Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

JOULES

123 bobas left until my baby sister dies …

Lake doesn’t want to go to the club with me. That’s fine. I’ve dragged her to dozens of clubs over the last few months, and we haven’t once seen Tam Eyre. Based on the intel I’ve gathered from flirting, schmoozing, or drinking my targets into submission, I’ve learned that he isn’t the partying type. Barely drinks. Never goes out—certainly not to clubs.

So, it’s okay that Lake didn’t want to come tonight. When I go out on these missions, I’m looking for two things: gossip … and Kaycee Quinn.

I’m starting to wonder if she’s changed her ways after hooking up with Tam. According to anybody who’s anybody, Kaycee likes to go out when she’s in town for a concert, but I haven’t seen her yet. And I know I’m not missing the right clubs. I have got the right fucking clubs.

I stand in the corner of the room tonight, hands tucked into my pockets, working my jaw in frustration. Girls keep coming up to me to offer their numbers, ask me to dance, ask me to sleep with them. I rub at my forehead.

How are we three-and-a-half months into this, and all we’ve got is a dick on a bag?

I’ve been here all night, surrounded by sweaty, half-dressed clout chasers, too many mirrors, and walls as red as blood. I’ve got my arms crossed over my chest, scanning the room for any sign of Kaycee. Not that I have much hope. Months of chasing her, of chasing Tam Eyre, and what do we have to show for it?

I scoff and push away from the wall, heading in the direction of the bar. I splurged on an Uber tonight, so I’m treating myself to another drink with the meager tip money I earned at my food service job last night. Hawking water bottles in the crowd while Tam sang about girls who taste like milk and honey.

“Fuck me. I hate his music.” I stop walking, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. “Kiss This Rizz” is playing—another damn Tam song. If I never hear another one of his songs for the rest of my life, I’ll be happy. Joe, why aren’t you here to help with this? He would’ve loved this trip, would’ve found a way to make it fun, even while he stayed up late worrying about Lake beside me.

I could just imagine him last night, standing next to me while I peered down at Lake on the pull-out couch bed. I told her that I’d take the couch, but she didn’t listen. Stubborn little brat. My lips twitch in a smile. As soon as I left the hotel room to hit the clubs, she moved off the bed and onto the couch, and was fast asleep when I got back.

Too bad for her that I’m strong and stubborn—even more stubborn than she is. I just picked my sister up and put her in the bed, tucked her in as she grumbled her displeasure, and slept in the warm space she left under the covers. Joe would’ve covered his mouth and tried not to laugh the whole time, climbing into the bed beside me.

We’d have laid there facing one another, hands pillowed under our cheeks, flashes of light from the city outside playing across our faces. Patches of a foreign world, so unlike the quiet corner of Arkansas we left behind.

“Which is your least favorite Tam song?” Joe would’ve asked me, and I would’ve had to think really hard. Which one? I hate them all.

“Sweet Honey,” I’d answer, and Joe would nod knowingly.

The next time we were at the concert and that horrible song came on, he’d have come running through the empty venue halls. I’d pause, a broom in hand, a frown on my face. Blond-haired and bright-eyed, he’d pause in front of me, flash a shit-eating grin, and then tug his big-ass headphones from his pocket. He always wore them hanging out, one giant earmuff sized speaker stuffed in his jeans. He’d throw them onto my ears, and something that he knew I liked would be playing instead.

I want to punch something.

I lost my cousin, and I will not lose my baby sister.

My eyes flash open, and there’s a girl standing in front of me on her tiptoes. She’s staring at me from wide, inquisitive eyes, a flash of a smile on her red lips, a grain of tequila salt on the edge of her mouth.

“What are you doing?” I blurt, reaching out automatically to grab her arms when she looks like she might tip over. Some invisible God kicks me in the heart, jumpstarting this frantic, uneven rattle that makes me just a little dizzy. Everything hurts all of a sudden: my lungs, my chest, my head, and most especially, my dick.

