Page 43 of Hold You Close
“Maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe not,” I say and take a sip of my drink.
Being back has been weird and working off the excess energy is exactly what I should do, but not like this. I’ll run or go for a swim when I get back. Thankfully, my absence didn’t cause the club any major issues, which is a good thing. It means Drea is actually doing her job—finally. Or, at least she didn’t burn the place down. However, I spent a good part of the night fixing orders that were going out tomorrow. Drea is not so good when it comes to the paperwork part.
I came out to the floor about two hours ago, enjoying the atmosphere, talking with customers, and needing to get away from my phone since I checked it about a hundred times. I’ve become a pussy, waiting for a text message from a girl.
A girl that’s not even my girl.
“If you change your mind . . .” She grins.
“I won’t, but have a good night and get home safe.”
Toby lets out a laugh that he attempts to cover over with cough, but I catch it. Collette walks out of the club, feelings probably hurt, but we’re officially closed now. Tonight, we were packed, everything went great, and I felt like myself again, minus the not getting laid part.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn him, lifting my glass to get a little more. I’ve earned it.
I’ve known Toby a long time. He and I started out the same way, promoting the hottest clubs on the strip, partying at them so we could bring in more girls who would spend all their money. He’s good people and I never have to worry about cash missing from the register.
He refills my scotch. “That’s a first.”
“I’m experiencing a lot of those lately.”
First time driving a fucking minivan, dealing with a five-year-old who doesn’t want to talk to me, remembering to feed other people, kissing London and thinking about doing it again . . . the list has been endless since Sabrina’s death.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” he laughs.
“Yeah, me either.”
Giant. Fucking. Pussy.
That’s the next tattoo I’m getting, right across my forehead.
“How is it having the kids in the house?”
“It’s a mix of being tortured and being happy at the same time. This will be the real test, though.”
“How’s that?” he asks.
“Because now we go back to living life. I’m working, they’re in school. We were sort of living in a world of false security before, you know?”
Toby’s parents died when he was sixteen. Instead of going to a family member, he went into the system. No one wanted an emotionally fucked-up teenager, so he was pretty much between foster homes and on the street.
He told me a few stories back when we drank way too much in our early days.
“Look,” he says as he stops wiping the counter. “You’re doing a good thing. Whatever anyone says, you’ve got my respect. Those kids need you, and no matter what you’re giving up, it’s worth it.”
Some days it feels like I’ve given up nothing. I may be an idiot most days, but I love those kids. There was never really a question of keeping them. Hell, even if Sabrina chose someone else, I would’ve been a part of their lives.
It’s just that the timing that sucks. This club is brand new. It needs time and attention, just like the kids do.
Who the fuck thought I could handle this?
London didn’t and maybe she was right. The fact is, even if she is right and I’m the wrong man for the job, I won’t fail those kids. I love them too much, and they’re all that’s left of my sister now. I have to do right by her and prove that she was doing the right thing in choosing me over her best friend.
Then there’s London. She’s a whole other set of issues. Our relationship is changing, or at least the way I think about her is, which is scaring the shit out of me.
It’s weird, because for so long I’ve focused on hating her, and now I can’t seem to stop imagining being around her. She’s a pain in my ass, but she’s also saving it at the same time. If it weren’t for her help, I’d be totally fucked.
