Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) (5 page)

“Fine, fine, just doing some crossword puzzles in the newest book you sent me. How’s my favorite girl?”

“I’m doing great dad. Just been busy as usual, spending most of my days making my pieces.”

“That’s great baby girl. I’m so proud of you ya’ know? And I know your mom is proud of you too; looking down and watching you become who you are.”

He’s so sentimental at times it hurts.

“Yeah dad, I know. I am sure she is.” But the truth is, I don’t think she would approve of some of the things I have gotten myself into. Hell, I don’t even approve.

We talk for a good fifteen minutes about the most random things. With my dad, one topic usually turns into another. For example, I was helping him figure out a word for his crossword puzzle and then the next thing I know, we’re arguing about the best way to survive in a big foot attack. Our talks never get too personal and that’s just fine with me. I like to avoid any real deep conversations with anyone. Although, I think my dad would like to get a little more heart to heart, but I just can’t.

Not anymore.

“I have to get off here, dad. Gem and I going are grocery shopping here soon and I need to get ready. I just wanted to call and see how you’ve been and tell ya that I miss you.”

“Okay baby girl, I miss you too. When are you going to be coming for a visit to see me and your brother? And Gemma too. It’s been a while and I would like to see you girls. I’d come there if I could, but the Doc says no long trips since my minor issue.”

I sigh at his casualness and pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers to his
severe
health issue. “Dad, it wasn’t a minor issue, it was a heart attack. You need to take it easy old man or I’ll kick Michael’s ass for not checking up on you and for getting you some Mickey D’s.”

My dad had a major heart attack about six months ago and my brother Michael is supposed to be taking care of him. He can get around fine now, he just moves a little slower. He has a homecare nurse come and check on him and take him shopping for groceries once a week. His health is good now, but I still worry.

“Yes ma’am!” he says in a sarcastic tone, as if I’m his flipping drill sergeant. Even I know over the phone he’s taking his hand to his forehead and saluting me. He’s funny like that.

“Seriously, behave and I’ll be down soon. I promise. It’s just hard to get away during the summer. I’m busy working on our fall/winter line.” This is only a half truth. “I’ll try to get down within the next month, okay? I could use a little break anyway. I miss you, Michael, and my old friends.”

“Alright, love you and see ya soon. Don’t work too hard.”

We hang up and I sit on my bed for a while just thinking about how I really could use a break before things in my life start to get out of control. Again. I really do miss my hometown back in Indiana.

About four years ago when I was twenty, my mom, Elizabeth, found out she had breast cancer and it was so far progressed that there was nothing anyone could do but sit and wait for her to die. Three months later, she was taken from us. It was a tough time for all of us from the minute we found out, to about a year after she died. She was only forty-five. It just wasn’t fair. But life doesn’t ever play fair for me. I found that out the hard way.

My dad, of course, had the hardest time dealing with it. She was buried in our home town. The town she was born in. The town where she met my father. The town they married. The town she and my father started their family in. A few months later, my dad decided to move back to Indiana so he could be near her.

My brother followed suit shortly after. He had a hard time moving to Colorado anyways. He was sixteen when we moved here and like any teenager, he didn’t want to leave his friends and life he’d always known.

I try to visit home twice a year. Usually during the holidays and at the end of spring/ beginning of summer, but this is my home, here in Denver. I love it and will never leave. It was hard seeing my only family leave, but I understand why.

I get up and I grab one of three baskets of my laundry and head towards our hallways laundry closet to start the day long chore. I really need to start doing a load a day, or at the very least, every other day. Instead of spending my entire Sunday dedicated to my washer and dryer. Grabbing for the laundry soap, I notice it’s empty.
Won-der-ful
.

“Hey Gem?” no answer.

“Gemma!” still no answer.

Where the hell is she
? I go looking around for her. I gently knock on her door after I find she’s not in the guest bathroom, living room, nor the kitchen. She doesn’t answer, so I quietly open her door and find her passed out on her bed, face down. I laugh to myself just for a moment, because this chick could pass out standing up. The world could be on fire and she would never know. She’s that heavy of a sleeper. So there’s no point in asking if she has some detergent hidden somewhere.

