Drake (The Powers That Be, Book 5)

by Harper Bentley

  “Please tell me this was a good one,” I answered, putting my phone on speaker as I drained the noodles.

  Krystal laughed. “You’re gonna love this. So I meet him at Saki, right? We’re chatting over our sushi, having a good ol’ time, when suddenly he jumps up and yells, ‘My parole officer’s here!’ and sprints out of the place.”

  “He did not!” I gasped.

  “Yep. Best part about it? I looked around at the other patrons nearby, shrugged and continued eating.” She let out a whoop as she cracked up.

  I laughed too. “Good lord, Krys. Are there any good ones out there?”

  Through her giggles, she declared, “I’m thinking not at this point.”

  “Come over and eat chicken tetrazzini with me.”

  “I just ate!”

  “Sushi! You’ll be hungry in an hour,” I claimed with a chuckle.

  “True. Uh, is Vic—”

  “He’s working. Come on over. I’m making my sour-cream chocolate cake too,” I tempted.

  “Be there in ten!” she said and rang off.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “And just before he bounced, he told me he was a spy for the CIA.”

  Krystal had continued regaling me with details from her latest failed date once she got to the house.

  “God. Where do you find these guys?” I asked.

  “This guy was actually pretty hot, believe it or not. I met him at Best Buy, which he explained tonight, just before he went on the lam,” she snorted, “that the reason he’d been there was he was emailing the CIA so Russia couldn’t trace the ISP back to his laptop.” She cracked up.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I shook my head snickering as I cleared our dishes off the table.

  “Nope. Oh! I’m gonna look him up,” she said, picking up her phone. As I cut the cake and put it on plates, she shrieked, “Wow! He really is a criminal! He robbed a store! Look! It says, ‘Charges Pending,’ for Office Depot.” She held her phone out to me and I shook my head as I set her plate in front of her.

  “So when you met him in Best Buy, he was probably casing the joint then,” I declared with a giggle.

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Probably! I should see if they’ll give me a gift card or something for thwarting a crime!”

  “It’s the least they can do,” I stated sardonically.

  We ate our cake on the couch, watching an episode of The Girlfriend Experience that I’d DVR’d, with Krystal commenting the entire time, “Oh, God, he’s so gross. How can she be with him? I could never do that,” to which I wholeheartedly agreed.

  Before leaving, she told me she’d meet me at the auto shop in the morning, but not until after I wrapped up two pieces of cake for her to take home.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  I dropped Betsy off the next morning, giving Matt the keys at the desk. I then went outside to wait for Krystal because apparently, a man inside had eaten sardines or something fishy for breakfast and the smell was grossing me out.

  As I waited, I heard an agitated voice coming from the side of the shop saying, “You signed…yeah, I know…you were gone…I’m trying…that’s horse shit! I said I’m trying…”

  Drake. Great.

  Before I could make a move, he walked out where I could see him, his back to me as he kept talking.

  “Uh huh. Yeah, I know.”

  I wavered between going inside with Mr. Fishy or acting like I was talking on my own phone and not listening to him when he turned to see me standing there, frozen in my indecision.

  Shit!

  “Gotta go,” he said. Lifting the tail of his denim shirt and jamming his phone into his back jeans pocket, he walked toward me with the usual pissed-off look on his face. “Get an earful?”

  “I wasn’t listening,” I replied cooly.

  His golden eyes were darker than usual as he shoved a hand through his hair. “Fucking women,” he murmured then went inside the shop.

  I let out an annoyed huff as Krystal pulled up.

  When I got into her car she asked, “Was that the hot mechanic?” staring at Drake where he now stood inside the service area talking to his dad.

  “Yeah. That’s the asshole,” I clued her in. “You should go out with him so you don’t ruin your streak.” I let out a snort.

  She giggled as we pulled out of the parking lot. “Nah. I only date nice guys who are losers. Can’t go changing it up now!”

