Gable (4 page)
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 10:39 p.m.
To:
9543254
Hi,
Sorry to hear about your knee. That sucks. Do you have a favorite quarterback?
To Kill a Mockingbird is definitely a favorite.
Black sheep, huh? Been to jail? Busted for drugs? Broken any hearts?
My family’s really close. My dad’s a farmer and we all helped out. I could drive a tractor by the time I was 7.
What’s your biggest goal in life?
Talk to you later
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 11:02 p.m.
To:
9565876
Thanks. Yeah, it did suck. Two of my brothers play sports in college and it’s sometimes tough watching them play when I want to be out there too. But I’m glad they’re getting to live the dream. My youngest brother was a good athlete too but he’s more of a computer geek, so he doesn’t play sports anymore.
Steve Young was my favorite QB.
Yes. Yes. No. Yes.
My family’s pretty close too although we try to stay out of each other’s business most of the time. Mom runs a daycare and Dad works as a mechanic, so yes, I know how to change a diaper and oil.
Damn. Driving a tractor at age 7? That’s pretty badass. Ever wreck? ;)
My biggest goal in life is to be happy. And while I’m at it, if I make others happy, that’d be good too.
What’s yours?
xx
I was lying in bed when my phone dinged. When I looked at it, I was surprised to see that he’d answered back so quickly. I read through what he’d written and when I got to the bottom, I stared at the two X’s. If I wasn’t mistaken, they stood for kisses. He was sending me virtual kisses now? Yesterday, I’d asked one of the guys who worked for the newspaper who was pretty computer savvy if he could access student files and he was checking into whether this was Gable or not. If this really was him, at least I now knew he had a sweet side.
After reading his responses I was curious so I wrote him back right away.
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 11:07 p.m.
To:
9543254
So, for clarity’s sake:
Yes, you’re the black sheep.
Yes, you’ve been to jail.
No, you’ve never been arrested for drugs.
Yes, you’ve broken hearts.
Did I get that right?
No wrecks on the tractor although I did back my brother against a barbed-wire fence with it and held him there for ten minutes because he kept teasing me about a boy in my class when I was 11. He never teased me about boys again.
Those are some very nice goals. Mine? To get as much information to the people that I can even if it means stepping on toes. What can I say? I’m a fighter for the rights of people everywhere =) And I’m pretty sure it’ll make me happy, and I hope others will be happy too because they’ll be well-informed.
xo
Oh, God. I didn’t know if I should leave exes and ohs or not, but I decided to go with it, cringing a bit when I hit “Send.” I guess I’d see whether I’d made a colossal mistake when he wrote back. And that he did a few minutes later.
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 11:13 p.m.
To:
9565876
Black sheep, yes.
Jail, yes.
Drugs, no.
Broken hearts? Yes. Lots. Not bragging, but I’ve had a lot of girlfriends, and by a lot, I mean, a lot. Does that intimidate you? Have you only had the one boyfriend? Just curious.
And just as I thought. You’re badass…
xx
Wow. He was being so open about everything, so I thought I’d strike while the iron was hot.
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 11:20 p.m.
To:
9543254
What makes you the black sheep?
Jail? Care to explain? Lol
Good on no drugs.
A lot, huh? Are we talking double digits? Triple? How many is a lot? 20? And you’ve broken all their hearts?
Have you ever had your heart broken?
Yes, only one “real” boyfriend. We dated for two years, but after graduating high school two years ago, he went to Johns Hopkins pre-med and I went to college closer to home. We tried the long-distance thing, but had to call it quits after six months. It was too hard keeping up with each other. Besides, he was two hours ahead in Baltimore, so that made it tough to even talk by phone because he was always tired from studying. So when it was ten my time, it was midnight there so we rarely connected. Now here comes the hard part of it all. Even though I’d planned on breaking up with him, it wasn’t until after I found out that he and my best friend had been “talking” (which is code for screwing like rabbits) for over a year that we did. I was so hurt. I mean, our relationship had pretty much run its course, so it wasn’t really that. It was just the betrayal of it all that got me the most. I’ve had some trust issues ever since. I’m sure you can understand.
The thing that really pissed me off about it all was when I found out and confronted him on the phone, he tried telling me he was “fucked up” and that I should’ve stayed away from the start. I had no idea what that meant, other than it was just an excuse for his being a cheating scumbag. God, such a copout.
But, yeah, I not only lost a boyfriend, I lost my best friend of thirteen years too, which was what really sucked. I’ve dated a couple guys over the last year but nothing serious…
Have you ever been serious with a girl?
xo
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 11:23 p.m.
