32. Colt – “Music should be your escape.” — Missy Elliot
32
Colt
“Music should be your escape.” — Missy Elliot
“Well, I’m off to work.”
I look over the couch to see Abigail walking through the kitchen.
Holy shit. What is she wearing? I mean, she looked—hot, but did they allow that kind of attire there?
Of course they did, it’s a freaking bar.
“There’s some leftover eggplant parmesan in the fridge if you get hungry later.”
“Dad and I are going to order DoorDash!” Bodie says as he jumps up and down on the couch.
“Oh, is that right? Let me guess, pizza?”’ She says.
“No, Dad wants chicken wings, so I get a chicken sandwich.”
“Fried?” She asks Bodie.
“Yup! All the greasiness and deliciousness, like Grammy says.”
She looks over at me, and I know she wants to say something, but instead, she gives me a painful smile.
“Chicken is protein, so it’s somewhat healthy,” I tell her.
“If you say so,” she mutters under her breath, then grabs her keys off the coat hanger by the door.
“You boys behave yourselves, don’t get too drunk off of junk food.” She says with that smile that makes me want to hold her hostage as my sex slave.
“We will, Abigail. Wish you could stay and watch movies with us.” Bodie says.
She pauses, and I see the sincerity in her eyes. “I wish I could too Bodie Bear, but unfortunately, this girl has to work and make a living for herself.”
“That’s boring,” Bodie says.
“Hey,” I nudged my son. “Don’t be rude you’ll work when you grow up, too. Nothing in life comes for free. Everything you see in here, Daddy earned it. It’s part of being an adult. We have to earn money to buy things we want.”
“I don't want to earn them, though. I just want money.”
Abigail and I both laugh simultaneously.
“You and me both, kid.” She says with a wink.
“Ya’ll have a good night.”
My eyes immediately dart to her ass as she walks out, closing the door behind her.
The house already feels empty with her presence gone. Even though she still sleeps and showers in the apartment, she is starting to come out to the main house more often to study, cook, do homework, and do laundry. Come to think of it, she’s primarily out here in the lake house, besides for the minor details of life, like sleeping and showering.
“Can we turn the movie on, Dad?”
“Sure, bud.” I reach for the remote and press play. Bodie wanted to watch Ninja Turtles, the real-life version with Megan Fox. And whatever else after that. I am trying to spend as much time with him before I have to leave again, and my schedule is so busy that it's hard for me to cram anything in if it doesn’t pertain to football, working out, sponsoring a product, or publicity bullshit.
But right now, I am having a tough time being present, especially after seeing what Abigail wore tonight. The idea of guys hitting on her didn’t sit well with me. I could feel the anger rise as I played different scenarios in my head. For seven days straight now, I’ve been trying to figure out ways I can come up with to pay her double what she’s making at that shit hole.
There was a project I needed her help with, but I didn’t dare mention that to her. I don’t think she’s been upstairs since she’s been here. She knows there are two rooms up there.
She thinks there are two anyway.
There are three. One has never been rented out to the public or touched since I kept it locked. I told Bodie it was a storage room, so I had to keep it locked so people wouldn’t steal anything when renting it out. But the truth was, it was Blake's old room.
Namoi found it creepy that I still had a room for him after almost five years, so she suggested moving it to a room here until I was ready to get rid of his stuff.
At the time, I thought it was a great idea, but now that I’m here, I realize I can’t erase the memory of my brother by shifting his stuff to another house.
I needed to get rid of it.
And the only person who would understand how hard that would be is Abigail.
The doorbell rang, so I got up to grab our food. After tipping the guy and getting some plates, I joined Bodie. He was invested in the movie as he ate his chicken sandwich. I added honey since he loved the sweet and salty taste of fried chicken, like me. Once situated, I dug into my twenty-five chicken wings with coleslaw.
My phone began buzzing when I was in the middle of deboning my fifteenth wing in my mouth. I grabbed a generous amount of napkins, wiping the sauce from my fingers.
“Bolt, dude, please tell me you are not doing anything and are free.”
I look to Bodie, “Ya, I mean, I’m not doing anything busy-wise. I’m just eating an early dinner with Bodie, watching a movie.”
“Dude, I need to get a drink, please. Jenna's emotions are driving me crazy. I’m so ready for this baby to be here so she goes back to normal.”
“I hate to break it to you, Troy, but that’s just women for you. They are always emotional, it’s just heightened during pregnancy.”
“You know what I mean. She gave me permission, permission to go out and grab a few drinks with the guys, and I’m telling you man, this may be my only chance to do something fun before my life is over. And I thought I’d have a break when training started, but she’s insisting on coming with me with a brand new baby. I mean, the chick is going insane.”
