Shifting Gears (11 page)

Cass just looks at me and
smiles.

As I finish my fourth pancake (no
willpower), my phone chirps with a new text message. I walk across
the kitchen and grab it from the charger. I have a text from
“Holton.”

“Hey, babe, what time do
you get off work? Want to see you. I know what went down last
night. I can give you space but when I get you, I get all of you.
Whatever shit is left over in your head, you’ve got to clear out of
there. If we gotta talk it out then we talk it out...Call you
later...H.”

What the hell does he think happened
last night? And his ass is totally taking control again. Already.
I’ve got to stop this.

I debate for a second then text him
back.

“Last night I wasn’t me.
Sorry. It won’t happen again. I get off at six today but Cass and I
are going to The Rox tonight. One of the bands I like is playing. A
lot of shit is in my head that isn’t ready to come out.”

I instantly get a response.

“Don’t be sorry, I loved
every fucking minute of it. Am I invited? I’ll work it out of your
head.”

I type back.

“Galaxy Dynamite.
Ok.”

God. Why can’t I stand my ground?
Shit.

I don’t get a response and after a few
minutes, I figure he’s not going to respond. I jump in the shower
and get ready for my day.

I walk into work, hoping Beth hasn’t
said anything to anyone about seeing Holt and me
together.

Katy calls out, “Morning, Niki.” She’s
the only who still calls me by my first name since my promotion.
Everyone else has taken to calling me Dr. Stringer, which drives me
insane. I’m still the same person, just a different job
title.

“Morning,” I reply
hesitantly.

“So I heard you had a long night last
night?” She smirks.

Seriously? It didn’t take Beth twelve
damn hours before she ran her mouth about what she’d seen. I try to
steer her off in another direction. “Yeah, we were pretty busy, but
I managed to get outta here by twelve. Miffy came through banged up
last night. How’s he doing today?”

Katy doesn’t take the bait. “Um, I
wasn’t talking about work, Niki.”

Damn it, here we go. I can’t even make
it to my office before getting attacked by the firing squad. She
doesn’t give me a moment to react, to speak as she begins to
giggle.

“I heard you were at Sammy’s with our
Mr. Badass-dripping-of-pure-sex new client, and that the two of you
looked like you were having a serious conversation.”

I don’t answer her. I can’t believe
Beth actually came to work and blabbed like this.

“Where’s Beth?” I abruptly
ask.

Her laughter dies, and she gives me a
quizzical look, as if she doesn’t understand my anger. “Um, I think
she’s in the back. In one of the prep rooms.”

I don’t give her a chance to question
me. Without even dropping my stuff off in my office, I barge into
the prep room.

She looks up with a gasp.

“Beth, I need to see you in my office.
Now.”

Shock and fear are written all over
her face.

I feel bad for, like, a second, but
then remember why I don’t want talk of me and Holt to spread. This
isn’t me, though, and I’m glad no one else is around to see my
rage. He’s not even here, and yet he is, making me act out of my
character, and at work, with my friends, my coworkers. Yep. No
fucking control.

I don’t turn back as I walk toward my
office, but I hear her hesitant footsteps. Damn it, I’ve scared the
hell out of her. Shit. I make it to my office and throw my bags on
the floor. After she shuffles in, I close the door behind
her.

“Beth, look, I would really appreciate
it if you wouldn’t speak about my private life here at work. What
you saw last night isn’t what you think. I apologize for being
dishonest with you before, when you asked me about Mr. Maddox. He
was someone in my life a long time ago and now he’s back in town.
He asked me out to dinner so we could catch up.”

Beth looks down at the floor. “I’m
sorry, Dr. Stringer. It won’t happen again.”

I can tell I’ve hurt her feelings, but
I don’t know what to say because I really am upset that she opened
her big mouth. Well, at least now she knows where I stand and
hopefully she won’t do it again. Not that I’m planning for there to
be an “again” with Holt, but knowing how totally out of control I
am when he’s around, it’s more likely than not. He’s proven that
one too many times already since he came back. If he wants there to
be an “again,” there’s going to be an “again.” Ticking time bomb
was I.