To:
9565876
I’m the black sheep because I’m a hellraiser (according to my oldest brother).
Jail for DUI my sophomore year in high school, breaking and entering (a friend and I broke into our high school just to be dicks), and possession of stolen property (jealous ex had given me an old iPhone of hers then called the cops when I’d broken it off with her saying I stole it. I gave it back, charges were dropped, I spread a rumor that she had herpes, all was well. Hey, I was sixteen).
A lot. Hm. If I told you it was over 30 would you think bad of me?
Your ex sounds like a fucking prick and your friend sounds like a cunt. They deserve each other’s fucked up selves.
Yes. I’ve had my heart broken. Yes, I was serious with her. Not sure I want to talk about it.
So are you a virgin?
xx
Uh. Wow. That escalated quickly.
Did I really want to talk to him about this? He’d been pretty open with me and it was way too easy telling him things behind an email address. I guessed it couldn’t hurt anything since I’d have our professor change our pen pals if this really was Gable, so he’d never know it was me anyway.
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 11:30 p.m.
To:
9543254
You sound a lot like my middle brother. I guess he was a hellraiser too. He almost got a DUI his jr year in hs, but since my dad was good friends with the sheriff, he talked him out of it telling him he’d put my brother to work. And he did. My brother was grounded almost all summer and worked his ass off on the farm. He’s a heartbreaker too. I think he had at least 50 girlfriends during hs or it seemed that way.
Why does it matter if I think badly of you? You can talk about anything you want with me. I won’t judge. But only if you’re comfortable.
And thanks. They’re definitely not my two favorite people by a long shot.
No, I’m not a virgin, but my ex has been my one and only. I guess I’m old school because I think you need to care about each other before you take that step. That’s pretty lame, huh?
xo
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Trouble-making screw-up
Date:
September 18, 11:34 p.m.
To:
9565876
Not lame at all. I agree that it’s much better when you have feelings for the other person. But as a guy, well, you’ve got brothers, so I’m sure you understand somewhat that it’s just different. Not sure how to explain it. It just is. Call me sexist if you want. I mean, if I had a sister, I’d kick a guy’s teeth in if he even tried touching her. Weird, right?
I don’t know why it matters if you think bad of me. It just does.
I’m glad you don’t.
xx
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Misogynistic tendencies
Date:
September 18, 11:39 p.m.
To:
9543254
Hi Sexist,
How are you?
xo
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Misogynistic tendencies
Date:
September 18, 11:41 p.m.
To:
9565876
Funny.
xx
I left it at that. I had class in the morning so I needed sleep and just as I was drifting off, my phone dinged again.
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Thanks
Date:
September 19, 12:11 a.m.
To:
9565876
I’m glad I have you to talk to… thanks for listening. You might be the first chick I’ve ever been just friends with.
xx
Oh, wow. Now what was I going to do with this? Gable really did have a sweet side (if this was actually him). I took a deep breath and blew it out knowing if he kept being nice, it might spell out trouble for me. I mean, I was already wildly attracted to him physically, but if on top of that he turned out to be a decent human being, I knew I’d be in danger of possibly falling in serious like with him. Definitely needed to be careful here.
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Thanks
Date:
September 19, 12:13 a.m.
To:
9543254
I’m glad you’re glad ;) I’m glad too.
Goodnight
xo
I closed my eyes and smiled that he might not be as bad as I thought he was.
Boy, was I wrong.
I’d finished my training at O’Leary’s, gotten my permit to serve alcohol and had been on my own for a week now. I’d only worked short shifts from five to seven, but tonight I was on the clock until eleven. It was Monday, but working that late wasn’t too bad because my apartment was only about ten minutes away, so I’d be home before midnight and my first class wasn’t until ten in the morning, so I’d have time to study some for the test I had in French.
Things tonight had been going great so far. I’d made some pretty good tips because NFL football had started and since there were five TVs in the place¸ it seemed as if every guy in town had shown up to watch and have a couple beers. And if I’d learned anything from working at Rosie’s, it was that beer made guys happy and if there was a ballgame on, they were even happier, which meant they tipped well.
So I made my rounds again, grabbing beer mugs and pitchers for refills, making my way to the bar and that was when my night started going not so great.
“Priss! When’d you start working here?”