I try not to laugh because I remember feeling the way he felt when I was about to be a dad, the same time I got signed on to the Las Vegas Rams. I was shitting my pants freaking out too.
“First of all, she’s only saying that now, once that baby is born, trust me. The last thing she will want to do is travel with you everywhere to be on the road or stuck in a hotel somewhere. Not going to happen. She’d rather be in the comfort of her own nursery, nesting.”
“Dude, I hope so,” Troy says through a weighted breath.
“I know so.” I grabbed another chicken wing, taking a bite as I continued, “Everything will be fine. It will all be okay.” I say with a mouthful.
“Well, I told her I would hire a full-time nanny if she can’t handle it.”
“That’s a great idea.” And it was. I never even thought of doing that for Bodies mom. Maybe if I had, she would have stuck around longer.
“Can you meet me instead of talking on the phone? Like I said, I need to get out. I'm getting fidgety. You know how I get when I stay in one place too long. I need to move around.”
Troy played wide receiver. He’s one of the most athletic people I ever met. He grew up with a football in his hand. Troy and I didn't have reliable fathers growing up, so our mothers put all their time and effort into us, ensuring we became reliable men when we got older.
“I would love to, but I’m with Bodie,” I say, lowering my voice so he doesn’t hear me.
“Please, man, please. I’ll pay you or whoever to come over and watch him five thousand dollars. That’s how much I need this right now.”
I take a long sip of my water before saying, “Where are you trying to go anyway?”
“Well, a couple of other guys mentioned Shifters. It’s wet t-shirt night or lingerie,
I can’t remember.”
Now that Troy mentions lingerie, it dawned on me that Abigail's red top resembled a lingerie corset.
I run a hand through my hair as this foreign feeling settles in my stomach, which seems to be doing a lot ever since she started this job. “Okay, well, let me see if I can get my mom to watch Bodie for a few hours, and then I’ll meet you up there.”
It takes me about twenty minutes to get to Shifters. It would have taken longer if I hadn’t sped a little bit. I found a parking space around the corner, not too far. I hear the music from inside as soon as I step out of my car. It reminds me of the nights I spent partying after we won a big game or my younger college years when it was pretty much every week.
I’ve calmed down a lot as I’ve approached my thirties.
The drive over here, I was hoping that Troy was making this whole lingerie, wet t-shirt thing up. The thought of all these losers looking at Abigail made me want to punch someone, and I was too old to be getting into fistfights. I take a deep breath and pull the door open. I nearly wince at the noise. Addicted to love screeches through speakers. And high-top round tables are packed with customers. The bar is filled, not a single stool vacant, and I look around, seeing the booths are all filled as well. A few women stand in line for the bathroom, standers surround the pool table, and the air is charged. I nod slightly at a girl who has been eyeing me down since the second I walked in here, and I already feel uncomfortable. This is why I hated going out. I got enough attention from the press. I didn’t need any when I was home. I look around until my gaze finally falls on Abigail. She stands at the jukebox, flipping through the pages and scanning the playlist through the glass. The crowd is thick, but I see the back of her head. I’d recognize that curly hair anywhere. My shoulders relax a little.
At least no one is bugging her. She’s fine. I move through the people to get to Troy and the guys, but then I see Abigail leave the music machine and make her way back to the bar, and that’s when I catch a glimpse of her and see all the men staring at her as she walks back.
My eyes flare. Reminding me how snug her skirt is, fitting the curves of her heart-shaped ass perfectly, and is it just me, or does it look like her boobs are about to pop out of her corset. It’s a hard top shimmering and laced up to the front with a heart-shaped bodice and demure-looking little ruffles along the bottom. My eyes fall down her cleavage. My head is spinning with images of what will spill out when she unlaces that top tonight. The corset doesn’t even reach the top of her skirt but stops just above her hips, her trim waist and tummy drawing attention from every man she passes. The laces look tight, giving her a rock-hard hourglass look just begging for a man's hands. I fist mine at my sides. The skin of bare shoulders. Her voluminous curly hair fell down her back. The sway of her hips as she walks. I tear my eyes away before I’m caught.
She makes her way behind the bar again. I ignore the self-satisfied smiles from the men in the room as they follow her with their eyes and try not to wonder what their hushed whispers tell each other. A hand waves in the corner of my vision, and I glare up at Troy sitting with the guys at a booth.
I walk over.
“I didn’t know Josh’s little friend worked here,” Troy says as we do our customary fist bump handshake.
“Ya,” I say, releasing my hand from his.
“Jenna told me that Naomi told her you two were living together?” He tips his chin in the direction of the bar.
Word travels fast.