For the rest of the day, Beth avoids
making eye contact with me. She even goes to the extent of
switching with one of the other technicians so she’s not working
directly with me. Hopefully, she’ll get over it. She is, after all,
an excellent tech, and I truly enjoy working with her.

By the end of my shift, even Katy’s
acting standoffish. I guess because she doesn’t understand why I
went off the way I did. I can tell she wants to say something, but
she doesn’t. They just don’t get it. Maybe at some point, with Katy
at least, I’ll explain why I don’t want to have a connection with
Holt. Why it can’t happen. Why no one should encourage
it.

I’m cleaning up the files for the day
when my phone chirps with a new message. I catch my breath, and
goosebumps break out on my arms at the thought that it may be Holt,
but I’m disappointed to see Cass’s name.

“We should get dressed up
tonight. Whatcha think?”

I never complain about a reason to
dress up. I have lots of girly clothes and, after being in scrubs
all day, every day, getting girly is a welcome thought. I text back
with an okay, and she responds that we should get our hair done
too, just because.

I laugh and call her instead of
texting back. “Whatcha up to, Cass?”

“Nothing, honey, I just thought you
might need it. Let’s meet at Lita’s when you get off, ‘kay?” she
says cheerfully.

“Okay, Cass, but I’m not doing the
eighties look, no matter how much you think I rock it. It isn’t
happening.”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “Okay,
no eighties mega rock star. Promise. Love you. See you at
Lita’s.”

Cass is always trying to mold me into
this eighties punk rocker she says I’m destined to be. I’m quite
comfortable in my lace and cowboy boots or my rocker tee with jeans
and chucks. I really don’t have a sense of style. I wear what I
think is pretty and looks good on me. Cass and Ang, on the other
hand, rock the latest fashions from head to toe. I like their
style, and they work it. It just isn’t for me.

The hair salon, Lita’s, is where we
love to go when we’re looking to get girlied up. The owner, Lita
Morris, is awesome and has mad skills. Her parents knew what they
were doing, pegging her with the name of a serious badass
rocker.

She shares my huge love of music, and
we always get caught up talking about the latest bands and who’s
playing at The Rox. She also has her own sense of style that
doesn’t really conform to the latest trends, but she manages to
work everything she wears—lots of leather and lace. She cusses a
lot, drinks even more. She has tats, and she doesn’t take shit. A
true badass, and someone I secretly wish I could be more
like.

None of us know the whole story, but
word is she has a jacked up history full of heartbreak and loss,
and she came to Coral Springs attempting to start over. Turns out,
her skills with hair won over everybody in town, and she started
her very own, very successful hair salon at forty-one.

After being at Lita’s for two hours,
and making plans with her to meet that night for drinks, me, Cass,
and Ang walk out, rocking our new dos, and head home to continue
with our girlification.

****

I reach for my short denim miniskirt,
because in it, there’s no hiding my curves. I can’t lie to myself,
the thought of Holt seeing me in it (if he even shows) drives me to
wear it. I don’t know what I’m doing, I just know what I’m feeling.
My confidence is slowly, slowly coming back out of the shadows. And
I know why. Holt.

I grab my ripped-to-shreds Galaxy
Dynamite shirt that’s torn so much in the back, it pretty much
exposes my whole back. I throw on my cute cowboy boots and stick a
belt around my shirt. I do my makeup, which takes me all of five
seconds, and walk out to sit on the couch and patiently wait for
Cass and Ang to finish getting ready. Like always.

Is he even going to be there tonight?
A part of me desperately doesn’t want him to be, but the other
part, the part that has me putting on this miniskirt, wants to see
him again. My guess is he will be, and will be continuing with his
hunt. The hunt that ends with me in his bed. I can almost feel his
hands and mouth on me.

