by Finn, Emilia
A little bit of cocaine. A little fentanyl. And a whole lot of washing detergent to fill it out and kill their paying customers.
I made promises to myself that I would leave Katrina alone, but I’ll be fucked if I can stop dropping by the diner on a day-to-day basis. It’s like a sick codependency; I tell myself today will be the day I stop going, but somehow my brain switches off long enough for me to make my way there and slide into my booth. Next thing I know, my brain switches back on, and I’m caught staring at Katrina’s tits again.
Knowing I should stay away, and actually staying away are two completely different things, and so far, I’m losing that battle. I should be ashamed of myself, what with Kane’s baby news floating through the air and our talk in Jo’s home fresh in my mind. I know that I should stay away, and I know why, but somehow my feet continue walking that way and don’t rest until I get a look at the beautiful waitress with a smart mouth and a mile-wide streak of pride.
Three times a day, I eat, I watch her with hungry eyes and tingling hands, but I don’t demand her attention anymore. Last week was a moment of weakness for us both, the explosion after two bad moods meet in the same place at the same time. Asking her out and being told no was the trigger I needed to pull myself back in, to get my shit under control, and to lock it away before everything goes to shit again. Because every time I blink, I see Callie’s smiling face and that missing front tooth. When I lie in bed at night and close my eyes, I see her honeycomb hair, the wavy locks, and the smile that brought me to my knees every time she wanted to use it against me.
It’s dangerous for me to seek that kind of weakness again, so I clamp my mouth shut and stop asking for the specials. And if Tammy gets to my table first, I give her my order, then I leave again with a full belly and a clear conscience.
That’s the way it should be.
Until it’s not.
“Franky?” Katrina rushes through the diner a few days after the day in Jo’s home, with her hair floating loose and her handbag swinging from her arm. “Franky? Oh!” She stops on a dime when she almost runs face-first into her cook. “Shit, you scared me.”
Stefan crosses his arms and studies her with a smirk. “You gotta slow down, sweet pea. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep racing around.” I sit in my booth and pretend I’m not listening to everything they say, though of course, her every word grips me. I eat the food Tammy brought me, scowl at the chicken burger that won’t fill my belly no matter how lemony or zesty it is, but I didn’t want to order beef unless it came with Katrina’s relish, and in my silence, I watch Katrina hurriedly push her messy hair back and catch her breath. “You got a fire to get to, or you just enjoy tempting the universe and hoping it drops you on your ass?”
“Sorry.” She pushes past him and rushes into the hall. “I was running because I’m late.”
“Nobody’s watching the clock, hon. Did you get your car into Alesi’s?”
“Yup!”
I sit forward at my booth and stretch my neck to peer down the hall. I watch her rush into a room and slam the door, only for her to reemerge twenty seconds later with her hair hidden beneath that scarf and an apron tied around her trim waste. “It’s in, and Angelo promises it’ll be ready by the time I’m off shift today.”
Stefan narrows his eyes. “You’ll pick it up in the morning, right?”
“Uh-huh.” She bustles past her large cook and moves back into the main section of the diner. I sit back and try my damnedest to appear as though I’m minding my own business. “He said he’d leave the key under the wheel well and I can take it whenever I want. He said we can settle the bill whenever I get back there. I’m just super glad I’ll have a reliable car again.” Swinging past the coffee pot and sweeping it up out of habit, she smiles and makes my stomach hurt with the way happiness radiates from her skin. “Everything’s finally looking up again.”
“All because of a car?” Stefan drops his hand to his hip and leans against the door frame. “You’re this happy because of a car?”
“It’s not just a car,” she sighs. Practically dancing as she moves, she fills coffee mugs at each table, including mine without a second look. It’s like I’m invisible, and that both relieves and guts me in the same breath. “It’s freedom, Stefan. It’s independence. And it probably has something to do with the fact I heard that Zeke was arrested today for speeding.”
“Speeding?” Stefan’s jowls turn red. “What?”
