Breathless georgia vol 2, p.31
Breathless, Georgia--Vol 2, page 31
Ever understood. Butterflies flipped in her stomach as she wondered if he was going where she hoped he was going. Where she was afraid he was going.
“You’re right. Change came for me whether I wanted it or not. So I figured I could embrace some more change. I was curious if I could see you somewhere other than the coffee shop. Maybe for dinner?”
Her immediate response was an emphatic head shake. “I've got nine more years. That's when Seven graduates. I told myself the same: I can't afford to date.”
The disappointment on his face almost made her change her mind. Jesus, Jackson Mayfair wanted to go out with her.
“It sounds like a smart choice,” he said, though the words were a little clipped. “You probably shouldn't date and neither should I, but we both have to eat. I'd appreciate if maybe you’d go out to dinner with me on a not-date. Do you think we could swing that?”
13
“Hey, Virginia!” Ever swung the door wide as the woman sauntered through as though she owned the place.
Ever didn’t mind. Virginia had actually once owned the home—having moved out and sold it to Ever’s Mom and Dalton when they’d married. Though she never wanted or planned to own the place herself, Ever knew the fridge had probably been purchased by Virginia, and maybe the dishwasher, too.
Virginia always had a smile and Ever was more than grateful that the woman saw her as a granddaughter.
“Grandma!” Seven came running up spouting about his adventures at school that day. Third grade was still magical and luckily he was none the worse for wear from his run in with the school principal earlier in the week. Ever was grateful.
At this stage, it all seemed to roll off of him and he never saw anything more sinister underlying his call to the office. He only believed that he'd made such a convincing bomb that the school officials had believed it. In his book, that was a mark in the positive.
When she got some spare time, Ever was going to need to sit down with Ms. Zayat and discuss how they could maybe aim Seven’s enthusiasm a little bit more carefully.
“Oh, honey,” Virginia held her arms out to the child and pulled him into a huge, engulfing hug. She was still taller than Seven and Tiger, even if Royal had already passed her up.
“Dinner's on the top shelf of the fridge,” Ever told her, though Virginia was still avidly listening to the school adventures.
Virginia would have cooked for the boys, but Ever didn't like to take advantage of her that way. Being the boy's grandmother, her volunteering to babysit on the nights Ever worked had made all the difference. Ever almost never had to miss a shift and they were in good hands, they were with family. On top of that, Virginia wouldn’t hear about being paid. She was living off her own social security in the much smaller house she’d bought when she sold Ever’s parents this place. So Ever always overcooked, and always sent Virginia home with the leftovers.
She’d bought presents for Virginia along the way, anything she could do to make the older woman’s life easier. She paid her debt in trips to the doctor sometimes, because Virginia needed someone to take her. And she'd gotten the boys and their grandma all movie passes, hoping to make Virginia's life a little bit easier with something to do on a weekend night. Because Lord knew Virginia made her life so much easier.
“Oh my!” The older woman looked up at Royal. “You do look like my Dalton!”
She didn’t say it every time she came over, but enough to bother a teenager. Over Virginia’s shoulder, Ever gestured a too-wide smile to Royal reminding him to say “thank you.” The comment sometimes just brought up memories of his father for him. He was really the only one of the three boys who remembered her mom and Dalton well and it hurt him more than he was willing to admit, at least to her. But they all gave Virginia a pass.
“There’s some new movie that opened up this weekend. The boys wanted to see it.” Ever snapped her fingers trying to remember the name.
“I was going to ask Grandma if we could go,” Royal smiled genuinely as the conversation changed and the comparison to his father slipped away.
Ever tapped Virginia on the shoulder. “It's lasagna in the fridge and it's already baked. You just need to reheat it, so y'all can eat it whenever you want.”
It was virtually impossible to pay Virginia what she was worth. And Virginia’s refusal allowed Ever to bank more of her money. But she still had to get out the door to get to work on time. She reminded all three boys to eat a good dinner and to behave for their grandmother.
None of it was really necessary. They’d been doing some version of this since Ever had moved back to Breathless, and they’d been running this routine for two years now. They’d run it as long as they could. Until Royal was big enough to watch the littles. Or until something happened and Virginia got too old … The thought made Ever choke back the very idea.
She hugged the older woman, not trying to think about how fragile she felt. But Ever was already headed out to her car, her bag waiting in the trunk, because she didn't carry it back and forth. She refused to keep her costuming and wigs inside where the boys might find them.
Backing out of the driveway, Ever mentally realized that she had been under-counting who knew about her job. It was another point in Virginia's favor that she’d never commented on Ever’s very odd hours. If she knew, her grandmother wasn’t saying.
Every Friday and one other day a week, Ever picked the boys up from school and then turned around and hit the road. Virginia was somehow always free for the odd days and she never asked what Ever was doing or why she came home somewhere between two and four in the morning. Virginia also never complained.
