Touch: WTF Episode 2 (Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Serial #2)

Chapter 1

“Parent Teacher conference? Is that what you guys call it?” I ask with a snort of amusement once Dad has finished laying out his request.

On my phone screen his expression takes on a familiar look of wry disapproval. “The principal will be there as well.”

“Threesome. Kinky. You’re getting adventurous in your old age.”

“Thank you, that’s exactly the image I need for the meeting tonight,” he says dryly. “And the principal’s a woman, just FYI.”

I let out a breath of amusement. “What? After over three decades of heterosexuality you’re off women completely now? Deacon’s cock must be even more magical than I imagined.”

Dad lets out a long-suffering sigh. “As enjoyable as it is listening to my son speculate about my boyfriend’s penis, can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

“You know, I wouldn’t need to speculate if he let me take a peek,” I tease. “It’s only fair since Piper—”

Dad narrows his eyes in warning. “Jazz…”

I can’t help letting out a rumble of laughter; he’s just so fun to tease, and can you really blame me? It’s his own fault for dating someone so freakin’ hot. But I know he’s not really bothered by it; he’d tell me if he was. All that matters to Dad and Deacon is that I support their relationship.

“What time’s her appointment?” I ask, getting back to the reason for Dad’s call.

Evidently Izzy’s nanny was given a couple nights off this week so she could finish a big paper she has due before the Thanksgiving break; that shouldn’t have been an issue, except Izzy’s speech therapy has been rescheduled because of the Holiday and Dad’s tied up with a meeting at her school.

It’s pretty unlike him to get caught out last minute like this; I can only assume he’s been distracted by all the epic sex he’s been having lately.

“Five pm.”

“You want me to just pick her up from school?”

“That’d be good, thanks. What time’s your set tonight?”

“Actually, I’m not playing tonight. So if you want Izzy can stay at my place and you and Deacon can continue your parent-teacher conferencing…” I trail off with a waggle of my eyebrows.

Dad tries for a disapproving look but he can’t quite hide the upward tilt of his lips. “I appreciate the offer but could do without the commentary.”

I offer a wide grin. “It’s a package deal. Take or leave.”

He lets out a soft breath of laughter. “I’ll take it. Thanks, buddy.” He glances up from the screen for a moment. “I’d better go—RJ’s hovering.”

“No problem. See you tom—”

“Oh, I meant to ask about your plans for Tahoe,” Dad cuts in. “They’re doing the letter J next week and Izzy wants you to be her show and tell.”

Despite feeling a sharp pang at the mention of my cancelled plans—which I didn’t realize I hadn’t mentioned to Dad yet—I can’t help grinning at the idea of being Izzy’s show and tell for J week.

“Well, that stands to reason. I’m the most awesome J thing there is.

But shouldn’t J be this week?” I ask, recalling how excited Izzy was last Tuesday when it was revealed she was the only kid with an I name, which made her the star of the class for the afternoon.

Evidently for the letters A through H there were either multiple kids or none at all.

“They’re not doing a letter this week because of the Holiday,” Dad explains. “I don’t want you to change your plans but—”

“I’m not going to Tahoe this year,” I say flatly.

Dad’s shocked expression is almost comical. “What? Why?”

“Bullshit I’d rather not get into—isn’t RJ waiting?” I remind him.

Dad frowns in concern but knows better than to press. “He can wait. So what will you be doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I’ll be here,” I say with a shrug, glancing around my office at the bar. “There are plenty of people who want to commemorate the thieving of native lands by drinking whiskey and listening to better performed nineties music, so I’m going to give them that opportunity.”

It’s the first time I’ve collected Izzy from school and she’s over the moon at my surprise appearance.

After greeting me with a fierce hug she grabs my hand and leads me around the classroom, proudly showing off the hook where she hangs her backpack, her little table and chair, the brightly patterned rug at the front of the room where they sit for story time and show and tell, and Curtis the Crocodile—a three-foot-long stuffy that apparently serves as the class’s mascot.

It’s only about a fifteen-minute walk from the school to my apartment and the time is spent with Izzy telling me more about her classroom and what she’s learning. With it being Thanksgiving this week I’m not surprised to hear the main theme of the week is being thankful.

“I say thank you when someone help,” she says proudly. “And when someone say nice thing.”

