CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) (11 page)

His laughter cheers me up a little, and by the time Freddie strolls in and falls into a seat looking like he went ten rounds with Jack Daniels and lost, I’m feeling ready to face this new challenge and beat it into submission.

At least I can now see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Love at First (or Second) Sight

Callie

I’m done crying. It’s official. I am now ready to face life with a better, calmer attitude.

It took me the better part of the night and spooning with Indie, but I really do feel like I can face the shitstorm I’m dealing with and move the hell on. I have to. I can’t spoon with Indiana another night. She’s a sleep farter.

Perversely, now that I want to kill every smiling asshole in sight, Luci’s flitting around humming. Humming! Like there’s a damn thing to be this happy about when I know for a fact that she’s still crying over Freddie.

              “Stop bloody sulking and come over here to your granny, Callie. I want to know why you look like a prisoner made you her lesbian lover and rode you all night.”

Sheesh. This one.

I trudge into the kitchen just as my eighty-year-old grandmother waggles a bottle of scotch at me and raises a brow.

“Pregnant here, Gruff.”

“Oh what nonsense. Why I had a nip or ten when I was pregnant, to relieve the stress, you know, and it was just fine,” she scoffs, replacing the bottle and bringing over a cup of tea and chocolate cookies.

              “I think that may explain Mom,” I mutter, dunking a cookie.

Hmmm. Chocolatey medicine. My favorite.

“Stop your infernal prattling and tell your gran why I have to listen to my poor Jackie moaning on the phone while you’re hiding away like some bloody ninnyhammer. I thought I taught you better.”

“Leave it alone, Gruffy. I just need some time—”

“To lick your wounds like a whining little bitch, Calliopeia? What nonsense.”

“To save a little pride before I talk to him!” I yell back, gobbling another cookie while she purses her lips and shakes her head.

“We Landrys don’t do pride, Callie, it’s an emotion too dear for us to bother with. Bloody pride gets a body nowhere but alone and bitter. We do
moxy
and bloody well brave our way through the hardships like true women should. And anyway, what are you talking about, saving your pride? The man damn near adores you, girl. What do you have to cry about?”

“I, he’s not the one, Gruff.”

“Shite! Of course he is, love. Anyone with eyes can see the two of you are besotted. He’s your one, girlie, and you know it, so don’t go telling me you don’t love him because I will call bullshit and slap some sense into your thick pate.”

Save me. Please Jesus, just save me from this old battle ax.

“No, Gruff,” I whisper, tearing up. “I mean he’s not
the one
.”

She looks all annoyed for a minute before her eyes round and her mouth flaps toothlessly. Bingo. We have a winner.

“Oh bloody hell.”

Yeah. I guess that’s pretty accurate.

“Tell your granny everything and don’t leave a thing out. Here have a hanky, love, your face is a mess.”

I take the snowy-white embroidered square, blow my nose loudly, and proceed to tell her every harsh thing about last night and the ordeal I suffered.

Throughout the telling I have the overwhelming need to have Jack near so he can hold me and comfort me through it all. See what happens when a man goes all squishy on you and then makes you lose the protective shell.

You start needing him, and right now I do not have the right. And oh God, how am I supposed to break this to him when he’s already named his little guy and gotten into the habit of talking to him?

Life. You unfair old crone. I hate you.

“Well fackit, love, that just about sucks baws, as you young ones would say,” she breathes raggedly, her hazel eyes, so like mine going sympathetic and soft on me.

She hasn’t looked at me this way since I was a kid and started getting up to mischief with my fellow Naughty Ones. Knowing that the situation is so blown that old Gruffy feels the need to go soft just slams home how hard this is going to be for me.

“You need to tell him, love. The poor boy is near mad with worry for you and that bairn and he does not deserve to be left out in the cold with nothing but fear and doubt. God help me, it breaks my heart, it does, to see this happening. The two of you are so perfect for each other. It’s almost as if God engineered this meeting of souls. Are you sure you and he can’t come to an agreement though the child is not his?”

What?

Wait. I have not thought of that at all.

