-racial and I’m pretty sure that
my
sperm donor is the whitest dude
on the planet. So…None of us have any idea who Kelly’s is,
including my mom. Too bad
The Jerry
Springer Show
is nothing but re-runs now
days.

Since my sperm donor
doesn’t have shit to do with us, because he has a real family,
complete with a son that’s followed in his footsteps, those
photographs were the first to go. The rest Parker moved and I’m
fine with it. Nashville has forgotten about us, just like dear old
dad.

So, we make up for the lack
of bands by hosting Ladies’ Night and Karaoke Contests.
Barely.

Madison blows me a kiss
from the end of the bar and I tick up my chin before she hits the
dance floor. I like her. She’s a nice girl. But I don’t love her.
And she doesn’t love me. It works for both of us. For
now.

“
You look like shit,” a
familiar voice says and I roll my eyes. “Not sure if this is the
kind of establishment I want to frequent.”

Not bothering to look up at
Wyatt Tanaka, I say, “Yeah, well, we don’t serve your kind
here.”

“
My kind? What the hell,
bro?”

Glancing up, I tick up my
chin and stare Wyatt down. His black hair has grown out from his
military buzz. He still looks like my best friend, only older.
Weary. But really, what should he look like after serving two tours
in Afghanistan? “Only ARMY boys are welcome here,
Marine.”

He smirks. “Thanks for the
clarification. Cause I’d hate to beat your ass for not serving
Asians.”

“
You’re Asian? Shit.
Wished you told me that eight years ago. Might have saved me a lot
of trouble.” I slide a beer his way. “On the house,
soldier.”

Eight years ago, when
Wyatt was fourteen, his family had moved from Charlotte to
Forrestville. He’d been the only Asian kid in the
entire
county.

We met in detention. I’d
gotten my ass kicked while defending my mom, and he’d given some
kid a bloody nose for making some dumbass racist “joke”. I’d been
small for my age and he’d been tall. We bonded over writing
sentences about not fighting and running laps. He taught me how to
properly defend myself and I taught him some of my favorite WWE Raw
moves.

He grabs the bottle and
takes a deep pull, letting out a groan of appreciation. “Damn
that’s good.”

What was good: having him
home, safe and sound. I’m not ashamed to admit that I constantly
worried about Wyatt while he was in the Sandbox. Probably not as
much as her though.

“
How long has she been
dancing?” he asks, his gaze firmly on the dance floor.

What he really means is:
Who has she been dancing with? And by she, he means, Lacey Evans.
“Got here about fifteen minutes before you.” Lacey does this weird
slow-motion kind of dance to Alex Clare’s
Too Close
. But it’s totally her
style. And I’d never tell Wyatt this, mostly because I like
breathing out of my nose, but Lacey turned into a full-on hottie
while he’d been deployed. All long legs and curves, even if she
does try to hide them under loose jeans and even looser
tops.

Thing is: He still stares
at her the same way he always has, since high school. Maybe he
hasn’t noticed that she’s filled out in all the right
places.

An image of Rae flashes in
my mind, shivering as my arm brushes her breast.
Fuck.
I have to get this
girl out of my head.

“
I’m heading over,” Wyatt
says, then drains the last of his beer. He sets the bottle on the
bartop and strides across the room. Lacey’s face lights up when she
sees him, but he makes no move to touch her. Instead he waits and
she slowly slides up to him, then she steps back, face flushing and
shaking her head.

Wyatt gives her a goofy
grin, then walks away. His grin falls, black eyes narrowing as he
heads to the pool tables.

I wince. “Still in the
friend zone.”

“
How long do you think
he’ll wait around for her?” yet another familiar voice
says.

“
As long as it takes, or
until he gets the message she’s been sending him for years.” I
glance up at Beau Montgomery. His blond hair is messy, his clothes
impeccable. The bastard.

Beau smirks, lip ring
flashing. “Maybe I should help the poor bastard out.”

The last time Beau tried to
help Wyatt out, he’d sent three strippers to Wyatt’s parents’ house
to help celebrate his nineteenth birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka had
not been amused. However, Beau’s dad, racing legend Remington
Montgomery, had thought the entire situation had been hilarious and
sent over three more.

“
Seriously, bro. Don’t,”
Parker chimes in, quickly popping tops off four bottles of beer and
passing them to one of our new waitresses. “Your help usually turns
into full on disaster.”

Beau hits his chest with
his fist. “Hurts so bad.” A tall blonde, wearing a barely there
dress, sidles up to him, batting her lashes and placing a hand on
his arm. He smiles at her, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Dude’s always got a different girl on his arm, but he’s always
polite to them. Always up front about what he wants.

“
Hi, I’m Sophie, and I’d
love for you take me home tonight,” she says, smile toothpaste
commercial worthy.

I bite back a laugh.
Apparently, advertising that you only want to hook-up and party
yields a ninety percent success rate. Doesn’t hurt that Beau’s rich
as hell either.

“
Thanks, but no,” Beau
says and I blink. He’s turning down a sure thing?

“
Oh c’mon, Beau,” Sophie
pouts, but it doesn’t sway him.

“
I’m with my boys, honey.
Doesn’t seem right to not be able to give you the attention you
deserve.” Beau leans in and traces the neckline of Sophie’s shirt.
“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll text you
later.”

There’s the Beau I
recognize.

Sophie smiles, taking the
phone that Beau holds out to her. She takes a picture of herself,
then types in her info and hands it back. “Better text me,” she
says, kissing his cheek.

