Replay: An Off Track Records Novel Page 5

“What about Drake?” I grumble, more irritated than I should be. She’s only playing right now, not seriously hitting on Austin. At least, I hope so.

  “What about him? This sexy rock star is standing right here.” She licks her lips and gives Austin a suggestive stare before digging around in her wallet.

  Oh. My. God. I can’t believe she’s going to—

  “Here.” She shoves a card in his hand. I can’t believe she just gave him her number!

  Austin studies the card and his eyebrows rise before he turns back to me. “You’re in private security.”

  I glance at Aaliyah. She gave him my card. I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or irritated. I cross my arms over my waist. “And that’s surprising to you because . . .” I’m used to being met with blatant sexism when it comes to telling people about my job. Because I’m a woman I must not know how to fight, or shoot a gun, or have a fucking brain.

  “I never knew what happened to you after high school. I never would have guessed.” He shrugs and offers me a slight smile.

  “I’m really good at my job.” I hate that I sound defensive.

  He shakes his head. “I have no doubt. You were always a badass. How’d you end up doing that?”

  “She was a cop first,” Kalise calls from the Uber.

  “Thank you, Kalise. I’m standing right here and my mouth works just fine.” I let loose a laugh and shake my head.

  “There’s so much I don’t know about you.” He holds my stare captive in his.

  “Yeah, same.”

  “Can I call you sometime when I’m back in LA? Maybe take you to dinner?” There he is with that boyish grin again. The one that transforms me into a confused teenager.

  “I don’t know,” I admit honestly.

  “Or hire you to work security?” He holds up my business card.

  “You’d be so lucky.” If we were friends I’d slap his arm, but we’re not and I clench my hand to resist the impulse.

  “I would.” He grins wide and without inhibition. He glances over my shoulder at the waiting car. The one I should be inside right this very second. If it were for anyone else, my friends would be giving me shit about standing outside talking with a man after being so adamant about leaving. They’ll still do it, after we get in the car.

  “I don’t want to say good-bye.” Austin’s gaze turns serious and his voice drops as he takes a step forward. “Not when I’ve just got you back.”

  I hate what his words do to my insides. That he has this much power to twist me up, and after what? A few minutes together, talking outside a club. It’s terrifying what he could do if I gave him more.

  But even I don’t want this to be good-bye. Not for another thirteen years. “Good night,” I clarify and meet his gaze straight on. God, those eyes. “Not good-bye.”

  He opens his arms and steps forward, capturing me in his sure embrace. Normally, it would spike my anxiety, or at minimum spark irritation, but with him it’s different. Maybe because my body remembers, or that he’s always been a safe space.

  “Good night then, Jay,” he whispers close to my ear.

  My body thrills and then stiffens. Crap. No. Not doing this right now. I will not have a panic attack in his arms. “’Night,” I mumble into his chest and step out of his arms. Relief and longing war against each other at the loss of his warmth. God, sometimes I’m so fucked up.

  I lift my arm and walk the few steps to our Uber, turning away to slide into the back seat when I’d rather be the one watching him walk away. I don’t glance out the window until the car rolls forward, certain Austin’s made his way inside the club or over to his friends. What I see not only surprises me, but fills me with a giddiness I haven’t experienced since high school. He’s still watching, his eyes on me. One hand lifts to signal his good-bye, and the other is tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. And now I can’t look away, so I don’t. Not until our car turns the corner.

  “Girl . . .” Kalise says both amused and as if she feels sorry for me.

  “Oh, honey, you have it bad,” Aaliyah adds.

  “What? No.” My answer feels as flustered as my thoughts. I can’t have a crush on him; he’s practically a stranger, and I don’t pine after men. It’s simply old feelings, the residual of what I felt for him when we were kids.

  “I didn’t know you to be a liar. Kalise, you hearing this?”

  “Mmm hmm. My ears work just fine.”

  “Shut up. Both of you. He’s an old friend. Nothing more.”

  “That why you never mentioned him before tonight?” Kalise lifts an eyebrow.

