by Grace, Hazel
Tapping my steering wheel, I pull the bag of burgers from Mick’s Coney and open my car door, striding to the open garage. The sound of music wafts through the air, and the closer I get, I recognize that it’s “Black is the Soul” by Korn. Anticipation glides over me, and I take a deep breath that someone must be here.
The clanking of metal against metal thuds together as I turn the corner. My eyes focus on a man leaned under the hood of a car. Neck tattoos, hair pulled up in a bun, and the nicest ass I’ve ever seen in jeans.
Clenching the bag in my hand, I step closer. “Hi Rugged.”
Wyatt peers over his shoulder and straightens his back, a smile gracing his face. “Hey baby.” He pulls a red rag out of his back pocket and wipes his hands. “What are you doing here?”
“Was over at Mick’s, grabbing a burger, and—”
“It made you think of me,” he finishes, his smile widening. He walks toward me, and I know I’m gawking. The tattoo god, in all his glory and stride, has me down to eye fucking like all these other chicks.
“Great,” I return, unclutching the bag in my hand. “I brought those nasty chili cheese fries that you like.” Wyatt stops ahead of me, eyeing my clothes with approval as he bites his bottom lip.
Reaching for me, he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear before lifting my face up to his with his index finger. “Wasn’t the food I was hungry for.” I swallow the lump in my throat, my hands turning clammy around the brown paper bag. Eleven days ago, I was sucking and riding his dick, and now I’m blushing like a fucking idiot.
“Then you owe me $17.68 for the food,” I retort evenly. Wyatt rolls his eyes and takes the bag from me, kissing my forehead. Turning on his heels, he walks back in the garage.
“Hope you don’t mind eating on the hood of a car,” he mentions over his shoulders.
“No, I don’t mind.” He closes the hood of the car he was just working on and starts taking out the carryout containers, setting them aside.
“What have you been up to?”
Moping. Eating junk food. And doing some more moping.
“Bakery stuff, it’s been busy. I have a wedding cake that I need to get done soon.”
Wyatt nods. “Was wondering why I wasn’t getting any texts from you.”
My heart flutters as I tug my hands into my short pockets. It doesn’t need to be doing any of that. “Yeah, sorry. It’s been, what, a week since I’ve seen you?”
“Eleven days,” he counters, then shrugs. “But who’s counting?” I feel like I’m floating and falling at the same time, my body is off its axis with his words that make me feel like I’m going to disintegrate in midair.
“Yeah,” I mumble to myself. “Who’s counting?”
Wyatt taps the hood with the palm of his hand. “I’m ready for you.” Inhaling a deep breath, I saunter closer to the car, goosebumps up and down my arms. Before I can even attempt to climb gracefully on the hood, Wyatt lifts me from behind and tosses me in the air to face him, setting me on the hood carefully. His body settles in between my legs, and my lungs seize.
“Probably one of my favorite spots with you,” Wyatt advises, placing his dirty hands on the top of my thighs. “But one I haven’t gotten to explore with my mouth yet.”
I force a grin. “What is it innuendo day?”
Wyatt gives me a smile that reaches his eyes. “Yeah, you missed the fucking memo apparently.”
“I’ll be sure to get my mail more often,” I reply, as he leans closer to me.
“Thanks for the food, baby.” He kisses my lips, tugging softly, but keeps it PG rated with no tongue. Breaking from me, he hands me my food and hops on the hood next to me. “I see Mick’s being stingy with the forks again.”
“Mick is stingy with everything.”
Wyatt looks around the garage. “Damn, I’ll have to use my hands.”
I chuckle. “Oh my God, eating fries with your hands. What the hell is happening to the world?”
Wyatt knocks into me with his arm. “Yeah, yeah. My hands are dirty, I’ll go wash up and—”
“Just eat, Wyatt,” I retort with a laugh. “You act like you don’t get dirty.”
Wyatt raises a brow. “And she got the memo, ladies and gentlemen.”
The corner of my eyes crinkle. “Why you working this weekend?”
