The Maid

by Sidney Halston

  "Gun?" George asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "Hey, buddy. What are you doing here?" He extended his hand, but Gun didn't take it. Instead he gripped the pizza box tighter.

  "Uh...Adalyn Finney this is Gun McCall, Gun this is—"—"

  "Yeah, I know who she is."

  "Oh, okay," George said, confused.

  "Hi Gun," Addie said.

  "We were just going to eat. I'd ask you to join us but you're kind of under dressed." George added.

  "I wouldn't want to intrude." Gun lied. He did want to intrude.

  "Yes, good idea," Addie said, surprising him. Somewhere deep inside, he assumed she would make some sort of excuse. Why he thought that, he had no idea. He didn't have any real claim on her but damn it, they had a standing date, plus it was unprofessional to ...

  Okay he was being unreasonable. There was nothing unprofessional or wrong with her dating. Shit, they hadn't even seen each other for over a decade. But something came over him at that moment. "Wait up," he said to a young kid walking toward the pizza shop. "Hey, you want this? I just picked it up, but I've had a change of plans."

  "Gunther!" Addie gasped from behind him.

  "Hey, you're Gun from the Miami Tornadoes!" the kid squealed.

  "Yep. It's me," he said, and handed him the pizza.

  "Can I have a picture, man?" The kid said, looking starstruck. "My name's Chris. I'm a huge fan. My friends aren't going to believe that Gun McCall gave me a pizza."

  Gun laughed. "Yeah, sure."

  Chris took out his phone and tried to hold it in front of the two of them for a selfie, but Gun took it out of his hand and handed it to George. "George can take it. You don't mind, do you buddy?" He emphasized the word buddy at his traitorous friend.

  George seemed annoyed but took the phone anyway. Good, motherfucker, be annoyed. Dating my girl, what the fuck!

  "George? George Jones? Holy shit!"

  Even more annoyed than George was Addie, whose beautiful white skin was now pink, her tell that she was fuming. He remembered that so clearly. How her skin blotched when she was angry. Damn it, how he remembered that. In the highest heels he'd ever seen, she yanked the phone from George's hand. "Go on, get in the damn photo. I'll take the picture."

  "Isn't that nice of you, Addie."

  "Addie?" George said but Adalyn rolled her eyes and gestured for them to pose so that she could snap a few photos.

  Once the kid had gotten the pizza box autographed by both men and then a few other people who'd also noticed the pro-footballers also got signatures and photos, Gun was ready.

  "Okay, I'm all good. Let's go."

  With hands on her waist, she huffed, "You can't eat here wearing that."

  "Wanna bet?"

  “Fine, even assuming you can, I think George was just being nice when he invited you. We need some privacy."

  Gun's eyes narrowed. "No, you don't." He said. "I owe George for the Pyramid disaster the other night when he had to cover the bill. Good a time as any."

  "It's cool, man. You don't owe me a thing," George quickly replied.

  "Yeah, I'm sure I don't. Bet you got some great piece of ass that night. You should probably be paying me." He slapped the man's shoulder. "Isn't that right man?"

  George scowled at Gun, but Gun didn't give a shit. She needed to know what a player George really was. "Oh, wait, my bad, buddy. Pieces of ass or pieces of asses? What's the correct way of saying threesome?" Gun shrugged. "No matter. Come on, I'm starved." He knew he was being an asshole, a cock-blocking asshole, actually. But whatever…he didn't care right now. Better to apologize later than ask permission now, right?

  He walked in front of them, when both stood shocked at his crass behavior.

  "Joline, honey, how are you?" he said when he saw the usual hostess. This was, after all, his favorite restaurant and one he frequented often. A lot of it had to do with the fact that it was downstairs from his apartment building.

  "Gun, hon, how are you?" She came around the podium and kissed both cheeks. "Just you this evening?"

  He stepped aside and pointed at Gun and Addie. "No. It'll be three tonight."

  "Let me have them add a chair and place setting at your usual table. Give me a sec."

  "Looks like you've slept your way through this restaurant too," Addie muttered under her breath when Joline walked away. George was busy texting and seemingly unaware of much of the conversation. "I don't appreciate your highhandedness," she quietly added.

