Juggernaut Page 3

  That day he’d had his girlfriend with him, who was hands-down the meanest, fakest, snobbiest bitch I’d ever met. It was obvious she wasn’t just averse to carbs, but to people breathing near her, too. And I hadn’t even met her in person to be sure. I just watched her pout, snarl, and cast judgement at all of us from a distance. She held onto him like he was property and she owned the deed. And while he didn’t seem to enjoy it, he still allowed it.

  For me, that was enough. Although, India has explained they had literally started dating about two weeks prior, Scott went on to explain he dumped her that very night. Scott has also said the bitch went insane knocking plants over, throwing glasses and ultimately falling in the pool when her heel snapped. Evander, they said, initially hesitated but did finally jump in to save her.

  Of all the nights to leave early…

  However, the stage had been set. Because every time I’ve tried speaking with him since, it blew up in my face. Though he always watched every move I made, it was clear that while he creeped on me, he was also judging me. Likely seeking out a weakness to exploit, and I exploited myself just fine on my own, spank you very much.

  Today, I know, would be no exception except that he needs something from me, which means I’d actually have to be nice. And believe me, I hated pretending to act one way when I felt another. So I never did.

  He turns and catches me coming toward him, it still amazed me that my presence bothered him so much. I mean sure, I was outspoken and lewd, but at least I wasn’t ugly. And even if I was having an off day, my ass alone more than made up for it. And yes, I was in love with my own ass.

  Since Scott made partner, I’ve been subjected to Evander’s looks more than I care to admit. I should be ashamed that, despite his shitty treatment of me, I still wanted to bang him. I said, should. The good news is, he has no idea how attractive I found him and he never would. While part of me enjoyed putting him on edge, the other part wished I didn’t.

  It seems Evander is the one guy my dubious charms would never ever work on.

  Oh well, play on playa.

  “Hey, Van,” I say in greeting.

  On a frustrated sigh, he reminds me, “My name is Evander.”

  “Shame,” I shrug.

  “Still can’t say it with a straight face, can you?”

  “No,” I confess truthfully. “Sorry.”

  Every time he says his own name, he draws it out. E-Van-Dur and I laugh. In his face.

  He was so pretentious about it I couldn’t fucking help myself.

  “I was named after my father,” he informs me haughtily.

  “I was named after Rip Taylor.”

  “Tell me you’re joking,” he frowns as if he’s in actual pain.

  “That’s exactly what my dad said when my mom announced she was pregnant while throwing back a shot.”

  Huh. It only took thirty-nine years, but maybe that’s where my love for booze came from? The fucking womb.

  “Are you ever serious?”

  “Are you ever not?”

  Just then my phone buzzes in my clutch. Handing him both glasses to stop whatever insult was about to fly from his mouth from taking flight, I hit talk saying, “Yello,” in greeting.

  “Been motorboated yet?” Sugar asks.

  “No takers, but it’s still early and I haven’t undone my top,” I reply. “What’s up?”

  “How’s it going with E-Van-Dur?”

  Glancing at Van, who is openly staring at me, I share, “He’s the same. Lots of glowering coupled with looks of disdain. I really think he’s warming up to me. Alas, I’m just not a missionary girl; it would never work.”

  Evander was only slightly less scathing to Sugar and Hillary. How Scott and India endorsed him, I’ll never know. My guess is they are being blackmailed.

  “Are you talking about me?” he asks, but I ignore him and how insanely good he smells.

  “Let me guess? Someone is dead and in need of burying?”

  “Too early to tell. However, I need your PI skills tonight. If we’re lucky, there may be a body count later. With me on my back.”

  “Done,” I agree easily. I was always happy to lend my PI (Pussy Interrogation) skills to Sugar. “Shoot over around nine and we’ll pregame. I’m blowing this joint at the earliest opportunity since India didn’t even get strippers. My referrals were top notch, too!”

  Hanging up, I tuck my phone in my cleavage, facing Van once more. Fuck me, but I loved tall men…

  “So,” I say cheerily, taking my drinks back. “Would you like to get down to business or would you rather take another moment to finish staring at my rack? Not that I blame you. Take all the time you need, really.”

  “I wasn’t—“ he sputters while staring at the goods. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.

  “Van, I came here because Scott said you wanted to speak with me, so speak.”

  “I am not a dog,” he says breaking his stare. “And my name is Evander.”

  “Do you want me to handle your event or not?” I ask wanting to wrap this up. To date, this was our longest, most civil, conversation, and any minute now it was going to go to—

  “Seeing as Scott is my best friend, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  Yep. Shit.

  “Life is full of choices. So, I’m making it for both of us. I’ll get your info from Scott and email you a list of pros other than myself to choose from.”

  “Wait,” he says confused. “Why?”

  “You don’t like me, Van. Though, I’ve never wronged you in any way, except maybe that one time when I accidentally on purpose tripped you…I know you can’t stand my presence. Which means you’re not obligated to use me because of Scott and India any more than I’m obligated to accept. If I had a therapist she would tell me this is adulting. So, we had a chat, as painful as it was for me and got the kinks worked out. Everyone wins and I can add problem solver to my list of services.”

