4. Quinn
4
quinn
I didn’t really want to come to The Joint tonight. First, no one knows I quit my job, and being around liquor isn’t the best idea when I’m trying not to blab.
Second, I didn’t shave my legs.
The first is the most important, because I’m currently fibbing to my sisters about why I took an impromptu trip home on short notice. So far, they’re buying the bit about a long weekend and expiring airline miles. But because they think nothing is wrong, I couldn’t put up a fight about coming to The Joint since none of them had plans.
So now I have to figure out how to not blurt out that I quit my job, but also make sure I don’t accidentally go home with Porter tonight. Because while a hookup might soothe the ache of my life being in shambles, I doubt I’d wake up tomorrow morning feeling any better.
Sated? Yes. Sore? Depends on how adventurous we’re feeling. Still depressed? Very much so.
All of this is going to be easier said than done. I’m one slip of the lips from my sisters calling me on my flimsy story. And those jeans Porter is wearing should be illegal. No man’s ass should look that good in a pair of Wranglers.
God, I really am weak…
And I’m just going to keep staring at it until he acknowledges me. I know he heard me. He might not have turned around or made any sort of noticeable movement, but when you sleep with a man for eight years, you know how to read his body.
When he slowly turns toward me, the cocky smile says it all. To any other woman in this bar, they’d think it’s the classic Porter flirty bartender smile. And to the untrained eye, it looks just like that.
There’s just one exception: the smile he gives me pops a dimple that sends shivers down my spine every time I see him.
Fuck my life! Why didn’t I shave my legs before the plane this morning…
“Well, look who’s back.”
I purposely don’t give him a reaction, because that’s how this game goes between us when we’re in public. He openly flirts with me because he’s a bartender and he can. I pretend I’m not affected because I have a reputation to uphold, or something like that. Then, give or take a few hours, and after one of us says the code phrase, we’re ripping each other’s clothes off. Most of the time we make it back to his house. Sometimes we fuck in his office. I’ve always wanted to do it on the bar, but I’m still wrapping my mind around the logistics of that.
All in all, it’s a solid system that’s been honed and perfected for nearly a decade.
And I’m the dumbass who forgot to shave her legs.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say in my casual way. “I’m just here wondering if I can get a round of drinks for my sisters?”
The glint in his eye says more than any words could say as he goes and starts pouring the drinks he’s memorized that we’ve ordered for years in this establishment—beer for me, Jack and Diet Coke for Maeve, vodka and soda for Stella, and a club soda with a splash of cranberry and a lime for Ainsley.
“What brings the lost sister home?” he says as he hands me Ainsley’s drink. “Another family party that you just had to come home for? Maybe your niece is having another milestone you just can’t miss?”
This is what I get for telling Porter why I’ve been home more often than I have been in years. Those were the reasons I came home. But my dumb ass just had to overly defend that I was home for my family and not to see him.
I wasn’t.
Mostly.
“Actually, this was a spontaneous trip,” I begin, figuring it’s best to stick with the same lie for the time being. “I had a long weekend and expiring travel miles. Figured why not come home for a few days.”
Porter raises an eyebrow. “Really? That’s it. No other reason? None at all…”
God, he looks good. Too good. His brown hair is messy, but you can tell it started the night styled. Actually, it looks like when I try to rip it out of his head when his tongue is trying to kill me. His sleeves are rolled up, showing off forearms that shouldn’t be sexy, but they are. And is his drawl thicker? I feel like it is. Either that or I’m just thinking about how deep it gets when he tells me to suck his cock.
“Nope,” I say with a pop at the end. “Just wanted to hang out with my family. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He gives me a “I don’t believe you for a second” nod as he hands me my beer. “That’s good. Family’s important.”
“I agree.”
“I’ll start you a tab,” he says as he arranges the drinks on a tray for me to take back to the table. But just as I’m about to pick it up, he crooks his finger for me to come closer.
What is he doing? It’s one thing to flirt with me—Porter is known for being a shameless flirt behind the bar—but to bring me in like he’s telling me a secret? This feels a little bold. A little dangerous.
A lot hot.
“Good to see you. I hope you order the chicken wings tonight.”
I swear my body has a Pavlovian response to that phrase. And while I know that probably by the end of the night I’m going to be ordering, for now I feel like I need to play it cool. A little mysterious. A girl can’t be too eager, you know?
“Maybe later,” I say coyly as I back away. “Not sure if I’m in the mood tonight.”
This makes him chuckle. “We’ll see about that.”
I don’t say anything else as I pick up the tray of drinks and make it a point not to show that my heart is beating faster than I’d like it to as I walk back to the table my sisters snagged. I mean…sex does sound good. Especially Porter sex. Not that I’ve had other sex in the last…I don’t know when…but that’s because what Porter is able to do to me makes every other man pale in comparison. I figured that out when I tried to date a guy back in Phoenix. The first time he went down on me, he bit my clit. Not nibbled. Not sucked a little too hard. No, the motherfucker nearly took a chunk out.