“Too many fines piling up, too many parking tickets, and unpaid child support for the women who actually tried to claim. He was arrested two states over, which means he ain’t here!” She stops in the middle of the diner, draws in a long breath so her chest expands, then she lets it out on a soft giggle. “He’ll be back soon, no doubt. He’ll only be behind bars until Tuesday morning, when a judge can take a look at his shit and let him out. Tuesday, he’ll call me and ask for bail money, but I won’t give it to him. And in the meantime, today, I’m free as a bird and happy as a pig in mud about it. It’s a good day.”
“Sure is, sweet pea.” Shaking his head, Stefan turns and grumbles about bail bonds and useless boyfriends, but beneath the murmured words is a promise that Katrina won’t be lending that dude a single cent in this lifetime or the next.
If Stefan doesn’t make sure of it, then I will.
I sit in my booth for an hour and eat my food. I don’t move my ass until I’m good and ready, but eventually I make my way back home. Instead of going inside, I sit on the bottom steps and bide my time.
I know Katrina lied to Stefan today.
Maybe it’s a byproduct of the career I chose and my ability to read people. Or maybe it’s just my intuition saying she’s full of shit, but I sit outside in the cool air and wait.
Because I know she’ll be by.
12
Katrina
“Shit!” It’s pitch black and cold enough out that I probably should have worn a coat, but as I sneak across the wide garage driveway just after eleven o’clock, I curse the universe and possibly Angelo’s forward thinking when I stop in the dirt and gravel and don’t find my car. I figured he’d leave it out, so I could sneak it away and tell them I picked it up in the morning. I walked the wrong effing way after work with the full expectation I’d be sitting in my car right about now, tapping my fingers to the beat of my stereo and bobbing my head to some kind of rap jam I put on to make myself feel badass.
But now I stare at the three roller doors, closed, padlocked, and secured in a way I could never get past to get my shitty car out and drive myself home.
Stefan offered a ride tonight, but I declined and said another friend would be getting me.
So stupid!
In my mind, I was all set for the two-block walk, then a cozy drive in my little car that now has an Angelo Alesi tune-up, which is basically synonymous with an engine that’ll never break down again.
“Dammit!”
My bag inches down my arm as I do my best impression of a stealthy sneak across the driveway. I’m not sneaky at all, and when I catch a glimpse of security cameras following my steps with a quietly droning buzz, I jump and press a hand to my heart for a beat, but I don’t freak out or hide my face. I’m already busted, so I’ll own it, then I’ll walk my stupid ass home and come back tomorrow with my tail between my legs and an excuse for why I tried to pick the car up tonight.
Impatience.
That’s my only excuse. But it’s as valid as the parking fines Zeke’s trying to dodge, and the warm cherry pie that sits in my happy belly right now and promises a nice sleep.
I wanted to start my weekend of freedom with my car, but now I have to walk home, sneak into the apartment late, and convince my son I got a ride with a friend. Then tomorrow, when Angelo snitches to Franky and the guys, I’ll have to come up with a reason for why I told a lie.
And I don’t think they’ll accept impatience as a good enough excuse.
Moving forward, since I already look like a criminal, I ca
st a glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone, then I bend in front of one of the roller doors and try to pull it up.
Locked.
“Damn.”
“Need a hand?”
I shoot to my feet with a screech, slam my back against the roller door, and fist my bag as though to use it as a weapon. My heart races, and my stomach does cartwheels when Eric DeFrigginWhit steps around the side of the building with his stupid hat on his head and his hands pushed into deep pockets. Jeans wrap around thick legs, combat boots sit on large feet, and a different shirt than he was wearing at the diner today stretches around his biceps as he looks me up and down with an appreciative eye. His shirt is midnight black, so the dog tags hanging to the middle of his chest stand out in stark contrast and flicker off the streetlight twenty feet away.
