Chapter 11 Shane
ELEVEN
SHANE
It’s almost eight, Friday night.
The four of us went for a walk on the bluffs right after dinner.
I watched Willa watch the sunset over the ocean.
I watched how her skin tone changed as the color of the sky changed and couldn’t decide if she looked prettier against the glow of an electric pink, fiery orange, or muted purple backdrop.
Because she’s always pretty. She’s ever-changing and always pretty and as untouchable as the clouds.
The kids are asleep in bed.
Nico’s supposed to take the stage at the bar in Hollywood at nine thirty, but Willa and I have been taking our sweet-ass time clearing the table and loading up the dishwasher.
I’m having a beer. Fuck it. It’s Friday night.
I’ve been drinking coffee for almost a week now and I can still sleep.
Lavender trumps caffeine, apparently. One beer can’t hurt.
Now that I’ve drained almost a whole bottle, it hurts a little less to stand this close to her.
Now that I’ve texted Nico to wish him luck, now that I think about how much fangirl ass he’ll be getting, I feel a little less guilty about how many times and ways I’ve imagined drilling his little sister.
I mean, his sister is hot. She’s going to get with someone eventually.
Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if that someone was me?
Wouldn’t everything be better if I had another beer?
But I don’t. Because in the back of my dad mind, I’m always reminding myself that I might have to drive my kid to the hospital at any given moment. So that’s it for me tonight.
But she’s so fucking pretty.
And this is going to be her first night away from me since she started staying with us.
She washes her hands in the sink, dries them, and comes over to the island counter that I’ve been leaning against while ogling her like some pervert at a bar.
“You should probably start heading out soon.”
“I guess.”
“You going by yourself?”
“No, I’m meeting up with my friend.”
“Oh, good. Which friend?”
“Harley.”
Who the fuck is Harley? “Oh good. Cool. Harley. Sounds like a fun guy.”
“Harley is a girl. She’s the friend I told you about. From college.”
“Even better.”
“Do you want to go with us? Or meet us there?”
Fuck yes, obviously, yes. I want to meet you anywhere. I want to go with you everywhere. Just not anywhere your brother can see us together.
“I can’t think of anyone I can call to babysit on such short notice.”
“Right. So you’re just going to hang out here by yourself?”
“Believe it or not, I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping myself entertained at night. Kind of a necessity when you’re an insomniac.”
“But you aren’t an insomniac anymore.”
“Good point.” Everything is different now that you’re here. Don’t go.
“I don’t have to go. I can see him play some other time.”
Yes. I’ll come to your room. You can sit on my face all night, and I will make you scream into the pillow. I will fuck us both senseless, and then things won’t be weird between us anymore. Or it’ll be even weirder, but it won’t matter because we fucked each other senseless.
“No, you should definitely go. I know how excited he is for you to see him on stage. Seriously, it would mean a lot to him. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got two plus ones, but I’ll text Harley to let her know she can invite Remi.”
Who the fuck is Remi? “Remi. He sounds fun too.”
“Remi is also a girl.”
“Good. Good for her.”
I watch her type out a text. Her thumb hovers over the Send icon as she looks up at me through those long dark eyelashes. “Last chance.”
“Maybe next time. When Margo has the kids.”
She sends the text and slides her phone into her back pocket. “Next time. I’ve never been to The Hotel Café before. Obviously. I’m not sure what to wear. Nico said it’s casual.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely casual. You can just go like that. With maybe a bulky sweater or a puffy jacket over your T-shirt or something.”
“Sounds about right. Maybe I should change into a pair of old sweatpants and wear a baseball cap.”
“You’d still look good,” I mutter.
The awkward silence that follows is a giant gaping hole that I wish I could crawl into, but no.
It’s there. I’m here. She’s here, staring down at the counter and gently stroking the smooth concrete with the tip of her index finger while exhaling.
No snarky retort. No eye roll. Just this silent, honest torture.
“You need me back here to make breakfast?”
“Are you not coming home tonight?”
“I was just going to crash at Harley’s. She lives in Hollywood.”
“Ahh.”
“There’s some other bar she wants to go to after Nico’s show.”
“Cool.”
“And then she wants to go to some club after that, but I doubt I’ll be able to stay awake that long.”
“Is Nico going with you guys?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I’ll be back in the morning. To drop the kids off at the birthday party.”
“Right. The trampoline one?”’
“Yes. Unless you need me…”
Fuck yes, I need you, I want you, I crave you… Can’t you see that?
