I took our bags and thanked the woman, but she turned and wiped her hands as if trying to rid herself of us. It was more than expected, and yet I couldn’t help but want to retaliate with my stature. I didn’t, but I was damn close.
"Wow. I forget how rude people can be." I glanced at Jessica as she shrugged.
Her life had been very different from mine, but I didn't mind. My main group of friends from high school didn't want anything to do with her, but I would hang out with them later. They were rich and powerful, most of them not bothering with college.
"Where to now?" She took the bag from me and popped her gum.
"I'm meeting with my dad again before he gets out of town, so let's grab a bite to eat and then I'll drop you back off at home. We can get together later this week."
"I'm coming on Friday to stay with you at that kick-ass pad you got."
"I'll see what's going on and text you, but yeah, of course you can come stay with me." I pointed to my favorite Chinese restaurant. "How about there?"
"Ugh. You know I hate that place."
"Come on... I'm buying, which means that I get to pick the place."
"Yeah, uh, no shit. The last thing I bought us was a week in detention in fifth grade." We laughed together as we walked through the crowds of people, the looks we received were nothing new.
The two of us couldn't be more different. Me with my pressed blue skirt and white oxford, my blond hair in a ponytail and my sandals white and toes painted.
Jess had her hair dyed blue and she wore the same boyish shorts she had in school. The four t-shirts she layered made her look much larger than she was, but she didn't give a shit.
We were exactly alike on the inside and that made the difference.
Tainted. Angry. Lonely.
Best friends.
****
After dropping Jessica off in the slums, I headed back to the beach house feeling like shit. I should have invited her to spend the summer with me, but I was far too much of an introvert to do something stupid like that. Time by myself was something I craved and being stuck in the middle of a house of twenty-plus girls most of the year left my skin crawling.
Thank God for Alyssa or I wouldn't have made it.
The spunky New Yorker didn't want to interact any more than she had to, and being the new president of the sorority, she had made some big changes. One was to abolish roomies or roommates. I almost cried tears of joy when it happened. I wasn't a child at a sleepover, but a grown-ass woman and I wanted my own room. I never should have joined the sorority, but my father kept after me about it until I finally gave in.
It would look good… Right… for who? Him.
My thoughts scattered as I parked in front of the house. Two suits with dark glasses and slick hair sat on the porch swing as I walked up.
"I'm starting to think I'm in a Men in Black movie. You guys looking for a few little green men?" I smiled as they pulled their glasses down and looked at one another, clueless.
"They aren't that cool and you know it." The male voice behind me was familiar. Pauly.
I turned and let out a soft yelp, running and jumping into my father's oldest friend's arms. "Pauly. Oh my God you're getting old."
He laughed and squeezed me tightly, spinning me around like he did when I was a child. "You don't look old at all, but you just get more and more beautiful. How is that even possible? You look just like Melinda."
Heat rushed up from my chest to coat my neck and face. The pictures of my mother were breathtaking. I was nowhere near as beautiful as she had been. My father had met her at an event when they were in their twenties, my mother having just put out her third box office hit.
"Please… You flatter me." I glanced behind me and turned back around. "Is one of these monkeys the one you're forcing on me by chance?"
"So he told you?" Pauly smiled and ran his fingers through his short black hair. I told him all the time when I was younger that he would make the perfect gangster, but he laughed and reminded me that he was simply one of the good guys. I still had my doubts.
"He did, though he was nervous as shit when he finally spit it out. When am I supposed to meet the brute?"
"Tonight. What time are you going dancing with your friends?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
I growled and narrowed my eyes at him. The hopes of intimidating him had long gone out the window, but I was just ballsy enough to still try. "How do you know that? Did you guys tap my phone again?"
"No, butterfly. You've been in my care for twenty-one years. I know you love to dance. Are you not going out tonight?" He tilted his head to the side and gave me a funny look.
I smiled, though I hated myself for doing it. Why my father didn’t just send Pauly to do his dirty work was beyond me. He was the only one I might sorta-kinda be willing to listen to without throwing massive amounts of attitude around. Maybe.
"I am. I'll meet your guy tonight, but I’m only promising to meet him. We're going to The Roxy, so tell him to dress pretty."
"And I assume if I send him, you'll do your best to make him run screaming from the premises?" He lifted an eyebrow and leaned toward me.
"You know me too well, old man. Better than anyone."
"It's my job, kiddo, and you make it too easy."
