Devoted - The Complete Series: A BWWM Romance Boxset (3 page)

“You’d never do any dare. Like, not even sneak down to the fridge to get some cake or something.”

“Well, you never chose truth. It’s like you wanted me to dare you to jump across the rooftops or something. You always had way more guts than me.” Kendra’s eyes lower back down to her hands again and her lower lip twitches.

“Are you ok?” I reach across and graze my fingers over her arm. It was probably a good call that she refused to do anymore drinking. She’s getting all bleary-eyed over some silly slumber party games.

“You know what?” Her head snaps back up with a mischievous glint that looks so unfamiliar in her dark chocolate eyes. “Let’s play right now. Except we’ll do the opposite, ok?”

“Ugh, you want to play truth or dare?”

“Yeah, but this time you dare me to do something, ok? But you have to answer a question. Sound fair?”

A smile spreads across my lips as I look around the crowded night club trying to think of what I should dare her to do. My eyes rest on the bar. More specifically, the bartender.

“Ok, I’ve got something.” It’s hard not to laugh when she already looks so worried. “You see the dime piece behind the counter?” I nod at the sexy, young hottie slinging cocktails for the swooning crowd of young ladies hovering around the bar. “I dare you to try to flirt some free drinks out of him.”

Kendra bites her lip and twirls her engagement ring around her finger. “No, I can’t. It’s just, well, I wouldn’t feel right about it with Matthew…”

I let the air deflate from my lungs in a long exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” My eyes skim back over the club.
What the hell am I supposed to dare her to do? She won’t flirt with anyone. She won’t drink.
My search stops as my gaze falls on the eight-foot dance platforms near the end of the crowded, pulsing dance floor. “I dare you,” the words roll around in my mouth like an expensive scotch, “to dance on one of those stages.” I point to the towering platform under a bright spotlight. “For one whole song. That’s my dare.” I smirk. There’s no way she can weasel her way out of this one.

Kendra shakes her head side-to-side, staring at the booty shaking attention-whores competing with each other on the small stages.

“If you don’t want to do that one then…”

“No, wait. Wait.” She pulls a deep breath into her lungs and grips the side of the table as she slides her chair back across the floor. “I’ll do it.”

My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I watch her get swallowed by the crowd on the floor and spit out the other side by the stairs leading up to the elevated stage. Even from here, I can see her push her shoulders back and throw her chin out bravely as she makes her way to the top.

It’s hard not to cringe as she awkwardly stands at the top with her arms crossed like she’s trying to fold in on herself. Her hips sway a little, and her arms loosen up until they’re swinging by her sides. Before long, she’s shaking her ass up there like she does this every Friday night.

Bubbles of laughter surface from inside me. It’s so strange to see Kendra grab the railing of the stage and grinding back against the air like a horny cat. As soon as the song changes, she stands up straight and immediately slinks away. She looks so proud of herself when she sits back down at the table; it’s impossible not to laugh.

“Wow, I didn’t think that was going to happen. You’ve got some serious moves on you,” I tease her.

“That was pretty fun,” she laughs. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

“Hey, so now it’s time for you. You have to answer a question truthfully, ok?”

God, if she was willing to get up there and dance like that with everyone watching, I’m worried about what it is that she wants to know. “Uh, yeah. Ok.”

“I wanna know your secret. How do you just shut it off? Like, you live your life like you never worry about tomorrow. Here I am, worrying about ten years of tomorrows, but you’ve never been like that. How do you just have confidence that it’s all going to work out? How do you live like such a free spirit? I seriously want to know. I need some of that in my life.”

I’m sure she means it as a compliment, but her words sting as sure as a slap in the face would. “I don’t.” Now it’s my turn to look at my hands.

“Brianna! You said you’d answer truthfully,” Kendra throws up her hands in exasperation.

“I am! Listen, I’m telling you the truth, ok? I don’t live life without worries. I worry all the time. Especially since you’ve…” I stare at the empty shot glasses and try to collect my thoughts.

“Since I what?”

“I dunno. Since you graduated, I guess. I mean, you have everything so together Kendra. You got your degrees, left minimum wage behind, got engaged, have your career. Look at me! I’m still working the same job we had as teenagers, there’s no man who seems to want more than just a night with me, and I can’t get a career because I didn’t go to college. I do worry. I am worried. I wish I was more like you.”

The thumping base fills the silent space between us as we both stare at the table. “Hey,” Kendra grabs my hand and squeezes it tight, “don’t talk like it’s too late or something. It isn’t. You can have all that stuff too you know. We will figure out school together, we can work on the man, the job will come. Don’t be so down on yourself. I wasn’t asking you this to make you feel shitty. I asked because, well, I guess I want to be more like you too. Don’t sell yourself short, Brianna.” She shakes my hands, and I finally meet her pleading eyes, “you have a lot more to offer than you think.”

Do I?
It’s been almost two years since Kendra left the diner, and here I am only a couple of years away from thirty and still working for minimum wage on my feet all day. I’ve watched the gap grow between us since Kendra and Matthew got engaged, a gap that is going to grow into a chasm when they get married.

