Whiskey Kisses (10 page)

“Sounds like they enjoy seeing you naked.” Crap.

That’s right. Show her you have no filter, and see how many months go by without seeing her again. It was five last time. Not that she was running from me, but that didn’t stop me from counting the hours.

“Naked?” Izzy belts out a laugh and her teeth glitter in turn. “I guess they’re typical boys.” She touches her hand to my cheek and holds it there a moment. “Good night, Holt.” I watch as she sways her hips all the way out the door, and my heart breaks because every last part of me wishes I were going with her.

Annie leads me to the back where we have a table and chairs set out for employee breaks. Mom sits off to the side with a decidedly ticked-off expression, and I can’t say I blame her. Jenny is seated square on my dad’s knees, giving him what looks like the lap dance of the century while my father holds her at the hips.

I slap Bryson some skin. “Congrats, bro.”

“You up for best man?” He pulls me into a half hug.

“You bet.” That almost guarantees I’ll get to dance with Izzy again, and this time I can’t help the goofy grin from blooming on my face.

“So you and Sawyer, huh?” He shakes his head as if scolding me on some level. “Is it the real deal?”

I glance over to Mom who looks far more lonely than she ever has before, and it both pisses me off and breaks my heart.

“Nah, Iz and I are just friends.” For a second there I almost forgot I destroy relationships, not build them. Regardless, Izzy’s not up for some traditional relationship, at least not with me. I guess we’ll see how things pan out with the foot doctor on Wednesday. In fact, I think I’ll add myself to the schedule that night so I can see firsthand where this goes. “So what’s up?”

I pull a seat out for Annie, and she takes it.

Dad clears his throat. “I’ve come to a rather sad conclusion.” He glances at my mother then to Bryson and me. “I’ll be putting the bars up on the market.”

“What?” Bryson is shocked as shit for the both of us.

“Its simply time. They’ve had a good run, but my head’s no longer in it.” He pats his girlfriend on the knee to let us know exactly where his little head is at. “There’s no point in going forward. This was once a joint venture between your mother and I, and I’ve held onto them longer than I needed to. I’ve already agreed to help pay half of Annie’s education. And, Bryson, I’ll do the same for you until you finish up with your masters, but that’s all she wrote. The bars—much like your mother and I—are history.”

My fist glides over my palm just hearing him talk about her that way. She gave him everything, and he’s just sitting there grinding his heel into what they once had. I hate him—I hate
me
for this.

“So what’s next?” I ask as if I didn’t know. I get the ax,
that’s
what’s next.

“I’m going to work it out with the new owner to keep the staff, at least for a little while. And, whatever you do, I wouldn’t tell anyone just yet. Trust me, you’ll have a mutiny by morning if people think they’ll be losing their jobs. I don’t want to spook anyone.” He gets up and wraps an arm around his new gal pal as if it were perfectly normal, and I’m afraid that’s exactly what it is—the new normal.

They take off, and Bryson gives me a light sock to the arm.

“You all right, man?”

“I’m great. Just a little caught off guard.”

Mom comes over and gives us each a hug. “Don’t worry. It’ll all work out I promise.”

I nod as if I believed it, but, the truth is, nothing is going to work out. I’m about to lose the one thing I had that was real in my life, this damn piece of real estate.

Bryson has Baya and his shiny new degree. Annie has a bright future which starts in a few short weeks at Whitney Briggs. And what do I have? A front row seat as the girl of my dreams dates a podiatrist. Nothing more.

That kiss from earlier comes back strong, and a surge of adrenaline spikes through me, vying for hope.

There’s something more brewing between Izzy and me.

I can feel it, and judging by that kiss, so can she.

Izzy

Dad,

Every now and again I get thrown for a loop. I’ve worked so hard to build this fort around me, and sometimes I get tired of holding up the walls. It’s so damn heavy. Sometimes I just want to be normal. Is there such a thing?

Confused,

~Iz

Wednesday morning, the sun splits through a crack in the curtains and blinds me with its overbearing exuberance. It’s not that I can’t appreciate a nice sunny day, but I happened to be enjoying where my mind had wandered off to and sort of wanted to linger. I haven’t had a dream like that in, well, never. I was at Holt’s apartment, and we were in the middle of a mad video game session just laughing our asses off, staring at the screen, neither one of us willing to lose. Something about the whole scene, about being with Holt and just having a good time with him made me happy.

A tail lashes over my face and tickles my nose.

“Sneezy.” I push him away and accidentally slide him right off the bed. “Oops, sorry.”

That dream felt so real. It felt good, comfortable hanging out with Holt like that. Usually I’m repelled by men, and, yet, with Holt it’s like I can’t get enough.

