My Mind's Eye (Pub Fiction #1) (6 page)

I know I’m pretty, but I’m not a super-confident person. I have insecurity and flaws just like everyone else. I like to think that, despite being a bit high-strung, I do have the ability to be easy going, well sometimes anyway. I’ve really been trying to be more social and laid back since the fire. It isn’t always easy, but I am getting better. I’ve missed out on too many opportunities by being a chickenshit. According to my younger brother, being able to “go with the flow” is a must-have quality in a chick, and high-maintenance girls are a turnoff. According to Mr. Chick Magnet, Wes, this is a trait I really need to work on. Not that I would ever listen to a thing he says about relationships, but I do smile when he gives me advice. He’s too cute thinking he’s the bomb. He and Claire have no qualms about giving me advice on how to loosen up.

Wes calls me at least once a week, making sure I’m not being a societal troll. Seeing as I do easily get attention from the opposite sex, they both think I should be serial dating my way through university, “living it up,” they say, but just because I happen to get male attention, does that mean I should think I’m God’s gift? Absolutely not. Do I enjoy getting male attention? Of course, who doesn’t? Does that mean I want to flaunt myself or my goods for the world to see? Ah, no. Does it mean I have to date the male population to be considered fun and going with the flow?” Hell no. Needless to say, I hate it when Claire and Wes chat. I do just fine on my own.

Annoyed by my thoughts of Wes and Claire, I slip on my black ballet flats before putting on my jacket. It’s summer, I know, but I’m trying my damnedest to cover my chest, which I feel is on blatant display. Despite how sticky and hot it may be outside, I opt for the little grey jacket. I’m willing to suffer through the heat if it means I can keep my modesty for a while longer. I also make one last attempt to pull the shorts down over more of my ass.
It’s no use.
I sigh before grabbing my keys and cell phone and heading out the door.

Walking to my car, I check my phone. I have to admit, I am the worst person when it comes to having a cell phone. I’m constantly losing it or letting its batteries die, without noticing until days later. Like I said, not being a tech-savvy person, I’m not really dependent on my phone like some people. I really only bought it in case of an emergency while away at school. My friends and parents are always giving me the business for being a cell phone dud. Once Claire and I replaced our phones, I agreed to put more effort into checking it, as well as to responding, especially since we both got iPhone 6s with the insurance money. Wes told me if I didn’t actually use mine, he’d take it and give me his crappy outdated one, which he still has a year’s contract on. Apparently, I don’t deserve this kind of phone, according to my little bro.

Glancing down at the screen, I notice I have a text message. I stop in my tracks when I realize it’s from Seth. Groaning, I slide my finger across the screen to see what that son of a bitch has to say. I know I’m most definitely going to regret this already. Texts from the ex are never good, especially ex-boyfriends turned annoying like mine.

Seth:
Kat doll, I miss you. Please call me. We NEED to talk. X

Reading this just pisses me off. The guy is relentless. It’s his fault we broke up in the first place. He made it clear I wasn’t enough. I roll my shoulders, trying to relax, letting out a sigh as I begin to text back.

Me:
No, stop texting, don’t call me…we are over, Seth.

I make a mental note to call my provider and get my number changed during my break tonight.
See why I don’t care for cell phones?

Dropping my cell into my oversized purse, I continue to walk to Bertha, my red Beetle Bug. She was a hand-me-down from my mom that I love, one she opted to trade for another model; ergo I gladly adopted my wee car. Settling in, I take in the scent that lingers in the air. Nothing beats the smell of old leather and patchouli. The combination always reminds me of my mom, the little hippy, and I take in a deep breath and relax. Thoughts of Seth suddenly dissipate with what I think is a fantastic idea to rectify my shirt problem. As soon as I get to Pub Fiction, I’ll simply exchange my shirt for a bigger size, claiming I was given the wrong one. With this plan fresh in my mind, I start to relax and smile, pleased with myself.
Well, at least I think it’s a good excuse. Now to convince my new boss, Levi.

