Crush (A Night Fire Novel Book 1)

by TM Watkins

  The brightly lit strip had been like a beacon to me, drawn to it like a moth. I had come to Vegas with big ideas, big plans. Much like everyone else I guess. My friends had talked of their dreams and goals, quite often it would include going to somewhere like LA or New York. But I was different, the dancer in me craved the bright lights and the thrill of adrenaline as I danced for a crowd. I had a lot of dreams, it involved a lot sore feet and aching muscles. Now all I wanted to do was pay the bills on time which was rather sad. Now I would have to return home with my tail between my legs because it was unlikely that the landlord would give me an extension on the rent. It was due tomorrow and that's all there was to it.

  I had packed my things, even after a year of being here I still only had one bags worth of stuff. The mattress on the floor would have to be left behind, the few bits of kitchen utensils and crockery forgotten. There was nothing else here that I owned. There was nothing else here full stop. Lucky that the apartment was just one large room that consisted of a lounge room, dining room, kitchen and bedroom all rolled into one. Oh, and the bathroom behind the kitchen. It housed the toilet and shower and it was smaller than the kitchen. My parents pantry was bigger than my bathroom, not that I would ever admit that to them.

  They thought I was doing well, they were fed and believed a great lie that I was a dancer in a show that I definitely kept my clothes on for. I also worked part time at restaurant which they did remark that I would be burned out quickly if I wasn't careful. I wanted to laugh, there was no chance of that happening.

  I had sat by the window for several hours, hoping that my last memories of Las Vegas would be reasonable even if my meal wasn't. Tomorrow I would take a long walk along the strip to soak it all in, imagining what could have been. My mind often liked to take a flight of fancy, pretending that things were better. Even if it really was pure hell. Okay, so that might have been a tad extreme. I worked to pay the bills, I auditioned for any dancing position that became available. Except the pole variety, I had promised my father that I would not remove my clothes in public for money. Which I could proudly say that I hadn't.

  One last night on the floor before I go home. A decent bed in a room bigger than my entire apartment awaited me. Proper meals that wouldn't leave me hungry and wasn't stale or in a box, steaming hot and delicious. Hugs and kisses on the top of my head while telling me that whilst I might have been silly for trying at least I had. Vegas would be out of my system forever, my parents would coo that I could stay in my childhood bedroom for as long as I wanted. Which I didn't want. There was something about Nevada that had gripped me hard, I didn't want to leave. I loved my parents but this was my home, this was my world.

  Everything was packed, the place was as clean as I could get it and I had fallen asleep on the mattress in my jeans and shirt which was rather stupid but after the night that I had just endured, I didn't care.

  I woke to a thud and a few muttered expletives, with a gasp I sat up and looked at my once clean kitchen that was now a mess. The bench was covered with food and the smell of bacon sizzled through the room. One long body stood up from the under-bench cabinet, dumping the plates onto the counter with a clatter.

  What. The. Fuck. It was the savior, in my kitchen, making a mess, cooking breakfast. He turned and saw me staring at him, he jutted his head with that hooded sexy smirk and turned back to whatever it was he was doing. The door swung open and bodies started piling into my minuscule apartment.

  “Dude, there isn't even a table.” the blonde one said to me. “Are we going to have to sit on the floor to eat breakfast?”

  I had been invaded by five pests. Mindlessly I wondered if Mister Barton will make me spray them before I leave. As I frowned I pulled my shoes and socks on and wondered how long my unwanted guests would be here for.

  Blondie scoffed and sat on the bare floor opposite me, leaning on the wall. The one with black hair wandered to the window. Well, it was two steps for his long legs.

  “Killer view.” he crooned.

  It wasn't. He was being polite.

  “Is there like some door to the rest of the place?” asked the third, he was the chair wielding maniac.

  He was searching with one heavy frown, scratching the back of his head. I heard a huh from him as he inspected the bathroom, something about a wardrobe. I didn't have one, simple. Considering that I only had a bag worth of clothes I didn't deem it necessary. The fourth sat on the floor against the wall opposite me, more interested in playing with his phone.

