The Night Cap, page 1
The Night Cap
Octavia Jensen
Published by Flower Bone Publishing, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE NIGHT CAP
First edition. May 15, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 Octavia Jensen.
Written by Octavia Jensen.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One: The Note
Chapter Two: The Rerun
Chapter Three: The Proof
Chapter Four: The Dance
Chapter Five: The Rules
Chapter Six: The Payment
Chapter Seven: The Trial Run
Chapter Eight: The Moment
Chapter Nine: The Temptation
Chapter Ten: The Pleasure
Chapter Eleven: The Slip
Chapter Twelve: The Pain
Chapter Thirteen: The Drunk
Chapter Fourteen: The Brothers
Chapter Fifteen: The Tulip
Chapter Sixteen: The Beginning
Chapter Seventeen: The Game
Chapter Eighteen: The Belt
Five Years Later: The Epilogue
Also By Octavia Jensen
About the Author
To Megan, for being absolutely invaluable to me on a daily basis. You are the sunshine in my life, so here's a grumpy/sunshine for you. Thank you for always being a bright spot.
Chapter One:
The Note
Callie
I wake with a pounding headache, my eyes refusing to open as I roll onto my back and groan. Why the hell did I get that drunk? There honestly wasn’t any legitimate reason for me to get fucked up on a Thursday, but here we are... wait, where are we exactly? Oh fuck, please don’t tell me I hooked up with anyone. Only a creep would sleep with a girl that inebriated, and if that’s what happened, I’m going back to that bar to slap the security guy.
He’s a creep too if he allowed me to leave with some asshole.
Keeping my eyes shut, I take a mental check of my body. It doesn’t hurt — okay, actually it does, but not in the places that scream sex. More like I fell a couple times instead. My vagina feels intact. I’m not restrained or held captive. I’m simply surrounded by the faint smell of whiskey, cinnamon, and the most intoxicating scent that can only be described as man.
Shit. I definitely went home with a guy.
I sigh as I peek my eyes open, knowing with all of me it isn’t any of my brothers’ houses. None of them smell this good. I don’t hear anyone else, so I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the mattress to get a better look at the studio apartment. I’m in a king-sized bed with only one pillow, staring at a black leather couch, a kitchen that looks like it’s never been used, a giant tv, and a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled to the brim with old records.
It’s a bachelor pad, but I can easily tell this isn’t some fuckboy’s house. This one belongs to a man, someone well accustomed to living alone and taking care of all his own crap. There’s something endearing about that, knowing drunk me at least had some semblance of standards.
Don’t talk too soon, Callie. You haven’t seen his face yet.
Next to me is a nightstand with only the bare necessities on top of it, which makes the note lying next to a water bottle stand out like it doesn’t belong. He’s an alarm clock and lamp kinda guy. No way he leaves random notes with scribbles on them, so my nosey self snatches it up to read it:
Relax, I didn’t kidnap you. For the record, I had nothing to do with you taking your pants off. You yelled “pants are for bitches” and fell over trying to get them past your ankles. I’m honestly a little impressed you succeeded.
Keys are on the table. Don’t pet the dog.
Dog? What dog? Another sweep of the room doesn’t reveal any dog, but him telling me not to pet the thing has me worried. Will he bite me? Shit, I need to get out of here. I spot my keys on the kitchen table like he said, then grab the sealed bottle of water to chug a little too much before making a move to stand.
It’s then I meet said dog.
He’s lying on the floor near the bed, and I didn’t even notice him with how he blended in with the dark rug, but now he’s looking at me and I would bet my Volvo I’ve never seen a grumpier dog in my entire life. “Nice puppy.” I swear he’s frowning at me, but instead of launching at me to bite my face off, he just nudges my foot like he’s asking me to pet him. “Your daddy said not to pet you. Should we ignore him?” Who am I kidding? I’m already petting him. His fur is so soft I lose myself there between his ears for a little while. “Mean ol’ daddy. You needed some lovin’, huh? It’s okay, I don’t have to listen to his rules. I can’t even picture his face.” Even admitting that in secret to a dog feels yikes as hell, but he isn’t judging me. Or maybe he is. He definitely has a very judgmental face. “Speaking of, I gotta head out, buddy. Pretty sure the one thing I should do is get out before your dad turns up. If he wanted to hang out, he would have.”
I place a little kiss on his head, already mourning the idea of never seeing Grumpy Pups again, but I search out my pants and shoes as he follows me around like a shadow. Now that I’m walking around, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I didn’t hook up with anyone last night, and after using the bathroom and stealing some toothpaste, I slip out the front door without shame.
It’s still a walk of shame, but not for my vagina, and somehow that feels like a win.
The stairs lead me down toward the muffled sound of a jukebox, clueing me in that I’m still at the bar. Maybe the owner let me crash at his place? It feels strange, but maybe that’s just how he is. The image of a bunch of drunk people in that amazingly perfect bed makes me shudder, and I hope it isn’t some regular occurrence. In fact, I refuse to believe it is. He must have just liked me.
The desire to know what he looks like nearly has me peeking through a window, but that shame rolls its way back up my spine and has me pushing on instead, leaving my knight in shining armor and his adorable dog behind.