Why that would be fucking awesome, and it would really, really go a long way in helping me not want to die of heartbreak. But is that fair? Is it really fair to expect him to take on another man’s kid just to have me?

I have no idea how he’ll respond, and no amount of sitting here plotting and praying will get me what I need. I have to go see him and just throw all the cards on the table and pray that he loves me like I now know I love him.

“I think I need some moxy, Gruffy,” I say, pushing the tea and cookies away with a breath and a straightening of my spine.

“That’s the spirit, love. Now get off your fat arse and stop that infernal whining. I thought I’d have to smack you a right good one to get that slow sap of yours pumping again. Bloody mother of yours must have been drinking with you in the womb.”

My snort is full of mirth as I rise and call a greeting to Aggy before I step out of the house and start praying as if my life depends on it. And it bloody well does.

I pray all the way on the ride over, and by the time I get to his office, even the cabbie is rooting for me and little JJ. I pray all the way up on the ride to his floor, and I pray even as I step out and start walking.

I think I’m just about ready to give hope a chance till I walk past the empty desk in the front office and take halting steps toward his door.

And then I see the one thing that kills all hope in its tracks.

“Come on, Les.”

That woman is here. She’s in his arms and he’s rubbing up all over her as if she’s a freaking stripper pole.

I stumble away and fall into the still vacant elevator.

***

Jack

I am no good with crying women, and especially not with women I don’t feel comfortable comforting when I know that it’s giving her the wrong idea.

As Lesley falls into my arms and keeps bawling like a sick cow, I have the urge to shove her away and tell her to grow some pride or something.

“I love you, Jack. You and I were so good together once. We’re perfect for each other. Just give us a chance.”

“Lesley, for God’s sake, please stop this. I told you when we went to dinner and I knew you expected more that it wasn’t going to happen. I don’t love you and I refuse to lie and lead you on.”

She’s getting clingy and it takes a not so gentle shove to pry her hands off me so that I can step away and put the safety of my desk between us.

“Jack.”

I close my eyes against the pleading and ignore the tears as revulsion runs through me. Lesley is a beautiful woman and she’s got the brains and money to accomplish anything she wants in life. I guess a lot of men would look at her svelte figure, caramel hair—professionally done, of course, since just last week she was a brunette—and her blue eyes and think himself lucky for landing her.

I feel nothing for her but sympathy and a large dose of annoyance that she just can’t seem to take a hint. One that’s gone from soft and kind to outright blunt as I try and fail to make her understand that I am not interested.

For a while a few years back, Mom and her mother were tennis partners, but that ended abruptly when Mom cottoned to the fact that the woman was vapid and spiteful, enjoying shoving her wealth in others’ faces.

My mom may be worth a small fortune, but she’s no snob and she despises nastiness. Yeah she’s got a mouth but she has never been unkind to a person a day in her life if they didn’t ask for it.

So she cut that association short and cancelled her membership at the country club.

Unfortunately, in that brief time the Brewsters got it in their head that I and Lesley are perfect for each other. Some bull about our lines and connections being ideal for a marriage that would be advantageous.

I don’t see the advantage to tying myself to a twit whose only ambition in life is lunch, shopping, and gossip. Call me crazy but I’d like to actually respect the woman I marry.

Now see, I respect the hell out of Callie, because not only is she a hard worker, she’s also one of the most loving women I have ever met. I love that she is fiercely loyal to all who have her heart.

              “Jack, please. You can’t honestly believe that you love that fat little nobody. She’s not even that pretty.”

“Lesley, get the hell out of my office and stay the hell away from me. Callie is gorgeous and nothing like you and your shallow little friends. She’s perfect in every way, and I swear to God if I so much as hear you or one of your friends insulting her again I will rain hell down on you.”

My words bring out her true colors and she dries up like a plugged faucet as her face takes on an ugly sneer. Ugliness always shines through, no matter the packaging.

“You are such a fool. You think she’s really telling the truth about that brat she’s carrying? She’s playing you, Jack. Wake up and—”

“Christ, her again? Lesley, get the message already. Jack does not want you, lady. He’s told you that a hundred times and I’ll tell you once more. You’re not it for him and he’s not settling for a shallow little mama’s girl like you. Now why don’t you use that one brain cell in your bleached head and leave with a modicum of what pride you have left.”

