Jovi

By Sandy Appleyard

An unforgiving past. A future on the chopping block. And a secret revealed days before Christmas, that can redeem or ruin everything they’ve been fighting for.

The strike comes before I can stop it. Before I know it, my eyeball feels like it’ll explode and Jovi is chasing the perpetrator out the door, not before the sheriff shows up and takes the dirtbag to jail. This is my life. I work in a bar with some great people. It’s the drunks and juvenile delinquents that ruin it all. And it’s Christmas. Y’all would think that my luck would change, but it hasn’t. As if it couldn’t get any worse, my car breaks down, and Jovi has to drive me home. The third strike of the night comes when the lock on my door is broken, and I have to get Jovi to help boost me up into my own bedroom window. You’d think my fate would change after that. But what I do next is something so stupid, so impulsive, but so life changing, that I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner.

***

Rickie is one of those women that is so strong and independent, I wouldn’t dare tell her what I’ve been feeling for her, until she walks in on me doing something I was keeping secret from everyone. Somehow, I convince her to do the same and change her life, despite the mistake that led to the decision. But that’s in the past now. She’s got her own past, which makes it easier for us to find common ground. But as we hear the sleighbells ringing, the sonogram pulsing, and the future calling, I find that I’m the one standing on solid ground, enough for the both of us. That is, until a final test, just days before Christmas, that sends us both in a tailspin. And I don’t know which one of us is strong enough to wait for that final call with the answer to our prayers...is it too late for a Christmas miracle?

Holiday romance
Christmas romance
Second chance romance
Happily ever after romance
Steamy romance
Medium heat
Mild foul language

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy Appleyard
• Release date: Dec 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781990807404

Sandy Appleyard

Some have said that if you see me on the street (usually with a book in hand or a laptop fired up), I appear a cold, hard-fisted person. However, once we’ve spoken for five minutes or less, you’ll have laughed at least once. That is, provided you appreciate sarcastic, self-deprecating wit.My first short story was penned in middle school and I was hooked ever since.I graduated with honours from Humber College and began working as an Administrative Coordinator for a large, multinational corporation shortly afterward. Quickly learning that the corporate world, despite the love I had for my job, is a slow killer of creativity, I chose to quit during maternity leave in 2006.Difficulty thinking outside the box soon evaporated when I received something that didn’t come in one: my first child. While at home with the baby my imaginative energy got the better of me and my first memoir was written. It had been a dream of mine to write about my late father, who passed away from alcoholism in 1992, and it took me two years to compose a fifty-page manuscript, but I did it.After my second daughter was born in 2008 I had more fuel to write, and felt it necessary to voice the challenges and inherent gifts I acquired during my struggles with Scoliosis. Hence, my second memoir was born. The words flowed out of me with such ease I shocked myself.My love for words grew with each book I read and every word I wrote. I soon realized I had no more material to write non-fiction, which led me to take a stab at fiction. The next two books were such a revelation: it became more and more clear what my true calling was. The rest, as they say, is history!

Book preview

Chapter 1

Rickie

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Ifeel the guy’s gaze burning into the back of my neck. When I turn around, he’s eying me up and down, like it’s an evaluation. Is it worth it? Risk pure humiliation for the minute chance of getting laid? Believe me, I never put it out there that I’m interested. To nobody. My attire is comfortable, non-sexual, and some of you will say that it isn’t so much in what you wear as it is in what you say, but I keep my conversations short and succinct, and my eyes stay on the eyes. Flirtation is never practiced here. I don’t shit where I eat. This is how I put food on the table, my friends, and I like it for three reasons: tips are fantastic, the men I work with are like my brothers, and I don’t have to stress over anything when I go home at night.

There is one exception here. Men. Being the senior waitress here, I’m not clumsy or nervous, and I get the orders to the tables in record time. I don’t fuck around, either. Most folks who come here come here to have a good time. It’s not usually a pickup joint. It’s working men and women that want some decent food, beer, and music. We also serve lunch here, too, and we have a live band most weekends. I’ve worked here for more than ten years, and I’ve seen my share of bad meat. It’s mostly the new guys that come around, that don’t know that I never go home with anyone that I meet from work, and this guy is no exception.

