Fate Interrupted 3 (15 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

When Dean woke
up it was already dark out. He reached over and blindly searched for his phone
on the nightstand. His hand stopped when it dawned on him that his phone was
dead and wouldn’t be coming back. He found his sports watch instead and checked
the time, squinting at the pale blue numerals, trying to believe his eyes.

Just after two
in the morning.

He dropped the
watch back to the nightstand and got up to take a leak and chug some cold water.
On his way back to bed, he checked to make sure the doors
were
locked
before falling into a deep sleep that would leave him feeling
tired at work the next day.

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

Over lunch, Dean
ran to a Sprint store around the corner and found a new phone that cost him
four hundred dollars due to the nagging fact he wasn’t eligible for an upgrade
yet. After that, he grabbed some Jimmy John’s for a lot less money and drove
his sandwich and cell back to his office. At his desk, he stared at the
sandwich before him, working up the stomach to take a small bite. He chewed
slowly, his fingers scrolling through his contacts until he came to Evy’s
number. He stared at the digits until they blurred, jaw barely grinding. Since
he had stored his information in the cloud, the Sprint guy was able to transfer
his contacts list and photos, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder what he would
have done if he had lost that number forever. The phone book didn’t list cell
phone numbers, making it that much more useless. Shaun was right.

His thumb
hovered over the call button as he rounded up his thoughts like he had been
doing all morning. He had gone over it a thousand times in his head, covering
every angle she could possibly take, coming at it like he would a contractual
dispute at the office. It would work. He took a sip of Diet Coke and set the
phone down, second-guessing himself all over again. He had been doing that all
morning as well.

The
devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other.

Why should he be
the one to beg her for forgiveness? He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he had
done everything right, including forcing his friends into a boring bachelor
party to appease her.
And for what?
To
get shit on once again.
Anger flared inside, stepping on what little
appetite he had. Dean swallowed dryly, tired of her judging him on his past.
The very same past he had left in the rearview mirror to be with her. Troubled
thoughts of Clay and Mr. Ryder took turns tormenting him with sharpened knives,
stabbing and slicing until he saw red. He had done more for her than anyone in
his entire life and where had it gotten him? He hit the call button. It rang a
few times and then answered.

Slow breathing
tickled the line.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d
ever dial this number again.”

Dean took another
small bite of his Billy Club. He flicked his watch out from his long sleeve.
“Are you still sleeping?”

“Not anymore,”
Jon groggily replied, swinging
his feet out of bed.
“What time is it?”

“It’s after
one.”

“Holy shit,”
he groaned, rubbing his eyes.
“Last night got out of hand,
yo
.”

“Tell me about
it later tonight.”

Silence for a
moment.
“Tonight?”

“Yeah, you, me,
and our favorite bars just like old times.”

“Oh, hell no.
What happened?”

“I’ll tell you
about it tonight. I have to get to a meeting.”

More silence
from Jon’s end.
“
Tonight
?”

Dean wiped his
fingers on a napkin and leaned back in his tall leather chair, kicking his
shiny black shoes up onto the desk. “I
gotta
get out
of the house or I’m going to go stir crazy.” He took a long drink of pop. “Plus,
I keep seeing Megan standing outside my patio door.”

“Dude, that’s creepy.”

Dean snorted.
“Tell me about it. I actually had it happen yesterday.”

“What!”

“No joke, but
why don’t you stop by my place for a beer around seven and then we’ll head out.”

Jon exhaled
slowly, his head thick and bloated.
“Oh
man, the one time you want to go out I don’t think I can ever drink again.”

“Come on, Jon.
You owe me after that stripper bullshit you pulled.”

“I’m serious, Dean. Things got
cray
last night!”

“
Cray
?
What’re you fourteen?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You’ll be fine
by seven.
And Jon?”

Jon sighed into
the phone.
“Yeah?”

“Bust out the
good underwear tonight, my man.”

“Wow, would you listen to yourself?”

“Hey, Evy wants
something to be pissed
about,
I’m going to give her
something to be pissed about. See you tonight.” Dean hung up and leaned back,
interlocking his fingers behind his head. He stared out the corner office window
through distant eyes, a shit-eating grin slicing through his two day-old
stubble. “Lock up your daughters tonight,” he whispered. “The old Dean is back
in town.”

Chapter
Thirty

Brooke let go of
Evy’s hand and glanced up front where Tasha was busy helping customers. “What a
little bitch! She had that coming,
Ev
.”

Evy leaned her
elbows on the stainless steel island and rested her chin in her palms. “I mean,
why would he even let her inside in the first place?”

“He probably
thought she was you, coming back to beg him for forgiveness.”

