9. No Accident

Jillian

Aside from bustingmy ass the other night on a wet floor, I'm not clumsy by nature. Spilling that glass of water was to ensure that the conversation about NYC ended. Which it did.

Then I was asked if I minded driving CeCe's car and the boys back to the house once we closed. Of course I couldn't say no.

"You killed it." Fawna smiles, pushing a stack of bills toward me from the tip jars.

Having watched her combined the money from all four jars on the bar, cash in singles for larger bills, I know she hasn't spilt it between the four of us.

I push it back with the reminder, "You need to split it."

She crinkles her nose. "Please do not insult me. Owners who take tips are just gross."

"She's right." Her father, Abe, chuckles.

"It's over five hundred dollars in, like, four hours."

She looks at her sister, Dromida, who works at Mercy West hospital. "More than a surgeon makes."

"Game nights don't count."

She picks up the stack of bills, flips through them, then fans herself. "Oh, they count."

"Wait till she finds out we add twenty percent to the drink prices on game nights to ensure our staff gets paid for their service." Fawna's mom winks at me.

"No way!" I gasp.

"It won't be this good every night. Fawna normally has three on."

"We killed it tonight with just us," Fawna states. "You work, girl."

I will admit it was busy as hell, and I have to pee so bad I don't know how I'm still standing here, but so worth it.

"We did eight K in four hours, and this is nothing compared to what the next two nights will be. They win night one, two is busy, and three is insane." Fawna laughs at what I assume my expression must be. "You'll still average anywhere between five and eight hundred a night with three on."

"When Aria's on, take notes; she pushes top shelf shots. With the twenty percent increase, that's bank." Fawna shrugs.

"You're back here, too. It's only fair you?—"

"I do just fine." She leans in and whispers, "Four to five hundred percent markup on liquor." She steps back and winks. "I'm not just a pretty face and hot bod."

"You're a fucking genius," I state.

She throws her hands in the air. "Right?"

"Why doesn't everyone own a bar?" I ask.

"Being self-employed has its perks," Abe states as he dries off a glass, "and even more downfalls. Your business becomes your spouse and your children. This place could become your only social life. You also have to deal with nights like tonight when two people call out. Wouldn't matter what plans you may have had, you're working. You have busy seasons, like now, and months you may be lucky to get ten people through the door. Lot of people can't handle that. You have to be smart with your money. Servers and bartenders do, too."

"Invest in yourself, and you'll never go wrong." Nikki smiles. "Fawna's opening a restaurant this fall. Upscale, fine dining, catering to the local professionals. Her off-seasons here at the pub won't be as heavy a hit. Her new place will bring in a different cliental."

"That's amazing." I nod, head swimming with all the opportunities people like me never considered.

"All right, I think we're good here. The boys need their beauty sleep." Abe nods to the table where the boys, Cora, and Amira are sitting around, laughing. Well, all but Nour, who's looking at his phone. Probably trying to find another pussy to bruise.

"Same time tomorrow?" I ask.

"You can ride over from the stadium with me if you want," Fawna offers.

"Sounds great, and thank you so much for the job."

"Boys truly do thinkof sex every five seconds." Cora laughs as I approach the table.

"One, two, three, four, doggy-style." AJ laughs his ass off.

"One, two, three, four, busisleaving, kids," I say as I continue toward the door.

I glance back as I open the door to make sure they're following. They are, and they don't leave behind the conversation; it continues right on out of the bar.

"Gotta be careful who you're hooking up with now." AJ chuckles. "Biggest move from minors to majors is realizing it's quality over quantity. You mess that up, you could find yourself in a Turner situation."

"AJ," Bennett slurs, "you can't throw a teammate under the bus like that."

"I didn't throw him anywhere; them's the facts," AJ states. "He's not hiding it. Loves those kids of his, even if he doesn't love the women he made them with anymore."

"I believe the problem was he did love them," Nour defends Turner. "And he believed they loved him."

"Jersey chasers," Amira sighs. "You boys better wrap them tight."

"You wrap yours tight the other night?" AJ laughs, and my body tenses.

"Mind your business," Nour mumbles.

Amira laughs. "He always has."

"Amira," Nour grumbles.

"Until I can bring out the naked baby pictures, I have nothing else but stories."

"Spill them all." AJ laughs as I hit the key fob and unlock the door.

"This one lost his virginity in our mother's car." She laughs.

"How was your mom?"

I can't hold back a laugh, and not just because of what was said, but because two people said it at the same time. Those two people? Cora and Blaze Bennett.