  My lips press together and I glance back out the window, away from their knowing stares. I don’t have it in me to lie or even attempt to explain.

  Kalise lets out a soft chuckle. “Homeboy is hella hot. Even if he is a skinny thing.”

  “Those tatts. That mouth. Dear Lord.” Aaliyah fans her face. “Take me to church.”

  That’s it. I can’t stonewall either of these girls. That and they’re completely right. “He’s ridiculously hot, right?”

  “For a white boy, yes. Yes, he is.” Aaliyah bobs her chin.

  “Speak for yourself. I’m all about equal opportunity.” Kalise bumps her shoulder into mine. “Man’s got it going on.”

  “Probably knows it, too,” I roll my eyes and voice my greatest concern. When we were kids, Austin couldn’t get a date to save his life, but I saw how the women salivated over him on stage. I don’t blame them, either. Kalise is right. That man has got it going on.

  “Oh, you know he does.” She glances at me, a soft knowing smile on her lips. “Still only had eyes for you, though.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Aaliyah agrees.

  We don’t talk about him or the concert for the rest of the ride, but I can’t help but wonder about their observation. Is Austin really interested in rekindling our friendship, or maybe something more? More importantly, should I even give him the chance?

  6

  Jayla

  It’s late in the afternoon when I finally roll out of bed the next day. I hate that my first thought goes to Austin, wondering where he is, or who he’s with. I don’t want to think about him. He’s someone from my past. A past I’ve worked really hard to move beyond.

  Then why did I buy the meet and greet tickets?

  I’ve lied to myself, insisting it was only to support the boy who once was my neighbor, my classmate, a best friend through a few of the most awkward years of my life. Back then he wouldn’t shut up about his dream to play music. He and his friends were going to start a rock band. They’d be famous. He’d get out of that shitty apartment. Buy a big house and support his family.

  I don’t know if he’s gotten everything he wanted, but from the outside looking in, it seems as if he’s realized all that and more. Last night I wanted to ask about his family, but I never got the chance. There were so many things I wanted to say, and as I replay the night in my mind, I’m irritated at myself.

  He must think I’m an idiot. What did I think would happen? He’d see me, and what? Ask to be best friends again?

  That this time we’d get a chance to fall in love?

  Dumb. I’m stupid for even thinking it. I shove those thoughts from my mind. I don’t know him. We’re different people now. We’re grown up. He doesn’t have feelings for me, and why would he? We don’t know the grown up versions of each other. And we won’t get to, not when we have different lives. Besides, he has thousands of women at his disposal, and I’m sure he’s not looking for a friend or girlfriend.

  He probably hasn’t thought of me at all since I left the club. It’s that realization that forces me to push him out of my head. I’ve already given last night’s reunion too much mental real estate. It’s pointless anyway since I won’t see him again. I need to move on.

  I work tonight, a boring security detail for a regular that I’m not especially looking forward to, but that’s not why an hour later I drag my feet out the door with more dread than if I were head
ed to the dentist. Today is Sunday, also known as my weekly dose of guilt and disappointment. Dinner with my Mama and the family. I’d like to believe we can make it through one meal without her highlighting my fails and shortcomings as a topic of conversation, but as far as I know hell hasn’t frozen over.

  “Oh, look who decided to join us!” my brother calls out as soon as I step foot in the door.

  “Auntie Jayla!” My nephew Zac practically knocks me to the ground with his tight hug around my legs.

  “Hey, little man.” I crouch to his level to meet his face. He’s got barbeque sauce lining his lips so I don’t bother to ask for a kiss. “You eat without me?”

  “Grandma said we didn’t have to wait.”

  “And where’s your brother?”

  “Sleeping. He’s such a baby.” Zac rolls his eyes, and it takes everything I can not to giggle. He’s almost six, and my other nephew, Josiah, turned two last month. They’re both a handful.

  “How about you go watch your show so Auntie Jay can eat?” My brother shoos his son back into the other room before turning to give me a hug. “Glad you made it. Mama was ten seconds from sending me out to get you.”