A short laugh
squirted from Evy’s lips. “He wishes!”

Brooke swiveled
her stool around to face Evy and took her by the hand. “My gut says there is a
perfect explanation for it, just like there was with the stripper whores.”

“I’m tired of
thinking about it.”

“Well, I’m glad
you told me.” Brooke squeezed her hand. “Now, tell me what happened to your
ring.
The truth this time.”

Evy looked to
the pale circle on her ring finger and winced. The tan line reminded her of the
bare spot on a wall where an old picture frame used to hang. But as far as she
was concerned, Dean was out of the picture. No one could possibly be worth this
much heartbreak in one year.

“Evy?”

She turned to
Brooke and stared at her for a few seconds, the cash register dinging up front.
“The bottom of the lake.”

Brooke let go of
her hand and leaned back like she had just gotten a whiff of spoiled meat. “What?”

Evy tried
rubbing away the tan line. “You were right, Brooke… This isn’t a fairytale, and
no one lives happily-ever-after without a fight.” She looked up with a sniffle.
“Well, I’m done fighting.”

“Evy, you’re
just getting cold feet with the wedding right around the corner. You can’t back
out now. Dad already paid the florist!”

Evy untied her
apron and got to her feet. “I think I’m going to go home and take a nap.”

Brooke frowned.
“Which home?
Dean’s?”

“No,
my apartment.”

Brooke laughed. “Good
luck finding your bed under Tasha’s stuff. It probably looks like a Target
dressing room in there.”

Evy cringed at
the thought. She just wanted her old place back and some time alone.

“Call him.”

Evy hung her
apron on a hook against the wall. “Call me if we get busy.”

Brooke watched her
disappear down the narrow hallway and then heard the backdoor shut. Ben came
walking into the kitchen, looking back over his shoulder. “Man, she can’t even
say hello. That girl is making a mountain out of a molehill here. Dean didn’t
touch either one of those strippers.”

“She caught
Megan at Dean’s place this morning.”

Ben shook his head
like someone had just sucker punched him. “What?”

“Apparently,
Megan’s boobs were hanging out and she and Dean were holding each other tight.”

Ben plopped down
onto a stool that was still warm from Evy’s body heat. “That can’t be right.”

“She saw it with
her own two eyes, Ben, and now she’s having second thoughts about the whole
thing…and so am I.”

“Oh, come on!
Take a deep breath and just slow down.”

“I’m serious,
Ben.”

“I’m sure there
was a perfectly rational explanation for it.”

“Like what?”

Ben shrugged,
his Slipknot concert tee pulling tightly on his rounded shoulders. “Maybe Dean
was trying to kill Megan.”

“Then Evy picked
a bad time to interrupt.”

Ben gently ran a
hand back and forth across his brown peach fuzz. “What’s your gut telling you?”

Brooke’s eyes
thinned as she drummed her nails against the table. “That’s the thing. I’m having
a hard time picking up on anything.” Her manicured eyebrows lifted. “
Which is never a good sign.
”

“No, it isn’t.”
He mulled it over for a little longer, staring blankly at a sheet of chocolate
chip cookies. “I’m not buying it. He hates Megan.”

“I don’t know,
Ben. The girl was half naked in his living room.
The same
girl that nearly destroyed our business.”

“She’s obviously
stalking him. I’m team Dean all the way. Your sister loves him and he loves her,
but – for whatever reason – these curveballs keep coming their way and I don’t
know why.”

Brooke grunted. “I’m
starting to think Tasha might be right about these
curses
.”

Ben grabbed a warm
chocolate chip cookie, eating half of it in a single bite. “It’s not that bad.”

“She threw her
engagement ring into Lake Michigan.”

His jaws stopped
on a dime. “Oh shit, it is that bad.”

Brooke leaned an
elbow on the table and sighed, watching the second hand on the clock against
the wall. “And here I thought they might actually have a baby before us.”

“
Sonofabitch
,” Ben muttered, chewing slowly. “When Dean
finds out she threw that ring into the lake he’s going to be pissed as hell.”

“I seriously
don’t think she cares.”

Chapter
Thirty-One

The club was
only at half speed and the music not yet loud. Dean wrote it off to being a
Monday night. Still, he knew it wouldn’t be that difficult to pull. He had his
best pair of designer jeans matched with a simple black, button down that
showed off his biceps. He set his glass down and wiped the condensation on his
pants, scanning the place from side to side. His slicked back hair set off his
eyes as he casually swept the place like a machine. No, it wouldn’t be long now
at all.

“I still can’t
believe Megan stopped by your crib.” Jon laughed. “You’ve got a stage five
clinger on your hands for sure. You’ll never get rid of that crazy bee-
otch
!”

