by Finn, Emilia
He chuckles and makes his way to the diner door with Ben by his side. “I’ll race you to the phone.”
“Ready?” Katrina smiles.
“Set. Go.” He dashes out the door and misses the way his mother stares longingly after him. She craves sleep and less stress, but she can’t let go of the exact life she leads. It exhausts her, but she wouldn’t change it. Not for all the riches in the world.
“Katrina?” I wait a minute, then lift a hand and click my fingers like a total douche. “Hello, Katrina?”
Dazedly, she comes back to me. “Hm?”
“Burger?”
“Ugh!” She whacks my shoulder with her notebook, but her smile remains as she huffs off to the kitchen.
* * *
I sit in my booth until my ass goes numb. I collect a go get ‘em from Ray, a shoulder squeeze from Gloria, a thumbs up from Stefan, and a beady glare from Franky as he packs himself up for the night and closes his office door. Everyone in the world except Mac seems to know there’s something going on between Katrina and me, and though Katrina isn’t weirdly obvious about it, she still smiles at me all night; she slides her fingertips over the column of my neck when she passes to serve someone else, and I could swear, makes sex eyes when I hurriedly bus a table when shit gets busy and she needs an extra pair of hands.
The alternative is to give up my booth, and I’m not moving my ass anywhere.
I was brought cookies and hot cocoa after my burger; I ate pie around nine, and because I’m a sucker for pain, coffee at eleven. The tables filled and emptied. Food was delivered with speedy efficiency, and customers were complimentary and thankful. Katrina didn’t stop one single time all night except for a fast meal she ate standing against the kitchen doorway. She stuffed a, wait for it, lemon zesty burger into her mouth in no more than three large bites and washed it down with a cup of water. Then she was back again, with a rosy flush to her cheeks and dancing eyes each time she passed me and we connected.
I fell in love with the woman who might be the hardest and most stubborn worker in the history of the world. The men she loves love her fiercely. George and Mac Blair are the only people who matter to her, but here I am, wondering if maybe she can make a little room for me. I swear I won’t take up too much space. I just need my side of her bed, a kiss in the mornings, a kiss in the evenings. I could provide for her, so she never has to sling a double – or even a single – shift again for the rest of her life. Though I doubt she’d allow that. I could be who she wants in a man. Not needs, because Katrina Blair doesn’t need a man. But wants… I could be that person for her.
The diner empties as the hours tick over and the cold outside creeps against the windows. Franky often stays until close, if only to keep watch over Katrina, but once the kitchen is closed and the diner is empty but for staff and me, I make my way to my feet when Katrina rushes a bag of trash out into the back alleyway.
I step forward when Stefan and Franky emerge in the sitting area with hard eyes. They want to know my intentions; they want to know I mean well. I never mean to bring her harm or hurt, but I don’t intend to discuss us with them until I’ve had a chance to discuss us with her. And with the way she so vehemently detests the idea of something more than a sexual affair, I’m not sure when that conversation will take place.
“I could help her close up.” I respectfully bow my head when Franky snarls. “Honorably. I swear.”
Franky is a harder nut to crack. Katrina is his baby in a lot of ways, and he’s watched her grow for half of her life. But Stefan, while older than her by double, seems to fill more of a brotherly role. He nods to me and moves his boss forward. “We trust you, DeWhit. Do good by her, and we’ll be okay.”
“I swear I will.” I turn and watch the men leave through the front door. They close and lock the glass door from the outside, then Franky does the fingers to his eyes thing through the glass.
I’m watching you.
Chuckling, I nod and turn when I hear the back door slam closed. I search for the spray for the tables, snatch up a clean hand towel from the pile I constantly see Katrina taking them from, and my brain oscillates between anxiety and finally, we’re alone. We’ve been alone a bunch of times, but tonight feels more charged. It feels important. Or maybe it’s because my heart went and got involved.
With a shake of my head, I begin at the far end of the diner and begin spraying.
“Oh.” Katrina stops at the entrance with a furrowed brow as she looks around. “Where’d everyone go?”
