Lost and Found Read online

  She smirks at me. “Suit yourself.”

  “It was nice meeting you guys,” she calls to Lucas and Max as we head for the door. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you guys that Saturday night.”

  “Thanks Gemma, nice meeting you!” Max calls.

  “Nice meeting you!” Lucas says. “Have a good night Spence, see you in the morning!” Lucas and Max snicker behind me, and I know Gemma heard them by the way the tips of her ears are turning pink. I flip them off as I follow her into the hallway.

  It’s maybe twenty steps between my front door and Gemma’s. Probably more like twenty-five for her, since she’s so short.

  “Here you are,” I say, gesturing to her door. “Home safely.”

  She makes her eyes go wide and innocent as she puts a hand to her chest. “Thank goodness you walked me, however would I have made it alone?”

  “Better to be safe than sorry, ma’am.” I put my hand on the doorframe above her head and look down at her with my best smoldering smile. “I’m glad you came to the show tonight, even if you didn’t have a choice.”

  She smiles back. “Me too.”

  “You think your roommate is still asleep?” I ask, shifting my eyes towards her front door, which she has not yet opened.

  “Passed out, you mean? Yeah, definitely. She’s going to have a rough time at work tomorrow.”

  “Listen,” I bend my elbow so I’m leaning in closer to her. “I’m sorry about what Lucas said back there. You don’t have to invite me in if you don’t want to, I’ll understand.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up and she lets out a surprised laugh. “Oh, will you?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  “Oh, but I don’t feel pressured,” she says, crossing her arms. “I don’t feel pressured at all.”

  “Well that’s good. Glad I didn’t come on too strong, since it’s only our first date and all.”

  “This wasn’t a date,” she says, bemused.

  I frown and nod a little side to side as if I’m thinking it over. “Eh, it was a group date, so yeah, I see your point. Would have been nicer without Max and Lucas. But all in all it wasn’t a terrible first date.”

  “This was not our first date. This definitely wasn’t a date at all.”

  “I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree on this one,” I tell her. “The point I’m trying to make is don’t worry about missing out on spending the night with me tonight. I’m feeling pretty confident that if you play your cards right you’ll get another chance.”

  She shakes her head at me. “You’re kind of cocky, aren’t you?”

  “Not kind of,” I say, grinning one of my better grins. “I’m a lot cocky. But in a really lovable way. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “I’m sure you have.” She opens her door. “Goodnight, Spence,” she says, and slips inside before I can say anything else.

  “Back so soon?” Lucas says when I walk into our apartment. “That was a serious quickie.”

  Max snickers.

  “Don’t be crass,” I say pompously. “This one is going to be a slow burn, but I’ll get her eventually.”

  “No, you definitely won’t, so just forget about it,” Max says.

  “Excuse me? Since when do you get any say over my romantic pursuits?” Lucas and Max are sitting on either end of the couch, so I flop down on a kitchen chair since snuggling between them isn’t exactly the intimate kind of night I had hoped for.

  “Since she owns the bar where we’re trying to get a gig. Just leave her alone, Spence,” Max says.

  I kick off my shoes and let out a yawn. “How could that hurt anything? The way I see it, it can only help us.”

  “Yeah, until you drop her for something shiny and new and she gets pissed and fires us. That’ll be great. We’ll be really successful once that story gets around.”

  “You need to relax,” I say. “You’re snowballing. This is all hypothetical right now.”

  “Don’t fuck this up for us, man, that’s all I’m asking,” Max says, standing up. “I’ve gotta get going. Stay away from Gemma until we hear back about this gig.”

  “Stay in your own fucking lane, Max,” I tell him, and he flips me off on his way out the door.

  Lucas stands up and stretches. “Why you gotta rile him up like that?”

  I relocate to the couch and take the spot Lucas has just vacated, stretching out along its length. “He started it. He’s the one with the girlfriend but I’m not allowed to hook up with anyone? That’s bullshit dude, and you know it.”

