by Cat Mason
“Whoa,” I gasp, gripping onto the back of the car. “Am I hallucinating, or was that an expression of gratitude?”
Her eyes narrow, but a smile plays on her lips. “Shut up, you ass,” she deadpans, slapping me in the chest. “Are we going to this Happy Hut place, or not?” she asks, shocking me.
“Just because the kid asked, and I demonstrated major white knight and mechanic skills here, doesn’t mean you have to feel obligated to come with us,” I assure her. “I can tell her you’re busy or whatever. It’s no big deal.”
“I don’t feel obligated,” she replies, almost sounding angry. “Besides,” she shrugs, her eyes glancing back at Jazzie through the windshield. “I’m not busy; why should we lie to her? Unless you have an issue with me tagging along, Nicky?”
“I don’t know if you can handle all that is Happy Hut,” I challenge. “That’s all.”
She smiles, her entire face brightening. “I’ll follow you there.”
Skirting by me, Ireland makes her way around the car and climbs inside. Without another word, she starts the engine and pulls the door closed.
“Is she coming too?” Jazzie asks the second I get in the car.
“Yeah.” Releasing the brake, I shift into gear before pulling onto the street. “You talked her into it.”
“Yay!” Jazzie cheers, fist pumping the air. “She’s the super coolest girl ever!”
“Yeah,” I nod, checking for Ireland’s car in the rearview mirror. “She’s somethin’ alright.”
Chapter Six
Bull’s Spit
Ireland
"I win again!" Hunter's daughter, Jasmine, squeals around a mouth full of cotton candy. The Skeeball machine buzzes and lights up. The words ‘WINNER’ flashing in a rainbow of bright colors, almost appearing to celebrate right with her. Standing to her bright purple covered converse feet on the chair, she throws her hands up, shaking her butt in a full on victory dance. Rubbing salt in the wounds of Dominick's loss.
I love this kid.
For the last hour, she has gone through half a red solo cup full of tokens while playing every game in the place.
Twice.
Dominick has had his ass handed to him by a six-year-old, over and over. I am enjoying every single second of it. With every win, Jazz throws down a victory dance that any football player would envy, leaving the sore loser to roll his eyes and pout like a baby. I am helpless to do anything but cheer her on.
At her age, I would have given anything for days like this. It wasn’t until I was much older, and able to bring myself, that I ever walked into an arcade. Even then, it didn’t happen often. It was never the same without friends or family to play with. This will no doubt be the highlight of my week.
"Girls rule! Boys drool!" she sings, whipping her arms around above her head.
It's contagious. I can't help laughing and dancing along beside her. Shaking my hips back and forth, I join in the fun, pointing and laughing at him with her.
"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, grabbing the fist full of tickets the machine spit out. "Simmer down, ya bunch of crazies. You cheat anyway."
Jasmine stops dancing immediately, her happy smile fading into a slit your throat and leave you for dead in the desert glare. "That's a crockpot full of bull's spit," she grinds out through gritted teeth. Facing him, she jabs him in the chest with her finger. "Own your loss, punk."
Looking between us girls, he shakes his head. "I really have no idea how to even respond to that." Narrowing his eyes, he studies her carefully. "I have my doubts as to whether you're really six, or if you're like that chick in the movie I watched last night and never age. Maybe you're waiting to kill me in my sleep, but are too cute for anyone to believe it."
"You're boring," she replies, rolling her eyes.
Dominick's eyes meet mine, his features softening. "Are you enjoying this?” he asks, smirking at me.
"Absolutely," I inform him. "I think Jasmine could possibly be my favorite person on the planet."
"Like really, really?" she asks, turning to face me, her eyes lighting up.
"Oh yeah," I nod, smiling at her. "Totally. Top of the list fave, girl."
Leaping from the chair, she launches herself into my arms, wrapping herself around me like a monkey. "My best frannnnnnnd is the super, coolest girl ever! We can have sleepovers and, and play dress up... and, and eat all the cookies when we watch movies... and..."
"Whoa, whoa; back the crazy train up a minute," Dominick blurts, holding up both hands and interrupting her tirade. "Aren't you forgetting someone, Squirt?"