  Shocked by my refusal, I took advantage of his immobility filling his hands with my drinks. That done, I turn on my heel to walk away. I fucking hate to admit that when he said, “But I want you,” my stomach fluttered.

  Further proving my adulthood, I offered him my middle finger as I strutted away.

  I’ve always been myself around Evander and it would never be good enough.

  I was sick of never making the cut.

  I was also sick of comparing every guy I meet to the one who can’t stand me.

  Because for some fucking reason, Evander Church had qualities I found attractive.

  His personality withstanding.

  The second I was safely away, I called out “Shots!” and spent the next three hours letting my juggernaut out to play.

  Not once did he look away.

  It took everything I had to pretend I didn’t care.

  Two things I disliked immensely: being dismissed and being dismissed by her.

  The woman rattled me and has done so on a consistent basis for two years. She is crass, brazen, outrageous, and enthrallingly beautiful. Taylor is tall, had perfect skin, big hair, lips, hips, tits, ass…She is not small by today’s absurd standards. No, she’s strong, thick, and built to take a man’s weight. And from what I’ve seen, she does.

  She went through men like I went through lazy interns. She never apologized or bowed down to anyone. She never compromised herself either. One look at her and you know she is a confident woman.

  She is also chaos. Uncontrollable. Untamable. Wild.

  Her friends call her juggernaut and they were not wrong.

  Taylor St. James is destruction at its finest.

  I, on the other hand, am perpetuation at its finest.

  I never want to see that energy dimmed. I want it to burn bright forever.

  She is living, breathing havoc no mortal man could tame.

  Hell, no decent man who has her affection should want to.

  Personally, I think everything about her is incredible and I want her destruction aime
d at me.

  I want her to destroy me in all ways a woman could destroy a man.

  From the moment I saw her, felt her, I was desperate for the oblivion she could deliver.

  Until her, I thought I knew what kind of woman I wanted; since her, I know no other would do.

  Because in my eyes, she is perfect for me. At thirty-nine years old, everything about her made it clear she was forever young at heart. To say I find that enchanting would be an understatement. But as our turbulent history proves, she’d never believe I felt these things. Unfortunately, I’ve been making a shit impression on her since day one. The first night we met was at a BBQ Scott hosted for her birthday. I believed Taylor was drunk, dancing all over, and when she stepped on my foot I said, “Let me guess, you also do keg stands?”

  To this she simply smiled back and said, “Why? You want to see my legs up over my head? All you had to do was ask. I’m super bendy.” India explained Taylor was not, in fact hammered, but acted like that all the time. This stymied me. But it was true none the less. Party after party, Taylor has tried speaking to me and without fail, I was a dick. I was even worse when another man was with her. I don’t want or mean to be, but she intimidates me, keeps me in a constant state of what’s next? She also keeps me in a constant state of arousal. So much so, that despite how horribly I treated her, I still accepted every invitation Scott or India sent my way. One day, I promised myself. One day I’d get her to like me. To see me.

  Clearly today wasn’t that day as is evident by the middle finger she extended at her departure. For two years, I’ve waited, hoped, for an in with her. Recently, I discovered how to do this and in less than one minute, I’ve crashed and burned. The only proof of our time together were the drinks she left me holding.

  How do I make the woman who hates me understand I think she’s the most amazing woman I have ever met? How do I tell her she’s everything I’m not, but strive to be? I have no fucking clue. But watching her mesmerize the guests has me feeling jealous.

  I want her attention on me.

  Only me.

  Evander Church does not share his toys.

  The original plan was to convince her to host an event, thus opening the lines of communication.

  That plan failed.

  Therefore, the second plan I’ve devised had zero chance of presentation.

  And it is the second plan I’ve had my heart set on.

  Once again, by just breathing I fucked everything up.

  Handing me a fresh scotch, Scott takes the chair next to mine and asks, “How’d it go?”

  Scott Sinclair is my closest friend. The man who never let my abrupt manner sway him. He was a great fucking partner and ally to have. So this will be embarrassing…

  “She plans to get my contact info.”

  “That’s good, Evander. I told you she’d help.”

  “To email me a list of people other than her to host the event.”

  “Shit,” he winces. “Not good. What did you do?”

  “Exactly what you told me to do. Be myself.”

  “If you were yourself she wouldn’t have blown you off.”

  “She – ” I begin but stop. I’m not going to dig my hole any deeper.

  “So you never got around to that other thing then?”

  “No.”

  While the party I want her to host is important, the other thing is pure genius.

  I’m convinced it would bring results. That it would bring close and constant contact.

  That it would make her fall in love with me.

  Apparently, I needed to have my IQ tested again.

  “Evander,” India says, falling onto Scott’s lap after kissing Taylor goodbye. Her departure leaves me frowning. I like nothing about her leaving. The world feels too quiet, dull, and it‘s a weight on my chest. Fuck, but it feels like every other day.

  “Don’t give up on her, trust me on this.”

  God knows I wanted to. But getting Taylor to handle my parents’ anniversary party was one hurdle and getting her to agree to the other seems like an impossibility. “Trust me. She’ll never do it, India.”