Oh, God. Gable was a bartender and he was grinning from ear to ear at me. And, damn, did he look good. He had on a football jersey too, but his was a full jersey that he had tucked into the front of his jeans. His hair was styled how he’d worn it in class and he had his glasses on. His tattoos were on full display and my stomach fluttered as I stood looking at him.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I finally mumbled, placing my tray of three mugs and two pitchers on the bar. I glanced up at him and gave him my best indifferent face. I liked this job, I’d now memorized the menu and I really didn’t want to quit even if he was going to act rudely toward me.
“So… I like the jersey.” He kept his grin and nodded at the 49ers half jersey I was wearing. Waitresses’ wore half jerseys as their uniform during football season that showed our bellies, and I realized that Gable and I wore the same team and we both had the number forty-nine. Yay. I honestly didn’t know anything about pro ball, so I’d just grabbed a couple jerseys when Jack had told me to pick last week. But I thought they were cute and I did have a flat stomach since I’d been an athlete, so although they’d taken a little getting used to at first, I found I really wasn’t that self-conscious about them. I also think I got better tips wearing them, so whatever. In December, we’d switch to basketball jerseys which were the full jersey, thank God, then we’d wear baseball jerseys until football began again in the fall.
I smiled weakly at him then told him what each order was, watching as he turned to fill them. Damn. Even his butt was nice. And the way he carried himself, so confident, was freakin’ hot.
“Thanks,” I murmured after he filled the last pitcher, setting it on the bar. He stood watching me for a moment as I loaded my tray. Irritated with being scrutinized, I glared at him with a scowl. “What?”
He grinned. “Nothing. Just makes everything easier now.” I was still scowling when he winked then he turned away to take a customer’s order.
Easier? What’d that mean? Was he talking about hooking up with me? Not happening if he was going to be a jackass to me all the time. I didn’t care how sweet he was in his emails. Well, I wasn’t going to let him bother me. I needed this job so my plan was to just ignore him as best I could.
And it was a good plan until around the third trip I made to the bar.
“I like black,” he said waggling his eyebrows at me.
It took me a second to realize he was talking about my bra that I’d made the mistake of wearing because it showed through the little holes in the white jersey’s fabric. I gave him a bored look then put the drinks on my tray and walked away.
On the fourth trip, he said, “Like the jeans, Priss.” I still gave him no reaction.
Fifth trip, he leaned over the counter and mumbled, “
Really
like those jeans.”
By the sixth trip, I’d had it. I’d brought four pitchers and when he’d filled them all, he’d leered at me and said, “How ‘bout we add twenty and go for it.”
When I’d frowned and seemed puzzled, he’d pointed at my jersey then back to his slowly. When he saw my eyes get big, he’d grinned wickedly. Forty-nine plus twenty equals sixty-nine. What an ass.
“Are you always this immature? What are you, like thirteen?” I stated giving him an apathetic look.
He narrowed his eyes at me and I could tell I’d offended him. Good. “I’m twenty-one,” he replied indignantly. I thought he was finished and I was mentally chalking up a tally for myself when he opened his mouth again. “In my prime, sweetheart. Can’t wait to prove it to you. Over and over and over.”
Despite the fact that my body was now fully alert and reacting to what he’d said, butterflies in my stomach going nuts and nipples all freaking perky, damn it, I gritted my teeth and snapped, “You do know there’s a thing called sexual harassment?” I glared at him then added, “And don’t call me sweetheart.”
He snorted. “Go ahead and report me. What have I said that can be construed as anything sexual? You may have taken it that way, but to me, it was pretty innocent.” He then smiled impishly.
I frowned and thought of the things he’d said and he was right. It was all pretty innocent on the surface; I was just inferring that what he was saying was sexual. Crap.
“Besides, Jack’s my uncle. I’m his favorite nephew. He knows I wouldn’t do anything like that.” He shrugged and the damned smirk he sported was begging to be slapped right off his beautiful face. He wiped his hands with a small towel and threw it to the side then crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter. As I picked up my tray and started to walk away, he tacked on, “Or you could just quit.” I turned back to see him watching me, his eyes challenging, daring.
“Wh—what?” I sputtered. I’d never quit anything in my life. It wasn’t how I was raised. As he stared at me with that damned smug expression, I finally gave him a scowl then turned and headed to my tables knowing there was no way I was quitting now. Stubbornness was in every Patterson’s blood. And also a competitive nature. And bullheadedness. Nope. Not quitting.
So stupid, stupid me sucked it up, knowing I’d never be the first to wave the white flag. Fantastic.