Sure, he’s kind of cute, but he’s got that look in his eye, like he thinks he’s all that. I hate arrogant men. I’d like to meet a man one day that doesn’t think his shit don’t stink. So far, I haven’t met anyone like that here, and if I have, they have other qualities that I’d rather avoid. Or they’re married. Or they’re taken. Or they’re other things I’m not interested in. I’ve come to the realization that I’m never getting married. I haven’t been in a relationship since Christ was a cowboy, or college, but they both seem so far in the past, I can’t remember which one came first. Yeah, I went to college, but I dropped out, and that’s when Darryl opened this bar. The rest is history.

Anyway, I head out back to the office for my break, and when I open the door, I see Jovi sitting there, at Darryl’s desk, reading through what looks like a textbook. Oh, sorry. I didn’t know anyone was back here.

You on your break? Needing somewhere to hang out?

Yeah. Hey, are you on your break?

Yeah, just for another five minutes, though. I can go out back, it’s just as quiet out there.

I crane my neck upward, trying to see what he’s reading. He’s also got a notebook open next to it, and it looks like he’s taking notes. What have you got there? I ask.

I’m taking a course. He says, but he doesn’t go into detail.

I go for bold. What’s the course?

Y’all wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Try me.

He licks his lips. And I feel like he’s kind of embarrassed. Like he was hiding back here, trying not to get caught. I’m going for my engineering degree. I dropped out of college, stupid as that was, but I’ve got my reasons for going back, and y’all can say that I’m too old, but anyone that does will get the last laugh when I graduate, and you’re all just working at some bar.

I’m half offended, half intrigued. I never took Jovi for the bookish type. Why did y’all drop out?

I was stupid. Couldn’t get my shit together. I was failing anyway, and I hated wasting my mama’s money. I couldn’t do it then, I don’t know why the hell I think I can do it now, but like I said, I’ve got my reasons. He rises and takes his things with him.

I’m not the nosy type. I stay out of other people’s business in exchange for them staying out of mine. So, I let Jovi go. I say nothing further to him. Once he’s gone, I sit down and look at my phone. My best friend Perrie just separated from her husband. She’s coming to live out here with her mama, where she grew up. But again, I’m not the nosy type. I just know that from what I know of him, he is no model husband or father. And I’m glad that she’s leaving him. Admittedly, I’m also glad that she’s coming back here, I’ve missed her a lot over the years that she’s been gone.

She’s left me a text message, letting me know that everything is well underway. I check in on her mama for her from time to time, since her daddy died. But Lily, like her daughter, is a survivor. I tell you, every time I go to visit that woman, she’s up to doing something else. Keeping busy is the secret to a long life, that’s what she’ll tell you. I sit back in the chair in reply to Perrie’s message, letting her know that I’m here if she needs anything. But one thing I do know is that she's going to need a job. Her ex-husband is loaded, but I don’t blame her for not wanting a drop of that.

I know that the bargain store in the mall is looking for someone, and Darryl here, he’s always looking for some help, especially since Christmas is coming. It’s amazing how much busier even a bar gets during the holiday season. The small bar fridge beside his desk has my salad in it, so I pull it out and eat it. It’s rare that I eat the food here, otherwise I’d be the size of a house.

When I head back to my post, my little friend is still there, and it appears as though he’s been waiting for me. He motions me over, and I consider sending one of the other waitresses over there, but then I figure if he wants something from me, he’s only going to bother them to get to me, anyway, so I’ll save myself the trouble. I take his drink order, and he starts up again, promising me this and that and the other thing, if I go home with him.

Look, I’m here to work, not to be a call girl. Now, you’d be smart to go on home to your wife, because this is a small town, and word around here travels real fast.

His friends make cat calls, teasing us, making us the center of attention. As all eyes are on us. I know that this guy is new around town, but I see the gold ring on his left ring finger, and a fleeting memory crosses my mind, as I remember him walking around with his wife just the other day. I figure me telling him what the score is will shut him up, and he’ll lose interest fast, but it seems to spur him on.

Come on, doll. A pretty girl like you with an ass like that can go places with the right man on her arm. I know people, they could take you places, and you could forget about working here forever.

I’ve heard the same story a dozen times over. It’s the classic hero complex. They all think that I need saving. Poor little white girl waiting tables and tending bar, it’s the same old story. The only difference is that I’m here because I want to be here. And if I didn’t want to be here, then that would be my business, and I wouldn’t need no man to set me straight, either.

