Until You're Mine (10 page)

Archer pulled into the parking lot of church where my car had stayed parked overnight. My stomach twisted as I reached for the door. “I had a great time last night. I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

He looked torn between kissing the shit out of me and shoving me out of the door. I let him off the hook easy, sliding out of the Hummer and leaving him with a smile. Realizing it would take a hell of a lot more than what I had planned to free the broken beast.

I truly had every intention of being here for service this morning, but then Archer happened. Now I was kicking myself in the ass. Why the hell didn’t I think about my car being here last night? Thankfully church hadn’t let out yet, leaving me plenty of time to prepare for this afternoon’s lecture. With a defeated sigh, I climbed into my Honda and drove myself home, mentally preparing myself for the wrath of my father.

Growing up in a strict religious home, I’d never really experienced life until I moved out on my own. That day came the day after my 18
^th
birthday. As a child, my parents never allowed me the freedom to make my own choices. Every decision was made for me, resulting in the perfect child. I attended church, sang in the choir. Everything they wanted. So when I was finally able to spread my wings…I went buck wild. Well, that’s what my father calls it anyway. I say, I found myself. It had been easy to suppress my free spirit and curiosity as a child, but as I grew older, it became a necessity to embrace it. I was who I was and the only person I had to answer to was the man upstairs, and we were pretty damn tight. 

I pulled into the driveway and parked, adjusting the mirror to reapply my gloss. I had actually softened my look for dinner in hopes of giving my father one less thing to bitch about. My heart raced like a teenager that had just been caught having sex. “You’re a grown woman,” I said to myself in the mirror. Who the hell was I kidding? I could be sixty years old and my father would still have the ability to make me feel two feet tall. Popping the elastic of my big girl panties, I stepped out of the car. My brother barreled out of the front door and the weight in my stomach lightened.

Alex and I shared the same hair color but his eyes were crystal blue like our mother’s. He was dressed in a pair of worn jeans, flip flops, and a baby blue polo T that made his eyes sparkle.

Alex scooped me up and swung me around. “Baby sis, it’s so fuckin’ good to see you!” Planting me on my feet, his hands cupped my cheeks. “I have so much to tell you.” Well, that would explain the shiny gleam in his eyes. He looked so...
happy
.

“First,” he frowned. “I had to get a hotel in town.”

“Hotel? I thought you were stayin’ with me?” I whined.

“Well, that was before I knew Cami was comin’. And trust me when I say, you
really
don’t wanna hear her…”

I threw my hands up. “Enough. I get it. Gah, I don’t need visual. Who’s Cami,”

“Come on and I’ll introduce you. When we’re done with this torture, I’m gonna need a drink. Think you can help me out with that?” Alex winked before he threw his arm around my shoulder.

“I think I know a place.” With my arm wrapped around his waist, we walked inside of our childhood home.

My father stood from his chair by the fire place, the eternal look of contempt etched across his face. “Princess,” he greeted as we walked into the living room.

I hated when he called me that. It was the only affection he showed me, and you could hardly call it affectionate the way his disappointed tongue wrapped around each syllable. I was far from the princess he once bounced upon his knee.

A beautiful blonde, who I assumed was Cami, stood from the sofa. “You must be Katy. So nice to finally meet you,” She pulled me in for a hug. I looked up to watch my brother shrug, gifting me with his goofy smile. Who was this chick?

“Nice to meet you too, Cami.”

“Dinner’s ready,” My mother announced and we all made our way into the formal dining room, or as my brother and I liked to call it, the torture chamber.

Growing up, all family discussions took place here. Most of the talking and preaching was done by my father of course, who ruled with an iron fist at the head of the table. We took our seats and waited for my father to bless the food, and then for my mother to serve his plate first before we prepared our own. Funny, even as adults, no matter how hard we fought against it...there were just certain things you did without consciously thinking. Family dinners had become one of them.

“So Alexander, what’s this new job you spoke about?” I shoved a bite of food in my mouth to keep from smiling.

Sweet, Alex is on the chopping block first
.

Alex cleared his throat. “Well, I wanted to wait and tell you all in person,” Alex wiped his mouth, looking back and forth from our parents to me. “I’m moving to Paris.”

My jaw hit my lap. My mother’s fork hit the plate. My father’s fist slammed the table.