Wyatt pops a pickle in his mouth. “Had a lot to do. My brother is off with the guys and it’s quiet here, so I decided to work.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Yep. Younger.”
“Is he as awful as you?” I jeer.
Wyatt takes a bite of his burger and replies with his mouth full. “Kinda. In a different way than me.”
“God, I’ll keep my distance.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “Nah, you’re gonna meet him. Just don’t let him sweet talk you. I’ll get pissed if I find him banging you.”
“Excuse me, I’m not easy.”
Wyatt’s brows raise. “You sure because I didn’t know your name yet and you were all over—” I ram my body into him.
“You know why,” I guffaw, chewing on a fry. “Lord, I’ll never live it down with you.”
“Probably not,” he alludes. “You wanna go to the fair with me tonight?”
I halt mid-chew. “The fair?” I repeat, not being able to see Wyatt being anywhere near a group of games, families, and carnival rides.
“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his burger, a small drip of ketchup drips on his beard. “It’s a fucking tradition around here and shit.”
I reach over to wipe the condiment off him. “Doesn’t seem like your scene.” Brushing it off, he grasps my wrist and opens his mouth to lick my thumb with his tongue. I inhale sharply at the feel of his large tongue circling around my flesh.
“It’s not,” he replies, placing a small kiss in the palm of my hand. “But it’s an excuse to test my skills at throwing rings at a glass bottle and winning you a teddy bear.”
I smile. “You’d win me something?”
He kisses my hand one more time before releasing it. “Yeah, I’d win you a teddy bear. Hasn’t anyone done that before?”
“No,” I reply, a little sad at the realization. “Not that I remember.”
Wyatt slides off the car. “Then you’re missing out.” He kicks some of his tools on the cement away from the car. “Eat your food or I’m not taking you.”
“Yes, Dad,” I mock, stuffing more of my food in my mouth. Wyatt bends over to pick up a wrench, giving me a picture-perfect view of his ass in his dark denim jeans.
“Ow, is Daddy my new nickname?” he muses.
“Fuck no,” I choke, covering my mouth.
Wyatt turns and smirks. “Damn. Because that’d be super hot.”
“Well, dream on then.”
He raises a brow at me. “Sure there isn’t any way I can change your mind?”
“Nope!”
___
The Fourth of July festival is like something you’d see in a movie but homier. Everyone knew mostly everyone else, old women made pies to sell for their organizations, kids ran around with balloons and prizes they’ve won and carnival rides everywhere. I’ve never been to something like this, and I automatically love it. The smell of fried foods, the corny songs, all the games lined up in a row, it’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
Wyatt buys me a corndog, and I cringe at the thought of those two foods together. But he cons me into the whole festival experience and that if I don’t eat it, I’m opting out of the experience. I chase mine down with mustard, his with ketchup, and it’s the opposites-attract motive that grabs my attention while we’re walking and eating.
He stands out like a siren, some people would say a sore thumb—his tattoos issue danger, but his smile shows a humane and gentle side when he greets people. But everyone seems comfortable with him, which confirms that he’s been here a long enough time, fixing people’s cars and socializing. It makes him more attractive to me.
> After we eat our food with a shared Pepsi, Wyatt advises that we have to walk around the whole festival first, so we can game plan our night. I think it’s a pointless idea, but I don’t give a shit, just being here…makes me happy. And, in this moment, I’m going to trust him. I’m going to roll with the punches, laugh, and have fun, and fucking live.
I want that more than anything in the world.
“You afraid of heights, baby?” Wyatt asks me, throwing our Pepsi container in a garbage bin.
I clap my hands together. “Nope, I don’t think so.”
“The Ferris Wheel is a must,” Wyatt declares, pointing to the ride all lit up in gold and red lights.
“I think I can manage.”
“Then we’ll have to go—”
“Wyatt!” a female voice yells from behind us. We both turn around to find Mia strutting toward us in a short, flowy summer dress. Two equally skinny girls walk behind her, making it look like a damn trailer of Clueless. Wyatt groans and reaches for my arm to turn us back around, but her words halt him in place. “You’re still hangin’ around with this bitch?”