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Maybe I should look at getting another vehicle,” I complained to Alex that night at work as I pulled on my jacket. “I’m tired of my poor brother and Krystal having to haul me around everywhere.”

  “But the auto shop said that’ll be it, right? After the pulley thing, you won’t need more repairs?” he asked.

  “For now.” I sighed. “I was hoping she wouldn’t kick the bucket until I got my master’s then a good job and could afford a new car.”

  “Uh, that’s in, like, another two years,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

  “Yeah. But I take good care of her, so I was hoping she’d make it.”

  “She might. Never know.”

  Changing the subject from my automotive woes, I asked him about nursing school. “When do you hear if you got in?”

  “Two months. I think they make you wait on purpose just to make you sweat. It’s fucking torture.”

  I was sure it was and I hated it for him. I patted his arm. “You’ll get in this time. I know it.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t get in this time, I’m heading to med school. Heard it’s easier anyway.”

  I chuckled. “Could be.” I heard Victor’s motorcycle roaring up just then. “I’m off the next two days so I’ll see you Sunday?”

  “Sure thing. Take care,” he hollered after me.

  “You too!” I called, waving as I left.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Since I was tired of being a pest and bumming rides, Thursday night after getting home I texted my professor to let him know I wouldn’t be in class the next morning. He texted back telling me to email him my completed assignment but to make sure to check the website for lecture notes.

  Friday morning I slept in, not getting up until eight, and deciding to take it easy—after eating an overflowing bowl of Lucky Charms—lazed around on the couch catching up on my TV shows. By ten I was bored to tears, having cringed at almost every winning outfit on Project Runway because I’d picked the losers each time to win, and glad I hadn’t majored in fashion design because that would’ve ended up in a big, fat fail.

  Getting up off the sofa, I engaged myself by changing around the living room furniture. Which took a whopping twenty minutes. Afterward, as I was in the kitchen making a meat lasagna, another of Vic’s favorites, I’d just decided that later I’d move the furniture in our bedrooms, when he walked in.

  “You trying to kill me?” he asked, scratching his shirtless stomach.

  “Damn. You just caught me before I put the arsenic in,” I joked as I layered the ingredients in a casserole dish. I glanced at him then went back to my task. “Why do you say that?”

  He got the milk out to make his own bowl of cereal. “Rearranging the furniture.”

  I chuckled. “Gotta keep it interesting.”

  “It’ll be interesting when I come in one night and trip over the ottoman busting out all my teeth.” He took a bite from the bowl he held in his hands giving me a look from where he leaned back against the counter.

  I finished with the last layer of mozzarella and put the dish into the oven then turned to him. “Teeth are overrated.”

  He snorted. “Uh huh. Why’re you home?”

  “I’m tired of asking for rides. And with that being said, can you drop me off at Powers when you go to work tonight?”

  “Yep,” he garbled through a big mouthful of sugary goodness.

  “Thanks.” I puffed out a breath. “I owe you too. I’ll never be able to pay you guys back for the rides.”

  “I’m your brother. I’
m supposed to do shit for you.” He shrugged.

  “The only way I can pay you back is by feeding you,” I mumbled.

  He pooched his muscular belly out and patted it. “That you do. You’re gonna make me fat.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Psh. Like that’d ever happen.”

  “Speaking of, gotta hit the gym. When’ll that be ready?” He nodded at the oven.

  “Forty-five minutes.”

  “Perfect,” he said, putting his bowl into the sink and rinsing it out. “Be back in an hour.”

  He kissed the side of my head as he went by then went to change as I hollered after him, “Don’t worry about me! I’ll just be here making our bedrooms more interesting!”

  Chapter 5

  “Could you come with me so this Drake guy won’t be a dick to me for a change?” I asked Victor when we pulled up to the auto shop where Betsy was parked outside.

  He turned off his bike and we went inside walking to the front desk that Drake stood behind.

  “Hey, man,” Drake said with a grin—which made him look so handsome but too bad he was such a jerk—when he looked up and saw my brother. “Long time.” He reached a hand over the counter and shook Vic’s hand.