“Everyone in here is moving, and you’re the only one standing still,” she tells me, relaxing back onto her heels. I was so lost in my head that I didn’t realize anyone had come up to me. It’s a trait that both Lake and I share, that Joe used to share with us, the three of us dreaming on our feet. “What’s your name?” the girl asks me, as I blink stupidly down at her.

I am never this lost for words when it comes to girls. The moment I hit puberty, I was swarmed with them. I don’t think much about it anymore. If I see a girl I like, I approach her, I smile, I offer my number. If she says no then I move on, and I wait for the next girl.

I feel like if this girl tells me no then … I might give a little bit of chase.

A cocky smile warms my lips, the shape as familiar to me as the sight of my hands on a woman’s upper arms.

“Joules Frost,” I tell her, leaning down to put my mouth up against her ear. The woman’s hand clenches in the fabric of my T-shirt. It’s a relatively tight fit, so the motion of her fingers causes her nails to scrape against my skin. The shift of my body pushes my hard cock up against the fabric of my boxers, and I struggle to keep my tone even. “And you’re Kaycee Quinn. I’ve spent a hell of a long time looking for you.”

She steps back suddenly, knocking our heads together.

“Ouch.” I rub at my head and stand up straight, frowning down at Kaycee.

Because only a forest hermit would fail to recognize the up-and-coming pop star. She’s no Tam Eyre just yet, but dating him has doubled her popularity, easy. Apparently, calling Kaycee by her name, recognizing her for who she is, that’s a cardinal sin.

The open curiosity in her face dims, and she purses that shiny cherry mouth of hers. I’ve never seen a girl with a mouth that actually looks like fruit, something plump and ripe that needs to be bitten. If I did, if I nibbled you, Kaycee Quinn, what would you taste like?

I have a feeling she wouldn’t taste like Tam’s girl—this soft milk and honey person. There’s a sharp glint in Kaycee’s brown eyes that’s caught my immediate attention.

“Oh, too bad. I was hoping you’d be interesting.”

“You have no idea the stories I could tell,” I reply, lifting a thumb up and brushing at the corner of my lip. “You’ve got a little something here.”

Kaycee’s eyes widen slightly, and she reaches up, touching the wrong side of her mouth. I’m so tempted to lean down and lick the salt from her lip, but we’re not there yet. We’ll get there, believe it or not.

I can do all sorts of things to help Lakelynn run into Tam, but I can’t do the real work for her. As far as falling in love, that’s on her and him. But what I can do is this: I can get rid of Kaycee fucking Quinn by making her fall in love with me. If she breaks up with Tam, then that’s one less obstacle between me and saving my sister’s life.

I reach out and swipe my thumb over the salt grain, bringing it to my lips. My eyes are on that single white kernel resting on the whorls of my fingertip. I lick it, turning my gaze up to Kaycee at the same moment.

She laughs at me, one hand covering her mouth.

“You really think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” she mumbles behind her fingers, and I smile a little wider, tucking my hands into my pockets.

“I know I’m hot shit. Let me buy you a drink, and I’ll prove it. If you’re not convinced by the end of the third shot, I’ll never bother you again.”

“You’ll never bother me again now,” Kaycee says with a slick, little smile. “Because I’m leaving. I was on my way out. You seemed different at first, but I see now that’s not actually the case.”

“I was thinking about my dead cousin,” I tell her, my skin dancing with heat. I almost check the heart-shaped birthmark on my wrist, but there’s no point.

Kaycee is not my Match even if it feels like she should be.

Why am I having a reaction like this to her? I wonder as I wait to see how she’ll respond to my statement. Some might say that I’m using Joe to get to Kaycee, but if Joe could talk to me, he’d tell me to go for it. “We can’t let our girl die, can we, Joules?” he’d say. I can practically hear his voice in my ear now.

I’m not the sort of guy who follows women around. If she says she doesn’t want to talk to me, then that’s her choice. But tonight? I cannot let Kaycee leave unless she takes my number with her. Lake is depending on me.