“Thanks,” Dean
said, tipping back his Jack and Coke.

Jon lowered his
voice. “If you could kill her and knew you would get away with it, would you do
it?
And, more importantly, how?”

“That girl is
the last thing I want to talk about right now. Are you going to tell me what
happened last night or what?” he asked, knowing it was important to make it
look like they were wrapped up in some deep conversation and not interested in
anything else. That was player 101. As was sitting near the restrooms, where he
could spin his web and catch them on the way out.

“I told you,
man, I’m not sure I should say anything yet.” Jon took a swig of his gin and
tonic.

“
Yet
?
Come on, man! You’re
just trying to make me more interested in your little story.”

Jon laughed, eying
a hot blond across the way. “Oh, there’s nothing
little
about it.”

Dean squeezed
his eyes together. “Holy shit, you and Pam had another threesome, didn’t you? Who
was it with this time?” Dean’s face sobered dramatically.
“Sky?”

Jon rolled his
eyes and scooted closer in a cushioned chair on wheels. He opened his mouth but
the words weren’t quite ready to come out yet. “Hey, are you sure about this,
man?” he finally asked.

Dean followed
his gaze around the bar. “Why? You
wanna
go somewhere
else?”

“No, I mean
about this whole thing.
This
…feels
off.”

“What do you
mean?” Dean asked, sipping his drink.

“I mean, look
around, Deano. You don’t belong here anymore, man. You belong with Evy. These party
people are in your rearview mirror now. You’ve moved on to bigger and better
things.”

Dean chuckled
softly. “I think most of these people would appreciate me doing the right
thing. Not walking out on me for it.”

“Look,” Jon
continued, “I know I’ve been
bustin
your balls about
getting married, but the truth is I’m happy for you. I really am.”

Dean held Jon’s
heavy gaze.

“And I hope you
know that,” Jon said.

“Oh, now ya tell
me! I’m about to cheat on my fiancé.”

Jon frowned. “You’re
not cheating on your fiancé.”

“Fuck that, Jon!
I’m not crawling back to her just so I can spend the rest of my life coddling
her fragile little emotions. I’m sick of her shit!”

“You don’t mean
that.”

“No?” Dean set
his drink down. “You remember that virgin you dated a couple years back?”

“Heather? Don’t
remind me.” Jon took a quick drink before setting the glass back down with a
clank
. “I wined and dined that girl for
six months, even took her to the Keys for her birthday…on a Barnes & Noble
paycheck. And what did I get out of it? Two hand jobs.” He held up the peace
sign. “Two!”

Dean nodded
glumly. “But looking back, you did the best you could for her.”

“Damn straight I
did.” He shook his head solemnly. “I always put her first.”

“And
for what?”

Jon laughed and
snatched up his glass. “For a serious case of blue balls, that’s what.”

“Exactly.”

Jon stopped the
glass in front of his lips, his blond eyebrows pulling together. “Wait, I know
what you’re doing. You’re twisting my words around. This isn’t the same thing.”

“It is the same!”

“It’s not, Deano!
You love Evy, but I didn’t love Heather. She was hot and I just wanted to be
her first.” Jon looked around and then leaned in closer. “Listen, you are one
of the luckiest guys I know. You’ve got the girl, the job, the looks, Sugars… The
world is your oyster, my friend.” He studied Dean’s face intently. “Last year,
you and Evy were fighting Clay and Ryder – now, you’re fighting yourselves.”

Dean shifted
uneasily in his chair and pounded the rest of his drink. He spit an ice cube
back into the glass. “I don’t think I like serious Jon. Why don’t you go throw
on your clown suit and start being funny
again.
” He
signaled to the waitress with his empty glass.

“I see the way
you look at her and the way she looks back. You two go together like coffee and
cream, and you’re going to give up on that now? After everything you guys went
through?”

“My
point exactly!”
Dean started counting on one hand. “Let’s see…Megan,” he said, shooting his index
finger out. “Clay Crawford, the baby, closing Sugars
, getting
assaulted by Mr. Ryder…” Dean had all five fingers extended now. “How many more
signs do you need to know that Evy and I
aren’t
meant to be?”

Jon hesitated
before responding. “I know you don’t believe that. Look me in the eye and tell
me you believe that.”

Dean held Jon’s
fixed stare without blinking. “I believe it,” he said, turning to watch a
pretty blond strut past in a white dress that hugged her curves in all the
right places. He shot her a toothy smile. “What’s the statute of limitations on
an engagement ring anyway?” he asked Jon, swirling ice cubes in his glass. “Do
I get that back or what?”