"You're all assholes," Nour grumbles.

"Funny," Amira admits. "But the true story, even better."

"Are you seriously doing this?" Nour snarls at his sister.

"You bet I am," she says as she opens the door. "Mom found a pair of girl's panties in her car, and he told her that they were mine."

"Did you at least cover for him?" AJ asks as he climbs in behind her.

"Nope," Nour answers.

"I was in college—they couldn't have been mine. They grounded him until he admitted who he'd defiled. He refused. He was grounded for an entire spring and summer. His entire sophomore year." She laughs.

"When did you finally cave?" AJ chuckles.

"He still hasn't confessed. They caved before one of their trips to India."

Everyone laughs, except Nour.

Blaze gets in and looks at Cora. "You're gonna have to sit up front or on a lap."

"Front." She all but runs around the vehicle.

"Pop the hatch?" Nour asks.

"You're going to get in the trunk?" I ask, confused.

"He used to hide in the back of my car and scare me senseless." Amira laughs.

"Okay, suit yourself." I hit the button.

As we passthrough the light to take Amira to her apartment, red and blue lights flash behind me.

"Are you kidding me?" I look down, knowing I'm not speeding, for God's sake.

"You have a drink after your shift?" AJ asks.

"No, thank fuck," I grumble as I hit the signal and pull over.

"You're good then." He grips my shoulder.

"I've never been pulled over in my life." I search for my phone, knowing my license is in the case somewhere.

"You might want to put your hands on the wheel," Amira whispers.

"Why?" I ask, confused.

"You have two people in the vehicle whose skin tone sometimes causes issue."

I turn around and look at her. "Let a cop come at me like that, and I will have their fucking badge and their nuts."

The cop taps on the window, and I turn around and glare at him.

"Step out of the car, please, ma'am"

"Oh my God, just do as he asks," Cora pleads.

To make both Cora and Amira feel less worried, I hold one hand up and open the door with the other before sliding out.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me why you pulled me over and ask me for my license and registration before you just demand I step out of a damn car?"

"I don't have to tell you a thing. Now put your hands on the hood. I'm going to have to pat you down."

"You fucking kidding me?" I gasp.

"Now, ma'am, or I'll be forced to?—"

"She didn't do anything wrong. She's driving us home from the bar she works at," Cora cries softly.

"What bar are you leaving?" he asks.

"O'Donnell's," I snip.

"She's Roman Hart's sister," Cora adds. "I'm Cecelia Shaw's sister. She owns the?—"

"Could you step out of the car, too?" he cuts her off.

"She didn't do anything! She's in the?—"

"Step out of the car and walk around to the front," he speaks over me.

"Okay." Her voice shakes as she opens the door, holding her hands up.

"Who else is in the vehicle, miss?" he asks Cora as she walks over, visibly shaking.

"AJ, Blaze, Amira, who's a vet?—"

Again, he cuts her off. "Could you all slowly step out of the car, please."

"One of you better be recording this shit, because I'm going to sue the Trenton Police Department."

He bends down and hisses in my ear, "What you're going to do is shut the hell up and remain calm until backup gets here."

"For what?"

"Oh God." Amira laughs as she walks around with her hands up. "Do you think there's a man hiding in the trunk?"

"Is there?"

AJ chuckles. "No seats left, and we're just around the corner. Nour, you wanna identify yourself to the officer?"

"You just did, jackass," Nour calls back.

"My brother, Nour Uyar," Amira says, hands still up, holding her phone. "He hit a grand slam tonight. Would you like to see it?"

"Jesus Christ," the cop mutters, grabbing his radio. "Cancel backup. We've got a Subaru full of drunk Jags, and a mouthy bartender with the last name Hart taking them back to Cecilia Shaw's house."

"Hold your place; we're in route," comes through his speaker.

"I said, cancel backup," he clarifies.

"While all that shit's going on, could one of you open the hatch and let me out?" Nour calls.

"You promise not to shoot me if I let the Jag out of the back?" I ask.

"I never put my hand near my weapon, Miss Hart. Yeah, let your Jag out of the back."

"Like cat out of the bag." Amira laughs as I pass her and hit the button, opening the back.

The backup patrol car pulls up to the scene … that they caused.

Two officers climb out of the vehicle, and the one who pulled me over calls to them, "I told you twice to cancel."

"We were already en route, and you mentioned drunk Jags." One laughs.

"Hoping to get a couple autographs without waiting in a line somewhere."

Amira flips her hair back then holds out her hand. "Fine, give me a pen and tell me where to sign."

