I Pick You Read online

  I exhaled a deep breath, biting my tongue while I tried like hell to be a grownup and not use her vulnerability to my advantage. “What time does your flight arrive?”

  “Four-forty-five.”

  “I work until four-thirty. I might be a little late.”

  “Okay, I’m going to go bathe her. We’ll see you tomorrow. Say, bye Daddy,” Kit scooped Bay into her arms, kissing her chubby little cheeks. The video call was a lot quicker than normal, but the tears in her eyes and the raspy voice explained why. Kit didn’t want to leave her.

  Bay raised an arm high into the air, “Hi.”

  I smiled, shook my head and waved back. “Bye, Bay.”

  Chapter Six

  My pencil rolled across the floor as I stood, needing to get the hell out of solitude and the damned thoughts pumping wild adrenaline through my veins every time I thought about it. I needed loud music, hot girls, and a few gallons of beer. If Rydell didn’t want to be in the same bar as me, she could go somewhere else. Why should I have to dance around her and give up the convenience, the country music, and the alcohol just to avoid her? I was about to become a dad to a little girl I had seen once, and a leader to a bunch of seven-year-olds. I needed a bar, and I possibly might have chosen that one hoping she’d be there.

  Minus the cowboy hat, I dressed like Brantley Jandt, the country music singer, not Mr. J, the teacher. Levi’s, a black button up shirt, and leather boots with sterling silver toes. If Rydell didn’t find me irresistible in that getup there was only one explanation. She was gay.

  I was pleasantly surprised with the music as soon as I walked in, hearing the legendary Barbara Mandrel from the right of the room. I turned to the voice when I realized it wasn’t Barbara singing about being country when country wasn’t cool, coming from the jukebox, at all. Suddenly, I stopped. Dead in my tracks. Rydell stumbled on her words, quickly shifting her eyes from mine back to the few people in the half-empty bar. I was baffled. I knew there was a connection there, I just didn’t expect it to be that. Totally knocked the wind out of me.

  Mid-Town Tavern was fairly empty, a couple older men at the bar, a couple to their right, a few people at the tables in front of the small stage, and I was pretty sure there was someone making out to the back right of me, but I didn’t turn around to see. I was too in awe of Rydell Brinkley to give a shit. Who would have thought?

  “Can I get a Bud-light? Bottle,” I asked the bartender, unable to take my eyes from Rydell. Not only was her voice beautiful, her fingers worked a set of acoustic strings better than mine. She glanced my way with angry daggers several times, but never missed a note. Not one beat, and I smiled. A ridiculously huge grin held firm on my face, bias to the dirty looks she threw my way.

  Just like the rest of the patrons, I clapped absurdly hard when the song was over and she walked down the two steps, fury enraged in her entire body.

  I put on my best smile, ready to praise her, and hoped like hell I could seduce her down. I wasn’t the only one who looked good in Levi’s and cowboy boots. Rydell wore them amazingly well. “Wow, I’m overly impressed, girl. Wow.”

  “Are you following me? What are you doing here?”

  “Following you? I live right down the road from here. I wanted a cold beer.”

  “I’m sure you can find another place to get a cold beer.”

  My eyes left hers, glancing from her to the bartender when he stepped in, staring right at me, ready to kick my ass. He could have, too. I hit the gym back in Nashville daily, and I had some bulk, but this guy ate the gym. His arms were twice the size of mine. “You okay, Rydell?”

  “Yes, fine, Brenden, and don’t do that. I can take care of myself.”

  Although I knew Brenden the bartender would probably throw me out on my ass, I said it anyway. “Whoa, it’s a bar. I didn’t know I had to have your permission to drink a beer. Chill out, girl. At least let me buy you a drink for all your help this week.”

  For a brief second, I thought she was done being a bitch, but then she opened her mouth. “It’s my job. I don’t need you to buy me a drink for doing my job. I come here to get away from stress, and I would appreciate it if you found another place. Give me a beer, Brenden.”

  Her eyes stayed on Brenden’s and not mine. “At least, let me pay for it.”

  “Go away,” she replied in a haughty tone, eyes giving me a condescending once-over.