Loosening her grip on me, she slides to the floor. "Don't worry, Mack," she says, turning to face him. "You can come, too."
"Oh yeah," he asks, staring down at her.
"Yep," she replies, popping the 'p'. "Who else is gonna bring the cookies?"
His face falls. I laugh, unable to help it, because he looks like she just broke his heart. I'd almost believe it, if I thought he had one to begin with. I know all too well that there is nothing in that man's body resembling a heart, or a soul. I am a firm believer that safely tucked away behind the layers of Dominick Bradford is nothing but gaping black hole that will suck you in the moment you let your guard down only to selfishly spit you back out without a second thought once you've served your purpose to him.
Leopards don't change their spots. Why would assholes be any different?
"I see how it is," he huffs, scooping her up over his shoulder. Jazzie squeals, giggling when he spins around in circles. "You can try to replace me with someone prettier all you want. Just remember, no one is gonna rock that Elsa solo better than I do."
Wiggling around, she manages to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You'll always be my favorite princess."
"Good," he laughs. "Now, since that’s settled, let's hit the cookie corner before we have to head home."
"Yay!"
Settling to her feet, he produces a handful of dollar bills. “Loser feeds the addiction, right?” he asks, holding out the cash. Jasmine grabs them without a word and bolts across the large game room for the concessions in the corner. The tiny shops are all surrounded by small, brightly colored tables and chairs.
We make our way over, Dominick keeping his eyes locked on the little girl the entire time. He smiles when she makes it to the counter and slaps down the money. "Yo, Marina!" she says, as if she has known the woman all her life. "Three please; but make mine with extra icing, pleeeeeeeeeease."
"You got it, Jazzie," the brunette behind the counter says, before turning her back to us all. "Comin’ right up."
Sitting down at a table clearly too small for any sized adult, Dominick's knees touch his chin. Thoughts of the chair breaking and him falling to the floor have me biting back a laugh as he speaks. "She tends to show off for company,” he tells me when I take the seat across from him. “I’ve learned it’s best to just go with it.”
“Mhm,” I nod, not paying him much attention. I came here because of the kid. Well, and for lack of anything better to do with my day. Besides, I have enjoyed spending time with Hunter and Chase’s daughter. She’s everything I would expect and want in a kid if I ever had one of my own. I had figured being around Dominick would make me feel uncomfortable, or whatever, but Jazz being a force all her own, completely commands all the attention of everyone around her. Somehow, she makes it easy to forget that I can’t stand the prick and want nothing more than to shove my combat boot up his ass every time he opens his mouth. It wasn’t weird at all spending time with him around, until she wasn’t close enough to be a buffer between us. Now that we are alone, being this close to him, you guessed it, it’s awkward.
I don’t know what’s worse, the silence, or when he tries to talk, forcing me to answer in one syllable replies. I know it’s rude, leaving him to carry the whole conversation, but what could I possibly have to say to him?
“Look Mack!” Jazzie shouts, breaking the silence hanging around the table when she ta
kes a seat between us. “Marina even carried the tray over so I didn’t drop your sammich on the floor this time.”
His face turns beat red the second our eyes meet. “Givin’ all my secrets away today, huh, Squirt?” he asks, reaching out and taking the black plastic tray from the brunette behind the counter and placing it down in the middle of the table. “Thanks, Marina. I appreciate not having to eat mine off the floor.”
She giggles, batting her eyes at him, a blood red flush spreading across her face. “I’d never make one of my favorite customers eat off the floor, Mack.”
Oh for the love of subtle flirting…
“Aren’t you sweet,” I say, looking up at her. “I’m sure Mack will give ya a nice, big tip. I hear he spends too much time on his knees anyway.”
The comment flies from my brain and out of my mouth like word vomit before I can stop it. All eyes are on me, and suddenly, I can feel real vomit rising in my throat. The embarrassment of my very rude outburst causes my whole face to flame.
Jasmine scoops up a giant chocolate chip cookie sandwich, white icing leaking out onto her fingers as she shovels as much of it into her mouth in one bite as she can.