  "I live right upstairs. Eat here all the time," he said. "I find it very enlightening that you're jealous though." His breath inches from her skin.

  "Me?" Her voice a little higher pitched than she probably intended. She cleared her throat. "You're the one that interjected yourself into my dinner date."

  "He invited me. Didn't want to be rude."

  "Oh my God, you're insufferable. He invited you because he didn't want to be rude. You were rude by accepting."

  He shrugged. "Tomato, tomahto."

  The hostess came back to escort them to his usual table. Addie walked ahead of him and he took the opportunity to look at her. She looked absolutely delicious in that tight-fitting dress. He didn't remember her legs being so shapely and defined back then, but they were definitely the legs of someone who jogged or did some sort of athletic activity. They were fucking sensational in those mega-high heels.

  Addie sat down in the booth first, but the little spitfire didn't slide all the way in and there was no way in hell he'd be squishing into a booth with George.

  "You think you can move over, honey?" He asked but she didn't budge. He leaned down, "How 'bout this. You move that beautiful tight ass over, or I'll pick you up and move it for you," He whispered as George obtusely slid into the other side of the booth.

  She scowled, before sliding as far to the end as possible. He chuckled before shuffling into the booth, as close to her as possible. He turned his head and gave her his mega-watt smile as she rummaged in her purse. "So, Addie, tell me, can I afford dinner tonight?" Before she could answer he turned to George. "Word of advice, don't sign the contract that says she will control your spending. It's a buzzkill to any kind of fun."

  She took a black tube out of her purse, with a small mirror in one hand, and her pink tongue peeking out between her lips, she applied the brightest shade of red lipstick he’d ever seen. The process was hypnotizing, and the color contrasted severely, yet beautifully, with her fair skin. When she was done, she smacked her lips together, closed her small mirror and put it back into her purse. "Yep. I’m a huge buzzkill.” She said, with those full, shiny red lips reminding him of all the things that mouth used to do to him.

  Glaring at him, she opened her menu and after a moment she loudly closed it shut just as the waitress came to place the order. He snorted when she ordered duck pate as an appetizer, not one but two lobster tails for dinner and a bottle of the most expensive wine on the list. Once the server walked away, she said, "Yeah, you can absolutely afford this tonight."

  She was pissed. And he was turned the fuck on.

  The rest of the evening was...interesting. She bored Gun to death explaining to George all the reasons that financial planning was important as well as living a healthy lifestyle, which of course involved a lot less time at the trendy Miami night clubs. The funny thing was that George looked even more bored than he was.

  "Can we please talk about something else?" Gun begged. “I’m about to stab myself with this fork.”

  "You didn't have to come, you know.?" She said as she took a bite of her crème brulee, which she refused to share. "This was a business meeting."

  "I will bet you a thousand dollars that George didn't come here on business." Gun said with a raised eyebrow to George as he took a sip of Brandy.

  "First of all, betting a thousand dollars is exactly the reason you need me in your life. And second, George absolutely knew this was business. I mean, why else would he—"

  George was busy digging into his own dessert avoiding e
ye contact but had a big grin. "Oh my God!" She took her napkin off her lap and threw it across the table to George. "You thought this was a date?"

  "I was hoping it would become one."

  Addie's face noticeably reddened, even her ears were crimson. "You two are unbelievable. You know what?" She pushed Gun in an attempt to get out of the booth. "I'm so done. Do whatever you want. Let me know if you need a referral for an attorney when you’re filing for bankruptcy.," She shoved Gun on the shoulder to get him to move again, but he just laughed, instead.

  "Relax," he said and continued to leisurely drink the hundred-dollar sniffer that Addie had ordered for him out of spite.

  "Come on, sweetheart, don't be mad. You're a very attractive woman, can't blame a guy for trying." George said. "When you showed up at the Tornadoes’ headquarters all the guys there—"

  "Please don't tell me that's why I got so many appointments this week?"

  Now Gun was upset. This wasn't the kind of attention he wanted for Addie. "What the hell?"

  "You weren't there. It was Thursday. You were meeting with Jeff, I think."

  "I'll talk with the guys, don't worry," he said to Addie.