He watches me with an intensity he’s never had before, like the midnight darkness allows him to be a little less… refined. “You trying to break in, Katrina Blair? Because this is my friend’s garage, and I doubt you have permission.”
“Not break in!” My hand remains on my wildly beating heart. “I was looking to see if it was open. My car’s inside, so…”
“You see the chains on the doors; it’s after eleven, but you wanted to see if the place was open?” Slowly stepping forward, he resembles a wild animal stalking its prey. “Do mechanics often work this late?”
“No! Shut the hell up. Angelo knew I’d be by. He has my car.”
“Right.” He continues moving forward with far too much intensity. Too much control. Too much… staring. “I heard he had your car. But I also heard you tell Stefan you would pick it up tomorrow.” He stops right in front of me so the toes of his boots touch my sneakers and his chest touches the hand I have on my heart. Flashing an arrogant smile, he trails a single finger along my bare arm until the oxygen completely stops flowing to my lungs. “I also heard the way your voice rose and cracked when you lied to Stefan. I knew you’d be here tonight; I knew it in my blood, so I waited for you. I watched and hoped you’d come.” He licks his lips. “I was right.”
He's the big bad wolf all the books warned us of! “I just want my car.”
“There are a fuck ton of things in this world I want but can’t have.” His voice is deeper than usual, gritty and rough as his eyes roam my face and his finger brings goosebumps to my skin. “There are seriously so many things I want that I’ve yet to have. But that’s the thing, right? The world sucks, so most people are left disappointed, and wanting something often jinxes it and leaves us empty-handed.”
My heart throbs in my throat. I swear, if he just leaned back and looked, he could see it. “I wanted cherry pie all day today.”
His hungry eyes flash and drop to my lips. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. All day long.” I whisper to hide the tremor in my voice. “I thought about it. I wished for it. Perhaps I tempted the universe and set myself up for a jinx… but I got it.”
He leans in closer and sets my blood on fire. Drawing in a long breath, it takes me a moment too long to realize he’s smelling my breath. “I smell the cherries. Did you make the pie yourself, Katrina?”
This is like the game he plays in the diner. He asks if I personally made it, nixes anything I didn’t, and orders double of what I did. It’s the same now as it is in the diner, but at nearly midnight, in the dark, while I’m pressed against a cold steel door and his hand makes its way to my hip, its nothing like at the diner.
It’s nothing at all like the diner.
“Yes.” My voice cracks when his hand trails over the ball of my shoulder and tickles the column of my neck with a feather-light touch. “Yes, I made it.”
“You told me tonight you didn’t make it.” Pulling back just a little, his eyes meet mine. “I specifically asked, and you said no.”
“There was only one piece left,” I admit on an embarrassing sigh. “I wanted it, and the universe was tempted to take it from me.”
“You lied to me.”
I can’t speak past the lump that lodges in my throat, so I nod and lean into his warm hands. I’m embarrassing myself, but I can’t stop. I want ten minutes of guilt-free selfishness. Just one time in the dark where no one has to know, and it won’t hurt my son or anyone else I love.
“Do you lie to me often?”
Again, I nod.
Grinning in a way that reminds me of that smug wolf, Eric repositions his legs so his thigh touches mine, then he slides it between but stops before it touches my core. His musky scent intoxicates me and helps me forget I’m a responsible mom who can’t afford this. “What do you lie about?”
This time I shake my head because I’m still proud, and despite the thrumming of my heartbeat in my pants, I can’t admit my truths.
He bites his bottom lip and draws my eyes to the movement. “You lie about me and you, don’t you?” The stubble on his jaw touches my cheekbone and draws a broken gasp from my throat. “You lie about not wanting me. You lie about wanting me to leave you alone.”
I hold my breath and nod. “Yes.”
He makes sounds of approval in the back of his throat that vibrate from his lips to my cheek. “But… why? You don’t have to deny yourself. Life is too fucking short, and why the hell can’t you enjoy the situation you got?”
