Page 1 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

CHAPTER 1

JONSIE

I swear to Christ, public bathrooms should come with a warning label. I make quick use of the facilities, being careful to hover considering it doesn’t look like this particular bathroom’s been cleaned since the nineties. Heading over to the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror, my reflection distorted by the warped speckled glass. For once, it matches how I feel. Flawed, damaged, tainted.

A groan sounds out from behind me, and I spin, glancing down to find the source huddled in the corner on the floor. There on the dingy disgusting tile is a girl, older than me but not more than twenty-one, twenty-two tops. She has long bleached-blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail. Her dramatic eye makeup is badly smudged all over her face, and her pleather purple tube top is two seconds from sliding all the way down and giving a free show.

A thin layer of sweat clings to her skin as her eyes stare up at me, though the bag with residual powder in her hand leads me to believe she’s so coked up I’d be shocked if she’s actually registering my presence right now. What the fuck, man. These stupid girls are so quick to shoot, snort, or swallow whatever any loser hands them and then are shocked when they end up in positions such as this. Judging by her lethargic state, God only knows what that shit was laced with.

I briefly debate leaving her ass here. Not my circus, not my monkeys. But I know I won’t. Why? Because I can’t mind my own fucking business. That’s why. It’s possibly my biggest flaw. And trust me, I’ve got a lot of them.

I gnaw on my lip in annoyance, assessing the trainwreck in front of me before I say ‘fuck it’ and reach down to scoop her up. She’s not only dead weight, she’s also taller than me, which makes this entire process that much more awkward and cumbersome.

Propping her up against the sink, using my hip for support, I slap her a couple times in an attempt to rouse her. “Yo!” I grip her chin, giving her head a slight shake. “Hey!” I slap her once more, and her eyes snap open to center on me. “There you go, girl. What’s your name?”

“Amber,” she slurs. Her hand grips the corner of the basin, taking some of the pressure off, allowing me to breathe a little easier.

“Amber,” I repeat. “Hey, Amber. I’m Jonsie.”

She scoffs. “That’s a stupid fucking name.” Her hand swipes at her chin, successfully wiping the drool but smearing her lipstick in the process.

Awesome. I don’t know why I expected the coke whore I helped off the floor to be a decent human being, but oh well, we’re committed now.

“Yo! Regina George!” I give her another slap when I notice her head start to loll to the side, this time not feeling bad about it. “While I really wanna leave you here to sleep it off in a puddle of piss and used needles, it’s just not my style. So, who’d you come here with?”

“My man,” she snaps, trying to push up but almost falling on her ass in the process.

I catch her, sighing as I utter profanities while dragging her toward the door. “Great. Listen, we’re gonna walk out there and you’re going to point out Prince Charming so I can hand you off, deal?”

“You’re weird,” she snorts before breaking out in a chuckle.

“Yeah, normal people don’t pick unknown coke whores up off herpes-infested club floors, so trust me… I’m aware.”

I somehow manage to throw open the door without dropping the Amazonian-sized hooker and thrust us forward into the dimly-lit club pulsing with bodies. I hate this shit. The whole place stinks of sex and sweat. As soon as I return this chick to her keeper, I’m finding Nicky and we’re out of here. He’s had more than enough time to conduct whatever business he had. At this point, he’s probably off getting his dick sucked, and he can do that anywhere. I didn’t even want to come tonight. Not to mention, at seventeen I’m not even old enough to be in here. But there’s no way Nicky’s letting me out and about on a Saturday night unsupervised, so here I sit, along for the ride.

I work my way over to the railing overlooking the dance and lounge areas to conduct a quick scan for my older brother, but I come up empty. Between the constant strobe and green laser beams that sprawl about the walls and floors, it’s a miracle no one’s having a seizure in here.

“Alright, princess!” I shout over the thump of the bass. “Where’s your boy?”

“Goddammit, Amber!” a deep voice calls out from behind. “Can we go one fucking night without you shoving shit up your no—”

I spin. The deep timber of his baritone-weighted words trail off as my gaze travels up to meet his.

Fuck, he’s tall.

Like there’s tall, and then there’s you could slap my five-foot-eight frame in four-inch heels and still not even touch his height kind of tall. Man’s topping out somewhere just shy of six and a half feet for sure, his broad shoulders taking up every inch of the immediate space in front of me. His black hair is cropped short on the sides and slicked back on top, though several strands fall into his face on his left side, resting right in front of his eye. On his right side, a small scar reveals a slice of skin, cutting through the hair right where his brow arches.

His gaze slips lower over my body and I allow mine to do the same as I take in the sight of him. Even in the dark, I can tell he’s covered in tattoos. They peek out above the collar of his black fitted tee, sprawling onto his neck, while also snaking down the entirety of his left arm into a full sleeve. His skin is so covered it’s hard to tell where the sleeve of his T-shirt ends as it blends into the blackness of the ink. The images even span onto the back of his hand and knuckles, which he flexes before bringing up in front of his chest to crack. He sinks his teeth into the cushion of his bottom lip before his eyes sweep back up to my face to meet my own.

My mouth runs dry as my stomach bottoms out.

Maverick fucking Bishop. Time to go.

“Is this yours?” I gesture my head toward the bimbo still in my grasp. Alarm bells are screaming internally, though I lock that shit down. Never show fear. Nicky taught me better than that.

Maverick’s head cocks to the side, the corner of his mouth tipping up while he continues to hold my gaze. “Fifteen seconds ago, I would have said yes. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“Well, while you figure it out you think you could take Street Walker Barbie off my hands? She’s fucking heavy.”

---