Bravely, Alex continued. “Cami’s my agent. I’ve already signed the contract. I leave in four weeks.”

“Four weeks?” I breathed.

Paris?

“Alex, honey are you sure this is what you want to do with your life? Modeling is just so…
vain
?” 

“I’m positive. My degree is in Art. What the hell am I supposed do with that? Baseball was my life, and now that’s gone. All I have going for me are my good looks and my charming personality, and Cami says I can make a fortune from both.”

“Son, vanity will not deliver salvation. There is far more to life than money and good looks.”

“Not much more,” Alex mumbled around his fork.

My brother had received a full paid scholarship to UCLA playing baseball right out of high school. He was an amazing pitcher, was even favored to be first draft for the majors. But he never made it. During the national championship game of his senior year, Alex threw out his arm. Doctors told him he would never throw another fast ball again. It messed with his head for a while. He was in a pretty dark place before he was discovered by an agent in a local night club. From there, his modeling career took off.

My father had made it clear he was not a fan. “Your mother and I raised you both better than this. I did not raise my son to make a living off his face, and I did not raise my daughter to be promiscuous and make a living serving alcohol to sinners eager to drown their sins instead of repenting them.” My father’s harsh voice echoed throughout the quiet room. “You are both a disgrace.”

“Honey, please,” My mother pleaded, for once.

“No Elaine, if you’re not serving the Lord, than
who
are you serving?” He tossed his napkin onto his full plate of food, shoving from the table, my meek mother hot on his heels.

Even though I’d accepted long ago that I would never be the daughter my father wanted me to be, it didn’t stop the pain from coming when he would point out why I wasn’t.  

“Well that went exactly the way I planned.” Alex was a lot better than me when it came to ignoring our father’s belittling. Or was he just better at hiding it?

“Paris?” I was still unable to wrap my head around the fact that my brother was moving to another country, let alone France.

“Come with me.”

Was he serious?

“I already have an apartment and everything. The company has paid for it all. You could get a job at one of those French cafés or some shit.”

“I can’t speak French.”

“Who gives a shit? Anything is better than rotting away here.” He moved to sit next to me. Leaning in, he rested one arm on the table. His clear blue eyes pleaded with mine. 

“I can’t believe you’re moving to Paris. I’ve wanted to go there as long as I can remember, and you’re
moving
there.”

“I know.” Being older, Alex had always poked fun at me for my little girl dreams and now he wanted to make one of them come true. “Chances like this don’t come along often. Don’t let them clip your wings.”

I can’t even process what he’s saying right now, for an opportunity like this to literally land in my lap was…
unbelievable
.

Especially since yesterday had been the turning point for Archer and I. Or was it? Could I throw away the chance of a lifetime for the man I love?

With my heart in my throat, I stood from the table. “How ‘bout that drink?”

“Now you’re talking,”

He who is not courageous enough

to take risks will accomplish nothing in life.

~Muhammad Ali

“See, the way this works is, when you’re out there on that floor, you’re on my time. You clock in…you turn that pussy magnet the fuck off.” My head had been throbbing all day and this stubborn motherfucker wasn’t making it any better.

“Look, I can’t help it if bitches wanna hang all over me while I keep shit in check. Oprah calls it multi-taskin’.” Arrogant son of bitch needed his ass kicked. Maybe that would take him down a notch or two. I just didn’t have it in me right now.

I rubbed my temples and lowered my voice. “First of all, I don’t even wanna know how you fuckin’ know that. Second, you should know better than anyone you can’t focus on dick with pussy in your face. Why the hell do you think I fired Holden and hired you?”

Folding his massive arms across his chest, he cocked is head. “Uh, Holden said he quit. Yeah, actually, he told me the owner was a complete dick and possibly needed some pussy himself.”

Yep, this was all Holden’s fucking fault. It was his mission in life to obtain permanent pussy status. Being the good man he is, he found me some replacement muscle before he up and quit on me. And while Cannon Jacobs was one motherfucker customers did not cross or fuck with, he’d been a pain in my ass since the moment I hired him.

But today, I was close to firing his ass. “I better not find you dry humpin’ anyone or anything on my goddamn time again. Got it?”

His nostrils flared and he gritted his teeth. “Got it,”

I swear, if I could wrap my fingers around that thick ass neck of his, I would. “Get the fuck outta here.” Closing my eyes, I massaged my temples again.