With a slightly annoyed sigh, I walk back to my room and change out of my clothes into something more suitable for the outside world. I put on some black Capri yoga pants, a grey Nirvana band t-shirt, and my hot pink and deep purple, Nike running shoes. Not a very impressive attire, but better than my skimpy, lazy outfit I was in a few minutes ago. Besides, who am I going to impress at the store anyway? No one. Not that I’d ever care.

Grabbing my keys, I lock the door behind me and head down the steps while I plug my ear buds into my phone, turn
Seether
on full blast and prepare for a walk to the closest store.

I get to the store and purchase my laundry soap and a few other items that I figured I would go ahead and get while I’m out, like something to make for dinner. Figured I’d make lemon salmon, twice baked potatoes, with a salad, paired with a nice bottle of white mascotto. I have three bags in my hand. It’s a little heavy but I’ve managed more than that on a walk home. I could hail a cab but I’d much rather walk. I like to exercise but I don’t go crazy by stepping into a gym every day. Maybe three times a month I’ll do that. But usually I walk wherever I go and run once a week in the mornings on Wednesdays. I eat however I want and do just fine.

Walking out of the store with bags in hand, I start towards home. While looking at my phone to pick a new song, I run into a hard body and drop all of my bags.

“Shit, shit, shit! I am so sorry.” I apologize to the stranger without looking up and bend down to start collecting my scattered groceries. The laundry soap cap has broken open and blue liquid has spilled everywhere. Luckily, my wine is safe. This means I either skip my laundry today or head back into the store I just left thirty seconds ago. I’m good on not going back in; laundry can wait another day.

As I’m collecting my items, the stranger I just rammed into, bends down to help me. The first thing I notice is the hands. He’s a male and has some seriously attractive hands if I do say so myself. Second thing I notice is his voice, when he says, “It’s fine, here let me help you,” it startles the hell out of me and soothes me at the same. It kind of sounds like gravel, smoothed over with butter. I know, weirdest description ever. But hey, my mind never thinks inside the box and I haven’t even looked up yet.

Then I do…

Holy shit! This man is… is beautiful. More than beautiful, he’s down right godly looking. I sit here crouched on my knees, my mouth probably open, just staring and he’s staring right back at me.

Snap out of your shit Marlie. He’s just a man
. A good looking one. God is he something else. Just one look and I’m affected. I stand up and say, “Thanks,” as he hands me my bags. I go to grab them with shaky hands and when he hands them over I don’t let go or he doesn’t. I am not really sure. Either way I’m finding myself standing up straighter and sizing him up since I have full view of him now.

What the hell is wrong me?

He has shaggy, dark brown- almost black hair that slightly curls at the ends by his ears and eyes that are most beautiful shade of green I have ever seen. I could get lost in them. His jaw is perfect with a bit of stubble. He’s tall, maybe 6 foot. Who knows? His body is something else entirely though. He’s wearing a basic black tee, dark blue jeans and converse tennis shoes. His arms are tatted up with all sorts of ink on them. The left arm has a full sleeve and his right only a half. He’s strong, I can tell, with muscles that look like he’s been lifting since birth, but not in that gross, veiny way. They aren’t ridiculously huge, but big enough that I’m sure he could pick me up and toss me like it was nothing. He could probably snap me in two as well.

As soon as I stop drooling at him like a dumbass, I snap out of it and meet his eyes once again to find him staring at me with a slight curve to his very luscious lips. Does he know I just rudely checked him out? I force myself to look away and take my hand back and thank him again as I hurry past and get over whatever the hell is wrong with me.

I don’t get very far before I am grabbed by the shoulder and barely hear, “Wai-” before I tense and react instantly swinging around and throwing my right fist in hopes of connecting with a jaw. I miss. I was grabbed by my wrist mid-swing. I should have known it was him, but I couldn’t help my reaction and I have no idea why I just did that.

“Whoa, do you always hit strangers who just helped you?” he says with amusement in his tone and confusion in his eyes, added with a big bright white smile.

Settle down Marlie, slow your breaths and don’t freak out
. I was going to apologize but he’s being smug.

I don’t like smug.

