I’d been nursing a rum and Coke while trying to keep a low profile all evening. I definitely didn’t feel like talking to anyone, except for Lace. My stomach was a mess of acid churning holes after the bombshell she had detonated on me earlier. I yanked a fistful of hair through my fingers. All this time I thought it had been her that changed her mind. I never knew that she’d heard what I’d said. Words I didn’t fucking mean. This was so jacked. I needed to talk to her and explain, but I hadn’t been able to catch her alone.
“Hey, Bullet.” A young woman heavy on the make-up brushed her breasts against my arm. Her nipples were clearly visible through the tight white t-shirt she wore. Oh, hell. I took a step back when just days earlier I would have been full steam ahead. But right now I had absolutely no interest.
Confusion creasing her brow, the woman’s gaze zipped back across the crowded room. War tipped his shot glass in our direction. “War told me you’d take me to the bus,” she said her lips rounding into a pout.
“Not tonight, babe.” I wasn’t pleased that War had sent this girl over like an appetizer to sample while Lace was watching. I wrapped my fingers around her wrists and extracted her arms from my waist. “Why don’t you go try Dizzy? I’d bet he wouldn’t mind giving you a tour.”
“Fine,” she whispered.
As she walked away, my gaze returned across the room to Lace, perched in War’s lap. Her beautiful whisky eyes connected with mine briefly before flitting away. I sighed, my chest burning with regret. No wonder her attitude had changed so dramatically toward me. At least she’d worn the dress, the pink one from the vintage shop. My attempt at a peace offering. Janie had helped me arrange delivery to the hotel. It looked wonderful on her. The fabric clung to her figure like it’d been made for her just as it had when she’d tried it on in the shop.
Her wearing it tonight had to mean something. She could forgive me, couldn’t she?
The long sleeves flared at the elbows and sitting as she was now the bottom hem lay just this side of decency. Where War’s hand rested on the bared skin of her leg though way, way up on her thigh beneath the hem of her dress wasn’t decent. It was crass. It sent the wrong message about the kind of woman Lace was. I could tell by her downcast expression that it was only reinforcing this new low opinion she held of herself. I was sure now that I shouldered some of the blame for that, but dammit, War was treating her like one of the groupies.
He shifted in front of her blocking my view.
Access denied.
If I hadn’t panicked that night, if I hadn’t made that stupid comment to Dizzy, could it have been us together right now, her eyes shining up at me, her face tilted up to mine?
I should let it go, let her go, but that’s what I had done two years ago and I didn’t know if I had it in me to do again, even for War.
I swallowed and moved to stare out the windows, gaze unfocused, as my mind rewound to high school to that day when Lace first walked back into my life again, no longer a child but a beautiful woman, one that turned out to be far beyond my reach.
4 years ago
“Bryan Jackson!” Hearing my name, I slammed my locker closed and turned around. “Dizzy.” I grinned, dropped my back pack on the tile, and clapped my old friend on the back.
“Since when did you start going to Roosevelt High?” he asked.
“As of today. My mom just finished nursing school. She got a job at Seattle General. We moved into the Grammercy Apartments on Rosedale”
“Nice.”
“How’ve things been since you moved out? You still living with your uncle?”
“Yeah. It’s ok. I guess.” Dizzy fell into step beside me like we’d never been parted as we headed out of the building. “Sure as hell better than it was living with her.”
“How’s Lace?” I asked, pushing the bar to open the heavy outside door.
“I don’t know. She kinda goes her own way now, and I go mine. She’s gotten a huge attitude, though,” he muttered, zipping up his hoodie. “Her head’s so big it practically needs its own zip code.”
“I can see that happening. She sure used to have a thing for hogging center stage,” I quipped.
“You don’t know the half of it. You should come by. See for yourself,” Dizzy said with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “I need to get to work, but why don’t you come by later, around nine? My uncle works the nightshift and a group of us usually hang out in the garage. I’ve got a used amp and a Fender I’d like to show you. It doesn’t sound too bad.”
“No shit. You any good?”
He shrugged. “I’m working on it.”
“I sure as hell would like to try out your Fender.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I have a beat up Epiphone I could bring over.”
“Sounds great. And if you need an amp, I could hook you up with one.”
“Cool.” I adjusted the strap on my back pack. “You mind if I bring a friend? He actually sings pretty good.”
“Sure, man. Whatever.” An Oldsmobile that was more bondo than metal pulled up alongside them. “That’s my ride.” Dizzy gave me a fist bump. “See ya then.”
Around nine fifteen, War and I sauntered up the short driveway to the detached garage, loud music and a pack of teens greeted our arrival. Dizzy handed us a couple of red solo cups filled with beer as soon as we entered. We sat down to get acquainted, but before long I noticed that War had lost focus on the conversation. His gaze was riveted on something over my shoulder.
“Dude.” War suddenly grabbed Dizzy’s arm and pointed. “Who’s that smoking babe?”
Dizzy turned around. “My sister,” he groaned and rolled his eyes.
Holy shit, I thought. Hair that used to lean more toward dark gold had lightened. It was long and straight now and the curled ends brushed across the top of a really nice looking pair of tits. She was practically falling out of the tight camisole and sweater set she wore. Her narrow hips and long slender legs were sexy as hell in a pair of tight jeans. No wonder War was distracted.
Lace Lowell was a total knockout.
The guy she was currently talking to touched her arm. A primal urge rose up inside of me. I wanted to push that guy the fuck away from her. Evidently feeling the weight of our stares, Lace pivoted in our direction. Those familiar whisky eyes met mine in a collision that left me reeling afterward. She blinked slowly before her lips curved up and she glided over, hips drawing my attention as they swayed.
Before I had a chance to make my move, War intercepted her. Grabbing her by the arms, he pulled her into him, even rocking his hips suggestively near hers. “Hey, beautiful,” he began, using the same line I’d heard him use a hundred times before. “Names Warren. Friends call me War. You can call me whatever the fuck you want.” He eased back, looked her over, and shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, you’re hot, baby.”
Her cheeks turned as pink as her sweater set.
War intertwined his fingers with hers and led her over. I felt my stomach take a crashing nose dive into the pavement. She wasn’t even likely to notice me with War around. Women took to War even more readily now than they had when we’d been in middle school. To my dismay, it appeared that Lace was no exception.
“We were just talking about our band. I’m the lead singer,” War told her.
Seriously? We didn’t have a band. We’d only just discussed the idea a couple of minutes ago. But that was just like War. He’d shoot off his mouth and throw out a grandiose idea even if most of the time nothing ever came of it.