Clearly he took the phrase “eating out” a little too literally.
But not with Porter. I bet that man would say that he literally didn’t care about my stubbled legs and still throw them over his shoulders. I wish my brain was functioning enough this morning before I got on the plane to think about that. In my defense, I just wanted out of Arizona. I couldn’t bear spending any more time in my apartment, staring at the wall, wondering what the hell I’m going to do with my life.
“Hey! Watch it!” I stumble backward, not realizing who I just ran into. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Big Girl Banks was coming through.”
Ah yes, a trip to The Joint just wouldn’t be complete without Rolling Hills’ off-brand Regina George.
“Hi, Emily. Always great to see you. How’s the chlamydia?”
Did I start that rumor in high school? Yes.
Did she have it? Maybe.
Will I ask her about it until the day she dies? Fuck yes.
“Grow up Quinn. Let me guess. Here with your sisters?”
“Yes. And let me guess. Here to see which man here you haven’t fucked?”
She rolls her eyes before walking away.
“Bye, Em! Always a pleasure!”
I laugh under my breath as I finally make my way to our table.
“What was that?” Maeve asks.
“Just Emily being Emily,” I say as I pass the drinks around.
“That’s not what I meant.” She tilts her head back to the bar. “You and Porter. Was he telling you a secret or something?”
Shit, shit, shit… What was he thinking? What was I thinking for being so obvious?
Okay, Quinn. Think fast. Keep your face right. Don’t blow this.
“Oh, nothing,” I say. “He wondered why I was home. Told him. That was it.”
Maeve’s face clearly says she doesn’t believe me.
“Why are you home?”
This question comes from Stella, who I’m going to guess has put on her bedazzled FBI hat and has already poked holes in my story.
“I told you. Expiring flight miles and a long weekend.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re lying,” she says. “I checked your school calendar, and it isn’t a long weekend. Plus, even if it was, when have you ever come home for a trip this short just because?”
I start to defend myself when Stella holds up a finger, clearly not done presenting her case.
“Whatever you’re going to say, save it. It didn’t sit right when you said you were coming home, so I started lurking around social media. I stumbled onto a post from a group of moms claiming that a teacher who recently was fired should never be hired again in any school district ever because not only did she repeatedly use the f-word against them and told them that they had botched plastic surgery done, but she also refused to listen to parents concerns about teaching books about murder. And if that doesn’t sound like Quinn Banks, I don’t know what does.”
I don’t try and defend myself, but simply look at Ainsley, the only sister who may be able cushion this blow. “Do you have anything to bring to the interrogation table?”
Ainsley Banks is the quiet one of the sisters. A little shy. I’m not sure if she’s an actual empath, but this girl can feel one’s emotions better than anyone I’ve ever met. So when she takes my hand and gives me that Ainsley look, I know I’m about to spill my guts.
“Nothing specific. But I’m worried. We all are. When I picked you up from the airport, you barely said two words on the drive down here, and that’s not the Quinn I know.”
Who knew me not saying something would be my giveaway?
“I hate that you all know me so well,” I say, gripping onto my beer bottle with each hand.
“Did you really get fired?”
I shake my head, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. “I beat them to the punch. Quit before it could happen. What you read on Facebook? Those were my parting words to the moms of my school district who made my life a living hell this year.”
I bring my beer to my lips when I look over to Maeve. “Thoughts, big sister?”
She shakes her head. “I have a lot, but I’m going to withhold them until I hear the story. Because I’m guessing there’s a story.”
“Oh, there is,” I say, turning to signal for my favorite bartender to bring us a round of shots. “Hold on to your butts. You won’t believe anything that I’m about to tell you.”
* * *
“Their name wasn’t actually penis, was it? You’re making that up.”
“You’re fucking right it was!” I say to Ainsley. “I got fucked over by P.E.N.I.S.!”
This is apparently the funniest thing I’ve ever said, as all of my sisters, even a sober Ainsley, are falling off their chairs in laughter.
“I’m not laughing at the situation. The whole thing fucking sucks,” Stella says as she tries to catch her breath. “But man, if anyone is going to quit a job, that’s how you do it.”
I tip my beer to her before taking a sip that’s more like a chug. “At least I’ll be remembered.”
I was never going to completely lie to my sisters about my employment status, but I didn’t want to do it here. I still haven’t processed everything, considering it happened two days ago. But as soon as I started talking, I felt lighter with every word.
The shots of tequila that we ordered helped too.
“In all seriousness, Quinn, I’m so sorry,” Ainsley says, wrapping me in a hug like only Ainsley can give. “I know how much you loved your students. And how good of a teacher you are.”