The girls finally finish, after what
seems like hours, and we make our way to The Rox.

It’s crowded tonight, not
surprisingly. I’m not the only one who’s taken a liking to Galaxy
Dynamite.

“Hey, did you hear Gavin and the guys
might be getting a record deal?” Cass asks as we make our way to
the line forming out front.

“Yeah, looks like the word is out
too.” I point to the long line of waiting fans.

“Katy was telling me they had bigwigs
coming out to see how they were on stage.”

All my years of coming to The Rox have
taught me something about music. It’s not just your sound, it’s how
you look, what you wear, how you interact with your fans. The whole
package. I’m excited for Galaxy, but sad too, because if they get a
deal, they won’t be at The Rox as often, if at all.

As we stand outside, waiting to get
in, I start searching. Standing under the old movie-theatre-looking
lit up marquee that gives The Rox its character, I look for the
silhouette of him. But I don’t find it. He’s not here.
Disappointment curls in my stomach almost instantly.

As we walk in, we head to the bar to
grab drinks, which is where we find Lita talking with Mike, one of
the bartenders, and Sandy Barnes, the owner of The Rox. She and her
husband are both here tonight, probably to see the bigwigs’
reaction to Galaxy. On stage is a rock group with their version of
Whitesnake’s “Still of the Night,” and the crowd loves it, but I
think it’s more because of the way the lead singer looks. He’s
pumping out the lyrics while bending down, kissing the women across
the front of the stage.

I turn my attention back to Lita,
who’s laughing with Mike about something. I’ve never thought about
it until now, but they kind of look cute together. I make a mental
note to ask if Mike’s dating anybody. He’s pretty badass himself
and helps keep the hot guy lurkers in check if they get out of
hand. But can he handle badass Lita? Something tells me he probably
can.

The girls and I get our drinks and
start chatting with Sandy. The chance doesn’t come very often. On
the nights she’s here, she’s always running around, making sure
everything’s going smoothly. Having her to ourselves for the
moment, we’re enjoying her company.

“Roxy is doing so good at Julliard.
She’s coming home next month for her break, and we can’t wait.”
Sandy’s talking about their only daughter, Roxanne—The Rox’s
namesake. You can see by the glow of her face, the glimmer in her
eyes, that she’s so proud of her daughter for following in their
footsteps, with their love of music.

“Where’s my dance partner at?” Lita
asks, talking about Clay. The two of them together. God. No
filter.

I laugh. “He’s on his way. He had a
photo shoot tonight.”

“Let’s go, before some numbnuts grabs
our spot,” Cass says.

Lita follows us over, and we settle
onto our stools, which have a perfect view of the stage. Our spot
is the best seat in the house, not to mention close to the dance
floor.

The long-haired boys on stage finish
up their set, and the stage guys are getting it ready for
Galaxy.

“Be right back. Gonna get another
round before they’re on,” I shout to Cass.

I run up to the bar and wait for Mike
to bring the beers over. I stop breathing as someone wraps two
tight, chiseled arms around my waist.

“Like the shirt,” he whispers in my
ear.

His sudden closeness, and the heat of
his breath on my skin, makes me dizzy. God. Out of nowhere. His
body is pressed up against me, a wall of rock-hardness.

I twist around and break away from his
hold to look up at him. The music filling the room—“Back in Black”
by AC/DC—totally fits the moment. As I take him in, I try my best
to remember to breathe. He smells absolutely fucking
incredible.

“Hey, baby,” he says, as I follow his
eyes taking me in, looking at me with the same hunger I have for
him.

“Hey. You’re here.”

“You’re here, right?”

“Yes,” I say, confused.

He slants his eyes and grins. “Then
where else would I be?”

Yeah, forgot to breathe. I stumble on
my words but manage to spill out, “The girls and I are, um, over
there.” I point toward our table, seeing the girls watching
us.