Beau winks at her right
before she saunters away, then his face turns serious. “How
much?”

“
Depends on what you’re
willing to bet.”

His grey eyes glint.
“Three. I’m feeling…reckless.”

“
You’re in. But it’d
better be the good stuff this time or else I’ll beat your
ass.”

“
Dude, you know
me.”

“
Yeah, hence the
caveat.”

“
The cavy-who?” Beau asks
with a frown.

“
Just Google it, bro.”
Shaking my head, I walk away and take another drink order. The rest
of the night seems to go into fast forward—taking drink orders,
mopping up spills, taking out trash, replacing dirty mugs and
cashing out tabs. By the time I cut on the lights for last call,
I’m dead on my feet.

Parker locks the door after
the last customer leaves. Only Beau and Wyatt remain. They set up
our usual table in the back, complete with a deck of cards, several
bags of tortilla chips, salsa and beer.

It’s time.

Chapter Six

Cole

I nod at Parker. “Check
Beau’s stuff first.”

Rolling his eyes, Beau
places a Target bag on the table. “Hurry up, man. I’ve been
jonesing for this shit.”

Parker sifts through it,
pulling out the bags one by one and inspecting them carefully.
“Hmm. Smarties with an S this time and not a Z. Sure you didn’t
screw with it first?”

Beau flips him off and the
rest of us laugh. He grabs the candy from my brother and stuffs all
but one back into the Target bag. “I’m so gonna kick your ass
tonight.”

Parker makes kissing noises
at him. “Love it when you talk dirty to me. Please sir, may I have
some more?”

I slice my gaze to Parker.
He’s a regular comedian. God, I wish I could get him out of this
town and into one of those Ivy League schools. Then again, what in
the hell would I do without him? With our mom living at Gentle
Winds, it’s up to us to pick up the pieces. Living. Ha. More like
drying out.

Beau grumbles
unintelligibly into his beer and Wyatt picks up the stack of cards,
shuffling them and dealing us two each.

Too bad my mother fell so
far that not even our rich grandparents will have anything to do
with us. They’ll pay for her treatments, but the rest….I slam my
bottle of beer down a little harder than necessary.

I can feel everyone’s eyes
on me as I stare at my –I twist my lips—shithand of cards. I sneak
a glance and catch Wyatt giving Parker a look. Parker shrugs then
narrows his focus on his hand.

We play a couple of rounds,
but I can’t concentrate. All I can think of is Rae. How gorgeous
she is, from the top of her purple-tipped hair down to her matching
sneakers. The tiny diamond piercing in her nose. Her full pink
lips.

A part of me is shamed that
I pictured her while Madison and I were screwing. The other part,
doesn’t give a damn, because without that vision I’d never had
gotten my nut off.

Jesus, I’m an asshole, just
like my old man. The only comfort I have is that Madison doesn’t
expect more from me.

But I expect more from
me.

Conversation flows around
me as my friends and my brother fall into a familiar pattern of
sarcasm and low blows.

“
Stop eating the money,
Parker.”

“
It’s not money. It’s
sugary currency, therefore, fair game.”

“
Hit me.”

“
We’re not playing
Blackjack, Wyatt.”

“
Still a good idea
though.”

“
I miss West. He always
brought Gummy Worms.”

“
West doesn’t miss
you.”

“
Please. I bet he’s crying
every night.”

“
He’s found a new group of
guys to play in his dorm.”

“
Bastard. Wait until he
comes home for Winter Break.”

“
Remind me why the Reese’s
Pieces are worth more than—”

“
Swear to God… Beau, alien
always trumps dude in purple suit.”

One of my legs begins to
shake, a habit leftover from childhood, until the entire table is
moving with it. Reece’s Pieces, Smarties and Warheads
bounce.

No one says anything, but I
feel compelled to say, “Sorry,” anyway. I calm my leg then search
my pockets. I pull out a pack of cigarettes and grab the first one,
lighting it. It might be against the law to smoke while the bar is
open, but once we’re closed for business-fuck it.

With a smug grin, Wyatt
tosses two packs of Smarties and a handful of Reese’s into the
middle. “Call.”

Oh hell, he’s already won.
I place my cards on the table. “I’m out.”

Parker is next to
fold.

“
Not me.” Beau tosses more
candy into the pot. “Raise you ten.”

Wyatt’s mouth drops open.
“Seriously, you just can’t let me win?”

Beau grunts. “What
for?”

Throwing his cards on the
table, Wyatt rakes a hand through his hair. “War Card.”

“
What the fuck is a War
Card?” I ask, taking a pull of my beer. I grind the cigarette into
the heel of my boot, then shove what’s left of it in an empty
bottle.

“
I am not playing kids’
games,” Beau says, looking offended as hell.

“
Seriously? We use candy
as money, bro,” Parker points out.

“
Parker has a point,” I
grunt.

Eyes narrowing, Beau tips
up his chin. “Of course he does.”

My jaw clenches. “What’s
that supposed to mean?”

“
It means that Beau has a
really hard time with one syllable words that aren’t tits and ass,”
Parker chimes in.

Yeah, that’s helping
things. I start making little piles of my candy.

“
Actually War Card means I
get my way because I survived a damn war,” Wyatt says, trying to
ease the tension.

“
It
means
that your baby brother needs
to man up sometime and quit hiding behind your skirt,” Beau sneers.
Again, this is not one of my oldest friends talking. I know him.
Despite being cocky as hell, he’s actually a nice guy. Shoots his
mouth off a lot, but where it counts: he’s always had my back. Even
if he and Parker rub each other the wrong way.