  "You will do no such thing!" Addie said. "I'm fuming that the guys all think they're going to...what? Score?" She groaned when George nodded. "Well, they're not."

  "You're fucking Goddamn right, they're not!" Gun said.

  "Huh?" George said, looking at Gun. "Is...is there something going on between you two?" George squinted.

  "No! Yes!" They both replied at the same time.

  * * *

  She glared at him just like she had the other night. "I was the McCalls’ cleaning lady a long time ago," she said, matter- of- factly.

  "Cleaning lady?" George said as if he'd swallowed something sour.

  "Yes, cleaning lady. I cleaned his parents' house for about six months," she said.

  "You were the maid? She was your maid? It sort of felt like you two were more than acquaintances." George said as if the two were mutually exclusive.

  "We were," Gun said.

  "We're going off topic here. We used to know each other," Addie explained to George, but then went back to addressing Gunther. "The point is, I got my foot in the door. I am not happy how it happened but if just one of those guys signs up for the program, plus you, of course." She pointed to Gun. "I'll be in good standing with Wayne and my boss. At least one of the guys who I'm meeting with must have a reasonable non-sexual bone in their body."

  Both George and Gun looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. Nope—they all wanted in Adalyn Finney's panties.

  “Unbelievable.” She huffed, pushed her plate back and crossed her arms. “Maybe I’ll have to talk to Wayne about—”

  “No!” Both men yelled.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting sex or anything. Just maybe a date,” George said.

  “You guys are assholes. What if I were your sister or something? You go around treating women this way? I need this job and you’re treating it like it isn’t important, not giving a shit about anything but yourselves.”

  Gun had known George for a very long time, the man may have been a womanizer but he had a huge heart and a huge family. Gun bet the entirety of his bank account that George would fuck up anyone that treated any of his four sisters with anything but respect. “Now I feel like total shit, Adalyn. I’m sorry. You’re right.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Honestly, I’m sorry.” Then George looked at Gun as if it was his turn to apologize, but fuck that, he did want in Addie’s pants, there would be no apologizing for that. The only issue he had was that other men did too.

  "Excuse me for a moment," George said once all the plates had been removed from the table.

  The moment George was out of hearing distance Addie turned to Gun.

  "What the hell has gotten into you?" she hissed. "I'm trying to land a client and you ruined it. I can't get into the important questions, the questions that will have him understanding the importance of the PCPP while you're sitting here."

  "Sure you can."

  "No, I can't!" She whisper-yelled. "I can't ask him about his finances. It's awkward with you listening in."

  "The problem is not that it is awkward. The problem is that you are boring as hell. No offense," he said with a smirk as she scowled at him.

  "I don't remember you being such an asshole before."

  "I thought we were going to go out on a date tonight." He said instead of acknowledging her statement.

  "I don't know why you'd think that. I haven't given you any indication that I'd be interested in going on a date with you and I never agreed on anything tonight."

  He leaned closer to her, taking in her flowery scent. She wet her lips with her pink tongue, which was calling to him, and her warm body made him want to slide in closer. "You've given me every indication, Addie. You haven't moved away from me this entire meal."

  "That's only because there's no place to go, I'm right by the wall."

  "That's bullshit, you've actually moved into me." She looked to her side to see how she was actually sitting a great deal away from the wall. "When I lean in close to you." He got even closer. "Just like this, your throat moves, in and out, like you’re swallowing. Trying to catch your breath or clear your throat. It's a nervous tick. But it has me so hard right now, that I am seriously contemplating taking you to the bathroom, ripping your panties off, and fucking you senseless. I'm sporting a serious hard-on for this temper of yours."

  He heard her take a sharp intake of breath and look away. "So the fact that I'm pissed off turns you on? You're a maniac, Gun." She said in the raspy voice that went straight to his dick.

  "No, baby. You don't get mad. I remember that, clearly. You have no temper. You are even-keeled as they come. You only get mad at me when you want me. It's your thing. Look, you found out that George isn't interested in your sales pitch and neither are the rest of the guys, they only want in your pants and yet you're not mad. With me on the other hand, you're furious. Why's that?"

