by Neal, Xavier
“Love? Really Merrick? Are you gonna start quoting me Shakespeare and shit next?” His body slides down in his seat. With a victorious smirk at his sarcasm, I look back out the window. “You weren't in love.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
Swear to God he might as well have fucking said 'Because I said so'.
“You got a good piece of pussy. Or so you think. She cut you loose before you did her. That ache isn't love. It's your pride. Suck it the fuck up.”
My eyes scan the crowd admiring a woman with her child in a stroller who's throwing a tantrum before moving onto another woman who is tying her son's shoelaces on the bench.
I don't remember much about my mom, but I wonder if she did those things for my brothers. I wonder if there was anything normal about their childhoods. I know there wasn't about mine.
“You guys need anything else?” The waitress' voice pulls me back to the table.
Looking up at her, I offer her a crooked grin, slightly impressed by the sight that's being exposed down the front of her unbuttoned work shirt.
“We're good,” Madden insists in a harsh enough tone it frightens her away.
Like a deer from a loud noise. How he picks up chicks is beyond me.
The moment she's out of ear shot he shakes his head at me. “Don't even think about it, Merrick. Her dad's a cop.”
My grin widens. “Oh yeah?”
“God you're such a fucking pain.” He shoves his plate towards me.
“Didn't you just tell me to move on?”
He rubs his temple and growls, “Not to a cop's daughter, Merrick.”
“Now you're just bein' picky.”
“I swear to God, Merrick...”
“Why do you give me so much shit?” I grab one of the remaining nachos on my plate. “You never rode Triple D this hard about shit. Especially not who they were or were not fucking. Or if they were or were not in love.”
“They've never been in love. None of us have. None of us ever will. That whole concept is just a bullshit idealistic notion for mindless individuals to grasp onto so they don't feel their lives are as fucking empty as they are.”
Romantic isn't he? Didn't get the wine and dine 'em gene.
“And I expect their bullshit. Look Merrick, unlike Triple D, who grew up in my shadow as much as dad's, I practically raised you. When dad got pinched, I knew right then if I could save any of us it would be you. I've worked my ass off trying to keep your head on straight, grounded, not so fucking callous like the rest of us. I've worked my ass off trying to keep you out of the biz―”
“Yet here I am...”
“Exactly,” he bites. “But that's on me for being a shitty brother and not knowing how to fucking stop you, but I'm gonna get you out. I want you to see there's other shit in this world that's better for you. Not this bullshit love thing you're talking out of your ass about, but...something. Life. I want you to see what life should be like. Not what we've made it to be. Something healthier. Happier. And I know you want that. I know that's what you're really after.”
I don't respond. My eyes wander back out the window.
“I know you want more than one night stands and briefcases full of cash. I give you so much shit and grip the back of your neck so fucking tight, so I don't lose you in the process of trying to get you that one fucking thing you want in life. Something worth living for.”
His words settle between us at the same time, my sight lands on a girl who's heading into the clothing store across from the restaurant. Briefly she glances my way and I recognize the look on her face. It's the same one I've seen so many times in the mirror. The second our eyes meet, it feels like someone just jump started my battery. Excited, I sit up and do my best to get another look of the vision that's blurred mine to the rest of the world.
“We gotta go,” Madden groans abruptly. “Knoxie is demanding all hands on deck.”
I open my mouth to argue when the girl disappears inside the store. Disappointed she's gone as quickly as she came, I nod my head in understanding knowing once that girl puts her foot down, that's all there is.
Knoxie's the female version of my brother. When he'll realize that and the fact she's in love with him, is fucking beyond me.
“Let's put in a few good hours at the shop and then Ben can drag your sorry ass to Olympus.” Madden stands up tossing a bill on the table.
“You not comin' tonight?”
He nods. “I'll be late. Business.”
“Do I―”
“Nope.” Sensing an immediate argument he shakes his head. “No Merrick. You drive. That's fucking it. You don't need to know anything else that goes down or when. I'm trying to get you out of this shit, not put you neck deep in it. Now let's go.”
My brother ladies and gentleman. The fucking control freak. As much as I fucking hate it most of the time it's hard to fault him for it. After dad went to jail the final time and it was basically him, he's never hesitated to do what he has to for us, but fuck me, if every once in a while I wanted to make my own choices. In case your memo didn't come in about that, that's rarely an option. Well...that is unless I do something without him knowing. I'm famous for it. How do you think I got into street racing to begin with?
Jovi
“Jovi!” Nadie calls forcing me to turn my attention around. “Come on.”
Giving the handsome stranger who is eating in the window booth across from the store one final glance, I smirk to myself at the idea he was looking back at me and not one of the millions of half-dressed females around me.