  Lucas sighs. “Yeah, I know. But he’s never really gotten over the whole Fiona thing.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I moan, covering my face with my hands. “Can’t we all just forget about Fiona?”

  “Max was a little traumatized by that one.”

  Like most people, I try to live my life without regrets. Yet despite my best intentions I’ve collected at least a few, Fiona perhaps being my biggest one.

  “Yeah, well, we were all a little traumatized by that. Especially me,” I grumble.

  “He might have a point with this one, though. She’s our neighbor, she owns Kincaid’s, maybe it’s best you don’t start anything.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Lucas shakes his head at me. “I’m going to bed.”

  Lucas retreats to his room and I reach for the remote. My bed is perfectly fine, but sometimes I prefer sleeping out here. Our couch is old and saggy in the middle and if you don’t sit just right the springs will stab you in the back, but I’ve become rather attached to it. We found it on the sidewalk the day we were moving in here, like it was meant to be.

  As I flip through the channels I think about what Max and Lucas said. Even I have to admit, they’ve got a point. But they have to give me some credit, I have been more cautious with my hookups after the Fiona Fiasco. I behaved myself pretty much all goddamn fall.

  But then I think of Gemma. The face she made while she was watching me play guitar, and the sound of her laugh, and I’m glad I didn’t tell Max I’d stay away from her. Because I can already tell that’s a promise I wouldn’t be able to keep.

  Chapter Six

  Gemma

  Despite the fact that Amanda and I grew up like sisters - in and out of each other’s houses as if we lived there, constant sleepovers, sharing everything - actually living with her is turning out to be a whole different ballgame. For one thing, she’s a massive slob.

  In hindsight, this is something I’ve always known about her, but it’s never been my problem before. Her room was always a mess, her car is always a mess, and she’s constantly looking for something she’s misplaced. But actually living in the mess is more than I was expecting.

  Dishes sit in the sink for days. Her clothes litter every surface. When she’s done getting ready for the day the bathroom is a sauna with a fine mist of hairspray stuck all over everything. I’m trying to keep up with her, but cleaning this much is getting exhausting.

  I could maybe put up with her slovenly habits, but she also keeps “accidentally” deleting my shows off the DVR, and that I can’t stand for.

  “Amanda!” I yell, as I scroll through the DVR list on Sunday night. “Did you delete my shows again?” The entire thing is full of Real Housewives episodes.

  She comes out of her bedroom. “What show? That baking thing that was on there? I thought we recorded it by accident.”

  “No!” I say, irritated. “I recorded it on purpose!”

  “Oh, sorry.” She shrugs. “But it’s probably online somewhere or something.”

  “That’s not the point,” I grumble. “Stop deleting stuff without asking me.”

  “I had to,” she says. “We were running out of space.”

  “Well then delete some of your stuff!”

  “God, will you relax! It’s just a TV show.” She shakes her head and goes back into her room.

  I let out a little yell of frustration and throw the remote
down on the couch. It bounces back into the air and comes crashing down on the hardwood floor, the battery cover flying off and the batteries rolling across the room.

  “Great, just great,” I grumble as I get down to collect the batteries and putting the remote back together. The TV thing is annoying, but I probably wouldn’t be so pissed off about it if I wasn’t already in a garbage mood.

  Earlier tonight I broached the subject of giving the open Saturday spot to Spence and the rest of Losing Streak with Liam, and it didn’t go super well. For whatever reason, he’s not a big fan of Spence.

  I’d gone to the house to have dinner with him and Macy, dragging Amanda along with me.

  “I think you should give the open Saturday to Losing Streak,” I’d told Liam, point blank.

  “Oh?” Liam had said, raising his eyebrows at me. “And why’s that?”

  “Because they were really good,” I said. “You saw the crowd we had in there on Tuesday. And they were there for them. Imagine how many more people they’d pull in on a Saturday. We’d have a line out the door.”