Though Ever carefully removed all her makeup and changed back into her street clothes before coming home—in part because walking out of the club looking like one of the dancing girls was a good way to get assaulted in the parking lot—she had to have come home at some point with glitter on her chest or her cheek.
So Ever tallied it up again, not liking that the numbers were climbing.
Virginia had to have known all along.
Grace knew. Grace knew because Ever had told her and because when Grace was new in town, she’d been desperate for money. So Ever had suggested a job at The Champagne Peach. Grace had found a waitressing job instead. But that was one more person who knew Ever’s secret.
Royal knew. He knew because he'd figured it out on his own. He’d been mad. He thought she should quit, but Ever convinced him of three things: She didn’t hate it that much, she couldn’t earn enough money to keep them out of foster care otherwise, and she was safe. He’d not mentioned it again.
And now, Jackson Mayfair knew.
But he'd still asked her out. Her brain turned over trying every possibility it could and she found herself in the back of the employee lot of the club before she'd even realized she was there. Pulling her bag out of the trunk, she slung it over her shoulder and headed inside, glad to see BJs old Volvo in the parking lot.
There was only one other car that looked like theirs—used and family oriented. The rest were sleek little sporty models that looked like they were driven by a woman who was making a lot of money. Ever could just about match the boob job to the car. But she tried not to judge. They all had their own reasons for being here.
She didn't see the little red Camaro, though. No Kelly. Maybe her sticky fingers had gotten the best of her. Though Ever wished she could have seen Gregory boot Kelly from the club, it was good enough that she wasn't here.
Five hours later she was sitting next to BJ making pencil marks in the spreadsheet she’d printed out. She didn't bring her iPad in to work. Every now and then someone broke into the back room. And there were girls like Kelly.
“Look at this,” she told BJ, pointing to one column. “You need to dance Cherry Pie at least once each night.”
BJ was nodding. “Damn girl. I've been doing this a long time, and I've been doing it a long time at this club. My income is up fifteen percent since you started running the numbers for me!”
Ever smiled. She would never have expected BJ to even know what percentage her income was up. She handed her friend the page and asked, “How are the girls?”
“Layla is going on a ski trip next month with her boyfriend's family.” Layla was just fifteen. Ever wasn’t sure if she would allow Royal to travel with a girlfriend when he was fifteen. Then again, BJ had been only sixteen when she had Layla. “And Leanne joined the mathletes.”
Ever laughed. She'd never met either of BJs daughters, but felt she knew them. They were clearly as different as night and day, and neither quite like their mom.
“Something's off.” BJ held a long acrylic nail out toward Ever, motioning from head to toe. Then her mouth dropped open. “Man troubles! You got man troubles!”
Ever opened her mouth to protest. She absolutely did not have man troubles. But … shit. She did.
Unpinning her wig, she focused on cleaning her face. Thank God it was the end of the shift. With a sigh, she told BJ the whole story.
“And he's some kind of town royalty?” BJ asked.
Ever nodded as she wiped cold cream off her face. BJ had convinced her that the old-fashioned stuff was the best. It looked like something her grandmother would have used, but damn if it didn't work.
“And he's a cop?” Unfortunately, BJ was only reiterating all the thoughts she had herself. Then BJ looked her in the eye and said, “No way.”
“But—”
“No honey. You absolutely cannot do that. Not unless you're willing to go completely public with all of this.” She waved her hand around the back room as if suggesting everything.
Ginger was sauntering by in only her heels and her G string. Her naturally red hair flipped over her shoulder. She was more than willing to be recognized in public. On the other side of the room, two new girls sat with their heads together, twittering as they counted cash. Ever remembered those days. Now, she and BJ were taking bets on how long those girls would last.
In the stark light, the costumes didn't glitter quite as much. The makeup looked garish. And the nakedness seemed surreal.
She looked to BJ and shook her head. “I have nine more years before Seven graduates.”
It was a stark feeling, almost like hearing the jail door lock behind her. She didn’t hate the job, she just hated that she couldn’t get out of it.
BJ understood. She’d been at this longer than most and she was still standing. Ever wasn’t even sure Layla and Leanne knew what their mother did.
BJ’s advice had saved her more than once. BJ’s word was gold. So it hit like an arrow to the chest when her friend said, “Then you can't throw a bomb into it. Not like the one you're lighting right now, baby girl.”
14
Ever sat at the table, phone in hand, chatting with Chloe.
“I shouldn't be here.”
The bubble almost immediately appeared in return. “Why? I think it’s a great idea.”
Ever was of two minds about that and she found herself in one of those rare times where her friends disagreed. Usually, if she was doing something stupid, BJ and Chloe—and these days sometimes even Royal—were willing to tell her she should stop doing it.
If they all told her not to do something, she would back out, say no, and maybe make them generate her excuse. But she followed their advice even if she didn't want to.
Ever had learned not to discount the powerful message of her friends who saw things in a different light than she did. But now Chloe was telling her she deserved something good in her life. That she should go for it and see Jackson, even actually—gasp!—date him if he asked.
That was radically different from what BJ was saying.