“Ya, my pipe busted, flooding my kitchen when Bodie and I were away at Disney World, so we are staying at the lake house while it’s getting fixed.” “Man, it must be hard not to tap that. Or have you already?” Troy asks, throwing a swig of his beer back.
“No, I haven’t, nor do I intend to.” Troy has his drink inches away from his lips and eyes me briefly before taking another swig.
“So, what’s up with this lingerie show? Is this an everyday thing, or how often do they do this kind of thing here?” I try not to sound concerned, even though my stomach turns in knots as we speak.
“They have it every other Thursday night. The bartenders and servers wear nighties or corsets and serve drinks and food. It’s fun.”
No, not really. But I look around and see a few other ladies carrying out drinks and appetizers. Some of them were in very thin attire. At least Abigail's corset looks as thick as armor.
“Why? You planning on coming in here every Thursday now?” Troy smirks.
“No, why would you think that?” I grab a beer out of the ice bucket.
“Oh, no reason,” he turns away, mumbling into his glass, “You seem like you could care less.”
I shoot him a sideways look, hearing the laughter in his words. Sticking the beer back in the bucket, untouched, I head to the bar.
“You not drinking tonight?” Troy asks. “Don’t tell me you already had your cheat day.”
“No, I’m going to get something stronger.”
I hear a snort behind me as I walk off, but I don’t care. I know she’s not my responsibility, but I don’t want her doing things like this because she thinks she needs money or, worse, she has no one to turn to when she needs money. From what I can see, there’s only one other bartender than Abigail. I catch Abigail's attention as she pops the tops from a line of five beer bottles.
“So this explains why you left the house in underwear.” I lean in, speaking as quietly as I can. She jerks her head towards me. She meets my eyes and quickly turns away again like I'm the last person she wants to deal with. She hands over the beers, collects the cash, and spins around, punching the screen in front of her.
“It’s just a corset, Colt. Girls here are wearing way less. I’m sure you noticed.” The way she says the last part of the sentence makes me feel like I come here all the time, and I’m some dirty guy trying to pick up some floozy to get my dick sucked, which I don’t appreciate. Ya, sure, she walked in on me fucking Heidit, But ever since then, I haven’t even touched a girl or even thought about bringing one around.
“You want everyone looking at you like a piece of meat?”
She looks over her shoulder briefly. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Abigail,” I whisper as I squeeze around some older dude at the end of the bar. “This is a small town; what if your dad comes in here?”
“He would never come in here.” She says, closing the register door and finally looking at me. “And I didn’t think you did either.” A blush crosses her cheeks. “Besides, I’m not dumb. I wouldn’t take part in something I thought would humiliate me.” She turns and hands the change back to the customer, but he waves her off, letting her keep it. She smiles and turns around, dropping the bills in an already-flowing tip jar.
“What are you even doing here? Where’s Bodie?” She asks, starting to mix another drink.
“Troy called me, and getting out with the guys was somewhat of an emergency.”
“Oh, trouble in paradise already?” She says with a sly smirk.
I arch a brow at her. “No, Jenna is just being hormonal, and Troy is freaking out about how he is going to juggle being a husband and brand new father when football season starts again.”
She sets a napkin before a customer and places the drink she just made on top of it.
“I’m sure Jenna will hire a nanny, and it will all be just fine.” She says.
I forgot how Abigail is related to Jenna, and all those high-maintenance women in her family. Abigail was nothing like them. I didn’t know how she became such a hard worker, but it was a turn-on and made me want to help her.
“Look, if you need money.”
She turns around, marking a piece of paper.
“I’ll lend you whatever you need. Okay. I don’t want a smart girl like you ending up next door, taking her clothes off because she’s desperate or too proud to ask for help.”
She stops, slowly turning her eyes on me. Her gaze sharpens. Angry. And it looks like she wants to yell at me, but she doesn't
Shit, maybe the wrong word choice.
She whips around and barrels down the bar, through the partition, turning only quick enough to crook a finger at me before twirling back around and heading down the hallway.
My stomach sinks. I didn’t mean to piss her off. All the girls I’ve been with would jump at that offer.
What did I do wrong?
Veering through the crowd, I make my way down the empty hallway, finally coming to a back room. Entering through the open door, I see her standing with her hands on her hips and head cocked to the side.
“I would rather eat from a homeless person's asshole than take money from you,” she bites out.
I should shut up, but I can’t help myself. “Hate to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but you already do,” I tell her. “You live in a house where you pay no rent or utilities.”
“I cook and clean for you and buy groceries,” she shouts. But I doubt anyone can hear us back here and through the music. “I pay my way, you arrogant jock.”