Chapter 6
Ian
The shift at the hospital was pure torture, the main event of the day being a bus of students from a summer camp that had an accident with an eighteen-wheeler. It wasn't the trauma of what happened to the kids that left me so torn up, but the way the parents acted. I would have rather dealt with crack addicts for the rest of the week than push one more of them back in the midst of their agony.
They had gone from anger to concern to absolute devastation. Most of the kids hadn't made it and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to throw up at least three times when the families got the news. I couldn’t help but pray for the boredom I’d been so flippant about earlier that week.
The pain in the air buckled my sense of resolve to remain strong and unaffected. The wailing screams and heart-felt sobs from the family threw me back to the night Amanda died in my arms. I hadn't experienced anything as horrific since, but the scene in the ER was damn near close.
I wasn't having kids for lots of reasons, but the one I witnessed that day was the main one. If a woman could leave me broken and bare, a child could destroy me completely. There was something good to be said about the fact that Cole and I were abandoned at birth and left to foster care. I was a horrible kid and he wasn't much better. There was no mother's heart to break or father's pride to crush. We rarely ended up anywhere but back at the orphanage. As soon as we were old enough, we moved to the streets and worked hard to make sure we were fed and had a place to lay our heads. Other than that... nothing was important.
My phone buzzed as I walked into the quiet apartment. It wasn't much bigger than a studio, but I was thrilled. It was more than I had ever had before, and it was mine. Just mine.
"What?" I barked into the receiver, not caring who was on the phone. It was after eight at night and I hadn't eaten since breakfast because of another mother fucker calling in and me having to pull a double shift.
"It's me, dude," Cole barked back. "I just got a call from Senator Moore. The meet up is tonight at The Roxy. The girl is going to be with a group of girls no doubt. Mitch said that she's got long blond hair, blue eyes and looks a little bit like him. She's about five foot, five inches and a hundred and thirty pounds."
"Sounds hot," I grumbled and opened the fridge, leaning over and pulling out a beer and a pack of lunchmeat. I was too tired to make a sandwich, but the protein would hold me over until I had the energy to cook something.
Pulling the package open, I rolled the meat and started to eat as fast as I could as my stomach groaned. Cole droned on and I tried to pay attention, but fear of not getting enough to eat threatened to shut me down.
It didn't matter how much better life got. I remembered starving half to death for t
oo long to let the terror of it go.
"Hey. You there?" His tone was less than pleasant and I had to work hard at not snapping his head off.
"Yeah, dude. Fuck. I'm tired and starving." I shoved more into my mouth and popped open a beer, wanting to get off the phone and take a long shower.
"Sorry. Cindy's being a bitch again."
"Drop that hooker, Cole. Come over here until you find a new place. Life is too long to stay with someone that shits on you all the time." I hated to be a dick about his wife, but he had more negative shit to say about the woman than he ever had positive. He needed to move on, but he was too much like me, wanting the type of love that didn’t really exist.
"Yeah, yeah. Tonight's not about me. It's about you. Get your shit together, eat and get up to that club. Be professional and call me later about whether you want the job or not. The Senator's ready to hire you, so it’s really your call."
"Can I just not go and say yes? I don't care what the little piece is like. The money is too good to say no." I ran my fingers down my face and grimaced. The smell of cold cuts was all over my hands and now on my face too. Brilliant.
"No. You can't. Do what I said and let me know your answer after it’s over. This isn’t a normal situation, Ian. You’re not just watching her from afar like we did at the open-air event. You’re staying at the house with her. If she’s too much to handle-"
"All right. I get it. Shit. Thanks for the opportunity." I hung up and tossed the phone on a nearby chair before finishing the meat roll in my free hand and washing it down with the rest of my beer. The loaf of bread beside me looked good and would go great with the meat sitting in my stomach. I took a few pieces and almost swallowed them whole as I walked languidly to the bathroom to wash my face.
A nap would have been great before having to dress up for a night at the club. I used to love to go, my dance skills wicked sick, but I quit after realizing that dancing led to sex and sex led to loving someone. I wasn't interested.
Tonight would be different. A little dancing, a drink and an interview. I hoped the girl had practiced personality questions for our meet up. I was going to drill her good.
"Drill her." I chuckled and shoved the rest of the bread in my mouth before getting into the shower.
****
I washed up quickly and towel dried my hair as I inspected myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. My tats lined my chest and abs, my hours in the gym giving me the body I could never get when I was smoking. Drugs did weird shit to me, leaving me more content to waste away than do or be anything in life.
"Never again." I ran my hand along my cock, grateful that the abuse I put on myself in my younger years hadn't affected my ability to please a woman. I might not have used it often, but when I did... I wanted to bring the girl to her knees with pleasure.