  "Because you're an asshole."

  He ran a finger across her exposed collarbone and down her shoulder all the way down her arm. "An asshole you want to fuck."

  "What. Is. Wrong. With. You?"

  "That I want you. It's the same as it was the first time I met you. I saw you and knew I had to have you."

  She punched his shoulder just as George slid back in. Gun casually placed his hand on her thigh, and she dug her nails into it.

  "I want to go. Let me out." Addie again tried to push Gun out, just as George slid back in.

  Maybe he'd gone too far. Quickly, Gun settled the check, making sure not to show her the amount. Even though she had been bullheaded by trying to make a point, he knew that if she saw the exorbitant amount spent, she'd beat herself up about it. He chuckled to himself knowing that she'd probably know sooner rather than later, since she—at the moment—had access to all his accounts.

  Addie was already standing under the large awning outside the restaurant saying goodbye to George by the time he walked out. It was pouring rain around them.

  "Come on!" Gun took her by the hand and pulled her away from the torrential rain.

  "I'm not going anywhere with you!" She seethed and pulled her hand away and began walking to the curb in order to call a taxi.

  "Not the time to be hardheaded. You're getting wet and it's not going to let up anytime soon." He yelled over the thunder.

  She didn't answer, instead she looked side to side waiting on a cab he knew wouldn't come.

  "Sweetheart, this is Miami. Taxis don't work that way here. You have to call them on the phone and wait. Meanwhile you'll catch pneumonia." He took her hand again and pulled. "Come wait inside my apartment."

  She looked around at the empty street as if the decision was still not obvious.

  "Ridiculous, woman!" He grunted and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

  "Oh my God! Put me down, Gun
ther!" She yelled and kicked him. He opened the door and the cold air from the lobby hit his wet body. She must've felt it too because she stopped moving for a moment. "Hey Billy.," He nodded to the security guard as he walked passed him toward the elevator.

  Billy smirked, "Have a nice evening, sir."

  "I'll try Billy!" he said as he stepped inside and swiped his key card, which gave him direct access straight to his apartment. "If I put you down are you going to run?"

  "Yes, you jerk." She huffed. Regardless, he carefully slid her down his body until she was steady on her feet. Her eyes narrowed and her skin was blotchy. She ran her hands down her dress and hair, but it was no use, her drenched clothes seemed stuck to her body and her hair was plastered against her face.

  She took a step forward, her finger pointed at him in that way he hated. "I cannot believe you did that!"

  "Well, believe it baby." He smirked and as soon as he did it, he realized it was a bad call because the woman still remembered the one thing he hated most. The thing that irked him to no end. She reached behind him pulled the short hair behind his head— hard. It was childish, but he'd been childish by carrying her. "Ow!" he yelled. "Don't do that."

  She pulled again.

  "What are you, twelve?" He swatted her hand away. "Stop pulling my hair."

  "Don't ever pick me up and carry me like that again!" She reached up and tried to pull another one, but he took her wrists in his hands.

  "Then be less difficult and more complacent."

  She winced at the word, pulled her hand away from his grip and then did the last thing he'd ever expect her to do. She looked straight at him, reached forward, and twisted one of his nipples hard.

  "Motherfucker!" he said, his hand over his throbbing nipple. "That's it!" He picked her up again as the elevator door opened.

  "Let me down."

  "No! Now I'm fuckin' pissed, Adalyn. I just wanted you out of the rain, you didn't have to be so difficult about it."

  "No, you mean, I should've been complacent." She threw his words back at her. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're not the guy I used to know."

  One-handed, he opened the door, kicked it closed behind him, and stomped to his bedroom and threw her roughly on the bed. "Damn straight I'm not. I'm no fucking kid anymore, baby, I'm a fucking man." He leaned down, his hands caging her face, and his knee on the bed between her legs. His breathing was labored and so was hers. She was so mad, the red had spread down to her collarbone and to the space between her breasts. Her eyes were locked with his, and even her nostrils were flared, the heat from her anger rolling off of her in waves. He was about to pull away when she threw her hands around his neck and pulled him down against her and pulled his bottom lip between her teeth. He felt the sting all the way to his cock.