The kitchen lights are out. The hallway is dark. The only light is from those that line the booths, which leaves us both shadowed as soft music plays from the radio on the counter. I stand taller with a gentle smile and show her my spray and cloth. “I told the guys I’d help you close up.”
“And Franky was okay with it?” Her eyes widen. “Really?”
I chuckle. “Stefan encouraged him to leave us be.” I swallow the lump in my throat as my seductress walks toward me. “He, uh, he wanted to make sure you were okay. But once he was assured I’m not a prick, he walked away with barely a threat on my life.”
She snickers, stops right in front of me, and wraps her arms around my neck. The spray and wipe remain in my hands, so Katrina holds all the power. She pulls me closer and presses a gentle kiss to the underside of my jaw while my hands simply remain lifted behind her.
“I had fun tonight.” She stares up at me and grins. “I mean, it was just another shift at work, right? But you were watching me the whole time. It felt kinda…”
“Charged?” I offer. I stare into her eyes. “Like there was electricity in the air?”
“Mm.” She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Exactly. It was exciting, which is so dumb. But we’re allowed to be dumb sometimes, right?”
“Right.” I kiss the corner of her lips. “We’re allowed to be dumb,” and in love. “What else needs to be done before we can get outta here?”
“Um…” Dazed, it takes her a moment to click back to reality. “Oh! Okay. Mopping. If you’re doing the tables, then mopping is all I have left.”
“Then bed?”
She blushes. I fucking love how often she blushes. I’m thirty-eight years old, an old man in some eyes, so I thought the days of butterflies in my stomach and blushing cheeks were past, but here I am, and I feel like I’m in high school again. “Then bed.”
I turn her with a gentle pat on the ass, then I continue cleaning tables while she fills the mop bucket with steaming water. The bucket is on wheels, so she rolls it to the opposite side of the diner and begins.
We work in silence but for the radio playing on low. The later it gets, and the quieter the world outside is, the louder the radio seems. Katrina’s shoulders twitch and flex as she maneuvers the heavy mop beneath tables and booths. She hums under her breath and catches me staring a billion times. She grins as she works, blushes when she looks up and finds me staring, then goes back to her work as we move closer and meet in the middle.
“All My Life” comes on in the moment we cross over, and Katrina tries to continue around me. A piano solo plays, then the violins join in. I set my things down and slide my hand around Katrina’s hips when the vocals begin. Maybe she was expecting my move, perhaps she was hoping for it, because for the world’s most stubborn woman, she releases the mop easily and comes to me without a single second of hesitation.
Our bodies press together, her arms come around my shoulders and her legs slip between mine so we sway to the music and leave not a sliver of space between us. I drop my face into her hair and inhale. Bravery. Love. Courage. Fear. It all merges until I close my eyes and dive in.
“Katrina?”
I feel her smile. “Mm?”
“I think I fell in love with you.”
I expect the way she tenses, so I squeeze and hold on tight. “Don’t freak out, okay? Don’t panic. Just… Please don’t panic.” I pepper kisses to her temple. Her cheekbone. Her jaw. And I hold her before she races i
nto the street in a panic. “This is a no-strings-attached thing. I don’t ever want to take anything from you, especially not an obligatory declaration. You don’t have to say anything back, but please don’t freak out and run away from me either.”
“Eric…” her voice shakes.
“It’s okay, baby.” I let us sway for a moment. Absorb the music. Her panic. I take it all in and pray I can be the right thing for her. “You don’t have to love me back, I swear. Just dance with me. Let me have a moment with this.”
“Eric, please…” She cries. She actually fucking cries against my chest, and when I pull back, I catch sight of fat tears on her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad.” I kiss her tears, one by one, and collect the salty liquid. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’ve never been in love before.” Her voice shakes as obviously as her hands do. “I was given a certain set of cards in life and was never afforded the chance to fall in lo–”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” I press another kiss to her forehead as my own panic creeps in, then pull her toward me until her cheek is pressed to my chest. “Please don’t explain anything to me.” I’d prefer to hear nothing, rather than excuses about why I’m unlovable.