Chapter 4

Ryker

I
knew coming back to campus early was going to be a fucking mistake. Not even back a full day, and here I am, already headed to help out my older brother, Levi, with his club. I know I get paid to work there, but times like this I feel is more a favour than part of my job. It’s not like I could tell the fucker no, especially after all he’s done for me. Levi bought and opened Pub Fiction three years ago, right out of university, his business degree in tow. Our mom, Patricia, agreed to co-sign a loan for him, and already he’s managed to pay her back along with a hefty bonus for believing in him and his dream.

Luckily for me though, he hired me as a part-time bartender. The gig gives me enough money to pay for tuition and living expenses while I get my degree. I’m studying sports medicine here at Brock; it’s one of the best programs in Canada. I know Levi was hoping I’d partner up in the club with him, but at the end of the day, he knows that lifestyle just isn’t for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love the bar scene, but dealing with the day-to-day operations is not my thing.

I don’t believe in handouts, the idea that things happen for a reason, or any of that other karma bullshit. I know it’s me who will make my dreams come true, not some bullshit called fate.
Me. It’s all ME.
Like my job at the bar, sure, Levi gave it to me, but I have worked my ass off both to maintain it and to be good at it. I took mixology classes and Smart Serve training, not only to show people that I’ve done my time, but that I deserve the job on my own merit, not just on kin. I’m keeping my options open, and it helps Levi too.

One day, I’d like to open my own sports clinic, called The Locker Room. It’ll offer a wide-range of sport-related therapies, as well as a variety of medical services ranging from ortho care to strength training and recovery options. Although Levi is willing to share his dream with me, I’m going to chase my own.

I do have to admit, though, that bartending at Pub Fiction is the best job I could ask for as a student. On top of my hourly wage, I bring in a shitload in tips. I think the good tips come from the fact I give extra attention to my customers,
especially the hotties
.

Levi called our mom this afternoon to check in on her recovery, and she let it slip that I was already back in town. I pretty much got an immediate text demanding I come to work to help train and supervise the new hires starting tonight.

August and September are always crazy months for us. Every new school year brings in a few new workers to replace the ones who graduated and moved on.

Being the good, reliable brother that I am, I grab everything I need for my shift as fast as I can before heading in. Lucky for me, it doesn’t take me long to get ready. The guys wear a simple uniform: jeans and a t-shirt with the Pub Fiction logo across the chest, unlike the servers and shooter girls who have to dress in short skirts or shorts and low V-necked shirts; not that I’m complaining at all. But it’s definitely nice knowing I’ll make good tips regardless of my clothes. I tidy up my room a bit, as well, because I know the chances are pretty good that I won’t be alone when I get back to my room later tonight.

The idea of jumping right back into working again, after having the last month off, doesn’t exactly excite me, though. I wish I could say I was away on holidays for the last month, but actually, I’ve been living back home with our mom in Oakville, helping her while she recovers from knee surgery. It’s been some great practice for me, too. I’ve been able to use some of my skills on my mom. She played soccer for years, and went pro for a while, until her knees got too bad. I guess you could say she helped spark my interest in sports medicine. I’m the one who went home to help her out because Levi has to work and I’ve been out on summer vacation; it was a no brainer. It’s been my brother, my mom, and myself ever since my dick of a dad bailed on us five years ago. The piece of shit up and left my mom for a younger model, remarrying no more than six months after their divorce was finalized. He married a chick named Sandy, who is exactly the woman you picture when you hear her name. Yep, that one. The one with the perfectly altered face, huge fake tits, complete with a Valley Girl voice shrill enough to drive you fucking crazy.

Levi and I don’t really spend too much time talking or visiting with our dad. We do, however, make sure we are always there for our mom. She’s the best and is undeserving of the way our asshole of a father ended things with her. The one thing I never can condone is cheating, and for that alone, I rarely speak to him.

Shaking off the angry thoughts, I grab my keys and lock the door before walking to my car.