“I can definitely manage breakfast. You have a good time. Not too good.”
“I will have exactly the right amount of good time.”
“So will I.”
“I have no doubt… So I’m gonna go change into some overalls and an oversize sweat shirt, maybe some rain boots, and be on my way.”
“You’re driving?”
“Yes. The truck. Not the Volvo.”
“You’re not drinking, then?”
“I’m driving to Harley’s, and we’re going to walk to the thing. She lives like five blocks away.”
“You’re walking? In Hollywood? On Cahuenga? At night? Absolutely not, young lady. I’ll give you money for an Uber.”
“Oh my God, it’s only five blocks.”
“Does your brother know you plan to walk to his show?”
“No, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care. Is there rampant gang activity in that part of Hollywood or something?”
“No.”
“Then I think I’ll be okay. There will be three of us. I am a big girl. You do realize that, right? I can handle all kinds of things.” She straightens up. She’s looking at me, really looking at me, daring me to look back at her.
This girl. She can explain sunsets to a five-year-old and convey her maturity to a twenty-eight-year-old, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m the one who can’t handle her. She is so many things, and I don’t want to risk losing any of them.
“I’m just looking out for you. You’re kind of my responsibility right now.”
“Even on my night off?” She arches an eyebrow and takes a step closer.
“You’re still my kids’ nanny. You’ll always be Nico’s little sister.”
“I know who I am. And I’m a lot more than that.” She frowns and pushes herself away from the counter. “I keep wondering when you’re going to figure that out,” she says as she brushes past me.
I hear the door to her room close, and I don’t have a fucking clue what just happened.
But if she doesn’t like that I’m the responsible guy, then it’s not my job to explain everything to her.
That’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been.
It’s one thing to fuck around with someone on location, but this is real life.
This is my life. She’s better off with some twenty-four-year old asshat who can take her to hipster downtown cocktail bars on a Tuesday night and to a party in Los Feliz on Saturday because his buddy’s house-sitting for Jon Hamm and it’s totally cool for them to hang out there!
And then they can just fuck all night in his shitty studio apartment that’s off of Fairfax and grab Sunday brunch, maybe catch a matinee at The Grove.
Fuck, that sounds great.
I wouldn’t trade my kids for anything, but just one Saturday night of mindless twenty-four-year-old fucking and then doing whatever on a Sunday? I could have used one of those. I could still use one of those.
But that’s my life, not hers.
Her future is still wide open.
“Okay, I’m off,” she says from the doorway.
Fucking hell.
She’s wearing a tiny leather jacket over an even tinier top that does not cover her belly button, and why does she have to wear those black high heel boots over those tight faded jeans?
Why should any other guy be allowed to see how good her ass looks in those boots and those jeans?
Why is her hair all fluffed up? She put on eyeliner? Lip gloss? Oh hell no, little girl.
“Not exactly the outfit vibe we discussed.”
“If I wear a bulky sweater and sweatpants, Harley will just force me to wear something of hers that’s even sluttier.
” She shrugs. “Good night.” She turns to walk toward the garage, and I watch that ass walk away from me, and fuck you Other Guys—fuck you for thinking about all the things you want to do to that ass. I know what you’re thinking.
“Wait.”
She pauses, resting her hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“There’s no garage door opener in the truck. I’ll close the garage door for you.”
She lowers her head, laughing. “Great. Thanks.”
She flings open the door, and I catch it before it slams against the wall.
Well well, look who has a fiery temper.
Fuck, she smells good.
Fuck.
“Drive safe,” I say sternly, knowing it’ll piss her off. “Don’t drink too much.”
“I’ll drink however much I want to—it’s my night off.”
I shut the door behind myself, grab her arm, and pull her to me.
“Don’t drive angry.”
She glares up at me, chest heaving, eyes shining. “Stop trying to push me away when you know I can’t go anywhere.”
Goddammit, why does she have to know everything?
I put both hands around her gorgeous, exasperating, frowning face. “I’m the one who can’t go anywhere.”
“Then let me stay with you.”
I lower my lips as close to hers as I can without kissing them. “If I do, I won’t ever want you to leave.”
She stares hungrily at my mouth. “Good.”
Her purse hits the floor just as my lips crash against hers.
Those lips, those glistening, juicy lips. I’ve heard so many surprising things come out of them, but this little humming sound that she’s making as her tongue tangles with mine is my favorite.
She’s spicy, but she tastes so sweet.