Wyatt releases my arm. “What the fuck did you just say?” he snarls.
So, my head plays out two scenarios: Wyatt getting extremely pissed and out of control, causing a scene, where it’s going to land our trip here short, or my stepping in to handle my own shit.
“Never in my life have I seen you hang out with a chick twice, besides me,” Mia states, smirking in my direction.
“If you call it you hanging out at my races, Mia, then sure,” Wyatt retorts. “Now fucking apologize for your bad manners.”
Mia tsks. “For saying ‘bitch’?” She flips her long blonde hair off her shoulders. “No way.”
“Alright, let’s go Rora,” Wyatt demands.
“She’s just a fuck. A plain fuck to get your dick off until the next chick catches your attention.” Wyatt’s breathing increases, his chest puffing out harder from the corner of my eye. “Your brother was a better screw anyways.”
“Stay the fuck away from my brother—” Wyatt takes half a step, but my arm flies across his lower chest.
So, before we get any further, let me just preface this. I’ve never been in a fight in my life, well besides Jerry. But if I can fight off a man with a baseball bat and take a few punches to the face by a man, I think Barbie over here will be a snitch.
“Hey blonde bitch Barbie, why don’t you look me in the face when you’re talking shit about me,” I snap, pulling at my purse strap and bringing it over my head. I heave it into Wyatt’s stomach to take and unclasp the gold necklace I’m wearing.
“The hell are you going to do about it,” Mia sneers.
I nod toward her feet. “Might want to take those slut heels off unless you want me to bash your head in with them.”
“Rora, what the hell are you doing?” Wyatt mumbles. I don’t get to answer him because someone cuts in.
“You ain’t shit, bitch,” one of Mia’s friends taunts.
I point my index finger at her. “We’ll start with you first.”
Mia’s friend narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not ruining my hair for—”
“Just do it,” Mia barks at her. “I’m meeting Bryant later on.”
“You do it,” her friend counters. “You’re the one who wanted to approach Wyatt.”
I tuck my gold necklace in my back shorts’ pocket. “Hurry up, you’re wasting my time.” I throw my thumb back in Wyatt’s direction. “I want to fuck the man before the end of the night.”
Yep, had to throw that in there.
Mia’s jaw twitches. “It’ll only be a matter of time before—”
“Before what?” I press. “Before he leaves me and goes and fucks another woman? We’re not dating. You want to fight me for him? I got him for tonight, so bring your petty, skinny ass over here. Unless all you know how to do is run your mouth.”
Mia steps forward, dropping her purse on the ground. “Fine. If I win, he comes home with me.”
“I’m not going—” This time, I cut him off. “Deal.”
“What the fuck,” Wyatt snaps, but I buzz him out. I need to focus on Barbie and her friends not jumping me all at one time.
Mia strides toward me until we’re a foot apart and slaps me right in the face with no warning. My cheek stings, I can feel the blood rushing to my skin, but I don’t touch it. Instead, I chuckle.
“Damn. That’s all you got?” I’m greeted with half a punch to my jaw, her aim horrible, thankfully, but it still throbs. Moving my jaw to make sure it still works, Mia’s face glows in triumph. So, I slam my fist into her nose, causing blood to gush all over her pink dress.
“Shit!” she yelps, clutching her hands around her nose. Her friends rush toward her, asking her if she is okay, when Wyatt appears at my side, silently waiting for my next move.
“I think we’re done here,” I report, taking one step toward Mia. “You try to come for me again, I’ll pop both of your fake tits.”
Turning on my heel, I hustle away, blowing out a breath and hearing Wyatt’s steps behind me. After a few yards, he gently pulls at my arm to face him.
“Hey, let me see,” he says, softly cupping my chin. I’m met with stormy green eyes as he studies my face. “You got a little bruise.”
I shrug. “Nothing compared to a fucked-up nose.”
