Leo Maddox (6 page)

“Jesus Christ, pick up your phone,” I mumbled under my breath.

Just then, at the last second, she answered. “Hello?” came her voice, muffled. Wherever she was, there was a hell of a lot of background noise there with her.

“Hey Clara,” I said, trying to act casual. “It's Leo. What's up?”

‘What’s up?’ That’s the best you can come up with? Pathetic.

“Not much,” she answered.

“I just wanted to call to make sure you were okay. You're okay, right?” I was speaking a little too fast.

“I'm fine.”

Hell, now I felt like an idiot for calling. She sounded perfectly intact. She sounded like she was off somewhere have a great time and I was the jackass interrupting. “Well, if you need anything, call or text me. Okay?”

“Okay,” she answered.

And that was the end of our phone call. We both hung up at the same time—me feeling like a royal ass for even calling at all. But then, not one second later, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was Clara calling back.
Holy shit! She’s calling you back. Answer it, idiot.

I clicked to answer.

“Leo,” she said, her voice so much more direct and sure than it had been a moment ago. “I'm in Brooklyn at this place called the Alligator Lounge. Steph works here and I'm just hanging out while she works. I know you said you were going to be busy and I'm sure Brooklyn is hardly your style, but if you're bored and want to—”

Wait. What?
“Are you trying to invite me to come hang out?” I interrupted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she said softly back, “I guess I am.”

Several long moments passed. I was in total shock. Clara and I had never done anything
alone
before. Was she inviting me to come join her out of some sort of obligation or because she sincerely wanted my company? Then I realized…Clara never did
anything
out of obligation. She did exactly what she wanted when she wanted. She was constantly getting in trouble with her father because of it too. This was a real, honest to God invitation.

Holy shit.

“Okay then,” I told her. “I'll be there in an hour or so.” Pressing the button to end our phone call, not wanting her to change her mind or anything, I let out a long sigh.

This was it.

For better or worse—tonight was going to be the night I told Clara how I felt.

CHAPTER 6:

I
stepped inside the Alligator Lounge. It was a bar. Small, intimate, and it smelled of pizza and beer. Music thumped and my heart pounded in a heavy rhythm to match. My nerves were shot and I wasn’t sure how I was going to hide that tonight. I’d had to ditch Regina to make it here in time.

But I was here.

I’d chosen casual clothes—not my usual style. If I was trying to impress anyone else, I would have worn one of my suits. But Clara wasn’t anyone else. The usual things didn’t impress her. And I felt a little uncomfortable not dressed in my typical armor. Not a single person around me even noticed my presence. So, actually, my clothes situation—maybe it wasn’t such a bad change.

I choose an empty seat at the end of the bar, my eyes scanning the room for Clara’s blonde hair. So far I couldn’t find her.
Shit. What if her invitation was some kind of cruel joke?
My stomach flip-flopped and my breathing wasn’t quite right.

“Yeah, that seat’s taken,” the bartender said to me, approaching and patting his palm at the bar top. “Find another.”

I glared at him. The place wasn’t very busy and there were plenty of other empty seats around me. “I’ll have a Sam Adams Summer Ale, please,” I ordered, ignoring his comment.

He walked away, not acknowledging my order.

What an asshole.

Suddenly I felt a small tap on my shoulder. I turned around and found Clara standing behind me. She’d dyed her hair purple. Like lavender purple. And I fucking loved it. It fit her. But I wasn’t really looking at her hair. With me sitting and Clara standing, we were exactly eye level. “Oh, there you are,” I muttered, feeling a whole mixture of emotions. She was here. She was safe. She was more gorgeous in this moment than ever before.

Neither of us spoke, but I couldn’t peel my eyes off her. The strangest part of all, she seemed to be having a similar problem. It was like…for the first time in her entire life, she was noticing me. Not just the suit, or my money, or my hair, or my smile—I think she was noticing something else. Whatever it was, it helped me start to relax some.

Well…until the bartender returned and rapped his knuckles against the bar top, much harder this second time. My small moment with Clara evaporated. “What did I tell you, dude? That seat's taken,” the guy said.

Again, what an asshole.

“It looks unoccupied to me,” I said, my voice nowhere near its usual calm and composed nature. “Why don't you do your job, stop bugging me about my seat, and get me the drink I ordered….do I have to ask you twice?”

The bartender leaned over the counter, glaring at me. “If you don't lose the attitude and stop harassing the other customers, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I'm not harassing anyone,” I said through clenched teeth.

“The pretty girl standing right next to you? That's her seat you're sitting in. Move now or I'm going to come over there and move your ass for you.”

My ass instantly moved out of the seat. Not for him, but for Clara. “I didn't mean to steal your seat,” I said in one breath, having to pass awfully close to Clara as I moved.

Rolling her eyes at me, she sat down. But then she did something incredibly shocking—she smiled. “Do you have to pick a fight every night of the week?”

Staring down at her, I almost laughed. What was going on with us? We were actually getting along. “No, Sunday's are my day off,” I joked.

The bartender lingered.
What the hell was his problem?
“Oh, you're here with her?” he commented. “Sorry, man. I just never would have put the two of you together.”

“What that hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded, wanting to kick his ass all over again. For the first time in my life I had time alone with Clara—this random asshole was stealing it all.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Clara commented. Were her words meant for me or him? I didn’t have time to decide because then she said, “I saw some empty tables in the back. Come with me.”

Like I would turn down that request? Without a single thought, I nodded and then followed her deeper into the bar. We entered a mostly empty room with a pool table. Clara, even though she was wearing a leather jacket, shivered as the air conditioning was stronger back here. If I’d worn a suit, I could have helped her, but as it happened, I only had on a t-shirt.