I go for polite with an edge. I’m quite happy doing what I’m doing, but thanks anyway. I try to walk away, but this dickhead can’t seem to take no for an answer. He grabs my arm. You’ve got about half a second to let me go, or I’m going to call one of the bouncers over here. I warn.

Instead of heeding my warning, he drags me into his lap, and when I try to get away, he holds me down. I’m about to elbow him in the solar flexors, when I see Jovi. It takes him three long strides to get here. One look at Jovi, all six feet four inches of him, and he releases me, like a good little boy. I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir. Jovi says in a tone that says that he won’t take no for an answer.

But instead of doing the smart thing, my friend pipes up and says. And just what do you think you’re going to do about it, mister?

And this is the part that I hate. The classic pissing match. They exchange various threats, and I’m inwardly frowning upon Jovi for entertaining this asshole. Look, just get out. I tell him, growing tired. Darryl, catching wind of the situation, comes over.

What seems to be the problem? He asks.

The problem is that this dude can’t keep his hands to himself. Jovi’s asked him to leave, but he doesn’t seem to get that message.

Partner? This true? Darryl asks, ever the peacekeeper.

I just offered her a better life, man. She’s got a smoking hot body, and she could do so much better.

You swine. I sneer. I don’t need no man to get me a better life, and that’s a fine thing to say to the owner of the bar, asshole. I say, looking Darryl up and down, in case his tiny brain hasn’t figured out that the owner is standing right in front of him.

One of his friends seems to grow a brain. Look, if he promises to keep his hands to himself, can we forget the whole thing?

Darryl’s jaw muscles are working. Can you do that, buddy? He asks the asshole.

I sure can. He says, too sweetly, making my skin crawl.

You okay with that, Rickie? Darryl asks me, respectfully, and he’s somewhat redeemed himself.

Fine. I huff, walking away.

Jovi goes back to the bar, and stands there, with his hands folded across his chest, in a stance that I’ve learned means business. I go wait more tables, but then I have to go back to the asshole’s table eventually, and when I do, my friend is slightly more intoxicated. Hey, it’s my friend again. He says, eying me up and down.

I think y’all have had enough, if you don’t mind me saying so. I comment but take the other’s drink orders.

I’d like one more, doll. He says, placing his hand on my waist. I inch away, so he can’t do it again.

I said you’ve had enough. I tell him directly.

The next second, he’s standing up, and out of the blue, his arm raises, and he slaps me across the face, so strongly that it knocks me to the floor. Jovi flies over and throws him out immediately. I hear the punch that he delivers from inside the bar. I hope he knocked some teeth out. Darryl is by my side, helping me up. My cheek feels like it’s on fire. Like my eye is going to explode. Call the sheriff! Darryl calls to the other waitress.

Our chef brings me out an ice pack, and I apply it to my face, while Jovi keeps our friend in check, as the sheriff makes his way over to the bar. Fuck, I can’t believe he did that. The deal-making friend of the asshole, says. Are you okay?

No, I’m not okay. He ploughed me one in the face! I shout. He’s going to fucking jail, and y’all can tell his wife why, too!

Jesus Christ. Darryl swears. This sort of thing never happens here, Rickie. I’m so sorry.

It’s not your fault, Darryl. He’s bad news. It’s normally good people that come here. I look over at the table. Just where in the hell are you people from, anyway?

We’re from Dallas. But Ho Chi there, this is unlike him. If you ask me, I say this behavior is on account of that bossy little wife of his. He states.

I scoff, laying the ice pack on my cheek. Oh boy, there’s all sorts of wrong going on here.

Darryl speaks from behind his hand. You ain’t kidding there.

The sheriff arrives minutes later, and his deputy hauls asshole off to jail, meanwhile he takes Jovi’s and my statements, and then he hits up Darryl for a statement, too. Y’all want to go home? Jovi asks me.

No, I'm fine. The ice is helping. Lucky the son of a bitch didn’t punch me.

Well, he won’t be doing much of anything, least of all coming back to this bar.

His friends, smartly, have left, not without leaving a huge tip for me, as an apology. When the sheriff finishes with Darryl, Darryl instructs me to head on home. I’m fine, Darryl. I protest.

I know you are, Rickie, but it isn’t proper. Now, go on home and rest, so that face of yours doesn't balloon out. You get any swelling or anything, y’all get yourself to the doctor, and no coming into work tomorrow night, either. I’ll cover your pay.

Y’all don’t need to do that, Darryl. I say.

I don’t want to hear anymore, now.