Ever wanted to see Jackson. She felt better just waiting for their not-a-date to roll around. She was happy when she was with him, and he made her feel seen—something she hadn’t quite realized was missing until it happened. But she was lying to everyone about her job. She drove an hour each way just so no one found her.
She said it was to keep the crazies from trailing her home. She said it was because she didn’t want to pull her shirt off for men she knew, men she might see at the PTA meeting. And because she didn’t like the way people judged her for it, when they had no right. But in the end, she lied about it.
Then again, Jackson had figured her out … and he was still coming.
Wasn’t he?
Scanning the restaurant as best she could without actually standing to do it, she fought the disappointment of still not spotting him. Then again, she was early. It was still fine!
Chloe thought she should see Jax. But Chloe didn’t live here, didn't see Ever’s life in action anymore. She hadn’t for a long time. Then again, neither did BJ. There had only been a few times when she and BJ had met for lunch or such outside of the Peach. BJ was her work friend, but Ever had worked so hard to keep her job and the rest of her life separate, that maybe BJ didn’t know what she was talking about.
The whole internal argument depressed her a little bit. Who did she have who really saw her?
“Are you early or am I late?” Jax’s rum-smooth voice had her snapping her head up as he pulled out the seat across from her. He sat down with that wide and disarming grin tugging at her and making her think BJ was right. But right or not, she was already here, wasn’t she?
“I was a little early. I got done with my errands faster than planned.” She had specifically run errands before coming here, as though not getting ready and having a certain open time frame made it less of a date.
“I was afraid maybe you thought I'd stood you up.”
This time she said it. “You can't stand me up. It's not a date.”
It wasn't even dinner. It was lunch, making it even less of one. When they’d tried to find a time for dinner they realized that Jackson’s days off were their best options. Ever didn't want to hit up Virginia for even more babysitting for something like this. Lord knew, she already used the woman three long nights a week.
Though it wasn't a date, Ever still didn't order the salad. She did not want to sit there with greens stuck between her teeth. Then again, maybe she should. That would guarantee that he would not want to date her!
They talked non-stop. Jackson told her about his girls, about how they always dressed alike. “I’m beginning to wonder, when does it stop being cute and start becoming concerning?”
“I think you have quite some time before it becomes an issue.” She hoped she knew what she was talking about. “I’m no therapist, but kids are only starting to get an idea of who they are at that age. At least, I saw that in the boys around then. I don't know about twins, but I would imagine, if I had one, a lot of who I was would be wrapped up in her. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.”
“Thank you.” He breathed out an obvious sigh of relief, as though her opinion mattered.
Ever told herself it didn't. She told herself it wasn't a date. He asked about Riley Zayat and the gifted class. “I wish I could have gotten the other boys into it, like Seven.”
She really did regret that. “Royal was past the age to enter the program. And Tiger? Well, I didn't really know that I needed to do the pushing to get him tested. The teachers can recommend students for testing, but it's really hit and miss. They really should just test everyone and having a parent advocate for a kid shouldn’t make that big a difference.”
She could see the concern in his eyes.
“That's good to know.”
“Do you think either of your girls are gifted? You really need to get on the school and then you need to stay on their case. Because they'll tell you they'll do it and then it just won't happen sometimes.”
They talked back and forth about stupid things. Babysitters and what a Godsend they were. His mother and sister and when the girls had been babies. And then, when she was taking a bite of a ravioli, he asked her, “So, what do you do for a living?”
She almost choked right there. He didn't know. How could he not know?
Now, Ever got herself together and refused him from whacking her on the back like a child. She knew her face was frowning at him. She couldn’t help it. Was it a test?
She'd been so confident in the coffee shop the other day that he'd figured out where he recognized her from. He had to know. But she wasn’t going to tell him if he hadn’t figured it out. So she carefully rearranged her expression into a bland smile and gave the answer she gave most everyone.
“I'm a server.”
“Server?” He looked surprised. “I wouldn't have pegged you for that.”
Was he calling her out? Technically she did occasionally serve drinks … “I work in one of the clubs down in Atlanta.”
He nodded along, finally letting her release her held breath. “Good tips?”
He was either way easier about her working in a strip club than she thought or he was so much the good boy that it didn't occur to him that a club meant a strip club and not that she was slinging drinks at one of the raves.
There are certainly plenty of those in town, too. So she only added, “Yeah, good tips.”
There was something about the way his eyes scrunched up and his brows came together. He wasn't frustrated or angry. His head tipped. He was curious. “I wouldn't have thought you’d be waiting tables. You seem much more …” He searched for a word. “Calculated.” Then he huffed out a breath, clearly irritated at himself. “That sounds cold. I mean more that you would have made a path that didn't wind up being a server.”
He obviously felt he’d stepped in it again and he was backpedaling hard.
She understood. Even though she wasn't a server, she was a tipped employee in a job that very few people aimed for and most fell into. “Calculated is a good word. I have three quarters of a statistics degree.”