“Depends,” I try to say calmly while shrugging my shoulders but there is still an edge to my tone.

He must be able to tell I am not comfortable because he looks at me regretfully. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well, you did.” Okay, now I am just being an asshole.

He smiles bigger and laughs lightly. “What’s your name?”

My name? Shit, what’s my name again? I can’t believe I am struggling to spit out the six letters that make up my name. But the more I try to think of it, the more I realize that I most definitely don’t want to give him my name. I can smell trouble pouring off this guy like a sewer. Not that he smells like a sewer, he actually smells overwhelmingly intoxicating. Which I know firsthand that isn’t good for me. I almost snort at that thought.

“Gertrude,” I say to him dead panned, giving him the most unattractive name I can think of at the moment. He now laughs hard and loud. I almost melt at his laugh and the cheeky bastard appears to think I’m lying? Well, I am. But he doesn’t need know that.

“Really? Well if that’s your name, then I’m the guy from Reading Rainbow.” He’s still laughing, and I’m starting to get pissed.

“It doesn’t matter anyways.” I walk away towards my place shaking my head.

Doing so, I hear him yell, “It does matter and I’ll find out soon enough.”

It was almost a threat. Some nerve he has. Such a cocky fucker he seems to be. It doesn’t matter how yummy he looks, I don’t do hook ups, relationships, or anything. I might as well not have a vagina, I don’t even use it.
That’s another lie Marlie.
My inner self starts to pipe up.
You know you like to play. Even if it’s only with yourself or “Dr. Hello!” Your trusty dildo.
I shake my thoughts away. I don’t care how good looking the mouth-watering of a man is. I could tell with one look he is trouble. Wants me to drop my panties and then leave me and move on to the next. I know guys like him, or I have known guys like him. I can’t go there.

I won’t.

Doesn’t matter, I won’t be seeing the stranger again. But I’ll definitely be using him for my “playtime” fantasies.

As I get home, I realize I’m still a bit flustered about that weird encounter with the guys has green eyes and tats. So my best distraction to rid him from my thoughts would be to work or listen to music, but since trying to listen to music got me into that situation in the first place, that would be a no. And I promised myself that I wouldn’t work on Sundays. So I decide to throw in a movie I rented two days ago and will be late if I don’t return it by six tonight.

I pop in the “The Neighbors” and get ready to laugh my ass off if the movie is as good as the previews were. This is highly doubtful for two reasons: One, because they always show the best parts from the movie in the preview, and you’ve already seen that part twenty thousand times in the over played trailers. Or two, they show scenes that aren’t even in the movie and you spend the entire movie waiting for that particular scene that never comes. It’s dumb. This why I never watch movies. They are usually a huge disappointment to me. Especially comedies when they aren’t even funny unless you’re an immature fourteen year old boy and find stupid sexual references comical. But this particular movie looks decent and besides, Gemma wants to see it too.

Speaking of the sleeping beauty, I should wake her and see if she wants to watch this movie with me. I know she’ll regret sleeping all day and then not being able to tonight and be dog tired in the morning for work. It’s almost eleven now. I walk towards her door and knock loud since she’s a hard sleeper. No answer. So I do what I did before and crack her door open just a tad to peek through to see if she is still sleeping. Indeed she is. Hmm… how should I wake her? Got it! I run to her bed and jump onto the empty side and smack her ass and whisper in a creepy ‘I’m going to kill you’, voice.

“Get up, get up, get uh-up.”

She barely even registers what I just did. Figures. But there is slight movement coming from my friend as she rolls her face to the side and barely gets out an audible, “You little bitch.”

I laugh, “Come on girlfriend. Get up and watch this movie with me. That little hottie Zac Efron is in it and I know how much you like him.”

“Okay, okay, what time is it anyways?” she asks now sitting up and looking around.

“About eleven.”

“Holy cow, I’ve slept for two hours?”

“Yeah, I know. That is why I am waking you up now.” I sit on her bed and debate on whether or not I should tell her about mister
Green eyes and Tats
. If I tell her she’s going to get all excited and try and talk me into getting back into the dating scene. This is something I definitely do
not
want to happen. If I don’t tell her, then it’ll be like it never happened and that’s fine with me.