Business as Usual (Off The Subject) Page 5

  She bites her lip and nods before turning to one of the local girls next to her. I watch the couples on the dance floor, letting my mind wander to my work on the summer program. Dr. Tyree asked me to draw up an official request for the classrooms for the program, which I’ll need to do this weekend. Then I need to draw up a list of possible courses to show the desired scope of the project to prospective instructors. Reed can help me come up with ideas that will interest the boys. Maybe I can even convince him to work in a computer course of his own. He often says that his love of computers and algorithms began in middle school. Perhaps he’ll help the boys in the program develop that same interest.

  I’m deep in thought when Rob sets my drink in front of me. “Lighten up, Lexi Pendergraft.”

  I snap out of my train of thought and turn to him. “What makes you say that? I’m here aren’t I?”

  “There’s here and then there’s here.” He taps my temple with the last word.

  He might have a point.

  “You need to let loose and have some fun,” Sylvia leans across the table with an intent look in her eyes. “No work tonight. No comments or suggestions about the fundraiser. I didn’t risk my neck with your brother so you could sit here and think about work or school.”

  “Okay, okay.” I lift my hands in surrender and pick up the glass and take a sip. “Better now?”

  “For the moment.” She smirks.

  The rest of our group joins us and I watch everyone, amazed that the locals from Hillsdale and the students from Southern have blended so well. Rob hits on one of the crew members, an education major who tutors at the charity’s after-school center. He sees me watching and winks.

  I grin and shake my head. He’s a hopeless flirt.

  I finish my drink and lean over to Sylvia. “I’m going to get another drink. Want something?”

  Her eyes light up as she turns from the crew guy she’s talking to and looks at me. “Yeah, another white wine.”

  I get up and walk toward the bar, passing a table of rowdy guys who watch me as I pass. An uneasiness spreads down my spine, but I try to ignore it. The men are harmless. I need to lighten up.

  Two bartenders are behind the bar—a woman who looks like she’s in her late twenties and a guy who’s slightly familiar although I can’t place him. The woman is closer, but she flashes me a smile and calls out something I can’t hear. The guy’s head lifts and she nods toward me.

  He pops the top off a beer bottle and hands it to a guy before making his way to my end of the bar. A grin spreads across his face when he stops in front of me. “What can I get you, darlin’?” he asks with a drawl.

  I stare at him, momentarily speechless. He’s impossibly good looking with short, dark hair and gorgeous green eyes. A day’s growth of stubble covers his lower face.

  His smile fades slightly as he leans closer and he asks again, “What can I get you?”

  I’m rarely affected by a guy’s looks, but he stops me in my tracks. I give myself a mental shake. “Uh…a lemon drop martini and a white wine.”

  “Coming right up.” But he hesitates for several seconds before grabbing a martini glass and starting to make my drink. “I haven’t seen your group in here before.”

  “We wrapped up the first night of our play down the block and we’re here to celebrate.”

  “So, are you an actress then?” he asks as he pours liquor into a martini shaker.

  “Me?” I can’t help but laugh. “No. I was in the play, but I’m no actress. It was more of an honorary part.”

  “What do you do, then?”

  It sounds like he’s just making polite conversation, but there’s a slight edge to his question that makes me wonder if it’s more than that. Still, I have nothing to hide and networking is part of the game of fundraising. “I work with the Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity.”

  “So the play was a fundraiser for their summer program.”

  “That’s right.” I’m surprised he knows this.

  He shakes the metal container then pours the contents into my glass. “I heard about how you’re adding the middle-school kids. It’s a great idea.” He sets my glass on the counter. “My brother goes to that summer program. He starts middle-school next year, so this would have been his last year otherwise.”

  This is my opportunity to get more information. I ignore the fact that I’m grateful for the chance to talk to him longer. “Does he like it?”

  He grins and leans his elbow on the counter. “What’s not to like? Romping in the park all day with games, swimming, and field trips—it’s a kid’s summer vacation dreams come true.”