  Outside my apartment I heard the heavy footsteps of Mister Barton. I gulped hard and stood to my feet, readying to brave the battle that was my rent issue. The door swung open and a happy Mister Barton wandered by, waving his hello.

  “Good morning Frankie.”

  “Uh, good morning.”

  I frowned. What the hell was that about? I chased after him as he descended the stairs.

  “Mister Barton, aren't you collecting rent this morning? Did I get my days mixed up again?”

  He laughed, that big Santa belly rumbled with his infectious mirth. I couldn't help but wonder what was so funny. Sure I had used the excuse about mixing up days a few times but he had never laughed about it. Scowls yes. Laughing no.

  “Your boyfriend fixed you up hun, you're good.”

  And then he continued down the stairs, leaving me wondering when I got a boyfriend. My eyes darted to the partially opened door, the sound of the five pests and their laughter filled the hallway.

  “Boyfriend, my ass!” I hissed, stomping back to my apartment.

  I stood at the threshold of the apartment, staring at four of the pests who were sitting side by side on the floor. God, were they drinking?

  “Frankie!” they cheered in unison as they held up their beer bottles.

  “You want some hair of the dog, princess?” Blondie asked.

  “Dude she didn't get drunk with us last night, she was working.”

  Blondie thought for a moment, it was like the lights were on but no one was home. He grinned and nodded, taking a slug of his beer.

  “Are you going to stand there gaping all morning? We know we're shit hot but damn girl, have some respect for your man.” chair man wielded yet again.

  The four of them sniggered like little girls. I was surrounded by immature pests. Great.

  “Even after he goes to the effort of making you breakfast.” the black haired one said as he shook his head. “That's just plain nasty girlfriend. I think you need to give him an apology blowie.”

  What. The. Fuck. Again.

  The four of them giggled, again. My head was thumping and I didn't even have a hangover. What did I do to deserve this crap? Five dead shit men in my apartment, four of them drinking at seven in the morning and the other cooking breakfast. Where the hell had the food come from? And how did they even get in here?

  Maybe I could get them arrested again. If I could convince the cops to keep them in the lock up long enough for me to escape them and Vegas then I'd be set. Except that I didn't have a phone any more. Maybe I could ask my neighbor. Maybe I could kill them. Would anyone miss them? Where would I hide the bodies? It was a stupid thought, I bet I couldn't even lift one of them. All five of them were pure muscle.

  “Frankie!” Blondie called out, breaking my wishful thinking. “Stop fantasizing about us and shut the door, you're letting the warm air out.”

  Was that some kind of attempt at humor? I think that I'd want to keep the hot air out.

  The cook wandered over with three plates, handing them to the chair wielder, the quiet one and the one with black hair.

  “Dude, your girlfriend doesn't say much.” chair wielder muttered instead of a gratitude.

  He shrugged and walked back to the kitchen, returning seconds later with three more plates.

  “Cutlery?” Blondie asked.

  “One of everything.” he muttered.

  Blondie shook his head, muttering that we should have gone out for breakfast.

  “T
his is a piss poor hotel you run princess.”

  “I wouldn't accept it.” black hair muttered as he picked up his runny egg with his fingers. “That's two apology blowies now Frankie, you've got your work cut out for you.”

  The cook slash pest number five stood beside me with a plate held out to me, a soft smirk on his face. I took it with a look of skepticism, taking a sniff when he turned his back.

  “Dude, she doesn't trust your cooking. Ouch man, what kind of a base for a relationship is that?” The chair wielder was about to get a plate of food thrown at him. Mister black hair held up three fingers with a grin and a mouth full of food. I held up one to him. Take a guess which one. It came with a round of oohs from the four hecklers.

  I shut the door and sat on my mattress, the five of them opposite me. For once they were actually quiet. I don't think that I have ever been this happy to sit in silence.