I let out a soft breath of laughter. “That’s called being polite and showing good manners,” I tell her. “Being thankful and giving thanks is a little different.”

Her brow creases adorably as she frowns up at me in confusion. “How?”

“Well, being thankful is about appreciating all the things and people you love. Everything that brings you happiness and makes you the incredible person you are.”

Her eyes widen. “There lots...”

“I’m sure there are.”

With a sheepish smile she starts listing things off. “I thankful for Bluey. I thankful for Santa. I thankful for Jazz…”

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. I guess if I have to settle for bronze I can at least take comfort from being bested by those two big guns.

Izzy is still rattling off things she’s thankful for when we step into my apartment.

I don’t think I’ll mention to Dad that he was seventeenth on the list, being beaten out by both his kids, his boyfriend, his mother-in-law, the nanny, Piper’s dog, and such items as baths, rainbows, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and goldfish crackers.

Only RJ—who is yet to even get a mention—has fared worse.

“I think that might be enough thankfulness for now,” I tell Izzy, helping her out of her coat. “What do you think about mac and cheese for dinner?”

She beams up at me. “My favorite! I thankful for mac and cheese.”

I chuckle softly and stride into the kitchen. Swinging open the pantry doors, I reach up to retrieve a large plastic container full of dried pasta.

“I have a problem,” I tell Izzy, walking over to the dining table and setting the container down. “And I’m going to need your help to fix it.”

“Fix how?” she asks curiously, wandering over for a look.

I lift the lid of the container and fish out a handful of the pasta so she can see the issue. “Somehow all the different kinds of noodles have been mixed up together,” I say grimly. “We’ll need to sort them out if we want to make mac and cheese tonight.”

An aghast expression consumes Izzy’s little face as she eyes the mess in my palm. There are five different types of pasta—little bows, wagon wheels, shells, spirals, and elbows—and they got mixed up like this because I emptied five packets of pasta into the container and shook it around like crazy.

I had a feeling Izzy might be a bit keyed up after school and sorting is a great way to help her settle down and direct her focus. Hopefully half an hour or so of this will help make her speech therapy session go a little smoother.

“Do you think you can help me?” I ask, hitting her with an entreating look.

She nods solemnly. “I help.”

“Alright…” I shake the contents of container out onto the table’s surface, careful not to send noodles flying onto the floor. “What noodles do you want for the mac and cheese?” I ask Izzy as I use my hand to spread the noodles out across the table.

“I like bows.”

I nod. “Okay then, let’s look for the bows first.” I stride back to the kitchen and retrieve a saucepan from the drawer under the stove. “We can put the bows in here.”

We’re making pretty good progress when my phone starts buzzing about twenty minutes later. Retrieving it from my pocket, I see it’s an incoming FaceTime call from Star; I’m pretty sure I know what this is about so I rise from my chair and give Izzy’s braided hair a pat.

“I need to talk to Star about some grown-up stuff for a second. Keep going—you’re doing really well.”

“I help,” she says proudly.

I grin at her and place a hand over my heart. “Princess, I’d be lost without you.”

Leaving her at the table, I disappear down the hallway and into my room before answering the call.

“Uh, finally,” Star huffs when I answer the call.

Before I have a chance to get a word in, she plows on, “What the fuck is going on with you and Cody? I spent most of yesterday talking Jace out of flying across the country to “have a few words with you”.” Her expression and the air quotes make it pretty clear that she’s saved me from more than an awkward conversation with my buddy, who happens to be a professional boxer.

And, yeah, I’m definitely glad I took the opportunity to relocate before answering the call.

I offer a wry quirk of my lips. “Thanks for the rescue. Wish I could say I’m surprised it was necessary but…” I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “Whatever. Everyone has their blind spots, I guess.”

“He’ll get over it,” she says with a wave of reassurance. “You know what he’s like—short fuse, burns out quick. You’ll do the whole “sorry, bro” thing and hug it out on the weekend and then everything will be back to normal.”

I can’t help cringing at that, knowing it’s far past time I looped her in on my decision to miss this year’s Tahoe trip. “Yeah, about that—I won’t be there this weekend.”

Based on the horrified incredulity that washes over Star’s expression you’d think I’d just told her I found hundreds of giant, hairy spiders living in my baby grand. “What do you mean you’re not coming?” she demands. “Jazz, you have to come. It’s tradition—your mom’s tradition.”