I’ve never heard Woody talk to a woman this way, and what’s more, the look he’s giving her is downright cruel as she stiffens and lets out a screech before storming out with a few unmentionable words.

“I think I just found the one woman on earth I can’t stand so much that I don’t even have it in me to pretend,” he says, walking in and reclining in a seat across from me.

“You’re telling me, man. I almost tossed her ass across the room when she tried to kiss me.”

“So, have you spoken to Callie yet?”

“No. I was just about to leave when Lesley barged in. I’ll have to talk to Kim about letting that woman in in the future. I don’t want her coming in here whenever she feels the need or there might be gossip that I don’t need getting back to Callie. That woman is possessive as hell and mean when threatened.” I laugh, recalling entering the club and having some woman hooting at me.

I thought she would rip her eyes out before I could wrangle her back into my arms and kiss her mad away.

“Aw, it must be really nice to have that kind of love, Jack. I envy you.”

“It would be if she loved me but she hasn’t said it yet.”

Woody frowns before shaking his head with a snort.

“Tell me, Jack, do you think if the two of you hadn’t been hit by that love-at-first-sight bolt that a woman like Callie would have let you anywhere near her?”

“Explain.”

“Think about it, man. You two met that night and fell into bed together. Callie is not a one-night stand type of girl, so I’m convinced that even as drunk as the two of you were you knew something that was undeniable.”

“Love at first sight?” I scoff, though I know damn well what he’s saying is true.

I don’t remember much about our night, but damn me if the second look I got didn’t knock me on my ass the minute I saw her.

“You get it, I see. What the hell are you still doing here, man? Go get your girl. You can name the kid after me. You’re welcome.” He grins cheekily, earning a finger.

“Not happening, dickhead. The name is set in stone. Jack Junior.”

I’m grinning even as I grab my jacket and start for the elevator, my heart feeling lighter already.

“Tell her you love her, asshole!” Woody yells just before the doors close, his eyes twinkling.

“Planning on it.”

I just have to find her.

Catch Me if You Dare. Or I’ll Come to You?

Callie

“I’m car sick.”

“Shut up. We’re almost there.”

“But I need to puke.”

“You’re not even pregnant, I am. Now shut it and just let me think a little,” I mutter as we turn down a dirt track after a two-hour drive and start bumping our way along.

My mission since I walked out of Jack’s building started off as trying not to cry to yet another cabbie. That lasted about one red light before I was using the street psychology system to pour out my woes.

By the time we got to my apartment, Josh, the very un-American cabbie who I now consider family, had made it clear that I have some serious trust issues that may stem from my paternal abandonment.

So okay, maybe it is true that I shouldn’t have run and I should have faced Jack and that Lesley woman. I get that now and I even got it when I had the bright idea to go on this trip and finally find number four.

I needed to get out of town before I did something that would decimate the sapling that is my pride and turn my moxy to an ash pile.

So I made a call to Doreen at the DMV and she got me what I need. One Jethro Lobe lives a mere two hours from me, it turns out, and so I could have really just looked a lot sooner.

              “Dammit, let me out,” Indie grates as the little Delights delivery van rattles and groans over the bumpy road, her hands grabbing at her seat in desperation.

“No. You’re coming with me. You promised.”

My knuckles are white and I’ve sweated through my light pink shirt, but that’s not the main issue here. No what is the real issue is the cute little house up ahead and the four kids running around in the front yard.

              I’d expected to meet number four and see him struggling and unkempt, thereby assuring myself that he just wasn’t capable of caring for me and can’t be blamed.

Swear, if good ole Jethro has a whole other family and just dumped me, I will lose my shit and take away his ability to father any more.

When we finally hop to a stop and the kids are all standing staring at us, I hear Indie breathe out a ragged cursed prayer.

“You owe me new tits if it turns out I’ve just churned butter in these bitches.”