Not naïve. Hopeful. Let's call me hopeful. Not that it matters anyway. Guys like that don't come around these parts for girls like me and even if they did, one mention of what my father does or who he is and they're competing for an Olympic Gold Medal in the sprint. Oh well. One more hot face to join the others in my collage of Prince Charmings waiting for me in another lifetime.
Nadie leads us to the formal dress section. As soon as we arrive I flop down in one of the chairs near the dressing room to watch her do the hard work. With my legs stretched out, I lazily fold my hands on my stomach.
After a few minutes of moving dresses around on racks, Nadie gripes, “You know, you could help.”
“I could.” I nod. “And you could go to this stupid ball thing instead of me, but you don't.”
Peering over a rack, she gives me a scowl. “Stop it. You're his daughter.”
“Inmate is more like it.”
“Drama queen,” she whispers.
I heard that! You did too, didn't you?
“Jovi, you're his only child. You should be there at something so important.”
“It stops being important when you turn it into an annual event.”
“Jo―”
“Same shit. Every. Year.”
“You didn't used to complain this much about going.”
“I also used to be excited at the idea of staying up past midnight.” Nadie stops her movements again. “I'm not a little girl any more, Nadie. And the sooner dad realizes that the better.”
She briefly flashes her eyes away. “Have you told him about the acceptance letter yet?”
“Nope,” I sigh.
Look, I kept up my end of the deal. He didn't want me to rush away to school because of the woes and dangers or some shit that lurk on every campus across America. We agreed if I went to community college for my basics, I could go to any school I wanted if I got in. Took some persuading, but with Nadie's help he ended up agreeing. I get the feeling he figured if I went to community college and set up a life here, that I would be reluctant to leave it and just go to the university 30 minutes from home instead of the one three states over. Other than Hayli I didn't set up anything to get attached too. And I've been attached to Hayli since she convinced me to eat Play-Doh in Kindergarten.
In a quiet tone I counter, “Did you tell him you sent the check already for my tuition?”
Nadie's eyes widen, but she do
esn't say anything.
“Exactly...”
“I'll make you a deal. Make this event the least painful for him and I'll help you break the news to him.”
“You were gonna help me anyway.”
“Probably.” She shrugs. “Now, you can make this whole thing easier by cooperating and I'll return the favor, or you can keep up the pouty angsty teenager thing you're too old for and I'll make sure breaking the news to your dad makes the torture of this shopping experience look like child's play. Your choice.”
“You're an evil woman...”
“Not evil. Wise.” She tilts her head towards the dresses. “Get to looking.”
Hopping up I relocate so I'm beside her, hands fumbling around what she's already looked through. I slowly push aside the gorgeous dresses in bold colors that would give him a heart attack. Vibrant yellows. Bright reds. Sharp oranges. All the colors look like something out of one of my art books. Out of Da Vinci or Van Gogh painting. Longingly I lift the last one. It's a short electrifying sunset orange halter that ties at the top.
Did I mention it's backless? We're talking stops right above the ass backless. Dad would have a heart attack, but God I would feel gorgeous in this. A little for sale, but gorgeous nonetheless.
“Trying to send your father into an early grave? Because he doesn't need the help.” Nadie invades my thoughts.
“I know...” I let out another sigh. “Hayli and I are going out tonight and I thought maybe...” Shaking my head I shove the dress back on the rack. “It's stupid. Let's keep looking.”
“Wait.” Nadie stops me. “Just a minute ago you were bitching that you weren't a little girl any more. And I know you Jo'. You're itching to get out of here and live your life right?” Reluctantly I nod. “Start now. Call it practice. I know you're stuck in this weird limbo phase of wanting to keep the peace with your father because you think you're all he has left, but whether or not that's true, that isn't your fault. Your dad has chosen to shut out the world for work and vengeance. You didn't. You shut it out to make him happy and it's time you start making you happy too, Jo'.”
Doesn't that sound like motherly advice? See.
“So grab the dress, and we'll find you one for the event tomorrow, as well as devise a plan to tell your dad, his little girl is all grown up...”
I slowly grab the dress back off the rack.
What she's suggesting is a suicide mission. Seriously. What else would you call telling the Police Commissioner that his only daughter, the only piece of his dead wife he has left, is ready to live her own life? Uh-huh. Exactly. Suicide mission. But you know what? It's one that's overdo.
Merrick
Strolling next to Ben through the back parking lot of Olympus, which is reserved for exclusive club members, I slide my hands in my dark jean pockets. My body tenses harder, the closer we get to the door.
I shouldn't be here. I should go. I should go back home. I just grabbed this new book from the book store that gives insight to Van Gogh's passions and what moved him in life. I should be reading it. I'm really in no mood to fucking party. Look at this face. Do I look like I wanna party? Did you just offer me a hug? I will take a hug. Did you say naked hug or am I hearing things again?