“Thanks,” I say as I feel the tears starting to well. I really don’t want to cry in the middle of The Joint, but between Ainsley’s hug, the booze, and all of the emotions coming back to the surface, it’s hard to keep them at bay. “I know it was the right thing to do, but it fucking sucks.”
“Of course it does,” Stella says. “You built a life and a career out there. Now I’m sure you don’t even know which way is up.”
“I don’t,” I admit. “It’s why I came back here this weekend. Sitting in my apartment made me feel like I was trapped in this box. I didn’t even want to go out for groceries in case I’d see one of those bitches, or worse, one of my students. I don’t know what the school told them. Do they think I’m coming back? I mean, they have to know by now but still… I can’t face them yet. Maybe ever. It hurts my heart to even think about it.”
Fuck, here comes the tears. I’m not a big crier. But the thought of not getting to say a proper goodbye to my students guts me every time I think about it.
“They’ll understand,” Ainsley says. “Maybe not now, but one day, they’ll know that you stood up for them and what you thought was right.”
“I can only hope,” I say as I rest my head on her arm.
The table falls quiet, which is when I realize that I haven’t heard my big sister offer any words of advice. Which is very unlike the one we fondly call Mama Maeve for her want to fix everyone’s lives. Though maybe now that she’s getting regular dick, she’s less bossy? One can only hope.
“Quinn, I don’t mean to be this person…”
Never mind that thought. “Yes, you do, so just say it.”
Maeve shakes her head, but not in a disapproving way. More in the she hates to be the bearer of bad news way. “I support you one-thousand percent in the decision you made. But what now?”
And there lies the million-dollar question. One I don’t have an answer to.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love what you did,” Maeve quickly says. “That took bravery that not a lot of people have. But with that bravery comes the next chapter.”
“I know,” I say, pushing back another wave of emotion that was threatening to come over me. “Can I say I don’t know yet?”
“Of course,” Stella says. “This has been a roller coaster for you. No one blames you for not knowing what’s next.”
I nod, though I wonder if Maeve agrees with my baby sister’s sentiment. “I know I need to figure it out. And I plan to. But not tonight. Tonight I want to be in my drink-until-I-forget stage.”
I look to Maeve, needing her seal of approval on this. “Fine. But know we’re here for you. You’ve been here for all of us. This is the least we can do in return.”
I reach my arm across the table we’re sitting at. “Thank you. Thanks to all of you. I needed this.”
Stella and Ainsley join our hands, and the four of us share a silent moment.
These women…I don’t know what I’d do without them. Or how I got so lucky that when God created the universe, she said, “Quinn Banks, you’re going to be a fucking mess. But we’re going to give you sisters to make up for that.”
And you know what? I’m good with that. Because I love me. I love the mess and chaos that I am. I love that I stand up for things that are right and tell people what I think. And if they don’t like me? Fuck ’em.
Most of all, I love my sisters to the ends of this Earth. We’re opposites in so many ways. But the one thing we have in common is that we love and support each other without hesitation. So whether it’s a shoulder to cry on, getting your sister drunk after she quits her job, or doing borderline illegal things to get back at ex-fiancés, we’re here for it, no questions asked.
Especially that last one. I hated Stella’s former fiancé, and taking him down was a highlight of last year.
“All right, ladies, here we go.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Porter is at our table, delivering us a tray of food that I don’t think anyone ordered.
And did he put on cologne? The one he knows I like because I stupidly told him I did in a semi-sober state?
“What’s this?” Ainsley asks.
Porter starts setting down the arrangement of bar food. “I figured that no girls night is complete without snacks. So these are loaded cheese fries, some fried pickles with extra ranch because I know you’ll just ask me for more so I saved a trip, mozzarella sticks, jalapeno poppers, and of course, chicken wings.”
Oh that sly fucker…
“Really? Chicken wings?” I ask as my sisters start reaching for baskets. “Bold of you to assume we want chicken wings.”
“But it was the right assumption,” Ainsley says as she reaches over for the basket. “Who says no to chicken wings? I always want them.”
Poor thing has no clue what she’s saying, or why Porter is snickering. And it’s taking every ounce of my being not to crack up, especially since the debate is heavy in my house on whether Ainsley is still a virgin.
“I hear ya, Ains. They always hit the spot.” Porter picks up our empty glasses before looking at me. “Anything else?”
The silent conversation we’re having in our eyes would be fascinating to watch if anyone around us had any clue what was happening.
I’m trying to act cool and calm and that maybe I won’t be at his house tonight.
He knows I’m going to be.
I try to play it off.
He gives me a subtle wink that makes my pussy clench before he walks away.
Goddammit, I’m having sex tonight…
“Porter’s the best,” Stella says in between bites of a mozzarella stick that leaves a touch of marinara on the corner of her mouth.
“Yes he is,” I say on a sigh, making sure he’s out of eye shot before I take a wing. “He really is.”