“Alright, alright,” I growl, blinking long and hard. “You’re right, but Abigail, men will get ideas at this place. It’s not safe. They’ll think they have a free pass and can touch what doesn’t belong to them.”
Belongs to me.
“And think about your father.”
She laughs. “My father wouldn’t give two shits if he saw me in here. He would probably be glad he doesn’t have to loan me money. He doesn’t care.”
“Well, I care.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I freeze, almost too afraid to breathe. Shit , what did I just say?
Her mouth falls open a little, but she shuts up, probably shocked into silence by my outburst. Her eyes stay locked on mine. She blinks with a mixture of confusion and surprise written all over her pretty face. But instead of regret, my temper quickly rises again.
How the hell can her parents not care? Especially her dad? And why do I? Jesus. What was wrong with me? She’s a grown woman, and if her father doesn’t care, who am I to stake a claim in her decisions? It’s not my place.
I don’t want her body to be for everyone. I’ve seen women go down this path. Hell, I’ve fucked plenty of them to know. It’s a steep, dark road, and turning back is hard once you head in that direction.
“You’re special, Abigail.” I take a step closer. Her eyes start to glisten, her gaze falters, and she looks away.
God, does she know how incredible she is? Has no one in that shitty family of hers ever told her? Has anyone? I take in her smooth and glowing skin. And the curve of her waist in front of me is perfect for grabbing hold of.
“Don’t do things outside your nature because of money,” I tell her. “You’re perfect the way you are. Don’t change.”
I don’t want you to change.
“It’s just a corset and a skirt, Colt.” She says through a weighted sigh as if she’s exhausted, not from me but from this life.
“Ya, and then it will just be a wet t-shirt contest. And a job next door at the strip club.” I fire back. She rolls her eyes and turns around, grabbing a case of Bud Light and pushing it into my arms. I grab it just in time. Then she reaches for a case of Budweiser and leads the way out of the room. Ending our conversation. But I follow, hefting the case up onto my shoulder. She plops the case down on the bar and turns around, taking the case I have as well.
“If you’re going to be a hawk, why don’t you make yourself useful and fly to the back again? I need another case of Bud Light.” I open my mouth to try and say something to try and smooth over any damage I’ve done, but this is the only woman who can leave me speechless and frustrated at the same time. Maybe it’s a Scorpio thing, but I make a mental note to look it up on Google.
I turn around and walk to the liquor cabinet, grabbing another case of beer. After I drop it on the bar, I head to the booth where the guys are congregating and taking out the bush light I had before.
“Did you drink your drink already?” Troy says with a sly smirk on his face.
“Ya, it was a shot, and that bar is packed, so no use in going up there to get your drinks quicker,” I say, hoping my bullshit response will cover up how long I was gone without a drink. I down the beer bottle and put it back in the ice bucket within a minute.
“You staying?” Troy asks with a raised eyebrow. A server approaches our table with a round of shots. She’s cute in her pink miniskirt and black vest. She doesn’t look any older than Abigail.
“Hey guys,” she said, unloading her tray and setting a round of shots before us.
They are pink or orange on the bottom with some yellow liquid on top.
“What the heck is this?” Jake Bryant, one of our old-time friends, asks. He no longer plays for the team since he got a horrible concussion back a couple of years ago. He was a great running back and defensive lineman, too, but he’s happy now that he gets to stay home with his family. He still brings in money from his pension and disability that he’ll get for a little longer.
“It’s a buttery nipple,” she says. “It’s on the house. Abigail says they are this big-time football player's favorite.” She looks at me with a wink. A round of laughter explodes at the table with the chic shot everyone thinks I drink, and I shoot Abigail a look at the bar. She grins her biggest, proudest smile, and now we aren’t mad at each other.
Taking the shot, I down it. After about an hour and another beer, I’m pretty tapped out on eighties music. Abigail seems fine, and I’m unsure why I needed to protect her earlier. Just then, a polished finger lands on the table. I look up and see Namoi standing there.
“Hey, I heard you boys were out, so I thought I would come and play.” Naomi and her friend are standing in front of the table of guys, and my eyes dart to Troy. He shrugs, letting me know he had nothing to do with this and this was all Jenna’s doing.
“Naomi, it’s great to see you,” I say. I am being polite.
She smiles and brushes my arm with her shoulder.
“I was heading out,” I tell her.
“Oh, come on, I just got here. Stay a little longer, and have a drink with me. That is, if it’s okay we join you, gentleman." She turns to face the table of guys, and they all nod, drooling at Naomi. She’s a gorgeous woman; I know that, but the only one I’ve got eyes for, is Abigail. The crowd has thinned out since I got here, so it’s not hard to spot her in the back, and when I do. Our eyes lock, and she’s staring right at me.