  His answer worries me. What if I’m wrong? What kid wants to go school while they’re on summer break? What if I’m putting all this time, energy, and money into a program that won’t even interest the kids?

  A seriousness fills his eyes and he rests both elbows on the counter. “Why do you ask?”

  I take a deep breath. “If I tell you my plan, will you give me your honest opinion of whether your brother would want to go?”

  His shoulders tense, but his green eyes pierce mine. “Yes, of course.”

  My stomach tightens. What if he thinks I’m crazy? I shouldn’t give so much credence to one guy’s impression, but his brother is essentially in my target audience. “The middle-school program we’re trying to implement? I want to expand it beyond its original scope.” I pause, but he’s listening intently. “I’m trying to set up something like a summer school program, but not with the core subject classes kids hate. I want to offer classes they’ll want to take. Computer programming. How to build your own video games. How to make updated clothing with thrift store finds. Courses on how to build a babysitting business or a lawn mowing service.”

  He watches me without expression.

  My chest tightens. “You think it’s a crazy idea.”

  He shakes his head. “No. Not at all…” His eyebrows lift. “Can I ask your name?”

  My stomach jitters with nerves. “Alexa,” I answer without thinking. Where did that come from?

  “Alexa.”

  My real name rolls over his tongue, sending a shiver down my spine. I’ve always preferred Lexi to Alexa, but the way he says my name gives me second thoughts.

  “Well, Alexa, I think it’s a great idea. Honestly, I’m speechless. I would have killed to be able to take part in something like that. I’m just not sure how many kids in Hillsdale can afford it.”

  Relief spreads through my body. “That’s the beauty of the program. Spots will either be available at a very reduced rate or there will be scholarships. If we can get enough funding, the program will be completely free to kids who qualify based on financial need.”

  “Do you have any idea how much something like that would cost?”

  My back stiffens. “Yes.”

  His face softens as he watches me. “I think it’s amazing, Alexa.”

  Again, his opinion shouldn’t matter, but his approval means something to me. “Thanks.”

  Sylvia sneaks up behind me. “What’s taking so long?”

  The bartender pushes away from the counter. “Let me get your wine.” I realize with surprise that he finished making my martini several moments ago.

  She breaks into a huge smile and watches him walk away. “Flirting with the bartender? I approve. He’s really cute.”

  I shake my head and pick up my glass, taking a gulp. “No. I was telling him about the program.”

  A scowl wrinkles her forehead. “Lexi, I said no work talk.”

  My mouth parts in protest. “He asked, Sylvia. Besides his brother actually goes to the summer program and would have aged out this year. His opinion is invaluable.”

  “Well, no more work. Only fun. In fact, we need to dance.”

  The bartender returns with the wine and I hand him money for the drinks.

  He pushes it back to me. “You can start a tab.”

  “Oh, I won’t be staying—”

  Sylvia gr
abs my arm and pulls me away. “Thank you.”

  “Why didn’t you let me pay?” I ask as she continues to drag me to our table.

  “Because you said you were going to have fun with me. You’re only getting started.”

  “Sylvia. I can’t get drunk. We have another show tomorrow night.”

  “You don’t have to get passed-out, throwing-up-your-guts kind of drunk.” She takes a glug of her wine. “But you can get tipsy enough to loosen up.”

  I’m the first person to realize that alcohol isn’t the answer to my problems, but I can see her point. It might help me relax.

  We rejoin our group and I soon find myself caught in the middle of a discussion about welfare and whether it perpetuates poverty or helps families climb out of it.

  Sylvia rolls her eyes and pulls me out of my chair. “This is too close to work. Let’s dance.”

  My upper lip curls as I eye the dance floor. “I don’t dance.”

  “Tonight you do. Drink up.”