  “Fuck, it has been,” Vic answered. “Seven years since I played football with Gable.” He chuckled. “Here to pick up my sister’s truck,” he said with a nod toward me.

  “Thought it might’ve been some relation when I saw the last name,” Drake said to Vic, then glancing at me, gave me his customary annoyed look—yay—and clicked at the computer keyboard. “Brake pads were worn on the front only,” he said to Vic then looked back at the computer screen. “So that’ll be fifty-three twenty-five,” he uttered, not even looking at me and saying to Vic, “I’ll never forget sophomore year, fucking Gable threw the winning touchdown.”

  Vic laughed. “Yeah. I recall you not being so bad yourself. I know I blitzed about twenty times that game and you got away.”

  Now Drake laughed. “If I remember right, I think you sacked me twice too. Fucker.”

  While they talked, I handed Drake my debit card disinterestedly, showing him that his not liking me had no bearing on me whatsoever. Whatsoever! But he wasn’t paying a lick of attention to me anyway. Ugh. I signed the slip he put on the counter then took the keys he’d set down.

  “Some guys and I get together on Sundays and play. It’s just flag but with some of the meatheads it gets a little rough. If you wanna relive the glory days, we’ll be at Roosevelt High School this Sunday at one. One of the guys who plays coaches there, so we get the practice field.”

  “That’d be cool,” Vic said.

  Drake glimpsed at the computer screen. “This your number on here?” When Vic nodded, Drake pulled out his phone. “I’ll add you as a contact so I can get hold of you in case the game gets cancelled.” He then gave Vic his number, and they grinned at each other. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes thinking they reminded me of the guys in Step Brothers when they became besties. Ergh.

  After their bromantic interlude, Vic thanked Drake, telling him he’d see him Sunday before walking outside with me.

  “You good?” my brother asked as he threw a leg over his motorcycle and put on his helmet.

  “Yeah,” I replied, glancing back to see Drake still inside behind the desk. “You see the way he looked at me?” I whispered.

  Vic laughed. “I think he likes you.” He started up his bike. At my dirty look, he grinned. “I’m not shitting you.” Just as he put the bike into gear, he said, “Get home. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks again for the lasagna.”

  I watched as he drove away, shaking my head wondering if I’d ever understand guys. They were so weird. How in the world he could take Drake’s dirty looks as his somehow liking me, I had no fricking clue. Turning back to my truck, I unlocked her, got in and started her up. As I backed out, I saw Drake glance at me offhandedly before turning back to his computer and I had to control my middle finger on the wheel from saluting him.

  “That’s right, asshole. Nothing here to see,” I said as I put it in “Drive.”

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Sunday I was frying chicken for lunch when Vic came into the kitchen wearing God knew what and striking the Heisman pose.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  I looked at him then back at the pan as I used tongs to move the chicken around and stated drily, “Halloween isn’t for another eight months.”

  He laughed. “No. Look. See how much I’ve filled out?” He flexed his biceps and I saw he had on the Garfield High School Football t-shirt and shorts he’d worn when he was a senior. The shirt slid up to show his abs as the poor jersey material literally strained to stay in one piece, the sleeves about to rip at the seams. And the shorts were just comical, hitting him mid-thigh and super tight.

  “I’d say those are ready for the Goodwill pile,” I commented, knowing that’d get a rise out of him.

  “These are a piece of history, On! No way would I ever give them away!”

  I chuckled. “I’m kidding. But you’d better take them off before history falls apart.”

  He spun to go back to his room, hollering from the hallway, “You’re coming to the game today, right?”

  Oh, gosh. I hadn’t even thought of going, and I really didn’t want to see Drake either. But when Vic came back in the kitchen—dressed in a t-shirt and shorts that actually fit—he was so excited that I couldn’t say no.