  Macy even came in to back me up. “She’s right. I think you should give it to them.”

  Liam accused both of us of being biased, since we’d spent their entire set on Tuesday night ogling the lead singer, an accusation we both quickly denied. Maybe a little too quickly. Liam had narrowed his eyes at me and said he didn’t want “a guy like that in my bar.”

  “A guy like what exactly? And don’t you mean our bar?”

  “Kid has a reputation. We don’t need to have him hanging around causing trouble.”

  “What kind of reputation does he have, exactly?”

  “He sleeps around. He’s the type of guy you need to stay away from, okay?”

  “Liam,” Macy had said, a warning tone in her voice.

  I don’t know anything about Spence’s so-called reputation, but I can’t say this information comes as a huge surprise. It’s been clear to me since the moment I met him that he’s not the kind of guy someone like me has any business hanging around with. Charming, sexy in a devil-may-care kind of way, and might as well have a sign hanging around his neck saying he definitely isn’t looking for anything serious.

  Been there, done that, never want to do it again, thanks.

  So while Liam isn’t exactly wrong in his assessment, I’m still pissed off that he thinks he can comment on the situation at all.

  “She can take care of herself, Liam,” Macy had chimed in, coming to my defense.

  “It’s not like you won’t be right there to keep an eye on her,” Amanda had offered. I’d given her a dirty look - the last thing I wanted was Liam thinking he had to keep any more of an eye on me than he already did - but I appreciated the support.

  “They were good. Don’t make this out to be something it’s not,” I pushed.

  Liam narrowed his eyes at me and after what felt like forever he finally caved. “Fine. They can have the spot. But this is business, Gemma. The second there’s any kind of issue, they’re out.”

  “Fine.”

  He’d promised he would call them tomorrow, and I should be happy they got the gig, but the entire conversation with Liam is still annoying me.

  The bar belongs to both of us. Just because he’s older than me and has been working there for longer, he forgets I get to have an opinion, too. Plus it pisses me off when he tries to control my life.

  Liam has always been on the straight and narrow. Star football player in high school, did well in college, took over the family business, settled down with a nice girl. Now he’s going to be a father. Seeing him succeed despite all our setbacks makes me feel like I’ll never measure up. He’s never purposely made me feel that way. He’s always been supportive. But it also feels like there’s a limit to his support. Like as long as whatever I’m doing has the Liam seal of approval, it’s fine. But if it doesn’t, it’s all I hear about.

  As much as I want to get out from under his thumb, my goal this past year has been to be more like Liam. Not that I’d ever tell him that. I’ve re-focused on school. I have a plan in place for after graduation. I’ve got my own place. Maybe my life can look like Liam’s someday, too. If he can do it, so can I, right?

  That’s why when I told Liam he had nothing to worry about when it came to Spence, I was telling the truth. I don’t want any distractions, and Spence Hurley has the potential to be very distracting.

  Chapter Seven

  Spence

  It’s late on Thursday night and I’m out on the porch again because the heat still isn’t working right. I never did call the landlord the other day and now I’m regretting it. I’ve got all the windows open, trying to cool the place down enough so I can sleep in there tonight, but for now I’m out here, strumming my guitar.

  The guitar wasn’t my first instrument. I’ve been through a few. The guitar is just the one that stuck.

  Well, not counting my brief but intense foray into harmonica playing.

  I went through a serious Bob Dylan phase in middle school. I don’t really know what that says about my personality as a twelve-year-old, but that’s when I picked up the harmonica. “The harmonica is the world’s best-selling musical instrument. You’re welcome,” Bob Dylan once supposedly said. I don’t know if that’s true, but he got me.

  To a twelve-year-old the harmonica seemed pretty fun. I could carry it around in my pocket and play it whenever I wanted. Like in the middle of math class, for example. That harmonica was confiscated from me many times.

