Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) (10 page)

“That impressive,” he says in a low tone.

I look away trying to calm down. I remind myself to get it together and to not be affected by this. It has to be the alcohol. It has to be. I take another drink of my beer, only to notice it’s gone. Damn. Wait, am I actually disappointed that the conversation is going to end? It just got started. Maybe a little. But now is my chance to get away. I need to. I have to. I set the empty bottle down and look back at Wes, “Thanks for the drink, but I should get back to my friends.” I gesture towards the booth upstairs where all of them are at now.

He looks up at my group and nods. “It’s a shame,” and shakes his head.

I look at him confused. “What’s a shame?”

His eyes meet mine and I almost see sadness in them, “It’s a shame that this was my only chance to show you I’m not a creep.” He turns back to his beer and swivels it at the base.

“Sorry,” is all I manage to say. What am I supposed to say? Sorry, I’m a bit too fucked up in the head to have any real relationships? Sorry that because of my past, I’m weary of most men? No, I can’t tell him that. It was supposed to be an innocent drink and a start to my trying to move on with something that has been affecting me for a few years now.

On the other hand, what he just said may have cracked a bit of the ice that has formed over my heart and has yet to thaw. Or maybe I’m just drunk and need to be sober. Who the hell knows? I dig a tip out from my purse and toss it on the counter and being brave or dumb, I’m not sure which at this point, but I also hand him my card with my cell number on the back, “We can be… friends,” I tell him.

My palms are sweaty and I discreetly try to wipe them off on my skirt. This is a big deal for me. “So… yeah, if you ever want to get a coffee or I don’t know, but not as a date. Just friends, then call me or text.” Before I embarrass myself any further, or sound even more like an idiot, I slide off the stool and try to walk towards my friends. But when I say try, I manage to trip yet again. This time, though, it isn’t because of booze spilled on the floor, it’s my nerves. And I didn’t even really trip, because I was caught by Wes mid-fall. Like a hero I don’t deserve.

He stands me up and holds his grip on me while staring at me with intensity and concern all-in-one etched onto his face, “You alright?” he asks.

“Hell yeah, I’m fine. And I’m usually not this clumsy either. I’m blaming it on the booze!” I practically spit out at a rapid pace.
Holy shit did I just say that
? Damn nerves.

His hand slides to my back and lowers to my waist. I feel my eyes hood slightly as he leans in close and whispers into my ear, “Are you sure it was the alcohol or is it the effect? Like the one I get when I see you?”

His hot breath on my neck makes me feel on fire, and when he pulls back, he’s mere inches from my lips. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Which is a good thing, because I snap out of the mini trance he seems to have put me in and remove his hand from my back. Before he can speak again, I turn on my heels and walk away.

Making it successfully back to my seat without tripping, I slide into the booth next to Gemma and plant my head into my hands and try to steady my breathing. Probably a mistake, since I’m not even sitting down next to her for thirty seconds before she says something to me.

Elbowing me in the ribs, she leans in closer to me than she already is. “I saw you talking to that Wes guy, or should I call him Green eyes and Tats?” I look up and see her wiggling her eyebrows at me. I know she’s wanting an explanation. So I might as well give it to her.

“Yeah, I’m taking your advice and giving him a chance at a friendship. He bought me a beer and we talked.”

She smiles big at me and lowers her voice so the others around won’t hear. “I can’t believe you’re doing this Marlie. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you and help you move on.”

At least she’s happy.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a start to a possible friendship. Not a marriage.” God, the thought of that makes me shudder. “Let’s drink some more, dance, and go home.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We had more to drink. Well, I threw back a water, then had more to drink. Then we danced our asses off enjoying the night. I couldn’t help but keep looking to the bar and around to see if Wes was still around, but it seemed he’d left shortly after our drink. It was strange that I kept thinking about him, but I chalked it up from the nerves of this step I’m trying to take. Though I could have picked any man to be my friend, and I’m not voting out others, he was just there and not to mention, easy on the eyes. It just worries me. He worries me in ways I can’t figure out yet, but all I have to do is give it time and see what it is that alerts me about him.

SIX

I
WOKE UP THE FOLLOWING MORNING
feeling fine; no hangover for me. It’s is nice, but odd since the amount I ended up drinking was probably enough to send me to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. We all ended up back at my place for a little more to drink around three a.m. Last time I checked the clock it was six a.m. and I was waving Tom and Kelli goodbye through the living room window and then heading to bed - not waking up until noon.

Getting dressed after I take a much needed shower, I head to get a glass of water. Walking into my living room, I look around and take note of all the empty tumblers and beer bottles. I smile to myself remembering we played Drunk Twister and Heads Up. I really can’t wait to do it again. Maybe after we get back from visiting my dad and brother. Now
that
is something I’m really excited about. I look forward to it every year. A little something to get my mind clear and relax before my “summer job” I keep referring to starts and life gets… complicated. I finish my glass and put it in the sink. I grab a trash bag and start cleaning.

After I get the apartment back to normalcy, I head back to my room to grab my cell and call my dad for our weekly talk. Plopping onto my bed, I reach for my phone, noticing I have a few new text messages. I swipe my screen and see one from Kelli, thanking me for a great time last night. Same with Alex, and Henry and one from an unknown number sent late last night or early this morning, depending on how you view it.

Figured if I had your number, you should have mine.

From your #1 favorite stalker ;)

Ah, Wes. I almost forgot that I had given him my number last night. So now that I have his number I debate whether or not I should text back. Fuck it.

Ha-ha! Thanks. Now I feel special. From your # 1 stalkee.