  I watched Rydell swipe her bottle of nasty Coors from the bar and stomp off, not another glance, let alone a word to me. She stormed down the hall I thought was a bathroom and never returned.

  Her bitch friend Wendi showed up right after, jumping down my throat the same way Rydell had.

  “Are you joking right now? What are you doing in here?”

  Defeated and giving up, I tossed my hands into the air. “Hello to you, too, Miss Ferguson. Just trying to drink a beer. That’s it.”

  “Why? Because you knew Rydell would be here?”

  I watched her husband shake a guy’s hand and grab a pool stick over her shoulder, wondering if I shouldn't just save the hassle and leave. “What is it with you people? I’m not after Rydell. I live like five minutes from here. I just wanted a beer, and it was either this place or the one over on Blanchard with piss warm beer. Your friend is safe. I’m not interested.”

  Wendi looked around the bar, taking her un-ordered beer from Brenden the bartender. “Where is she?”

  I shrugged my shoulders while Brenden answered the question with a thumb toward the back corner.

  “What did you say to her?”

  Jesus Christ. “What the hell? I didn’t say anything. I just came in here for a beer.”

  Wendi questioned me like I was the one Rydell needed to run from, and that puzzled the hell out of me. “And you didn’t see her truck parked outside?”

  “Yes, of course, I did. I just didn’t know that I had a restraining order to stay away from her. I don’t even know her.”

  “You don’t need to know her,” she expressed with a quick, snappy tone, and then she calmed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to accuse you of anything.”

  “But you are,” I assured her with great determination and raised eyebrows. I was handed a sentence for a crime I hadn't committed.

  “It’s not you. Not really. She just got out of a relationship that wiped her out. She doesn’t need a distraction like you in her life right now.”

  I innocently shrugged my shoulders and lied. “I’m not into Rydell.”

  “Good, keep it that way.”

  “Fine, but what do you mean by a distraction like me?”

  Wendi laughed and tilted a beer to her lips. “I know your type.”

  “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know enough.”

  I amusingly smiled, sipped my beer, and coaxed her to continue. “Do tell.”

  “Guys like you live above laundromats in one room apartments, party hard, and sleep with everything with a vagina. You have a cocky haze all around you, your walk, your talk, your look, your jeans, and the boots. You went to Vanderbilt, so that tells me you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You don’t even want to be a teacher, but your parents are giving you an ultimatum. They’re done paying your way so you had to find a job. I give you six months. It takes guys like you years to grow up. You’ll still be jumping out of airplanes when you’re forty. I’m just looking out for my friend. Hook up with Crystal Cantral, she’s more your type.”

  “Wow, you must be psychic.”

  “I just know how to read people.”

  “Right, well, no need to worry about me. She’s not even my type.”

  Wendi winked at me, clicking her gun finger toward my eye. “Perfect, glad we had this talk. Oh, and for future references, Crystal hangs out at Mod’s over on Ripple. She doesn't come here. She hates country music.”

  I watched Wendi walk to the back where Rydell had gone, and then turned my attention to a guy taking the stage, plopping to the same stool Rydell had sat on. H
e was the shit, sang Hank Jr. like I had never heard before. Nostalgia for the life I had left behind hit me like a ton of bricks. Wendi was right. This wasn’t for me and I didn’t belong here. The only problem was, it was too late. I had backed myself into a corner with only one way out. One year of time. That’s the only way I could look at it. A year would go by in no time, Bay would be back with her mom, and I would be back in Nashville. It wasn’t permanent.

  My plan to have a couple cold beers to relax turned into more beers than I could count, shots, and a twenty-five-dollar taxi drive. I had no idea how that happened, but it did. Cost me a small fortune to hitch a ride a couple miles away. I’m blaming it all on Rydell. I couldn’t leave once she returned with her bodyguard, Wendi, an hour later. I liked the bar, the music, and the cold beer, and truth be told, I was a little infatuated with Rydell Brinkley.

  The bar filled up more by nine o’clock and I realized what the deal was. Thursday night, open mic. I’m pretty sure that’s what caused me to be over served. Every nerve in my body jumped toward that stage. It was like a drug, pulling me to perform, so strong I could taste it in my mouth. Then again, that may have been the Jack. Between watching Rydell with her friends, her ass in those jeans, the performers on stage, and the alcohol, I was a male version of a hot mess. But…I wasn’t too drunk to catch the looks.