“Because…” I don’t know! “Because I was mean to you, and now I can’t spend time with you.”
“You’re proud.”
I nod.
“What if I promised not to tease? Your pride stays intact, we both get to come, and finally, we get to feel what we’re both dying to feel. We get to feel what we both want when we’re in that diner. You think I don’t wanna fuck you in that booth? In the storage closet? On my fucking table?” he grits out. “Will you call the cops if I touch you?”
I shake my head, then gasp when he sneaks a callused hand beneath my top and slides it over my sensitive belly. “You’re just so proud.” His lips buzz along my cheekbone. “Admitting you want me would hurt your pride, wouldn’t it?”
I nod. I’m a mute idiot, but not saying the words means I get to keep my pride for a little longer.
“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” His hand slides over my stomach so what little abdominal muscle I have twitches beneath his touch. “I’m not looking for anything that might resemble commitment. My work doesn’t really allow for that. But if you’re looking for a fun time, I could make it worth your while. I promise I wouldn’t be a wasted fuck.” His words rumble in my ear, send tingles along my spine, and make my toes curl in my sneakers. “I’d make sure you come first, I promise.”
“I’ve never come during sex.” I swallow to lubricate my dry throat. “That’s not a flaw on my part, and admitting it doesn’t hurt my pride. I haven’t come during sex because men are lazy and selfish. I can make myself come, but not a single man has been able to step up and perform.”
“I’m not lazy, nor am I selfish.” His teeth nip at my cheekbone and draw a squeaked gasp from my throat. “Getting you off gets me off, so I’ll work until you scream, and only after that will I take my own. Then next time, I wanna watch you play with yourself, because that’ll get me off too.”
“I don’t want to play with myself.” My whisper gains strength. “That’s the whole damn point. I cook my own meals; I wash my own laundry; I pay my own bills. I do everything for myself, so getting myself off isn’t something I want to do. But if you’re not sure you could compete…”
He pushes forward and crushes me against the steel door until the breath explodes from my lungs. Sliding his leg forward, he brings it high enough to press against my crotch, then he grins when he feels what I feel. “I can make you come just by speaking in your ear and letting you ride my leg.” He’s so arrogant as he drops a kiss on my jaw. It’s so easy to pretend this is okay when we’re in the dark. “I promised myself I’d back away from you. I promised I’d leave you be because I’m not good for you. But here you are in the middle of the night smelling like cherries and s
ex, and I’m just not sure I have the strength to walk away this time.” He pulls back and catches my eyes. “You really shouldn’t have snuck over here in the middle of the night, Katrina.” Slowly sliding a hand along my ribs, he brings a thumb over my pebbled nipple and grins. “I could suck your tits and make you come. I could slide my fingers into your pussy until you stretch, and still, you’d come in under twenty seconds. Do you believe me?”
He’s giving me the green light, the opportunity to say yes without saying yes. He’s giving me the chance to turn this into a bet, rather than admitting I want to fuck him.
“I’m not sure you could deliver.” I’ll play his game, because I really want it, and I still get to say I didn’t ask for it. We can both pretend we don’t hear the way I pant for him, and while we’re going, we can also pretend I’m not rubbing myself against his strong thigh. “Thirty years,” I breathe, “and not one man has been able to live up to what he says.”
“No cops?”
I give a breathy laugh. “No cops.”
On a deep growl, Eric grips my thighs and lifts so my legs wrap around his hips and his hardened cock crushes against my pulsing core. “I’ll show you what I can do for you.” He carries me the way he came, around the side of the building with his mouth doing sinful things to my neck and his strong hands bruising my thighs. “Tomorrow, you can add extra cookies to my plate in silent acknowledgment that I fucked your brains out. You don’t even have to say the words; you can keep your pride intact, but I’m gonna get extra cookies.”
“We’ll see,” I pant. I have less than an hour to get home, to sneak back into my apartment and into bed before my son checks my room and sends out a search party. “I have to be home in forty minutes.”