~*~*~*~
My shift was almost over so I was rolling silverware in the back. Alyssa had the night off but came in to get her paycheck and had been her usual charming self, giving me a snotty look as she’d walked through to the office to talk to Jack which made me roll my eyes. I’d gone to the back to complete the innocuous little chore and had noticed that Gable hadn’t been at the bar so I assumed either his shift was over or he was on break.
“Hey, take this out to the back, would you?” Glen, one of the kitchen guys, asked, handing me a box of slimy, wilted vegetable leftovers.
“Sure,” I muttered, grabbing the nasty thing from him and heading out the back door into the alley. As I walked to the Dumpster, I heard giggling and turned to see Gable, who had Alyssa pinned against the back wall of the bar and I froze.
“That tickles!” she said with another giggle as he nibbled on her neck.
“Mmm, you taste good,” he mumbled, pulling his head away but keeping his hands against the wall on either side of her face, his hips pinned against hers. I must’ve let out a gasp because he suddenly turned his head toward me then smirked when he saw what I knew was a whole lot of astonishment on my face.
Startled out of my reverie, I said, “Just taking out the trash! Didn’t mean to interrupt.” My face burned as I opened the lid to the Dumpster and threw the box inside.
“Like the show, Priss?” he asked when I turned around, which made Alyssa giggle some more.
I shot a look at him as I walked back to the door. “Can you for once not be a jerk?” As I grabbed the doorknob, I glared at him and added, “Why is that so hard?”
“That’s what she said,” he answered with a snort and a leer before turning back to Alyssa who was now laughing like some damned hyena but stopped when he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her hard.
Ugh.
Why did seeing that make me want to throw up (other than the fact that she was a heinous bitch and he was a complete douche)? I went back inside quickly, washed my hands and finished rolling up my silverware. A few minutes later Alyssa came in, her hair appropriately mussed, and gave me a smug look. She flirted with Glen on her way through, doing her hyena laugh again when he flirted right back, which made me want to punch a puppy. A moment later, Gable came in, walking through as if I didn’t exist, nodding his head at Glen before going back out to the bar. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d probably had to stay out there longer to adjust himself from being aroused. God.
When I finished with the silverware, I clocked out then left through the back, not wanting to walk through the place and see Alyssa and Gable flirting or in another heated lip lock, or hell, she could’ve been on her knees behind the fucking bar giving him head for all I knew. When I got in my car, I slammed the door, started it and peeled out of the parking lot then headed to my apartment.
And, man, I was so fucking angry! And what made me even madder was I didn’t know if I was more pissed at myself that I’d let what I’d seen affect me or that I was infuriated at Gable for flirting with me all night long then turning around and acting like such a prick.
But you know what? Why the hell did I care? He was nothing to me.
Nothing.
If he wanted to make out with rude bitches that was his business not mine. I’d known he was bad news from the start, so this was all on me because stupid me had to get all caught up in the fact that he may have had a nice side. Well, fuck him. I was
so
over Gable Powers and I was moving on and never looking back because, and I repeat, he meant nothing to me.
So why did this hurt so bad?
~*~*~*~
When I got home, Amy was already asleep, so after I showered then went to bed, I lay there in the dark and got even more pissed off about what’d happened. God! I’d been so humiliated at catching them back there. It’d just been so… gross.
As I lay there stewing over everything, I suddenly sat up and sucked in a deep breath at my discovery, totally wanting to scream because it finally came to me that my problem wasn’t that I was repulsed at catching them making out or even that I was disgusted that he’d embarrassed me.
No, I was pissed because I realized that I wished it’d been
me
out there with him instead of Alyssa.
Oh, my God.
It was times like this that I wished that Ivy and I were still best friends. She would’ve understood what was going on and told me what to do. But she was in Baltimore with my ex-boyfriend, going pre-med too, just as they’d planned behind my back. The last I’d heard, they were going to get an apartment together and live out the dream. Whatever.
So, feeling lost, I grabbed my phone and shot off an email to my pen pal who may or may not have been the prick I was upset over.
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Pissed off
Date:
September 24, 12:15 a.m.
To:
9543254
Ever have nights where you wanted to strangle someone?
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Pissed off
Date:
September 24, 12:20 a.m.
To:
9565876
Yep. All the fucking time. What’s up?
______________________________________
From:
9565876
Subject:
Pissed off
Date:
September 24, 12:22 a.m.
To:
9543254
Just a guy I know. Why does everything have to be so hard?
______________________________________
From:
9543254
Subject:
Pissed off
Date:
September 24, 12:24 a.m.
To:
9565876
Six… you’re makin’ this too easy…
That’s what she said… ;)
And I knew right then it
had
to be him. Bastard.