  Miss Brinkley eyed me just as much as I did her, and even in my inebriated state, I knew I read her right. She was attracted to me. All I had to do was swoop in gracefully, show her we could have a good time without all the bullshit. She wouldn't have to worry about getting her heart tromped on by me. I wasn’t the tromping kind, and Wendi was right in some ways. I doubted I would ever tell a girl I loved her. That desire never had burned inside of me. I guess it was directed to my music. Other than my sister Bridgett, that was the only love I had.

  Even though Rydell never talked to me again, I stayed, hoping she’d take the stage again. She didn’t and I was sure it was because of me. I heard a few people trying to talk her into it, but she wouldn't do it. First, it was because of her pool game, then darts, and eventually she was too drunk, but she eyed me. That I knew for certain. I just wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t the, fuck me, narrowed eyes I had become accustomed to. It was different, simple interest without sex in mind, or maybe I was just drunk.

  The only reason we talked at all was that I purposely went to the bathroom when she did, giving her a couple minutes before meeting her right in the hall.

  “Still here, huh?”

  “You know we could just fuck and get it over with.”

  Well, fuck. That wasn’t what I had planned to say. I wanted to tell her how pretty I thought her voice was, praise her on how talented she was, not that. For-fucks-sake.

  She blew a sputtered laugh from her lips, unable to keep from it. “You’re a dick.”

  “Yeah, I sort of am,” I admitted, a smile on my face as I purposely slid two fingers between two buttons on my shirt, hoping to pull her eyes to my strong pecks.

  She looked, shook her head, and walked away. That’s about the last clear picture I had, and I have no idea who called the cab. I didn’t even talk to anyone but her and Wendi. Regardless, I made it home and to my bed.

  I remembered kicking my boots off, sliding out of my jeans, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure I jerked off before passing out. The towel on the floor and my hand still wrapped around my morning wood was a dead giveaway.

  My head pounded behind both temples and my mouth felt like I had gone to bed with cotton in it. Swearing off alcohol, I groaned and dragged myself out of bed, uncaring of the twenty minutes I had to make it to work. I was nearly dead; being late was the furthest thing from my mind. I did however call in and sweet talk Miss Day.

  “St. Augustine, this is Marybeth, how can I help you?”

  My fist thumped off my chest as I dry swallowed two pain pills, trying to talk. “Hey, Marybeth, this is Mr. Jandt. Is Miss Day around?”

  “Yes, just stepped into her office. Hold just a second.”

  “This is Miss Day.”

  “Hi, this is Brantley. I’m running a little late.”

  “You haven’t made it a week yet. Is this something I should be concerned with?”

  “No, not at all. Promise to never let it happen again. I’m just not feeling the best right now.”

  “It’s fine, but this is a school, and we need teachers to run it. We have a nine o’clock faculty meeting. Will you make it by then?”

  With my head in my hands, I looked to the time, thinking an hour should do it. “Yes, I’ll be there by then. Thank you, Olivia. It won’t happen again.”

  I heard a faint goodbye from Miss Day when my phone hit the bed, right before my body fell on top of it. No way. I couldn't do it. There was no way I would make it through this day. Hell, I’d probably be dead within the hour.

  Dragging my dead-ass out of bed, I showered against my better judgement and walked to the garage where my car was not. My hands wiped down my face in frustration as I remembered why my head hurt and how I had gotten home the night before. Thumbing through my phone, I hit the Uber app on my phone and typed in my address. I walked down the driveway, feeling the sultry heat fill my lungs, cursing Florida in my head. Despite the heat, I headed north, waiting for a reply from someone who could pick me up. I rolled my sleeves to my elbows and wiped a bead of sweat, already forming on my forehead. Gah. I hated Florida.

  “Need a ride?”

  I turned to the sweet familiar voice and accepted the offer with relief. “Thank you. Yes, my car’s just up here at Mid-Town.”