“No. Let me finish,” she pleads. “I never knew what it felt like… before. So I don’t know that I’m the right authority on this. But I feel something when I’m around you.” She pulls back to look into my eyes. Hers are still wet, but she smiles. It’s shaky, but it’s there. “My heart races when I see you. My stomach flutters when you speak to me.” She shows me her hands. “My palms get sweaty when I consider telling you I love you too. I can’t say any of those sensations actually feel good. Nobody wants the sick, whooshy feeling in their stomach or a heart arrythmia, but put it all together, and I still smile.”
She steps back in and squeezes me tight, as though now she’s restraining me. “I have nothing to offer you, Eric. There’s nothing particularly endearing about my home, my job, my bank account. I have no savings; my car is a piece of shit; my son swears a lot, and my daddy is involved in illegal fighter betting rings…” She pauses. “With teenagers. I swear, I don’t get the attraction, and if we were to put our redeeming qualities versus our flaws on paper, I wouldn’t look like a good deal. But I still feel something for you. I still want to spend time with you. And I…” She hesitates. “I’m saying, I’d be willing to hold your hand in public and tell my son maybe we’d have someone over for dinner soon.”
She’s willing to share me with Mac. Or Mac with me.
“You’re wrong about yourself. So unbelievably wrong.” I break her vise-like grip and push her back a little, then press a hand to her chest and meet her eyes. “I see what you offer. Your heart is like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. It loves so deeply, so loyally. The love you hold for Mac, for your dad, for Franky and Stefan and Meg and Chance and all the rest of them. It’s a potent drug I’d like just a little bit of.”
I bring my hand up and cup her cheek. “Your beauty is blinding. I was stopped dead in my tracks the very first day I was in here. I got the sickly feeling in my stomach, too. My heart raced. My hands got sweaty. You don’t remember me dropping my dishes when I goofed up and tried to help you bus my own table?” I bring my hand higher and thread my fingers into the back of her hair. “Your mind, Katrina. You’re smart, witty, passionate, kind for the people who deserve it, and not a doormat for those who don’t. You compare yourself to others, to me, just because I can do a little algebra, but you’re smart, baby. You’re so unbelievably smart.”
With a grin, I slide my hand along the side of her breasts, her ribs, then stop when I cup her ass. “Your body. Fuck…” I groan. “Your body, Katrina. It’s everything that makes up my dirty dreams. You have no clue the way you hypnotize half the men in this town. I don’t need your money; I have my own. I don’t need your home; I’m waiting to find one for myself, but haven’t pulled the trigger because I don’t want one unless I can fill it with love. I don’t need your car; I love mine.” I smile. “I need your body.” I kiss her cheek. “Your heart.” I press my palm over it and feel the wild beats. “Your brain. Your loyalty. And if you’re willing to share, your son’s friendship, his heart, his loyalty. You’re a package deal, and I love everything you have to offer. Even the weird loan shark daddy.”
She snickers and wipes a hand beneath her nose. “He’s not a loan shark. He’s a savvy businessman who knows a good bet when he sees one.”
“You have no clue how many criminals I’ve heard call themselves savvy businessmen.” I lean forward and catch her laughing lips with mine. I don’t want to talk criminals, work, dads, or anything else that doesn’t start and end with us. “For tonight it’s just me and you, okay? Then tomorrow… it can be whatever you want it to be. Zero pressure. No guilt, no worries, no extra baggage for you. But whatever you choose for it to be, my heart will still beat for you. Our stars met, and now we revolve around the same spot of gravity. I don’t want to go anywhere else; I don’t want anyone else.”
“Nobody ever treated me the way you do.” She wraps her arms around my neck to resume dancing. K-Ci & JoJo sing of praying for love, of waiting, of promises. “No man has ever loved me the way you’re saying–”
“I won’t stop.” I cup her cheeks and press a slow kiss to her lips. “I promise I won’t. This is more than a crush, more than burgers and fries, and it’s a hell of a lot more than dirty fucking in the middle of the night.”
“But that doesn’t have to stop, right?”