When I get home fifteen minutes later, I stuff my face with the takeout I grabbed, plug my phone in to charge, and take a long, steaming hot shower. I feel like a new woman when I emerge. The ten text messages from my brothers are the only things that bring me back to reality after I’m dressed in some comfy pajamas. All four of them texted me last night: Gio and Adrian just sent a few random memes, Leo wanted to know if I watched the latest episode of our show, and the rest were all from Xander. The problem with Xander, though, is the fact that I seemed to be drunk texting him before my phone died. Yeah, he’s going to lose his shit when he hears from me.
Me: Have you ever had an Adios?
XanMan: The drink? An Adios Motherfucker?
Me: I don’t think that’s the name. It has a bad word in it.
XanMan: Please don’t tell me you’re drunk.
Me: You know I’m the older sistr, right?
XanMan: I’d take that more seriously if you could spell sister right. Where are you?
Me: I’m at home. Go awy.
The next few have me shocked that he hasn’t already kicked in my door.
XanMan: You’re not at home. Home doesn’t have Adios unless you bought like seven different liquors.
XanMan: Where are you?
XanMan: Calliope!
XanMan: It’s fucking Thursday. Do you at least have tomorrow off?
XanMan: I swear if you ghost me now...
XanMan: Fuck! No one else is answering either. I’m coming home.
Home? My eyes widen when I remember he’s out of town with his best friends. Shit! Hastily, I press the call button and hope with all of me I didn’t ruin his vacation. He answers on the second ring, instantly jumping into a lecture like he isn’t the younger one here. “Xan, I’m sorry. I got drunk.”
“No shit.” He’s definitely still mad.
“Yeah. Please tell me you didn’t leave your trip?”
Xander sighs. “I didn’t because Adrian finally answered and went to make sure you got home okay. He said your living room light was on and that you probably just went to sleep. Did he come inside?”
If he did, he’s covering for me. My light was on when I got home and normally I shut all those off, so maybe he did just assume I made it back safely. “No clue. But don’t worry about me, okay? I’m not going anywhere today and I won’t ever drink again.”
“You say that every time. Seriously, Cals. You can’t freak me out like that.”
His tone changes so suddenly I hear my little brother again, the one scared to lose anyone else. “I promise I won’t, okay? I’m fine. Didn’t even get laid.”
“Gross. Don’t.” He finally cracks a laugh. “How’s your head?”
“Feels like that one time I fell out of the tree. I need to take something.”
“Oh, so you haven’t taken anything for that?” The asshole yells that so loudly, it rings in my skull and I get the urge to kick him in the nuts.
“You dick. Ugh. Bye! Enjoy your stupid vacation.”
He’s still laughing, but at least I’m not on his shit list anymore as we hang up and I call Adrian to see if he actually came by. He admits to driving past and not seeing my car in my parking spot, but he figured I was fine because of the light. For once, I’m actually okay with him wanting to rush back to live in his own little world. Sometimes dealing with Adrian is hard. He’s one of those guys that is too self-centered to see anyth
It worked out this time.
If I’m ever kidnapped, though, I do hope they call literally any other brother.
Once I get some medicine in my system, I decide to call it a day and head to bed. I have a hangover to sleep off and the earlier shift at work tomorrow, so I send off a couple of return memes to the other brothers and take my ass to bed. I’m coming up on thirty fast and going to bars alone is going to stop being cute soon, but as I drift off, I convince myself to do it a few more times. I’ll stop when I get over that thirty mark, but for now... I’m going to enjoy the last dregs of my twenties, and I have a strong feeling I want to have some more fun at that new bar.
I have an owner to properly meet.
Chapter Two:
The Rerun
Callie
Am I seriously going to do this again?
I stare up at Harvey’s Bar with my bottom lip pinched tightly between my teeth.
Yes, yes, I am.
I went with some teal leggings tonight, so I hopefully won’t feel inclined to call them bitches and take them off, but I can’t make any promises. ‘Pants are for bitches’ is pretty much my life motto, and my best friend, Julia — or rather ex-best friend — would have laughed her ass off at that note’s accuracy.
Thinking about her makes me miss her. We haven’t been talking much over the last few months because she made out with Adrian before he got with his current girlfriend, knowing full well my brothers were off limits. I know that’s cliché, but with the older two being married, the only brothers I have to worry about that happening with are the two younger ones — and neither of them is in any sort of position to marry her.
The last thing I need is awkward birthday parties because they had a fling and broke up.
I’ll forgive her, especially since they both promised it didn’t go past a drunken kiss... I just need a little time.
Walking inside the bar gives me a sense of weird déjà vu, and I silently curse myself for getting so drunk last week that my whole night here is fuzzy. The jukebox next to the dance floor and pool tables is familiar, but the bar isn’t and the pristine oak bar top looks handmade. I definitely would have remembered something that nice, wouldn’t I?
“Hey, can I get a Dirty Shirley?”
No Adios Motherfuckers tonight. That name is way too fitting.
The bartender smirks when she sees me like we share a secret, tossing her belly button-length purple hair over her shoulder. The commitment that must take is astounding, and I’m even more surprised I don’t remember her. “Taking it easy this time?” she asks, putting a glass on top of the bar to mix my drink. “You went hard last week.”