I stumble out of bed and into the living room. There’s so much to do before next Thursday, the big twenty-year anniversary of the studio. And it’s been twice as stressful since I’m planning a few surprises for my mother. It’s impossible to keep anything from her.

The cats congregate around my ankles with their good morning wails, tripping me twice on the way to the kitchen. The strong smell of cigarette smoke comes from the living room, and I head in that direction.

“Would you knock that off?” I burst in to find Greasy D lying on the couch with one hand down his pants and the TV on low. “We don’t smoke.” Or masturbate in open areas of the house, but I leave that part out for now.

“Well, darlin’—I do.” He takes a hit and blows a mini tornado from his thin, greasy lips. His gray hair is sticking straight up, what little he has left, and his stubble looks as if his face has been sprayed with silver shards.

“Mom?” My voice escalates in horror. If anything she’ll go batshit when she sees he’s lit one up, and that alone will be worth the show.

“She ain’t here. She was up early and out the door while your lazy ass was sawing logs.”

“And what exactly is it that your lazy ass does?” I’m so pissed. I’m shaking. Usually I don’t mean to chase away my mother’s boyfriends, it sort of happens by default, but this is one I’d like to missile launch into space.

“I’m looking after you.” He gives a quick wink and rides his stoned-out eyes over my tank top and shorts in a tactile manner. I can feel those invisible hands roving over me as I cry out for my mother all those years ago. Instinctually I cover my chest and head for the kitchen. I think it’s time to have a talk with Mom. I don’t know why the hell she’d want a moron like Greasy D in her life.

And why is she such a magnet for creeps, anyway?

The studio has a few extra cars in the lot, and I know for a fact one of them belongs to my sweet baby sis. It’s odd since Laney hasn’t been here in ages.

I head in and say a quick hello to Bella, the girl who has worked behind the front desk for the last five years. She was the first person I hired when I took the reins from my mother. Well, not officially. Mom runs a tight ship, but she graciously handed over a majority of the grunt work once I began working here fulltime. The only duty she’s held onto was the books, and, truthfully, money management has never been my forte as evidenced by my under-the-mattress method of personal banking.

“Izzy?” Laney comes up from the hall and gives me a quick hug.

“Fancy meeting you here.” I mean it. “Considering it as a venue for the reception?”

There’s no way in hell Laney would even dream of the idea. She’s always had champagne taste, and, lucky for her, because Ryder can build an entire house out of Dom Perignon bottles if he wanted. Speaking of dreams, Holt pops back into my mind.

“Right.” She nods into me. “And we’ll have the buffet laid out right here at the sign in desk.” She makes a face at poor Bella who’s inundated with the phone ringing off the hook.

“Let’s head in.” I lead us to the studio where, shockingly, Mom is speaking to a group of irate mothers. What is this, bring your family to work week? Although, technically, I didn’t bring either of them. The mothers start in with their bickering. “Sometimes I think we should initiate a drop-off rule,” I whisper to Laney. “That would cut back on ninety percent of the drama that takes place around here.”

“Yeah, well, Mom can work on her delivery a little. I’m sure that would cut back on eighty.”

“Touché.” I walk her back to my office where the shelves are lined with all of my favorite dance magazines. I remember when Laney and I used to pour over them for hours. But, then, my mother deemed Laney unworthy of the studio, and she’s never quite recovered from that. In my mother’s defense, Laney was heard on multiple occasions saying she had a spot on the team because her mother owned the place. She outright refused to come to practice most days. “So—what brings you here?”

“Mom mentioned that the studio was turning twenty, and I wanted to see if there was something I could do to help. Roxy says she’s bringing cupcakes.”

“And I can’t wait to sink my teeth into them. As for the celebration, I’ve got it handled. I’m sending out fliers today with each of the girls, and I’m going to have the lead team work on a banner. I’m having everyone at the studio sign it. I thought it’d be a nice memento for Mom.”

“You’re right, it will be.” She sits on the edge of my desk. Laney has let her hair grow out long, and now it’s nearly the same length as mine. We look enough alike that we could be fraternal twins ourselves minus the fact we’re five years apart. She looks at me sideways. “You’re always looking out for Mom.” She strums her nails over the desk, filled with suspicion. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that comment Jemma made the other night about me not knowing you—it got me thinking. She said it would take more than ‘the one’ to set your heart straight. Is something going on? If there’s something happening, I’d like to be let in on the big secret.” She leans in as her features soften. “I’m your sister, Iz, and, to be honest, the more I thought about it, the more it hurt to think you might be sharing something with Jemma instead of me.”