The vise around my throat releases with a tense laugh. “Hell no. We can make love sometimes. And other times, I’ll fuck you like a dirty hooker inside a filthy garage while security cameras are watching us.”
She pulls back. “What?”
“Hm? What cameras?”
Her body vibrates with laughter as tears continue to fall from her eyes, but she steps onto her toes and kisses me back. It’s a little bit love and a whole lot of dirty hooker, but not ten minutes after that, we switch out the last of the lights and close up.
Tomorrow will be a day of change. But tonight, we remain in our bubble, and I can pretend it doesn’t terrify me.
20
Eric
The crackle of Kane Bishop’s emotionless voice cuts through the piece nestled inside my ear. Thug, murderer, enforcer, sharpshooter. Brother and enemy in one. “You’re wanted in the office. Now.”
I’m but a lowly bouncer inside Derrick Ireland’s seedy club in the middle of Chicago’s shadier district. I have weapons strapped to my hips, my thighs, another at the back of my jeans, and two more in a leather holster that presses against my chest. A long blade rests against my ankle, and another in my coat pocket.
Not only will Derrick not have a problem with what I’m packing, but he’s my supplier.
Nodding toward my compatriot as though to say I’m going, you’re in charge, I turn to the door I’m paid to shield and let myself in after a single knock.
I’m met with soldiers, angry soldiers who don’t know how to wear a different expression. I’ve been working undercover in this club for seven months now, with Kane by my side, though, of course, Derrick doesn’t know of our brotherhood. He has no clue we know each other, so when he nods and signals for Kane to grab me, Kane does it, and I remain comfortable in the knowledge that my brother won’t shoot.
But the other soldiers… they’re another issue.
I’m not restrained, not shot, beaten, or stabbed, so I play my role and continue forward till I stop in front of Derrick’s desk. I stare at the gold silk tie he wears. I loathe it, and I’d love nothing more than to strangle the man with it.
I knew my line of work would result in meeting not-so-pleasant people, but Derrick has always rubbed me the wrong way. He’s always seemed too smug, too arrogant, and way too smart.
I incline my head. “Boss.”
“Updates, Daniel.”
Yeah, in this w
orld, my name is Daniel, and Kane’s is Elijah. Eli, when we’re feeling friendly. Which is never.
“Sir, Alphonse reported a successful handover at 0300. Twelve out, fifteen in. We got a–”
He waves me off with jeweled fingers and reclines in his wing-backed chair. “I already know about that. I’m asking about what’s happening right here inside my club.”
“Okay.” Kane’s hand tightens on my shirt, in restraint, in support. “We’re at seventy-five percent capacity. Everyone is behaving. Product is moving steadily.” It burns my gut knowing drugs are being consumed right in front of us every single night, but we can do nothing about it. We’re told what to do; we’re given orders from both sides of command, so we do as we’re told, and we keep working the case. “The girls are dancing and keeping the money entertained.”
“And what of my staff?” Derrick’s voice is entirely too calm. Too easy. “Do I command loyalty?”
“Yes sir. I hear of no problems among staff. Is there…” I glance around as the men surrounding me grow restless. Even Kane has waves of adrenaline radiating from his pores. “Is there a problem?”
“There is.” Derrick’s dark hair is slicked back and shiny from hair gel. The combed lines are still showing, the sparkling blue in his gaze both youthful and terrifying. He’s younger than our usual, but he’s smart, which is how he commands a club at just twenty-four years old. “Eli.”
With just a wave of his hand, I find my arms pinned behind my back, a nine-millimeter pressed to my temple, and Kane’s frenzied whisper in my ear while Derrick is busy with a television remote. “Stay cool,” he murmurs. “Stay alive.”
Kane is so good at his job, he was promoted ahead of me. From bouncer to soldier, his willingness to get mean has earned him a position in Derrick’s office, whereas my secret preference for being at home rather than a shitty club has left me stranded on the door, the gatekeeper between Derrick’s inner sanctum and his visitors. Kane holds me now with machine-like strength, and if I didn’t implicitly trust him or his whispered words, I’d worry he’s turned on our mission.