“Yeah,” he says with a frown. He looks upset, and maybe a little guilty at an old play thing smacking me, but I’m fine. And I won’t let her ruin this night.
I push my lip out in a pout. “Will you win me my teddy bear, please?”
Wyatt groans. “Hmm…don’t do that.”
I bat my eyes. “Do what?”
“Look at me with those pretty eyes and that fuckable mouth of yours like that.”
I bite my lips, but still feel my lips quirking in a smile. “How should I look at you then?”
Wyatt inches closer to me. “Shit, I’ll take any look from you right now. You’re such a fucking turn-on, and I don’t even know your last name.”
A laugh leaves my mouth, and I furrow my brows. “Where did that come from?” His hand finds my waist and pulls me closer to him, still cupping my jaw.
“Because you’re not just another fuck to me. And those women, I don’t care what their last name were,” he murmurs, before pressing his mouth to mine. It’s steady, casual, and not rushed, as though he is retaining all this to memory like a photo book.
Our kiss ends as quickly as it began, and when I open my eyes, his eyes are glistening with something I can’t nail down.
“It’s Parker.”
Knitting his fingers with mine, he gives me a weak smile. “Alright, Miss Parker, let’s go win you a bear.”
Flynn: She’s still doing fine.
My jaw clenches as I throw my phone on the crisp white sheets of my hotel room. I’ve been in New York for four days, to my utter fucking annoyance. Tasha can’t get close enough to any information because she’s too new to the operation. Apparently, you have to rank yourself up to be able to correspond with the other girls and gain trust with the Queen. She runs a fucking tight ship in that pink hell hole.
Beast insists on coming this time, and I’m happy to have him because I’m too fucked up over Rora to even look or be in the same room alone with another woman. Beast can handle the next broad, fuck her, smack her, I don’t give a shit, I want this done. I want to be able to put Isla to rest, give Levin some peace, and me, my thoughts run to Rora every time.
It’s daunting, the way my fingers itch to text her when I’m near my phone to say good morning and to ask how she is. But I freeze up every time, convincing myself it’s new and energizing, something I don’t remember ever feeling in my life. And right now, I need to focus. I’m back in New York, in the Queen’s domain, and I’m here to destroy her.
The need to get rid of the Queen pricks at me every time Rora texts me, calls me, when she brings me dinner after working a twelve-hour day, and after we m
ake out in my Chevelle. She doesn’t know anything, that my sister was murdered, that my brother and I are digging up information on some bitch to take her down, and that I’d been in prison for killing my father. The more time that passes, the softer I become, and the softer I become, the longer it takes to get my sister’s killer. It’s a tug of war in my head, and it’s driving me fucking nuts.
My phone buzzes, and I reach over to grab it without looking.
Beast: I’m here.
Me: Make sure she’s been there a while and able to get information or leave. I’m not paying three grand for you to fuck someone for nothing.
Beast: Roger that.
Me: Be careful.
Beast: Will do.
She better be fucking hot.
Exiting out of my messages, Rora’s name pops up as a notification. I fight back the urge to click on it. I’m in the middle of business right now, she can wait. Everything else can hang the hell on.
Another notification from Rora.
I fling my cell on the bed and stride toward the balcony of the room. My thoughts go to when she was going to fight Mia and her girls. The no-shit attitude, the way she stepped right up and took care of business. Yeah, it made my dick hard just watching her stand there waiting for Mia to make a move. Then her bruise pissed me off, and the need to know her damn last name blended into how distinctive she was.
Focus. Levin comes first. His and Isla’s peace.
“Yo!” Lev announces in the room, carrying a bag of carry-out and a six pack of beer. “Shit is expensive here, man.”
I open the French doors to the balcony to let some summer air in. “So is that three grand visit with the whore Beast is with right now.”
Levin cringes outwardly. “Guess we’ll need another six pack?”
“Fuck no,” I retort with a chuckle. “I’m starving though.”
Levin displays the white plastic bag like Vanna White from Wheel of Fortune. “Chinese food. One almond chicken with fried rice for you. And sesame chicken with fried rice for me.”