“Come on,” Kendra stands up, tugging me to my feet by the hand. “Let’s get out of here, ok?”

“Ok.”

Chapter Four:

Bradley

I’m already running twenty minutes behind, but as soon as I see Rachel her eyes tell me what my voicebox messages are already screaming at me:
Eileen called.
I’m familiar with the look of concern and pity she’s giving me under a failing façade of professionalism.

“Good morning Rachel,” are the only words I manage.

“Yes, good morning sir. I hate to start your day this way, but Mrs. Sheppard has been phoning non-stop,” Rachel nods to the stack of papers with messages scribbled upon them. “I’ve told her repeatedly that you haven’t been to the office yet, but she didn’t believe me. She accused me of covering up for you.” Rachel lowers her voice like Eileen’s instability is a shameful secret that must be kept from the office walls. “She sounded really upset this time, Sir. If you have a moment, you might want to call her.”

Every muscle in my neck squeezes into a tight little knot. It’s 8:15 and I’m already bombarded with a stack of approximately twenty messages. I’m sure there’s at least this many sitting in my inbox and probably another twenty on my voicemail. This thing with Eileen is getting out of hand. It’s getting worse by the day.

“Thank you, Rachel, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, get my lawyer on the phone. If you can’t get a hold of him leave a message for Dwight that I need him to call me back. Make it very clear that it’s urgent.” Rachel nods at my demands. Lord knows that I pay that man enough to call me back promptly. I swear, the higher person’s salary, the more entitled they become.

With a stack of papers and the beginnings of a headache, I head into my office, “Sir?” With effort, I shuffle around to face her, now what? I know it isn’t Rachel’s fault.
Don’t shoot the messenger
, I bite by my tongue and wait. “Should I push your meetings to the left so you can deal with this? The first one is in ten minutes.” I flip my wrist looking at my brother’s old Rolex. Time couldn’t be more restrictive than it’s been these last few months. Between two time zones, these crisis situations with Eileen, and the new launch of the Zervion Global Systems One Communications Campaign, time has been the one luxury I can’t afford.

“Please do,” I slump over. “And Rachel?” Her eyebrows raise in response, “make sure that I’m not disturbed for the next twenty to thirty minutes, please? I’m calling Mrs. Sheppard.”

“Certainly, Sir. That won’t be a problem.” There it is again,
pity
.

My office door bears the brunt of my frustration as I slam it shut. The blinds and the picture frame holding the key to my heart, my little girl, shake from the force. I sink into my leather chair and stare into her big brown eyes for a moment, mustering the will to call her mother. My fingers dial the familiar digits from pure muscle memory. It comes with dealing with a new crisis every day in this woman’s life. As the phone rings, I hold my breath wondering which version of Eileen I’m going to speak to this morning.
Angry? Depressed? Manic?

“Hello?” Her voice is soft, so soft I wonder for a second if it is Brooklyn that answered.

“Eileen?”

“Who else would it be? What kind of question is that? I swear you getting stupider by the day!” Well that answers
that
question.

“Eileen, I don’t have time for this, what do you want?” The tension is twisting inside my forehead pulling on the backs of my eyeballs.

“Well, Trevor –”

“Bradley,” I correct her.

“That’s what I said!” She shrieks in my ear so loud that I pull the phone away. “Is this how you treat someone in crisis? Is how you treat your family? How can you just leave me here to deal with everything we’re off in New York? You don’t even care what happens to us.”

I can’t contain my sigh, this is a conversation I don’t feel like having for the hundredth time this week. “Eileen, focus, please.” I grit my teeth and intend to keep my voice even, but it’s so difficult when you are dealing with someone so irrational.
She’s sick, just remember she is sick.
“If you tell me what the problem is, then maybe we can fix it.” I hold a receiver against my forehead resisting the urge to smash it between my eyes until I knock myself out.

“I thought you should know that I sent that so-called Nanny you got for us packing. I told you from the get-go that she was no good! She was stealing from me, and she was abusing Brooklyn, but you wouldn’t listen! You never listen to me anymore, Trevor. I don’t know why you have to make things so difficult around here when you know it’s hard enough? All you think about is yourself!”

“You fired Alyssa? Where is she? Where’s Brooklyn?”

“What kind of question is that? She’s right here. What kind of mother do you take me for?”

“Let me talk to her!” I roar into the phone, cutting off her self-pitying tirade. For once she doesn’t protest, I hear the phone rustle as she hands it over.

“Braddy? Is it you?” My heart twists in my chest as my eyes flicker up to the picture on my desk as if she speaking to me from within the frame.

“Yes, baby. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” I’m trying so hard to keep my emotions from flooding my voice. I know it won’t do anything but upset her to hear how I truly feel.

“Yes, I okay. Don’t be sad. Mommy said Alyssa go away. Can she come back and play tomorrow?”

“I’ll see what I can do honey. I won’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.” Eileen snatches the phone from Brooklyn, and I steel myself for her wrath.

“I told you that I fired her. Don’t go telling her that you’re going to get her back. You obviously don’t even care about us if you want me to have a Nanny that robs the blind and abuses Brooklyn like that!”