Is that the only reason? I ask myself, digging deeper than I usually do. Maybe a crowded nightclub isn’t the place for some sort of heartfelt revelation, but I’m having one anyway. Kaycee is intriguing to me; she’s more than just a mark. I wish that she were my Match.

“Cheap move, using your dead family member. You better not be lying to me about that because nothing would disgust me more.” Kaycee turns and swings her hair over her shoulder, hitting me with a silky raven wave. She always wears her hair in two braids on either side of her head. I think it looks much better like this. “But fine. Buy me three shots. I’ll let you plead your case.”

I watch her hips as she sashays away from me. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it. This is a woman who knows she’s beautiful, who knows she’s talented, and it’s obvious in every step she takes.

She isn’t going to be easy to seduce.

I know right away that Kaycee is going to force me to fight harder than I ever have before. She’s going to be a challenge, and she’s going to change something fundamental about me by the time we’re done with each other. I am certain of all of these things as I take the stool on her right.

She turns slightly toward me, and I do the same, putting my legs on either side of hers. My knee is between her thighs, but not touching. I’m only in her space by maybe two or three inches past polite propriety, but she knows it.

Kaycee looks from my knee to my face.

“Something to drink?” the purple-haired girl behind the counter asks.

“Tequila, and bring the bottle,” Kaycee instructs before I get a chance to speak. Fuck, I wonder how much the bottle costs? I definitely don’t have enough in cash to pay for that. But if any situation called for use of the family emergency fund, it’d be this one. I have to get Kaycee to break up with Tam because my sister’s too nice to be vicious.

Even if I end up hating Kaycee, I’ll make her love me. I’ll go to bed with her. I’ll worship the ground she walks on until the curse is broken. If I don’t end up hating Kaycee, this might be fun.

I toss my credit card down on the counter, and the bartender collects it. When she comes back, I sign for the purchase, tip well, and do something sneaky with the purple pen. I distract Kaycee with a story.

“My cousin’s heart stopped suddenly; he was twenty-three years old.” I smile grimly as I turn my head to stare at the lacquered wood surface of the bar top. “We tried to save him. I did CPR. They gave him a shot of epinephrine in the ambulance. They used the paddles at the hospital.”

It’s been a whole year, so why does it feel like it happened yesterday? I imagine that if I live to be a hundred-and-eleven-years-old like my great-great grandma Fernon, I’ll still remember Joe’s face and his laughter and his final gasps for breath.

Ah, Grandma Fernon, I think, how did you do it? She was matched with a famous movie director after spotting him climbing out of a limo outside some fancy hotel where she worked as a maid. I imagine she felt much the same way that Lakelynn and I do now, like we’re playing the lottery for a life.

“See, and this is why I stayed.” Kaycee slaps her palm on the table, drawing my attention to the fact that there are two glasses rimmed in salt, tipped with lime, and a heavy pour of tequila in each. “It’s why I stopped, why I didn’t leave, and why I’m still sitting here.” She leans in toward me. “When you sink into your head like that, your face changes.”

I laugh and swipe a hand over my face, as if looking for the change she’s talking about. I don’t feel any different. She picks up her glass, licks the salt nice and slow while staring into my eyes. Downs the shot. I pick up my own and do the same, slamming the glass into the bar top.

“I’m really sorry about your cousin.” Kaycee looks sorry, like her words are more than the meaningless platitude they usually are. Doesn’t bother me though. People could do worse than pretend to be nice. Or genuinely try to be nice and simply not know what to say. There are other things to complain about. “It seems like you were really close. I don’t have any cousins, so I’m imagining your pain is similar to losing a friend.

“You lost a friend?” I ask, and she nods.

“My best friend in high school was hit by a car. Nobody’s fault. Just an accident.” She picks up the bottle of tequila, amber liquid sloshing into of the shot glass and over the side. Kaycee pours me another, and I realize we’re moving through these shots more quickly than I expected.