  The meal was unbelievably good even if I did eat it with my fingers. I had enough of everything for me and me alone which meant that I had one set of cutlery. One dinner plate, a bread plate and a saucer, all of which were used. Then there were the three small platters that I had been meaning to take back to the restaurant after bringing leftovers home. So all in all it was a rather mismatched affair. Not that it should matter, they shouldn't even be here.

  But that really wasn't my issue. That would be the lack of introduction, maybe the fact that they had broken in here and made themselves comfortable, or it could be that they kept referring to pest five as my boyfriend. What had these men been talking about?

  A full stomach can allow for the mind to think straight, or at least I hoped it would. The five of them sat across from me like a panel of bad boys that were interviewing me. In some bizarre-o world of course.

  “Okay.” I scrubbed my face with frustration. “I have lots of questions but how about we start with introductions because I don't like having strange unknown people in my apartment.”

  “I think, princess.” Blondie began. “That you will find that it's now his apartment.”

  He pointed to pest number five sitting beside him.

  “You're kicking me out?”

  “Did I say that?” Blondie turned to the three on the other side of him. “I don't recall saying that, did I say it?”

  They shook their heads. Blondie sat back with a sigh of relief.

  “Princess, you really need to stop putting words in my mouth. In fact you can't put anything in my mouth. You had your opportunity last night. This man doesn't chase after his bro's girlfriend.”

  “You're brothers?” I frowned. They looked nothing like each other.

  “There she goes again.” His hand flicked out at me as he huffed.

  “I think I'm getting a headache again.” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

  “It might be a tumor.” black hair offered.

  Chair wielder thumped his arm. “Dude, don't say that kind of shit. They want to grow old together. You know, wrinkles and gray hair, the works.”

  “Names!” I yelled. “For Christ's sake, your names!”

  Five pairs of eyes stared at me.

  “Taking the lord's name.” Chair wielder scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

  I growled at them, staring with pure fury. As I stood I grabbed my bag and opened the door, thumping my way down the stairs.

  “Frankie.” Mister Barton smiled and then frowned. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Home. I don't know those men and they have made a mess of the apartment, you should make them clean it. Thank you for being so forgiving with my lateness in paying rent.”

  I pushed through the glass door, ignoring the confusion on his face. The window of my apartment slid up, Blondie stuck his head through.

  “Frankie!” he cheerfully called out. “Where you going princess?”

  Without even turning back to look at him, I raised my arm and flipped the bird at him. A hand tugged me back, I turned to see my so called savior standing there.

  “Come on, we can go for a drive.” his head nodded to the red beast of a car that sat a few steps from us.

  “Name.”

  He rolled his eyes with a sly grin, tugging my hand along the path.

  “Curtis.”

  My bag slipped off my shoulder, he took it to the door where the chair wielder was waiting. The bag was thumped to his chest.

  “Clean up the mess.”

  “You made it!”

  “Yes and the rules of cooking state that those who cook don't have to clean, so get up there and get on with it.”

  “Dude, you are in a relationship for five seconds and already you're a dick.”

  I frowned at the two of them with a look of pure confusion. Why do they keep saying that we are together? Was I unknowingly drunk last night?

  Curtis walked to the car, flicking the fob to unlock it. He opened the door for me and waited.

  “I am not getting in a car with you. I do not know you.”

  “I'm not weird Frankie, you aren't going to get hurt. Just to the other side of town, there's a ripper new juice place.”

  “So when you say juice do you mean like fruit or are you talking in some bizarre-o language again and really mean alcohol and are you still drunk from last night because I am definitely not getting in the car if you are drunk. It's bad enough that you were drinking up there. Christ's sake it's seven in the morning, who drinks at that hour?”

  He grinned at me and moved away from the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  He said nothing, stalking me as I backed into his car. I thudded against the metal as he continued to move closer, still with that sardonic smirk.

  “No. No you do not have permission for that.”

  A soft chuckle escaped him as he drew closer. It was too late. I was wrapped up in his arms and unable to move.