  Why I ever thought she would is beyond me, but India seems to think Taylor would be receptive. I’m going with… no.

  Why do I have to love how Taylor saying my name made me feel? Why does my heart have to speed up when she called me Van? Why do my goddamn palms have to itch with wanting to touch her? Why do I stalk her Facebook? Dream of her? Oh, that’s right.

  Because she’s the one thing I want most in the world, but cannot have.

  There will be no building a case or calling on witnesses to testify on my behalf.

  No judge. No jury.

  No Taylor.

  Case fucking dismissed.

  “What I’m about to tell you could get me in deep shit with the Shit, but I believe in this, so I’m going to do it anyway.” This declaration snaps me from my thoughts. “If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have made a play for my husband. Hillary and Sugar wouldn’t have their careers, and Scott wouldn’t have accepted partner. You haven’t had the chance to see it, Evander, but Taylor is our anchor. She is business savvy and great at seeing the bigger picture. In all these years, I can honestly say she’s always known what’s best for us. Not for herself, of course… Anyway, I’m getting away from the point.”

  Biting her lip nervously, she says, “Okay, here it goes. Taylor loves granting wishes.” Okay, I need to process this in pieces.

  So, first up is the shit.

  A group of four females no man, or woman in Sugar’s case, could separate or infiltrate.

  Many have tried, all have failed.

  The only male accepted into the fold was Scott, and he said he nearly cried during the interview process.

  Hillary’s soon to be ex, Nolan, did cry.

  And never showed up to try again.

  The four of them are local legends.

  Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it.

  Taylor is a wrecking ball all on her own, but when the other three were involved, the fall out could be heard for miles. Twice they even made the eleven o’clock news (I DVRd it). Known for finding trouble wherever they went, The Shit lived for drinking, laughing, and incriminating videos. While they may seem immature and reckless to outsiders, they were actually much-much more than that. These women were sisters.

  Even my own mother has kept tabs.

  The Shit had each other’s backs without exception. They fight with and for each other. Do damn near everything together. Never keep secrets or hold grudges and that kind of connection, I know, comes with opinions.

  As in they’d all have one.

  While I know Taylor was responsible for getting India and Scott together, I didn’t know she had a role in getting Scott to accept the partnership. Scott’s always adored her, but clearly their friendship ran deeper than I realized. And I like that she had that. I also like that Taylor was a smart business woman in her own right and that Scott recognized this.

  So, Scott and India wouldn’t be an issue.

  However, I am concerned about the other two.

  Hillary and Sugar depended on Taylor.

  This was not a surprise.

  But it is problem.

  India has a husband to lean on, but Scott openly encouraged his wife’s devotion to the sisterhood. Though he says India typically shies away from conflict (of the physical variety), the other two always flank Taylor when she lets loose.

  These women take protection more seriously than the Secret fucking Service.

  Even if I could sway Taylor, those two would step in. India wants this to happen, but I don’t think the other two want her to find a man. Especially if I was that man. Because I didn’t necessarily make a good impression on them either.

  Now back to the wish thing, I let my confusion show, hoping she would explain. With an encouraging hug from Scott, India does. “The reason she named her business As You Wish isn’t just because she loves Westley and Butte
rcup.”

  “Who?”

  “The Princess Bride,” Scott coughs subtly.

  Note to self: Find out who and what she is.

  “In second grade, Katie Pruitt wished for the money to join our Brownie Troop and the very next day, she found the money in her lunch box. Terrence Williams wished Carmen Joblonski would ask him to the Sadie Hawkins dance and that night, she did. Emily Washington wished the bully who terrorized her would leave her alone and on a Friday, the bully came to school with two black eyes and an apology. I could do this for hours, Evander. What I’m saying is, Taylor loves making wishes come true. Big, small, for love, or for fun…Very wealthy and influential people may seek out her services, but she focuses on middle to lower class. Taylor worked three jobs for years to save enough money to go out on her own. Evander, if you pay close attention to her business model you’ll see even those who truly can’t afford her still get five-star treatment. Never, not once, has she turned down a client because of money. Taylor is about making other people’s wishes come true. She’s going to deck me in the uterus if she ever finds out…”

  “What?” I ask, holding my breath. “Finds out what?”

  “She’s a total romantic,” she rushes out. “She’d never admit it, and Scott and I agree that she may not even be aware of it herself. Just like she’ll never cop to all the wishes she grants and financial losses she takes either. But Evander, what I’m saying is, the more impossible the wish, the harder she’ll work to grant it. And by harder I mean she’ll move heaven and earth to do it. That means she’ll put aside two years of major awkwardness to help you.”

  “Your parents’ party won’t be an issue,” Scott adds. “But the other? You’ll have to make her believe that her accepting your proposal is an impossibility. If you do that convincingly, she will.”

  “Why is this a secret?”

  “Taylor doesn’t believe in wishes for herself,” India says sadly. “She’s never been in love and refuses to look. She won’t slow down long enough to let it find her either. Which means, I wouldn’t be sharing any of this if I didn’t think you’re the one she’s been searching for.”