  I gulp down the rest of my drink and follow Sylvia. There are more people dancing now, so I feel less conspicuous, but I’m still uncomfortable as I begin to move. The song is a fast-paced dance song I’ve heard on the radio and I soon find myself letting go of my rigid control.

  Several other people from our group join us. I’m laughing and having more fun than I’ve had in a long time.

  An arm slips around my waist and I start to tense when I look up into Rob’s smiling face.

  “Dance with me, Lexi.”

  I lift my eyebrows playfully. “I thought I already was.”

  He turns me so I’m facing him and his hands land on my hips. “Not like this.”

  I expect to be more nervous, but I’m feeling sassier than usual so I dance with him for several seconds before breaking free. “I need another drink.”

  When he turns and heads for the bar, I go back to the table, Sylvia following me.

  “Look at you,” Sylvia says as she takes her seat at the table. “Dancing, drinking, flirting. Who knew you had it in you?”

  I laugh. “It’s always been in me.” But she’s right. I’m different tonight, less guarded. Why? Could it be the wig that’s helping me feel more in control?

  “So why is it always hiding?”

  The reminder of the reason is like a kick in the gut, but I’m having fun. I refuse to give into the fear and anxiety trying to claw their way to the surface. “I just needed to remember life isn’t all work.”

  Her smile falters. “It’s obvious that Rob’s interested in you, but he’s not prone to commitment, so tread lightly there.”

  My eyebrows lift in surprise.

  “My cousin goes to Southern too, and she dated him a year ago. He’s a great guy and at least he’s upfront about his desire to play the field.” She pauses. “But you’re on the rebound from Brandon and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not looking to date anyone anyway. I’m too busy.”

  “Says anyone who can’t get a date.”

  I put my hand on the table and lean forward. The alcohol has made me bolder than usual. “I can get a date anytime I want.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her eyebrows lift in a challenge. “Prove it.”

  Rob returns with three drinks—one for me, one for Sylvia, and a bottle of beer for himself. After I’ve finished half of mine, I flash Sylvia a smile. “Are you coming out with everyone tomorrow night, Rob?” I ask.

  He grins and rests his arm around the back of my chair. “It depends on who’s coming.”

  “And if I said I was coming…?”

  “Then I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

  A huge grin spreads across Sylvia’s face before I get up and leave him at the table and dance with the rest of our friends. Rob shoots me curious glances until Sylvia and I leave an hour later, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m playing with fire.

  Chapter Five

  Ben

  Sabrina is next to me, her long, sleek black hair hanging over her shoulder, the ends skimming her nearly naked breast. I feel myself get hard at the sight of her even though I know I’m not supposed to react this way. Sabrina is a conniving bitch who will use anything and anyone to get what she wants, regardless of who pays the price.

  But my dick doesn’t care about that.

  She reaches for me, her blood-red nails crawling up to the top button of my shirt. Her face leans into mine and her lips part as though she’s about to kiss me.

  That’s when a blaring alarm blasts out of her mouth.

  I jolt upright in bed. Five-forty. I turn the alarm clock off and scrub my eyes, trying to convince myself it’s a bad idea to lie back down and go to sleep. Who in their right mind thinks showing up for work at six a.m. on a Saturday morning is a good idea? But this is an easy, no brainer job and it pays better than my other two. I don’t dare fuck it up.

  I climb out of bed, my erection demanding attention. It pisses me off that I’m hard for that bitch, but she knows what to do with that body of hers and my dick remembers every last trick. Thank God I told her no the last time I saw her. Otherwise, I have no doubt I’d be sitting in a jail cell right now, awaiting my trial.

  I grab a pair of jeans off the floor and pick up a T-shirt, sniffing it before I pull it over my head. The beauty of this janitorial job is that I don’t have to wear a uniform. The office building I clean is empty, so as long as I’m wearing clean clothes—questionable at the moment—my boss doesn’t care if I show up in jeans and a T-shirt.