“Easy there, kiddo,” Dominick says, grabbing napkins from the tray and helping her wrap her dessert the best he can while she continues to attack it. “Pace yourself.”
“It’s soooooo good!” she says around a mouthful. She looks at me and smiles, icing and cookie pieces stuck to her face. “I got you one too, Ireland. Try it!”
“Ireland is a Vegan, Jazz,” Mack blurts. The fact that he even remembers that information about me is surprise enough to render me speechless. Turning to Marina, Mack smiles. “Could I get a box for the other two, beautiful? I should probably be gettin’ the kid home some time tonight.”
“She’s what?” Jazzie interrupts, scrunching her face up in confusion.
Mack laughs at her cookie and icing covered expression. Grabbing another napkin, he wipes some of the mess from her face. “Vegan. It means she chooses not to eat some things, like meat.”
“That’s boring,” she says, shoving more cookie in her mouth.
“No,” Mack says, shaking his head. “I’ll keep it simple. Think of it like this: you pick the pepperonis off pizza. That’s your choice, so we sneak them under the table to Bits.”
“Rae says we should eat everything that’s put on our plate,” she argues. “Anyway pepperonis taste like feet.”
“Okay. For one, we don’t listen to or do everything Rae says. I prefer to think of it as more of an opinionative selection process,” Mack says, chuckling as if listening to the nanny was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “Two: I know you don’t taste people’s feet.”
“Whatever,” she shrugs, shoveling the last of the sandwich into her mouth. Licking her fingers clean, she smacks her lips. Looking up at me, she knits her eyebrows together. I have no doubt the wheels in her head are turning on overdrive, processing what he has just told her. Nodding her head, she licks her lips and claps her hands together. “Does that mean you don’t want your sammich? ‘Cause I do!”
By the time Marina has boxed up the rest of the cookie sandwiches, and Jazzie has cashed in her tickets for some stuffed parrot, I still have yet to swallow my embarrassment and find my voice. I speak my mind, that’s just something I do. Love it or hate it, it’s who I am. Though, I don’t usually spit random rude things at people I don’t know; especially in front of a child.
It’s the Dominick effect. Or should I say Dom’s-a-dick effect…
I let him get to me and make me crazy. The problem with this particular situation is he technically didn’t do anything. Why does putting your foot in your mouth always leave such a bad after taste?
The walk to the cars is quiet, except for the constant chatter of the supercharged, sugar-fueled six-year-old. I read somewhere that the average six-year-old can ask as many as four hundred questions in a single day. I’d bet all the cash in my back pocket that Miss Jasmine has surpassed that just in the time it has taken to cross the parking lot. Every single question is shot off in rapid-fire succession that rivals any automatic weapon in a soldier’s arsenal. It has me starting to wonder if Dominick is right and she is older than she claims to be and is gathering intel before killing him in his sleep.
“Why are your legs longer than my body? Is that how come you’re so tall, Mack?” she asks, staring up at him, her hand tucked safely in his. “Is it so you can reach the top shelf of the closet where Mommy hides the Christmas presents? Do you bump your head a lot?”
“Ooookaaaaay,” he says, hitting the button on his key fob for the locks before opening the driver’s side door. “In you go, jabberin’ Jenny.”
“My name’s not Jenny,” she huffs, releasing his hand and into the car. “Ya, big buncha crazy!”
Leaning inside the vehicle, he starts the engine and settles the cookie box in the passenger seat. “I’ll just be a sec, Squirt. I wanna check Ireland’s spare tire real quick before she drives home on it. Stay out of those cookies, or there’s gonna be trouble, ya feel me?”
“Cross my heart and hope for fries,” she says, giving us a double thumbs up.
Closing the door, he grabs my elbow and steers me toward the other side of my car. “I’m fine, you don’t ha—”
“What the hell was that?” he snaps, pressing me back into my car.
“What?” I ask, yanking my arm free of his grasp.