  Gabriella Pierce laughed and unlocked the passenger door for me. “At least you didn’t drive. That’s the main thing.”

  “Yeah, I’m never doing that again.”

  “I get you. I said the same thing the last three times. I make a mean drink, you’ll have to come over some time with…”

  Her eyebrows raised to the ceiling and her head nodded, waiting for an answer to a question I didn’t even know she was asking.

  “What?”

  “You and who else? Surely you didn’t buy this house all by yourself.”

  I totally got it then, realizing the attempt to meddle. “Oh, you mean a wife. No, it’s just me, well, sort of. My daughter will be here this evening. We’re only here for a year.”

  “Oh, you have a daughter. Rowan and Phi will love that. How old?”

  “She’ll be two in January.”

  “Paxton’s birthday is in January. What day?”

  “Jaaanuary, twellll, twenty-second.”

  “You don’t know your daughter’s birthday?”

  “It’s complicated and a long story.”

  “I’m sure I can keep up, and I have time. I’m just meeting my friend Mi for coffee while my minions endure piano lessons for two hours.”

  “Some other time. I’m already late for work, but you have no idea how much I appreciate the ride.”

  Gabriella glanced at me through narrowed eyes and gave up, prying in exchange for small talk that I didn’t feel like having. “How do you like it here?”

  I smiled over at her and told the truth. “I fucking hate it. It’s too hot, but this house and the beach make it tolerable.”

  “For sure. So you bought a house that you’re going to sell in a year?”

  “I’m renting it from my first cousin.”

  I could have sworn we swerved a little, and I knew for a fact the color in her face was washed out, replaced with a grayish white. “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, so you’re Lane’s cousin?”

  “Yes, but we don't really talk.”

  “Oh, well I meant what I said about you stopping over some time. I’m sure the kids would love having someone to play with.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see. Thank you again for the ride,” I uttered, as we pulled behind my car. I clicked the key fob, thanking her again for the ride, canceling the offer for an Uber driver with my thumb.
/>   By the time I made it to the school, the meeting had started. Miss Day stood in front of the morning meeting, expressing the importance of the stupid hub, the ancient DOS system everyone hated.

  I ducked into a desk, right behind Wendi, glancing at Rydell to her right. She pretended not to see me, keeping her eyes on the lecture in front of us. I was sure after only five minutes I wouldn't last long. This was worse than Mr. Pruitt from ninth grade history. The only difference was the fact that I couldn't doze off in class. Instead, I watched Rydell and her every move. The way she fidgeted in her chair, bouncing her knees and tapping her pink nails on the desk made me wonder if it was because of me. Did she know I couldn't take my eyes off her? Could she feel my stares?

  “Shit, I mean, not shit. I mean. Sorry,” I announced, fishing my phone from my pocket, trying like hell to silence Kit’s text message and the vulgar notification. A parrot voice letting me know the cunt had sent a text, repeatedly. The cunt sent a text, the cunt sent a text, the cunt sent a text.

  Miss Day stopped talking and waited for me to shut up the chant. “Change it. Right this second, Mr. J. This is something you should have known wouldn't be tolerated in any school, let alone one of this class. This information is in your handbook. I suggest you spend some time reading up on that today.”

  “I’m sorry, yes, I will,” I promised, nervously changing the immature text-back-tone. Nobody uttered a word, but I did get a short laugh from Jonas from behind me somewhere, and I could tell Wendi and Rydell were both about to bust a gut. Rydell kept her hand planted firmly across her mouth, and Wendi turned completely around, knowing she’d laugh if she looked at Rydell.

  I didn’t much care about Rydell or Miss Day’s boring speech about nothing. Word vomit. That’s all it was. She’d just written the same things in an email with every last teacher attached to it. I, for one, didn’t need to hear it again. I comprehended without the lecture.

  Cunt- Hey, you’re going to have to go buy Bay a car seat before you come. The movers accidentally took hers to the thrift store, but it was sort of my fault. I did set it there. She’s twenty-one pounds. Make sure you get a safe one for her weight. See you later today. Oh, my God. I’m so freaked out right now. This is really happening. What the hell am I doing? Anyway, see you when you get to the airport. I’ll be the one chewing my nails.