“That’s how it was with Joe: nobody’s fault. The only person I could blame was the universe. Doesn’t make for a very satisfying villain.” I smirk at Kaycee, toying with my glass. I’m not taking any of these shots before she does. Gotta prolong my time with her as long as I possibly can. And then hope the bathroom is free when I get back, so I can jerk off to thoughts of her. It’s a horrible thing to think about a girl I just met, but I can’t help myself. Kaycee makes me feel like I’ve just stuck my pinky finger into an electrical socket. “Usually, that’s my job, to be the villain. Do you like villains, Kaycee Quinn?”

“I’ve always been more into heroes,” she tells me, and then she takes her shot. Damn it. She’s already reaching out for the bottle. “That’s why I’m dating Tam. You know him, don’t you?” She laughs, all throaty and sexy and taunting. She’s taunting me is what she’s doing. “Tam is the hero type, but he thinks he’s a piece of shit, so he’s always struggling to make up for something he hasn’t done in the first place. Do you know what the result of that is, Joules Frost?”

Ahh. Nice. She threw my full name back at me which means she chose to remember it. Good sign.

“Sounds tiresome and boring. Does he fuck like that, too? Apologetic and weak-willed? There’s no way he’s good in bed.”

Kaycee freezes as I grin and then knock my own shot back. I set it down on the table and wipe the fire from my lips. Holy shit. What brand is this? I check the label, but I have no idea what I’m looking for. Seems expensive. I set it back down.

She doesn’t respond, hurriedly pouring both of us our third and final shot of the night.

“You have balls to ask me something like that—and not in a good way.”

“So, you’ve never slept with him? I figured. Is he a virgin or something? I’m not judging, just saying. He’s got the look of a virgin.”

Kaycee sets the bottle down and then turns to look at me, hands pressed into the red velvet stool between her thighs. Lips pursed. Face serious. She peers closely at me, and then shakes her head, dark hair wafting around her pale-moon face like the shadows of an eclipse. Red light from the dance floor limns her in vibrant color.

“Where are you from?” she asks me pointedly, and I know immediately that we’re not headed down the right track. As soon as I say Arkansas, it’s game over. Girls like this don’t know that my home state can be pretty awesome, especially up in Northwest Arkansas where I’m from. That whole area dances to the beat of its own drum. We have Eureka Springs, which is full of hippies and artists. We have Fayetteville which is home to the University of Arkansas, Bentonville which is home to uptight preppy people, and Rogers which is blue-collar jobs and strong handshakes.

“I’m on the road now. My sister has less than a year to live, so I’m taking her to all of Tam’s concerts.”

Kaycee’s lips purse, and she tips back her final shot, setting the glass down and grabbing the bottle by the neck.

“I told you: I take that shit seriously. Your sister isn’t dying, and to pretend that she is? That’s disgusting. Have a nice day, Joules Frost.”

I grit my teeth, hand coming out to snatch her wrist. She looks down at it and then up at me like she might spit in my face. I release her immediately and hold up my own shot.

“I haven’t finished my third shot. That, and you just jumped to a whole lot of fucking conclusions. My sister has one hope of living past August. Just one. And if it doesn’t work, she is going to die.” I stand up, my shot still in my hand, and then I take it. “You said I wasn’t very interesting? Well, Kaycee Quinn, neither are you.”

I take off before she can respond, angry enough at her response that I’m regretting surreptitiously writing my number on the customer copy of the receipt. I slipped it into her bag when she wasn’t looking. But if she called me now? I probably wouldn’t answer.

I know that I’m supposed to be making her fall in love with me, but how dare she talk like that about my fucking sister?

I step outside of the club, shivering at the cold, and draw my phone from my pocket to call an Uber. It buzzes, and a notification pops up.

I’m sorry, Joules, is all that it says, but I smile anyway.

Well, damn.

I’m impressed.

I don’t respond to Kaycee, not tonight. But I will. Before she loses whatever courage gripped her to message me, and she deletes my number.

“Should’ve just admitted to being from Arkansas,” I mumble, and then because I don’t want to wait for an Uber, I hail a taxi and head back to the hotel.