She sat down at a table. Knowing I needed some distance, I sat in the chair across from her. For a moment I studied her. I mean
really
studied her. Between her purple, long wavy hair and the studded leather jacket she wore—she was seriously badass. In a rock star fantasy kind of way. Like something out of one of my wildest dreams. And despite the cool temperature of the room, my body was burning up.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. I reached out, fingering a strand of her hair for a second before pulling my hand back. I couldn’t resist. I had to touch her hair. “Purple…interesting.”

“Fine, let's hear it,” she groaned. She flipped that long hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever carefully constructed cut-down you have for me, just say it now and get it over with.”

Did she truly expect so little from me? I needed to start changing her opinion. Immediately. “I don't have anything to say. Not this time.”

Her arms unfolded. “Well, that's a first.”

Just then Clara’s friend Stephany approached the table. I sat back in my seat. Was this how tonight was going to go? Everyone interrupting us? But I decided right then and there that it didn’t matter. Even having the asshole bartender bother us—none of it mattered. All that mattered was that I was here with Clara. So that already made this better than any other damn day in my life.

Stephany had a full tray of drinks, which she balanced on her shoulder. She smiled eagerly at me—like she was excited to see me.
What had Clara told her about me?
I smiled politely back at the girl.

“Leo, this is Stephany,” Clara said, introducing her friend. “Steph, Leonardo Mad—”

“Leonardo is my grandfather's name,” I interrupted, realizing Clara thought I didn’t know Stephany. “Nobody calls me Leonardo. Besides, I've already met Stephany….twice. Once, freshman year. And she came with you to the Masters Tournament, April before last. Your memory worries me.”

“No,” Clara argued. “You didn't even go with us to the Masters that year.” Realization came to her face. Yes, I’d been at the Masters Tournament this past year. Yes, she was remembering me there. Honestly, I swear. Reed was like family to me too. Of course I would have been there supporting him.

“Okay,” she decided. “Maybe you were at the Masters. But when did you meet freshman year?”

It hurt a little that Clara could have forgotten this moment in our past. It was the moment I gave up cigarettes, gave up screwing random women, gave up my excessive drinking, and all around started to change my life for the better. “We ran into each other at an apartment party in The Village,” I said, completely forgetting about Stephany standing next to us. I needed Clara to remember this. “You must remember. I certainly haven’t forgotten the time I nearly fell to my death.”

She remembered. I could see it her eyes.

The night I was speaking of happened two and half years ago. It was January and our freshman year of college. After a fan-fucking-tastic phone conversation with my father earlier that day, where he basically demanded I quit school and start working for him, I’d spent the rest of the day getting positively fucked up. I was so shitty that I could barely remember my own name. Somehow I’d ended up at a random party, sitting alone in the cold, on the railing of a balcony.

So many damn stars. I stared up at the night sky, with a bunch of hateful thoughts floating around in my head, and took a slow drag of a borrowed cigarette—borrowed because I’d been trying to quit smoking, but had once again given up after about twelve hours. I wanted out of this cycle. Out of my life. Would anything ever get better? I had so much to be grateful for, and yet, I felt so empty. Always empty.

“That's crazy disgusting even for you, Leo,” came a familiar voice out of nowhere. “I'm sure you can think of more creative ways to kill yourself!”

“Clara?” As if divine intervention had magically conjured her, there was Clara standing in front of me. The girl I’d loved my entire childhood. So damn adorable and snarky, just like she’d always been. She wore a barely-there halter-top that clung to her sweaty skin. Her light blonde hair stuck in little places to her neck, like she’d been dancing all night. She shivered as the cool air touched her skin but her eyes never left me.

“Shit!” I lost my concentration, dropped my cigarette, and fell backwards off the railing I’d been sitting on. My head hit cement and the hot end of the cigarette singed the skin of my forearm.

Clara rushed up to me.

“Dammit, gravity,” I mumbled, half-joking half-serious.

Clara giggled. She actually fucking giggled. It was shocking. She hadn’t showed me much emotion one way or the other for a very long time. And then even more surprising, she offered a hand to help me stand. “You dumbass,” she joked as she pulled me to my feet. I think she might have been a little drunk. It was a Saturday night in a college town, after all, so this shouldn’t have surprised me. But I’d never seen her like this before and it was cute.

“You smartass,” I retaliated, smiling, and toppling into her.

“You must have hit your head pretty hard. I haven't seen you smile in years.”

I pressed my lips together, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the smile off my face. Clara only laughed again. “Steph,” she said, turning to her friend who I suddenly noticed standing with us. “Could you go inside and see if maybe they have some ice? He might have a concussion.”

“Are his pupils dilated?” her friend asked. “I read once that's a sign of a concussion.”

Clara stared directly up at me for a moment. Her eyes were wide and clear. All I could do was look down at her. “They are,” she answered, not looking away from my eyes.

The rest of that evening was a blur. I couldn’t remember leaving Clara. I couldn’t remember how I made it back to my dorm room. But I couldn’t forget the way her eyes had stared up at me or the hope I’d felt for the first time in years. Clara sat with me for a long time, most of that time a blur as well, making sure I didn’t have a concussion.

When I woke up the day after, I felt changed. I’d hit a turning point, similar to the way I’d woken up yesterday morning. On that day, two and half years ago, I swore off drugs and random women. I created a set of ‘rules’ to follow when drinking alcohol. I quit smoking cigarettes cold turkey. I called my dad and made a choice—I gave up school and started working for him.

And I did all of it for Clara.