Anytime… so, when would be a good time for lunch, friend?

Well that was quick.

You don’t waste time do you?

Nope, and you’ll soon see that.

Oh, will I?

Yes, now… about lunch as FRIENDS.

Monday, noon.

I’ll pick you up. See you.

See you.

I’m not sure if this is a good thing, but I can’t help but be a little excited about this.
Mostly for Gemma
, I tell myself. I am doing this for her, not me. But that would be a lie. I need to do this. As long as Wes knows that he and I could never be anything but friends, then this should go fine. Sure, I am extremely attracted to the guy. Who wouldn’t be? But given how my last, and only, relationship ended, no one would ever blame me for being cautious towards men.

The hard part is, if I’m being honest with myself, Wes has been on my mind since day one. I don’t think it’s just his looks either. When he looks at me, it’s like he already knows me and that’s scary as hell. But at the same time, it makes me feel comfortable. This is even scarier. I know next to nothing about this man except for a few tidbits I got out of him last night.

My heart races at the thought of seeing him tomorrow. Just like it did when I met him. Just like it did the other times I’ve seen him, or the text, but I have to keep myself in check. I have to be cautious of him. Not just because of my past, but because I can sense that he has many layers and some I don’t think I’ll like.

Being alone and socially isolating myself for the better part of the last two years has made me more perceptive of people. I’m now pretty good at judging who will screw you over and will be true.

Friends.

That’s all it can be and all I want it to be. It’s all it can ever be. I will not go through what I went through, again.

I managed to get off the phone with my dad without giving our secret; the surprise visit. I feel… happy; like I have a little pep to my step. I put on my tennis shoes, call a cab and head towards the kitchen where Gemma is cleaning the fridge. I grab my keys off the hook next to the front door, walk up right behind her and I start jingling my keys like a mad woman.

She stops and turns around. “What are you doing?” she asks.

I smile sweetly, “I’ve been thinking…”

She laughs, “Oh? That’s never good.”

“Shut it. I’ve been thinking that it’s been a while since I drove… ya’ know, for fun.”

She looks at me with a smile that reaches her eyes. “About goddamn time Marlie Edwards!” She closes the fridge and throws the dirty rag in the sink. “Give me two seconds to put my shoes on!” she says already heading to her room. I check the time to see when I had called the cab. Yep, should be here in a few.

“Ready,” Gemma says practically skipping down the hall.

W
E PULL UP TO
the garage where Gem and I store our cars. Our apartment is located in an area where curbside parking is for business only; no residential parking is permitted and the building doesn’t have a garage. Everything we need is within walking distance so we don’t drive much anyway. I own more than one vehicle, as does Gem, so I bought this garage across town last year. It just made sense.

I pay the cab driver and we get out. It’s not a huge building, but big enough. The building itself is plain. It has grey steel siding, a garage door and a regular door – but it’s what inside it that matters. Walking up to the door I enter the key code to unlock the door.
Click
. Stepping in, I flip the switch that turns on the large shop lights that hang above my three vehicles.

“Wow, I feel like it has been forever since I’ve been in here,” Gemma says in awe.

All I can do is nod as I stare at my prize possessions. I slowly walk towards them and lightly skim my hand on each hood. First, is my black 2015 Nissan, Armada. It’s my luxury SUV. This baby is my main ride. I drive it whenever I need to go somewhere further than walking distance, though, I’ve only driven it a few times. I got it back in January and it’ll be what we drive when we go to Indiana to visit my dad and Michael.

Next is my old rusty, red 1996 Dodge Ram pickup, 1500. This was my very first vehicle. My dad and mom surprised me with on my sixteenth birthday. I rarely drive it anymore, only on those rare occasions I need a truck to haul something. But other than that, it just sits. It brings back a lot of memories for me. Most are good and some are bad. Some of the memories I’ve had in this truck used to be amazing, but are now they are tainted with my hatred and rage. None the less, I love this truck, and I’ll always keep it around.

Finally, my third vehicle is my 2012 Lexus LFA. It’s my super car; sleek, sexy, and fast! My super car or, “Lex”, as I like to call her, is the ultimate car. Its gun metal color really shines in the sunlight and the red leather seats give me this dark feeling whenever I get in. The LFA is the car I use to… race. Yes, that is my big secret. Well, one of them. Of course, I race illegally, but the details don’t matter right now.

I was actually really lucky to come across this car when I did. Back in September of last year, I was at a costumer’s house; a lady in her early 70’s and I was going through jewelry designs she wanted, when I had noticed a picture of her recently deceased husband standing next to my now beloved precious car. Her husband had passed away from a stroke the year before and the car was just sitting away in storage. Long story short, we got to talking and the car is now mine. Less than a 1000 miles on it and obviously well taken care of. Of course, it had cost a fortune, but the lady was happy to sell it to me. Saying something about how if it wasn’t the stroke that killed him, it would have been the car and that he was too damn old to be cruising around in something like that.
Her words, not mine.

I feel extremely lucky to have this car because not a lot were made. I paid her in cash the next day when I came back to finalize what she wanted for her jewelry. I had been saving like crazy for the right car to come along - and it did.

The look on Gemma’s face was absolutely priceless the day I brought the car home. I rolled up in front of our GemMar Makings jewelry store; Gemma was over by the store-front window. She looked over as I pulled up with the window down waving like an idiot.

“Hello gorgeous, I have missed you,” I whisper to my baby. I peel my eyes from my car and look over at Gemma, now wearing a smirk on her face, waiting patiently for me to stop loving on my car.