  I slide my feet into my shoes and grab my phone and keys off the nightstand. If it were a school day, I’d make coffee, but there’s an industrial-sized machine in the kitchen at the office. And there will be plenty of refills to get me through the day.

  Hillsdale isn’t a big town, nor is it affluent, which is why Southern University is a strange fit. One of the two local manufacturing plants has laid off half its work force and, the way things are going, it will soon close its doors. The town’s hurting bad and my father’s heating and cooling business is hurting right along with it. Before my arrest, Dad wanted to leave the business, Masterson H&C, to Kyle and me, but now he’s planning on saving the whole thing for Kyle. I wonder what will be left of it by the time my little brother is ready.

  Despite the fact that I hate waking up at o-dark-thirty to go to work on Saturday mornings, once I get there, I usually enjoy it. With no one else around, I can plug in my headphones and listen to music while I clean. And I carry my backpack around, so I can study in between tasks. If I didn’t have my notes with me, I’d go insane. Busy work isn’t enough to keep my brain occupied for eight hours. I have no idea how my friend Bobby can stand working on the assembly line at the plant. He was one of the lucky employees who kept his job. Although the term lucky is relative, I guess.

  I unlock the front door and scan my ID card to get into the building. The door lock pops and I close myself inside, ready for my eight hours away from the world. Coffee is first on my list, and then I’ll start cleaning.

  The day goes by quickly and I’m actually feeling better about my history exam by the time I head back to my apartment, but I’ve spent more time than I care to admit thinking about Alexa, the girl from the play. She caught my attention the moment she walked into the bar last night, but when she started to tell me about her work with the charity, I became seriously intrigued.

  Alexa was so animated as she spoke about her plans for the expanded summer program, which is obviously much more than a resume booster for her, and several things struck me as I stopped what I was doing to watch her. One, she was in charge of the program, as bizarre as that seemed given the fact she looked all of nineteen or twenty. Two, if I had two functioning brain cells left I would have carded her before taking her drink order. And three, all I could think about were her lips and what it would be like to kiss her.

  And that alone is reason for me to worry about my sanity. I’ve given up women, especially Southern women, and even though she didn�
��t admit to being a college student, something tells me that Alexa is most definitely a Southern woman.

  Still, her idea is incredible and I can’t help but think about how much I would have loved to attend something like that when I was Kyle’s age. Nevertheless, there’s no way she can raise that many thousands of dollars, not to offer the courses she has planned while still making it worthwhile for the instructors. And I find myself disappointed, not only for my brother but also for Alexa.

  By the time I get off work, I have three hours before I have to be at the bar, and I need a nap. Getting little over three hours of sleep on Friday nights is a killer, but I can do this for three more months. I know I can. All I have to do is keep my eye on the prize: my diploma.

  Both of my roommates are sitting on the sofa playing video games when I walk in the front door. I head into the kitchen and grab a bag of chips from the cabinet, stuffing a handful in my mouth. I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge to wash them down.

  “You know that game’s like ten years old,” I say.

  “Don’t be a hater…” Austin says, his eyes glued to the screen.

  “…just because we kick your ass every time,” Noah finishes.

  “Suit yourself if you want to be losers for the rest of your life,” I mumble on the way to my room. They know I don’t mean it, mostly. My roommates are socially awkward and I think they like it that way. In the entire year I dated Sabrina, she only came to my apartment once. She met Austin and Noah and stared at them with a blank expression on her face. They reddened under her intense scrutiny, and if I’d had any sense at all, I would have realized I did not want to be caught in the Sabrina Richmond’s gravitational pull. But I had no sense and my dick led me down a path to ruin. What an idiot. I sigh as I kick off my shoes and lie down on my bed. Live and learn, they say. No more Southern University girls, no matter how beautiful or altruistic.

  I close my eyes and sleep isn’t far behind, given my perpetual state of exhaustion. I feel like I’ve only just gone under when I hear Austin calling my name. “Ben!”