“Oh hush,” I hiss as the front door creaks open and I see a middle-aged man and woman come out onto the little porch. Followed by six other adults. “Oh great, look, a public showing.”

“Shut up and let’s go, Callie cat. The sooner we get this over with the sooner you can get your pretty head out of your ass and get back to Jack.”

She’s of the very lofty and vocal opinion that I’m behaving like the brat I am.

She believes that Jack is my one and that I should fight for him no matter what.

It’s been two hours in a car with her, so I’m agreeing. I just have to do this one last thing and I’ll get right on jealous-slapping Lesley and telling her to keep her ugly paws to herself.

As for the kid thing, well I’ve already decided that this kid is mine and Jack’s no matter what did or did not happen, and he’s going to agree and marry me and we’ll have a football team’s worth of other little black-haired grey-eyed babies and that’s final!

“Come on, Cal. This is the easy part,” Indie says softly, going for the door handle.

“What if he’s just an asshole who dumped his unborn kid and crazy-ass girlfriend because he’s a douche?”

She shrugs.

“Then he is and you’ll deal with it and get the hell over it and move on. You have three papas who love you. Sisters. Gruffy goat. A man who’s so gone for you he talks to your freaking belly and begs the baby not to ruin his vagina. That’s true love, man. What else do you need?”

The answer comes like lightning.

“Nothing.”

And just like that I feel free. I don’t have to push people away because my parents were assholes who were too wrapped in their own misery to love and want me.

Whatever they had going is their shit to carry. I have my family and I don’t need another one to make me feel whole or worthwhile. Jack’s a good man and I trust him with my life.

I trust him with my heart and my baby.

              I’m not shaking anymore as I step out of the car. No, I feel great. Great
ish,
at least, and it’s with that new resolve that I slam the door, narrow my eyes, and check them all out with Gruffy’s inherited torpedo eye.

“Which one of you is Jethro Lobe?”

Indie gives a chuckle at my tone and expression and I see her wince a little out of the corner of my eye when a short little balding man steps out from the group and comes down the two steps of the porch.

“That’d be me, little lady. Can I help you?”

“Yup. You’re number four on my list, and I’m aiming to fix it before I get on with the next job.”

That has the old lady shrieking and trembling and I listen as she starts yelling at him.

“You swore to me you were done with that stuff, Jethro. Is this a mob hit? Oh God, not in front of my grandbabies.”

Mob hit? Jesus.

“Lady, do I look like I’m from the freaking mob?”

Her eyes go to India and I feel a laugh bubble up when I look at her and see what they’re seeing. She’s wearing ripped black designer jeans, a black tank under a black jacket, and a little black fedora. One of her tattoos is peeking out the collar and her expression is dead mean.

Okey dokey. I get it.

“Well…” she starts with the hand wringing and I see Indie’s lip curl.

“We’re not freaking mobsters or a hit squad, lady. Although…” I look at Indie and grin.

“We could so rock that shit, sister,” she finishes, grinning widely.

“Hell yeah we could. But we’re not,” I rush to say when old Jethro seems on the verge of tears.

That story…do not wanna know.

“Who are you then?” one of the men barks out and I look at him and thank sweet Jesus that I got my looks from Gruffy and Gramps.

No offense, but Jethro…the force is not strong in that one.

“My name is Callie Landry. I’m the daughter of Desiree Landry. My grandmother is Elsa Landry.”

“Oh shit.”

Oh Jethro, if only you knew, man.

The lady pales a bit and comes forward, her eyes round and teary.

“Desi’s kid?”

“Well, the jury’s still out on that one, but as far as my birth certificate is concerned that would be a yes, ma’am. So Jeth, old buddy…is this a ‘hi Dad’ moment or can I go home with my dreams of Hugh Hefner intact?”

Humour is my thing. I need it. Especially when the man seems to deflate and looks at me like I just threw his prize toupee out the window on a rainy day.

“I think you’d better come in.”

***

Awkward.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here. These people are creepy. They’d take eating me to a place that is not hot,” Indie hisses at me as I sit in awkward silence with eight pairs of eyes trained on me.

Sooo, this is the one. Number four is the winner.