"He said Jags, not cougars." AJ laughs.

Her jaw drops. "You did not just call me a cougar!"

"Why you gotta say it like it's a bad thing?" AJ throws his arm around her. "A twenty-three-year-old, hot as hell pro baller can dream, can't he?"

Nour smacks him in the back of the head. "Not in front of her brother, he can't."

"Does that mean I have permission to do it behind your back?" AJ asks.

Nour steps to the cop holding the baseball in his hands. "What I don't see happening between two adults is none of my business."

"Hell of a hit, kid," the older, rounder cop says as he hands him the ball and then a marker.

Another smiles at Bennett. "I don't care what they say, you're better than your old man ever was."

The cop who pulled me over comes back from his cruiser with a Jags' ball cap. "My kid plays center. You're his favorite."

"Fuck, man, that's cool to hear. What's his name?"

"Little T works. His name's Tony."

"Jillian,"Rome sighs.

"Grown-ass woman with a job," I remind him.

"Love that for you, love that you stuck up for the fam, but you ever hear the term don't bring a knife to a gun fight?"

I lift my arms and make muscles. "I bring the guns everywhere." Then I step back and raise my hands in the air. "Goodnight, everyone. It's been fun, but I'm going to head back to my little tin can and pretend you all don't exist until the sun comes up and we do this all again."

Rome rolls his eyes. "There's room in here."

I turn and head to the door, reminding him, "Grown-ass woman with a job, and a taser, and pepper spray."

"Oh shit, I forgot to tell everyone. Three days, and we can move back into the townhouses."

"Seriously?" I hear one of them ask.

"Seriously." Rome laughs.

"It's about damn time!" AJ cheers.

After a half-ass shower,I'm sitting in the middle of the bed, surrounded by a pile of money. Five hundred and ninety-seven dollars, all mine.

I do the math, and even being conservative with the numbers that Abe suggested, I'll have close to thirty grand by the end of the season. That's a nice little nest egg for grad school without touching the stupid amount of money both Rome and Hudson gave me for college graduation.

When my phone buzzes, I look down and frown when I see the name John Smith. I don't wanna deal with him, but I know he won't go away until I do.

I hit accept. "Hi."

"That all I get from Daddy's little Jill?"

I roll my eyes. "It's late."

"I know that, but I caught the game tonight and saw you looking like a million bucks on the big screen and had to call."

"No, actually, you didn't have to."

"Don't be like that, Jill."

"How should I be to the man who squatted in a house and?—"

"That is my mother's house. My mother who Linda and those ungrateful bastards turned against me."

"They didn't turn?—"

"I couldn't go see my dying mother in fear that they'd attack me. They stole that from me, Jill. They stole that, and I simply took back what's mine."

"Your thinking is as skewed as ever." I sigh.

"It's the damn truth. You know it is."

I say nothing because there's no sense in arguing with a drunk.

"It's okay. I'm not like them. You don't have to pick sides with me, Jill. I love you too much to put you in that situation."

"Yeah, so much you decided to show up before I could even graduate college like a normal kid."

"Don't feed into their rhetoric. You were never without a home. Trust me; I know what it's like to be un-homed. You haven't a clue. None of you."

Because our mother made sure of that.

"It's almost three in the morning. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"Wait. I just had to pay taxes, and I'm out of money. I just need a little scratch to get me some food and maybe toilet paper."

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

"My mother, your grandmother, wouldn't want me to go hungry. She used to help me out when I was in a tight spot."

"You've mentioned that. I still don't believe you."

"Don't be a little bitch, Jillian."

I hate when he calls me by my full name. Took me forever to stop hearing it in a sneer, no matter who said it.

"Not a little bitch anymore. I'm a big bitch now. You've missed a few years."

"Then you leave me no choice. I can sell my story?—"

"You sell whatever you need to. You'll get the most from selling the house you waited to squat in until we were gone, screwing me out of having a place to live so I could maybe finish classes in person."

"You don't want that kind of trouble for your precious brothers, now do you? Think about that. Think about how that will feel to them, to that whore mother of yours, to you."

"Look, old man, I've got a hundred bucks in my account; will that get you whatever fix you need and stop the calls until you get your check?"

"I need three?—"

"Cheap booze, Dad, not top shelf. Get a job, function as an adult, then go for the gusto, but?—"

"You suck off them like a little whore and call me out?"

"I have a fucking job. I?—"

"Then three hundred shouldn't be that hard to come by for the man who gave you life, now should it? And before you answer, it'll be enough to stop me from selling my story."

"This is the last fucking time." I hit end.