  “I’m not even that late.” I step out of his embrace and head for the dining room. Mama and Desmond’s wife Lina sit at the table waiting and glance up as we walk in. There’s a clean place setting for me next to my nephew’s half-eaten and deserted plate.

  “I tried to wait,” Mama releases an exaggerated sigh and I can tell she’s holding back. We have a standing three o’clock meal at Mama’s house, and most weeks I get here early to help her in the kitchen. After last night and getting home so late, I’m pushing my luck and her patience by arriving fifteen after.

  “It’s fine. I should have called.” I wave her off and take my seat.

  She doesn’t say anything, but I know she’s already forgiven me when she passes a dish and lifts the foil off for me to fill my plate. Food is her olive branch. At least, I assume until I take my first bite.

  “Reverend Samuel asked where you were this morning.”

  “Mama,” I groan around a mouthful of food. Her sole mission in life must be to harass me until I give in. That, and butter me up with her cookin’. “You know I don’t come to church with you.” It’s a reminder she doesn’t need. Since the day I left this house I haven’t been back, but she’s relentless. By the lift of her chin my answer doesn’t grant me a pass. “Besides, I had to work.” Great. Now I’m lying. It’s like high school all over again.

  “He still asked about you. He’s a nice man, Jayla, and it wouldn’t hurt you to come around some time. Everyone always asks where my daughter is,” she accuses and the guilt flows as naturally as her words.

  “Do they ask about your son too?” I lift my brow in challenge before glancing across the table at my brother. Crap. He’s not gonna let that go.

  “Working, huh?” My brother’s glare is almost as hard as my mama’s. “Lina didn’t mention you were working this weekend. I could have picked you up. You know we don’t like you taking the bus late.”

  My sister-in-law meets my glance with an apologetic grimace. I hate that my brother is dragging her into our drama. I know how much she dislikes taking sides.

  “I forgot to mention it,” I lie again. I didn’t forget. I never do. But I refuse to feed into their overprotective shit. I’m a grown woman. They don’t need to check up on me. Not anymore. “It was too late to call so I took an Uber.” Finally, a truth to work into my story.

  “Everything okay? You look tired.” Mama stares and tries to meet my gaze. Probably so she can determine whether I’m being honest.

  “I’m fine. Promise.” I scrape my fork along my plate and take another bite, hoping that will help turn the conversation elsewhere.

  “Makes me nervous. I don’t see why you can’t get a normal job. It’s not safe, you walking around with a gun with so many crazy people in this world.”

  I don’t remind her those same people are everywhere, in all lines of work, and she probably interacts with them daily. Or that I know how to handle a weapon and myself after serving on the police force for six years. “Mama. Everything is fine.”

  She relents, the grim frown disappearing with a nod, and she passes me the casserole. She might not love that I work private security, but she worries less than when I was an officer. “Eat. You’re too skinny.”

  I’m not, but I don’t dare argue with her. I take the dish and scoop a generous portion on my plate with the intention of not eating it all. Her cookin’ has been and forever will be my downfall.

  “So, you worked yesterday? And you work again tonight?” Desmond meets my stare across the table.

  “Yeah.” I drag out the word and meet my brother’s gaze. He’s figured out I’m lying, somehow, but I’ll be damned if he outs me at the dinner table.

  “A fancy event, or home security?”

  I pinch my lips together. “You know I’m not supposed to talk about my clients.”

  “It’s just strange. Reggie said he saw you.”

  Shit. Reggie, my brother’s best friend from high school. The same guy I used to bring into the station at least once every couple of weeks on petty theft charges when I worked for LAPD.

  “Desmond . . .” my sister-in-law chides.

  “Yeah? I never saw him.” I give my brother an accusing stare. He knows better than to rile Mama up with the third degree. I get they’re protective of me, but I’m almost thirty years old. I don’t need a babysitter.

  “Well, that’s funny.” He meets my stare with a raise of his brow. “Because Reggie mentioned he saw you walk into your building at almost three in the morning.”