I groan and rub a hand over my forehead. “Please don’t remind me of that. This sucks enough as it is.”

“I don’t get it…” Her incredulous expression has now made way for a frown of concern.

I sigh. “You asked me what’s going on with me and Cody—the answer is nothing,” I say adamantly.

“We hooked up a few times while I was in LA. It was just convenient, meaningless sex and he always insisted that’s all he wanted.

Until the night I left when he decided to reveal that he’s fucking in love with me and suggested moving to New York to give “us” a chance,” I practically spit out the words, lifting my hand to form air quotes.

“Oh, and apparently he felt that way before we ever hooked up but he wanted to show me “how good we could be together”.” I let out a harsh scoff.

“I mean, seriously, I was blind drunk every time—I barely even remember any of it.”

Star’s brows are practically in her hairline by now, but as my tirade draws to a close she offers a considering look. “Well, that makes a hell of a lot more sense than the version I heard…”

I wince. “Let me guess—Cody and I were secretly together, during which time I led him to believe we had something really special but when he told me he loved me I ran scared because I’m just not capable of letting anyone get close to me.

And that’s probably why I sabotaged our relationship by cheating on him and why even now I won’t return his calls or texts… ”

Star just blinks for a moment, clearly stunned. “Wow. That was creepily accurate. Although you left out the part about you supposedly seducing him when he was drunk…”

“Cody is an exclusive top,” I grate out through a clenched jaw, prompting Star’s eyes to widen. She’s well aware that I only bottom when I’m plastered.

“So that’s why you’re not coming this weekend?” Star presses. “Because you think it’ll be awkward with Cody?”

“I don’t give a fuck about it being awkward,” I say. “But I have trouble biting my tongue at the best of times—do you really think I can spend a whole weekend with Cody and not lash out? How do you think Jace’s short fuse and professionally-trained fists will react then?”

“Maybe if you tried explaining things to Jace…” Star ventures.

“I don’t owe Jace an explanation,” I say in a hard tone.

“He’s chosen to take Cody’s story at face value, blindly accepting a version of events that make me out to be the kind of asshole who uses and manipulates his friends for his own gain before tossing them aside once he’s done with them.

And, yeah, I’ll admit I can be an asshole at times,” I say with a self-deprecating huff.

“But I don’t screw over my friends, which is something Jace should know better than anyone.

I’m sure he’ll manage to figure that out for himself eventually, but I’m not going to prostrate myself in the meantime. ”

“So you’re just going to let him be mad at you for something you didn’t do while simultaneously being mad at him for getting mad at you?” Star asks, understandably looking as though her head’s about to explode.

I roll my eyes. “No. I’m not mad at Jace at all.

I wasn’t laying out a grudge, I was simply justifying why I don’t owe him any explanations or apologies.

” At Star’s look of confusion I let out a sigh and explain, “It’s like I said just before—everyone has blind spots, and Cody is Jace’s.

Oh, and I’m yours, by the way,” I add with a curve of my lips.

“So if you’re thinking you can just sit them both down on the weekend and lay out the truth and magically solve everything you’re in for a rude awakening. ”

I can tell by her thwarted expression that was exactly what she’d been planning.

“What, then? You’ll just never see them again? Two of your best friends?”

“Of course not.” I let out a sigh and run a hand through my hair. “As long as we can ignore the elephant I’m sure Jace and I will be fine.”

“That sounds healthy,” Star drawls. “And what about the elephant himself?”

I shrug. “It’s too soon to tell. I don’t want to cut him out completely but, fuck, he’s not making it easy—I told him I needed space and his response was to hound me with voicemails and texts for two weeks and then tell Jace his fantasyland version of events when I didn’t respond.”

“That’s…concerning,” Star says with a deep frown.

I let out a snort of laugher. “Yeah, no shit.”

I wrap up the call with Star and head back to the living room to check on Izzy.

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” I gush, marveling at the pile of bows sitting in the saucepan. There are a few random spirals and elbows in there too but I decide not to comment. “I think we have enough for dinner. Why don’t you take a break so you can have a snack before we go see Dr Mandy.”

She frowns in confusion. “Dr Mandy Thursday.”

“But this week’s appointment has changed because Thursday is Thanksgiving,” I remind her.

She nods in comprehension. “Okay. Goldfish please.”