“Yikes, you remember me?” I chuckle. “Yes, taking it much easier tonight... hopefully. I have a knight in shining armor to thank, but not until I get some liquid courage. I can’t imagine the shit I did by the time the bar was closing. Tell me now though, should I be running away and never coming back? How bad was I?”
She slides my drink over and leans forward, sizing me up. “You were a mess, sweet girl. And yeah, we all remember you. I’m Daria. The guy behind me is Stephen.” Jerking her head toward a tall guy with huge dimples and messy hair, she yells, “Steve! You remember her?”
His eyes drop to me, making me blush — but there’s no mistaking the grimace on his face. “Sure do. Feeling better tonight?”
“Yes. Sorry. I feel like I need to say sorry to everyone here,” I groan. “Were you the one who made sure I had somewhere to sleep? I swear I don’t normally get that fucked up. It was an off day for me.”
Stephen shakes his head, suddenly a lot more amused than he’d been two seconds ago. “Nope, that was the boss, Harvey. We tried to get you into a cab, but you kept lecturing us on stranger danger, and your phone was dead so we couldn’t call anyone you knew. Harvey took you up to his place.”
I take a long drink and glance around for another worker, coming up short. “Well... stranger danger is real, Sir. I guess you were all strangers too, but I must have felt safe here. Where is this boss man? I probably owe him an even bigger apology... especially for the pants thing.” My eyes bug out of their sockets as a horrifying thought occurs. “Please tell me that didn’t happen down here.”
Daria laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, so my guess is no. Harvey’s in the back. Do you want me to go get him?”
“Um... maybe after this drink?” I offer sheepishly. “Or two, but I promise not to be a menace tonight.”
Humming, she moves on to take care of another customer, but Stephen yells for Harvey as loud as he can before I can take a single sip.
Dick! Stephen is officially on my shit list.
A moment later, a man at least a foot taller than me with rippling, tattoo-covered muscles, a perfectly groomed beard, and eyes so light I can’t tell what color they’re even supposed to be walks out and snaps, “What?” as he looks around.
The moment he spots me, his entire intimidating frame goes rigid.
Well, shit.
I lean in to sip my drink with a guilty expression, my gaze staying locked with his even though all I want to do is hide. “Hello, Harvey. You look even grumpier than your dog.”
Great start, Calliope. Do you ever shut up?
“I take that as a compliment. Did you forget something last week?” he asks, voice nearly as rough as it had been when he yelled at Stephen.
Besides my dignity? No.
It makes me feel very unwanted, but I refuse to cower. I’m a paying customer. “Yeah, this drink here. Thanks for the help, by the way.”
For a moment, it looks like he’s going to laugh — but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks closer until I can smell that leather-whiskey-man scent that fills his apartment. “You’re welcome. Thank you for not assuming the worst of me.”
“No worries. I stand by what I said: pants are for bitches, but my hoo-ha never lies and she would have told me if something happened.”
I can hear Stephen laughing from somewhere, but I don’t avert my gaze from the delicious-smelling giant or the stunned look on his gorgeous face. “I’m sorry, your what?”
Suddenly, I don’t feel so confident about my word choice. “M-My hoo-ha. You know...” I trail off and point down under the bar top. “You’ve dealt with one of those before, right?”
Stephen knocks over an empty beer bottle. “Oh, no she didn’t. Daria, run,” he hisses, but Harvey doesn’t seem fazed.
He shrugs a shoulder and leans against the bar. “Nope. I’ve dealt with pussies, vaginas, cocks and cunts, but never a hoo-ha. Did you two ID her?”
“Yes,” Daria says quickly. “She’s twenty-nine.”
My gaze narrows. “I was trying not to be crass, Harv. But fine, my pussy wasn’t fucked and I imagine a big guy like you would have left some aching behind. What do I know, though? The ‘big hands’ thing is probably a myth.”
Don’t look at his hands. Don’t. Look. At. His. Hands. Oh shit, they’re gorgeous.
“My name is Harvey,” he rumbles. “But you’re right. It’s a myth.”
Shame. “Good to know. Sorry about that,” I mumble, drinking a little more. “Where’s Grumpy Pups? Does he ever come down and play?”
“No. Dammit doesn’t like people.”
“Dammit?” I ask with a laugh. “Did you name your dog Dammit?”
He grunts. “Yes. If you spend over five minutes with him, you’ll understand. Akitas have very... unique personalities.”
“Mmhm,” I agree, not wanting him to ask if I pet him. Because I absolutely did, and I have no regrets. He seemed to like me just fine. “Is that why you picked him? Like father like son?”
Daria coughs loudly and swipes her hand across her neck, but it’s too late. Harvey’s already shutting down. He leans forward, slipping a napkin under my drink. “Be safe tonight, Calliope.”
No one moves or says a word until he’s gone. Daria inches closer, filling my drink up again. “It’s a sore spot for him. He was married once. His ex-wife showed up one night with a puppy, then served him divorce papers a week later. The only thing he got when her lawyers were through was the puppy.”