“Here I thought you pulled that stick out of your ass and ditched the ‘I’m a rockstar’, over-privileged, ‘I can be a bitchy brat all I want’ attitude. Forgive me for thinking we could get beyond whatever issues you have with me and could be civil for the sake of that kid in the car who, just so you know, for some reason, thinks you’re amazing. Go figure,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Go to hell,” I hiss, stomping on his foot. He releases his hold on me, jumping back a few steps. “I don’t like you. And, just so you know, I never fake it.”
His eyes narrow, his mouth pressing into a hard line. Even though he is pissed, I can see the dimples in his cheeks, the ones that made him absolutely irresistible to me all those years ago. They were the proof, in my mind, that there was something beyond the badass, troublemaker he always appeared to be. Something soft and sweet that I saw more of every time he smiled at me.
God equips men with dimples and those knock-out smiles so that our brains turn to mush. It’s looks like those that leave us helpless. The look on his face is anything but sweet.
It’s filled with rage. Territorial. Dark.
And if I didn’t hate him, I’d say it was totally hot too…
“When it comes to Jasmine you will,” he grinds out, angrily. “As for your issues with me, cry your river, build that bridge, and get the fuck over it already. Shit happens. Life’s gonna stink if you drag crap around everywhere you go.”
“Are you done?” I ask, swallowing hard. “I need to Google a hardware store. It seems I have a bridge to build.”
His top lip twitches, those damn dimples becoming more prominent. His face is stern, but unreadable. My stomach begins to churn like it did yesterday when we were this close. My heart slams against my ribcage, making me dizzy.
“Best frannnnnnnd!” Jazzie shouts, making me jump. “You can’t leave. I gotta tell you somethin’.”
“Almost positive you were supposed to be bucklin’ up, Kid,” Dominick chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Kids should come with duct tape, I tell ya.”
“If your lippers had zippers, I could shut you up,” she fires back.
“Well,” I giggle, wondering where she comes up with this stuff. “Guess she told you.”
“Damn kid,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I’m wrapped around her finger, but I really gotta watch what comes out of my mouth. She takes everything I say and uses it against me.”
Moving away from him, I make my way over to where Jazzie is hanging out of the sunroof, slapping her hands down on the roof. �
�I gotta to tell you a seeeeeeeecret,” she says, leaning over and grabbing my cheeks with her sticky hands.
“Oh yeah?” I mumble through my smooshed lips. “Lay it on me, Kiddo.”
Her brows knit together, every inch of her face, completely stone cold serious. “You reeeeeeeally need to eat cookies,” she yells about three inches from my face. “They do not taste like feet.”
“Now who’s the Bossasaurus?” Dominick asks from behind me.
I can feel the heat from his body at my back. His arm comes up beside me, his hand landing on top of Jasmine’s head. “Say goodnight, Jazz,” he says, pushing her down into the car.
“Bye, best frannnnnnnd!”
“Bye, munchkin,” I reply, though she’s already disappeared from view.
When I turn to make my way back around my car to leave, Dominick steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Shit, sorry,” I say, shifting to the right, to get out of his way. Clearing his throat, he steps back in my path again and holds out his hand, expectantly. “May I help you?” I ask, wondering what in the actual fuck he wants. “I’m all out of singles to make it rain, Magic Mack,” I laugh, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Har, har, aren’t you hilarious,” he deadpans. “Just give me your phone, smart ass.”
“My phone?” I ask, taking a step back. “Why in the hell would I do something like that?”
“Just. Do. It,” he says, gritting his teeth. “For once, can you just do something the first time you’re asked, instead of flappin’ that mouth?”
“Whatever.” Taking my phone from my front pocket, I unlock the screen, and slap it down in his palm. “There. Ya happy now?” I ask, scowling at him.
“You have no idea,” he deadpans, his eyes locked on his fingers as they tap on the screen. Looking up after a minute or two, he grins. Ringing from his jeans pocket only causes the grin to turn into a full on smile. “There ya go,” he says. Just as quickly the ringing stops and he hands me my phone back. “I expect you to call me immediately if that spare fails on your way home. Though,” he says, steering me toward my car again, “since Jared quit, I’d also appreciate you letting me know you made it home safely, as well. It doesn’t sit well with me for any one of you to be out alone.”