Man, how I wish the summer would stay. I can’t believe it’s mid-August already. Thoughts of school starting in a few weeks begin to plague my mind as I trudge down to my car…well, that is, until I happen to glance to my right and notice my very friendly neighbours, Missy and Sarah. I offer them a wave as they sit on their porch soaking up the sun and drinking what looks to be some fruity frozen shit with one of those annoying umbrellas decorating the cup, all the while showing off their assets in slinky bikinis with their tits almost spilling out. I have no doubt they realize they’re driving half of the men in our cul-de-sac crazy. Women with bodies like that always know exactly what they are doing.
Yeah, I’m sure gonna miss the summer.
I grin to myself as I hear Sarah calling out to me.

But looking past Sarah down the street, I see what looks to be one fucking hot-ass brunette rushing to a little red Beetle that’s parked on the side of the road.
Is she wearing a fucking coat? It’s summer.
Fuck me, those legs alone have my full attention, as she’s wearing a pair of black shorts that show nothing but legs for miles. And here I thought my pervy brother had found the shortest shorts possible.
Damn
.

Squinting to get a better view of her, I realize I’ve never seen her around here before, and this is my third year living in the Village. I wonder if she’s some fresh meat who’s just moved in, or a visitor passing through. I tend to have a thing for brown-haired women, and this one’s a babe. Who am I kidding? I tend to have a thing for brunettes, blondes, redheads—I’m not picky. I have a thing for women, period. I scan this new girl to memory, and remind myself to revisit this little situation later when I’m not running off to work.

“Hey, Ryker,” Sarah purrs in a low sultry voice, one I assume is her ‘sexy’ voice, bringing me back from my thoughts as she inches closer to me.
When the hell did she move off the porch?
I take in her long strawberry blonde hair along with the trace of freckles gracing her nose. She really is pretty. “We’re having a small get-together tonight with some of the other early arrivals. You should come over and join us,” she adds, while looking me up and down, a knowing smirk on her face. I take in her perky tits, the ones pretty much on display for all. Tits she’s clearly using to try to entice me as she bounces up and down as she goes on about the party. She also manages to move her cold drink along her nipple so it’s now protruding, taunting me as we talk. I can’t help but stare as she smiles, knowing she’s gained my full attention.

“Thanks for the invite, sweetheart, but I’m heading to work. Believe me, I’d rather be here with you girls tonight. I mean, you’re so fucking sexy right now, Sah,” I say as I pull her closer. Sarah is hot and I know she’s into me. We’ve been flirting with each other since at least second year. Maybe it’s time to say fuck it and just give in.

“Well, sexy.” She pretty much moans into my ear as she leans up on her tiptoes. I can smell the coconut of her sunscreen mixed with the alcohol on her breath. “We’ll be here when your shift is done. Why don’t you come on over after? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“That sounds really good, Sarah, but I don’t think us hooking up tonight is a good idea. I’m going to be closing the place down, maybe another time.” I tap her nose, giving her tits one more glance before walking away.

The reason we’ve never hooked up in the past has been me. I can’t help but think she lives too close. You know that old saying about dipping your pen into the office ink…well, I think that applies to neighbours, too, especially ones who live right next door. The last thing I need is a complication if she doesn’t get my rules.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Sarah calls out in a last-ditch effort.

See? She’s already showing herself as a needy, clingy chick. Yep, decision made. Avoid Sarah Richards at all costs. There is no way she could handle my golden rule.

One night only.

You see, this is a game for me. One where I make the rules, choose the players, and never play for keeps.

Hopping into my car and making my way to work, I admit to myself that I really do need to get laid, though. It’s been way too long. Thoughts of how Sarah’s lush body would feel come to mind. I laugh as I think back on how living at home with Mommy for the last month hasn’t really helped my game at all.
Mom, you’re a huge cock-block.

I mean, it’s not like I could bring a one-night stand home and give it to her while my mom is asleep in the next room.
Nor would I want to.

Besides, I wouldn’t want to chance some girl accidentally running into my mom. Any girl meeting her is completely off limits. I’ve never brought a woman home, not even Melissa, my ex. Although we dated for a year, I just didn’t feel Melissa was worthy of that honour. Fuck, am I ever glad for that now. For me, meeting the family signals a huge commitment, one I’m just not ready for. The idea of being with one woman, only one, is not appealing to me at this point in my life, and that’s something I intend to steer clear of for a very long time.