  Eventually my dad got sick of me trying to play the same three Bob Dylan songs over and over again. That’s when he introduced me to literally any other song he could find with a harmonica in it. The Beatles, Aerosmith, Billy Joel, Tom Petty, even Ozzy Osbourne.

  Luckily for both me and my parents, the phase ended as abruptly as it began and the guitar has been the only instrument for me since.

  “Spence?” I’m screwing around, not playing anything in particular, when I hear someone call my name. “Is that you down there?”

  Once I realize where the voice is coming from and who it belongs to a goofy grin spread across my face. I stand up and stick my head over the railing, turning my face to the balcony above ours.

  “Gemma? Is that you up there?”

  Her face appears above me, surrounded by a curtain of silky blonde hair.

  “It’s freezing, what are you doing out here?”

  “Enjoying the view.” I can practically hear her eyes rolling at this comment, but she ignores me.

  “I have good news,” she says.

  “Oh yeah? Do tell.”

  “The spot at Kincaid’s is yours, if you want it.”

  “Hell yeah we still want it,” I say immediately.

  Tension I didn’t even know was there drains from my shoulders. I wasn’t really worried we wouldn’t get it, but whenever there’s a chance, no matter how small, that the answer might be no, I get all worked up about it. I hide it well, but it’s still nerve-wracking.

  Luckily, I very rarely get told no. Not bragging, just the truth.

  “Good.” Gemma smiles through the dark. “Liam is going to call Max tomorrow, but I figured I would tell you first.”

  “I appreciate that,” I say, leaning on the railing. “How much convincing did you have to do? Is your brother happy about this?”

  She shrugs. “He had some concerns, but I didn’t really have to do much convincing. You guys made a good impression the other night.”

  “Some concerns? What kind of concerns?” I ask.

  “Concerns about you,” she says.

  “About me? What about me?”

  “Apparently you have a reputation.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? What kind of a reputation?”

  “A bad one, according to him,” she says. “He’s concerned about my virtue.”

  I laugh out loud at that.

  “Wow,” I say. “Well, you can tell him I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation. And a
lso, he’s wrong. I’m a perfect gentleman, always.”

  She laughs. “I’ll have to take your word on that one.”

  “You don’t have to, come down here and I’ll prove it to you.”

  She shakes her head and laughs, and I wish it wasn’t so dark and she wasn’t so far away, so I could read the expression on her face.

  “Not gonna happen,” she says, moving away from the railing so I can’t see her anymore.

  “We’ll see,” I call back.

  “Goodnight, Spence,” she says as she climbs inside and shuts the window behind her.

  I stay out on the porch for a little while longer, thinking about what Gemma said. Honestly, I wasn’t even aware I had a reputation. I don’t think I behave any differently than most guys my age. I like having sex. I like to have sex as much as possible. What’s wrong with that? I don’t see how it makes me a bad person if girls want to have sex with me as much as possible, too. Pretty sure that makes me one lucky bastard.

  But apparently her brother did some digging on me. I wonder who he talked to. Probably Max. This feels like something he would do. He doesn’t want me to go near Gemma, so appealing to her brother for help keeping us apart would have been a smart move, but I’ll kill him if he did.

  The fact that Liam is worried about Gemma being around me is interesting though. He wouldn’t be worried if he didn’t think Gemma was interested, right? So that must mean Gemma is interested. Maybe that’s a stretch, but I don’t care. Because I’m hoping Gemma is, in fact, interested.

  I climb back into my own apartment. “Lucas!” I call out.

  His bedroom door was closed when I got home earlier, but I’m pretty sure he’s home. Probably working on a paper or something. I go pound on the door and jiggle the handle, but it’s locked. “Come out here, I have news.”

  “Go away,” he calls back, his voice muffled.

  “I have news!” I say again.

  “I don’t give a shit, I’m sleeping.”

  I look at the clock. It’s only eleven. There’s no way he’s asleep yet. I pound on the door again. “Get up!”