  “And what was he doing out at that hour?”

  My brother shrugs off my question. “I’m just saying. I don’t see why you’d be coming back to your apartment so late. Especially when I thought you had the night off.”

  “We’ve already established I was working.”

  “Sure about that?” My brother raises his brow.

  I open my mouth to say something not nice and not at all appropriate for my mama’s dinner table.

  “Desmond! Enough. Leave your poor sister alone,” Lina shakes her head.

  He smiles, completely satisfied to have riled me up. Smug too, because we both know his interrogation will have Mama up my ass for weeks. She was bad enough when I first moved out. Doesn’t matter that I’m twenty-nine years old, my mama would prefer I don’t live alone. Better yet, she probably wishes I’d meet a nice man and get married. Only, that’s never going to happen.

  I love my job. Even more, I love that I can provide for myself and afford to live in the city I call home. I don’t need a man.

  “I wish you would at least get a roommate. Maybe one of your friends?” Mama offers between bites of food.

  “I don’t want a roommate.”

  “You’re too isolated. You work too much. I can’t help but worry.”

  “Mama.”

  “I’m right. You know I am. Look at your brother. Your cousins. They’ve all found good wives. Desmond wouldn’t have met Lina if she’d been working all the time.”

  Desmond wouldn’t have met Lina if her mother and mine hadn’t conspired after church to bring the two together, but I don’t mention that. The last thing I need is my mama meddling in my dating life.

  “I’m young. I have lots of time.”

  “You’re not as young as you think, Jayla.”

  “Okay, so this was fun.” I push away from the table, thoroughly annoyed that I was sucked into this conversation, and that somehow I finished my entire plate of food. “Anyone else have news?” I glance at my sister-in-law and shoot her a pleading look.

  She smiles softly, glancing into her lap as though she’s been caught. “Well, actually . . .” she glances over at my brother and it’s then I notice his broad, proud smile.

  I already know what she’s going to say. They’ve made this exact announcement twice before.
>
  “We’re pregnant.”

  My jaw drops open and I hold back the impulse to comment. At this rate they’re on track for an entire basketball team. My initial shock morphs into a sting of jealousy, but thankfully I’m forgotten in the celebratory chaos.

  Mama shouts, her joy overflows as she pushes out of her seat and hurries around the table. “What? When? Another grandbaby! I’m so happy!” She pulls Lina into a long embrace, and then my brother.

  “We’re only a few months along, but we couldn’t wait anymore,” his mouth stretches with a wide grin, and he wraps his arm around his wife.

  Lina smiles and touches her belly, though she’s barely showing. “It’s been so hard keeping this a secret.” She flicks her gaze from my mama, and then over to me. “Exciting, yes?” Her smile wavers, as if she’s unsure about my reaction.

  Crap. I realize I haven’t moved or said a thing. I force my lips into a smile and nod my head. “Very exciting. I’m so happy for you.” Emotion clouds my tone and I have to fight back tears. I don’t know why it hits me like this. I am happy for them. They deserve this happiness.

  But I don’t.

  That’s the harsh reality. I won’t ever experience what Lina and Desmond are. I don’t allow myself to get sad about it often. Most days, I rarely think about it. But this news blindsides me, and my initial reaction is pain. Sadness. Loss. Jealous longing for another normal moment I’ll never have.

  “I better get going.” I wipe my lips with the corner of my napkin and push away from the table. “Mama, can I help you clear the table?”

  The surprised and anxious stares that meet my gaze tell me I’m not doing a great job masking my feelings.

  “You won’t stay for dessert?” Mama asks, almost as if she’s insulted.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes and bristle. She knows damn well I have to work tonight, and that I’m trying to watch my weight. “My shift starts in an hour.”

  “Let me wrap it up for you. You can eat it later.”

  “Mama.” I stare pointedly and shake my head.

  “So stubborn,” she mutters beneath her breath, but we all hear. By the stern lines around her mouth, I’ll be leaving with leftovers regardless. I don’t know why I even argue. It’s easier to let her have her way.