Not that I’m judging by looks or economic standing or anything that shallow. No, what’s got me ready to abort this mission and go give my three dads a big hug and promise never to want anything more than them again is the general attitude I’m feeling with what these people have going.

              “Look. I’m not here for money or anything that you people may or may not have. I give two shits about any of that, and trust me, I am not seeking a happy family moment, either. All I wanted to know is if Jethro here is my father and why he found it so impossible to be a dad.”

Gobble lips narrows her eyes at me and I kinda thank God I didn’t get her as a stepmom. Jill and Deidre, I love you guys!

“It was another time, young lady. Jethro and I were having some problems and that mother of yours took advantage of the fact. She was a—”

“Okay. That’s enough, lady. My mom may have been a lot of things, but she was not one of those. If she and your precious little hobbit made the beast with two backs, that’s on him, too. Unfortunately for him, it resulted in the creation of another human being.”

“I, she said she would take care of it.”

Now you know…

Mom was no great shakes and I will never paint her in colors she can’t wear for shit. But she was my mom and she did take care of me for five years of my life.

And free spirit or not, she was a pro-life girl all the way. Ask me, I went to my fair share of protests while Mom was high off her ass and yelling nasty shit to the women going into those clinics.

“She did take care of me. She gave birth to me and loved me in her own way. She was my mom and I love her, so if the two of you are going to sit here and insult her, I may just unleash Lizzy Borden here on your asses.”

Gobbler swallows and cringes when Indie smiles and cracks her knuckles.

“What do you want?” Jethro finally asks tiredly, his small shoulders falling as if the weight is too much for his weak ass.

“Nothing. I needed to see for myself what I wasn’t missing all these years because I’m about to be a mother myself. Guess Gruffy was right. You can’t cry about something you never had.”

The others, the actual kids and their very uncomfortable wives, just stare at me silently. I think they may be as shocked as I am and can’t quite find a thing to say in the moment.

That’s okay. I already have my sisters, I don’t need anything more.

“Mr. Lobe, I want you to know that despite everything, despite you being a shitty human being and no type of father, I had and continue to have a great life because I have a fantastic family. I’m a good, successful woman with a lot to look forward to in the future. And you will never be a part of that because as far as I can see, all you know how to do with children is make them, not raise them. Thank you both for your time. It was not a pleasure meeting you, but it sure will be a shitty story to tell the grandkids.”

“Good show, Callie cat. Come on, babe, let’s blow this trailer and get going. We can be home in the next two hours and have you riding the love train in under three.”

I rise with a smile just thinking about Jack and the anger he’ll feel when I tell him about this lot and their stupidity. I would so be such an asset to these people if they’d been anything other than buttholes, but I guess that’s their loss and my close call.

“Yeah let’s go.”

              “God, Cal, that was a fucking freak show if ever I saw one in my miserable life. Suddenly I’m feeling a lot of love towards Mummy and Daddy dearest.”

“Not even possible.”

India’s parents are transplants from the UK who have been in the States so long, I don’t think they remember a time when the hot dog and bald eagle weren’t their first loves.

They also happen to be total assholes. India’s mom doesn’t understand the meaning of work and her dad’s screwed every assistant he’s ever had. At last count, I think Indie has like three siblings she’s never met and one nephew.

Talk about messed up.

“Okay then. You ready to go home and take your pot of gold at the end of this rainbow?”

“Totally. Pit stop first, though. I need to pee and think about the next phase of this plan.”

She gets it. I see her nod and start flicking through the travel music till she hits on my current favorite song.

JT starts bopping through the speakers and sooner than I can imagine we’re both dancing along to “Can’t Stop the Feeling” while the miles pass us by.

It’s her way of getting me up and ready to get in the ring, and as I look at her and catch her eye, we both smile at each other and nod resolutely.

Gosh, I am so glad I got into a tangle with this girl so many moons ago and ended up in detention with her. We may have beat the tar out of each other at our first meeting, and we may still have the urge to go for round two, but she’s one of the best things that ever happened to me.

              “I hate you so much, Callie.”

“Hate you more, India. Hate you so much more.”