  “I haven’t played since high school. I can’t wait to put the hurt on someone,” he said as he shoved a big forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  “I thought it was flag?” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, but you get a bunch of cocky bastards together, someone’s bound to get hurt. That’s what makes it fun.” He snorted.

  “Guys are so weird,” I mumbled.

  After helping with the dishes and cleaning up, he asked, “So you’re going with me, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I dried my hands on a towel. “You don’t mind if I ask Krys to go too, do you?”

  He shrugged feigning nonchalance, and I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing at the smile that graced his face, because I knew he couldn’t wait to show off for her.

  “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his gym bag. Outside, he threw his bag in my passenger side then got on his motorcycle. “Follow me!”

  When we got to the stadium, Vic was out on the field before I could even take a seat in the bleachers, and I chuckled at the way he was acting so excited like a little kid. I watched as he introduced himself to maybe twenty guys who were all freaking huge.

  Drake wasn’t hard to pick out sitting on the turf and stretching, his sleeveless t-shirt showing off muscular arms. I could see a tattoo on his left shoulder but couldn’t make out what it was other than a tribal design. He was laughing and cutting up with two other guys which made me wonder, once again, why he was such a dick to me.

  “Hey!” I heard Krystal call as she came walking up the ramp. I waved and she came up to sit by me. “These guys are hot!”

  I shrugged. “You know you’re only supposed to be checking out my brother.”

  “Oh, I will, along with the other cuties.”

  “He was so excited that you were coming,” I informed her and got a hair flip which had me biting my lips again because from the moment she’d sat down, her eyes had followed Vic’s every move.

  “Hot mechanic looks hot,” she mumbled.

  I twisted my mouth, annoyed that she was right. “Yeah.”

  “Oh! He just looked up here at you!”

  “Scowled is more like it,” I claimed.

  The game started with Drake playing quarterback on the same team as Vic, who was a receiver, and they worked great together. After Drake threw to Vic to make their third touchdown the rest of the guys started complaining, so Vic traded teams.

  Now things got really interesting because Vic had been an All-State linebacker and he kept blitzing Drake who I could tell was getting
agitated at being forced to run or throw quickly.

  “Go Vic!” I yelled standing and clapping when on the next play, he “sacked” Drake, knocking his ass to the grass. I know. I was being a bitch. But he deserved it.

  The next play, the football flew up into the bleachers almost hitting me.

  “What the fuck?” I said standing and turning to look down at Krystal.

  “I think you pissed him off,” she stated.

  I swiveled back and narrowed my eyes when I saw Drake smirking at me from the field. Ass.

  “Throw the ball back, On!” Vic yelled.

  I walked up two seats behind me to get the ball then gripping it, threw a perfect spiral that almost made it to where Drake stood, whose look of surprise made nearly being smoked by the ball he’d thrown worth it.

  “Take that, jerkface,” I mumbled walking back to sit by Krystal.

  “Vic taught you well,” she said with a giggle. “You see the look on hot mechanic’s face?”

  “Yep.” I giggled right along with her.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Two hours later, the game ended and Krystal and I walked to the parking lot.

  “Well, that was fun,” she said. “I think I used up all my hot guy allowance for the month, though.”

  “Does that mean you’re gonna have to go out with just-okay-looking thieves now? Wait. That’s already happening.” I rolled my eyes.

  She laughed as she opened the door of her Beemer. “Well, it does keep things interesting.”

  “I guess so,” I said with a snigger.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Vic he played a good game,” she said before getting in and driving off.

  I walked to where I’d parked Betsy which was right at the entrance and by Vic’s bike. Just before I got to her, there came Drake out of the gate. Goody.

  “Loved watching you shake your pom poms,” he said, all cocky as he walked by.

  “You’re just a…a piece of work, you know that?” I fired back. Ooooh, great comeback, I thought as I inwardly rolled my eyes at what a lame-o I was.

  He turned and shot back, “I am a piece of work, sweetheart. Like Michelangelo’s David, I’m that fucking amazing.”