It wasn't happening tonight. I stroked myself once more and focused back on my face, wondering if I should shave or not. I decided on not. The five o’clock shadow gave me an edge that warned away the faint of heart from fucking with me, women included.
Picking up the phone, I texted my brother for the girl's digits and wondered if I weren’t making a mistake. The money sounded like a dream, but anything to do with a woman, and I was already weakened.
A few minutes later the number came back through and I figured it was time to start the interview via text.
"Let's see how compliant you are, little girl." I licked my lips and took a deep breath.
Me: This is Ian. Your father and I spoke about me working for him where you were concerned. Let me know the address to The Roxy and I'll see you in the better part of an hour.
She texted back a few minutes later, causing my lip to lift for no good reason.
Her: Hi Ian. I'm Chloe. I heard you needed a body to guard and I guess my father thought to offer mine. If you have Safari on your phone, then you can figure out where the club is. I would think a big, smart guy like you can push a few buttons. No? I'll show you when you get here how to push buttons. I'm soooo good at it.
I laughed, unable to help myself. This was going to be fun. She was pissed about her father seeking protection for her. If I wanted a challenge, I just got one. I decided not to text her back, but let her stew on whether or not I took her text as humorous or asinine.
I knew without a doubt it was the latter of the two, but the girl had balls. It would be interesting to see if her looks fit her stunning personality. Spanking her would be fun, but she was hands off. It was better that I not even begin to picture her as someone I could take to bed and teach a few lessons to. I might be a lover instead of a fighter, but in the throes of passion, I demanded obedience. Something told me she would be incredibly fun to snap a collar around.
Pulling up the Internet, I searched for a picture of the Senator and his family. I was surprised to see that only one picture of him with the girl showed up. She had to have been ten in the picture. The pretty smile on her face was filled with innocence, but sadness sat around the edges of her eyes.
"What story do you have to tell, Chloe?" My libido died down as I brushed my thumb over her face. I had to hope that she remained the bitch I imagined her to be. If she was broken and beautiful… fuck me.
I tossed the phone down and pulled on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a tight black t-shirt with my shit kickers. I looked like I was ready to jump on a hog and run-rule the biggest bad-ass in town. I was... It would be interesting to see what she thought of me.
The pseudo interview would help me make a decision about whether to take the job, but it was more than obvious that her father hadn't given her the chance to have a say in any of it. Was he still treating her like a child? Did she still act like a child?
I picked up the phone and called the picture back up, checking the date.
Eleven years ago.
She was twenty-one and probably had a sense of entitlement all over her. Rich, young and beautiful. The three things I didn't want to get involved in.
"The money's good. The money's good. Just keep telling yourself the money's good."
Since when did I give a shit about money?
Since getting a good taste of it.
Fuck, I hope she's not hot.
To Be Continued…
Sorry Ian. She’s blistering hot and unfortunately (?) she’s going to grab you by the balls and the heart. Poor Ian. (yeah right! Lucky bastard!!) Alright… that’s all the sneak peeks. I wanted to say thank you for putting up with me this long. I hope you enjoyed everything I had to share. Connect with me… I’m everywhere.
RAS: I’m single. It’s not something I’m stoked about, but it’s the truth. Romance novels are easy to write, because like you enjoy reading the warmth in them, I love writing them. Someone asked me the other day to describe my perfect woman. My answer? Breathing is a good start… *Wink*
Thanks for putting up with my random-ass stuff all the way through.
About the Author
The name is Weston. I'm a former firefighter/EMS guy who's picked up the proverbial pen and started writing bad boy romance stories. I co-write with my sister, Ali Parker as we travel the United States.
Romance is a genre that is oftentimes written by women, but my novels give you the chance to see through the eyes of some of the men that perhaps you fantasize about, and the opportunity to read about passion from the other side for a change. Stories told about real relationships, legit problems and past experiences… unless you’re an ex, in which case any resemblance to women living or dead is merely a coincidence. ;)
You're going to find Billionaires, Bad Boys, Mafia and loads of sexiness. Something for everyone, hopefully. I'd love to connect with you. Check out the links below and come find me.
Hope you enjoy my stories and feel free to reach out at any time.
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Weston’s Wicked Playground
Stealing First & Other Novels Included
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nbsp; Copyright © 2017 by Weston Parker & Ali Parker
(Nicole York a pen name of Ali Parker)
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
First Edition.
Stealing First: (A Bad Boy Single Father Billionaire Novel) Page 67