On a sigh I say, “I’m not sure I can do this. I'm not sure I wanna do this.”
“You've been broken up or departed or what the fuck ever since Tuesday or some shit. It's Saturday. Fucking Saturday! You need to get back on that horse and ride that motherfucker.”
“That doesn't even sound―”
“No.” Ben cuts me off twisting his white baseball hat backwards. “I don't wanna fucking hear it. I need my best friend. J money needs his best friend―”
“He's in the goddamn booth tonight.”
“Not the point.”
“How is that not the point?” I snap back frustrated. “Fuck it. What is the point, Ben?”
“The point is there's a crowd of fine ass females waiting for you to show your precious mug so their pussies can weep.”
Weep? Is it just me or does that analogy feel...wrong? It's Ben though. What about Ben doesn't feel wrong in some way? I'm all ears for that answer.
Being the hype man that he is, he wraps an arm around my shoulder, and hits my chest. “Now, who are you?”
With a sarcastic look I shrug. “What?”
“Who are you? Are you some pussy whipped nobody falling to shit, all over some piece of ass that's been passed around like a community bong--”
See what I mean. Wrong. I swear my Aunt Kelli dropped him on his head. Probably more than once.
“Or are you Merrick McCoy, youngest, but definitely the most fun of the infamous McCoy brothers who race hard and fuck harder?”
My head bobs for a second as that information swims around in my head trying to settle. Trying to grab the persona I live under, that I've always lived under, from drowning in the need for something better, I answer “Merrick McCoy.”
“I’m sorry. What was that? Do I need a hearing aid?” He acts as if he hasn’t heard me. “Who are you?”
“Merrick McCoy,” I repeat a little louder.
“Who are you?”
“Merrick McCoy!” I say loudly twisting my baseball cap around as well.
“That's what I'm talking about baby!” Ben tugs me closer to him by the neck marching us closer to the back entrance.
No. Partying and sticking my dick into random club ass won't fix any of my problems. It won't get me any closer to filling this weird misshaped void inside, but you know what? At least it'll pass the time by. And at least I'll get to bust a nut. I definitely need that.
The security guard opens the black door and we're immediately leaked into the club. Taking the private path that lets out beside the D.J. booth, I take a deep breath to pump myself up.
They're expecting a show. It's my job to give 'em one. I hate to disappoint. Besides....don't you wanna see me in action at least once?
Ben bangs on the glass of the booth that's surrounded by brown brick to give an aged appearance all around, but keeping the top half of him and his moving hands on perfect display. Thankful my neck is finally free, I move it side to side while watching the security guard glare at Ben for his continued banging. Doesn't stop the knocking. Finally, J Money, my other best friend and also Saturday night D.J. here, turns his attention to greet us with a nod.
“Merrick!” A group of females showing more skin than they are hiding, shout my name as they rush over from the direction of the upstairs bar closest to us.
At that moment Ben looks up at J Money who winks and switches tracks to one of Ben's favorite songs right now, Bitch Better Have Me Money. They shriek and gather together in front of us, moving their hips and their asses in front of us, the invitation to dance clear. With crooked grins, Ben and I fold our arms across our chest as they continue gyrating in our view. The girl in the middle has the most potential in her short leather skirt and black shirt that looks like a bandanna.
One pull of the back and it'd be Girl's Gone Wild.
When her hand hits her own ass, I toss my attention to Ben who laughs under his breath.
He likes 'em this easy. I don't.
“Come on cuz. We gotta swing by Vinnie's before we post up,” he instructs, walking to the right past the girls without another look.
I follow suit, a couple feet away when they shout my name over the music. “Merrick!”
Turning around, so I'm walking backwards, I give them a wink. “Ladies...”
With slightly drunken cheer they raise their glasses before demanding, “Come back!”
A false promise comes off my lips. “Definitely.”
Another wave of the dancing lights rolls through the club highlighting the lounge couches against the wall, the glass tables perched in front, the brown brick that's similar to what J Money is encased in, covering all the walls, while the rest of the place is filled with chrome décor. The railings, the dance poles, and even the bird cages for the girls hired
to dance and girls who drunkenly crawl inside, are made of chrome.
Ben stops on the side of the bar where Kameron is swaying her low cut jean hips around, showing off her dance moves as much her drink making abilities, giving an extra show when she lets drops of lemon juice trail down between her tits that are sticking out in her red spaghetti strap shirt. The bar that acts as a perfect accent to the outfit is built into the brick wall. It has red back lights, which tie into the red lights that are now rolling through this place as well as the red stripes on the couches. Kameron's eyes catch a glimpse of me and I see a slight twinkle in them before she winks.