  Chapter Three

  The hecklers were at the window, oohing and making kissing noises at us. I ignored them. The kiss was too damned good to worry about a bunch of assholes in my apartment. His lips pressed hard against mine, our tongues gently traced past each other as he put his weight against me. The gentle kiss became more frantic as the seconds passed us. I was the first to break free, desperate for air and a reality check. It was not my thing to play tonsil hokey with random strangers. My lips felt swollen, gently I rubbed the edge feeling the tingle.

  “Can you not do that again thanks?”

  “Why? Didn't you like it?” his fingers pulled my hair behind my ears, cupping around my jaw. “Seems to me that you enjoyed it just fine.”

  “Why have you invaded my life like this?

  His hands washed down my neck as I gestured to the window, the four fools were up there making smoochy faces and pretending to be love sick.

  “Why did you bring them?”

  “Because we got out together, came straight here. That is after a pit stop at the grocery store.”

  “Who bailed you? That must have cost a fortune.”

  Curtis shrugged, pulling away from me.

  “You wanna go get an ice cream? Chicks like ice cream, right?”

  “Children like ice cream.” I said dryly. “And yes chicks like ice cream, probably not at seven in the morning though.”

  He grumbled something about it being closer to eight but I ignored him, favoring the hecklers that were calling out to him. Curtis looked up the path to a group of teen girls and frowned.

  “Okay time to leave.”

  “Why?” I frowned and turned to the view that had him on edge.

  “You getting all skeevy with little girls, because I'm going to call the cops if you are.”

  His eyes bored into me as he frowned, a vein bulged near his temple.

  “I do not get skeevy with anyone underage, take that back.”

  “Jeez settle down, no need to pop a vein.”

  Curtis opened the door and looked at me.

  “Frankie.”

  “Nu-uh, what's the deal?”

  “Fuck.” he h
issed.

  The whispers could be heard a mile away, whatever was going on it was now too late to avoid it. We or rather, Curtis had the attention of five teen girls.

  “Curtis!” one said.

  “Oh my god.” another squealed.

  I think another might have been ready to start crying.

  “Is Evan here? Oh my god... Evan!”

  “I saw Austin and Fraser too!” the squealer said.

  Suddenly the hecklers were missing. Huh. Maybe total shock wasn't the key to getting rid of them. Maybe it was acting like a teenage girl with a crush on...

  I looked at Curtis who was now signing bits of paper for the girls, their phones were out and taking photos with him and selfies. God I hate selfies.

  “Is this where you're living now Curtis?” one asked.

  “Nah.” he said quietly. “Just visiting my girlfriend.”

  Five eyes swung to me with a look of death. It was entirely possible that they might just try and scratch my eyes out at any second. Their eyes narrowed and their lips pressed so hard it almost looked like five sets of cat's bums. Charming.

  “Don't look at me like that, you're underage and if he touches you it can land him in jail, so back off.”

  Now there was one in tears.

  “I don't want him to go to jail.” she sobbed.

  Oh dear lord, give me strength. After the past few hours, I think I'm going to need it.

  Once Curtis had signed everything they could push at him and had a lot of photos taken with the little divas, we set off. My eyes didn't get clawed out, lucky aren't I? No, they weren't happy that Curtis left. Not just because he was leaving but because he was leaving with me. Oh, and the hecklers wouldn't come down.

  It was a curious situation to say the least. I had come across my fair share of famous people, sin city was a fun place for the rich after all. But those five boys did not come across as being famous. Worse yet, I had no clue who they were. The quiet one, that was Austin who was also a cousin of Curtis. Blondie, his name was Jaxon, black hair was Evan and the chair wielder was Fraser. We had arrived our destination, a god damned kids park. It was only because Curtis had seen an ice cream vendor and decided that this was where we were going to stop. He almost caused an accident, swerving into the side road after crossing the path of another car. Yes I had screamed. Yes I had smacked him. What good did it do? One incredibly gorgeous puppy eyed pout. I was putty in his hands.