Get You Some- To format

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I stiffened and hastily reached for my pants that were weighed down by my heavy belt, making me look a lot clumsier than I was.

  By the time I had them buttoned, I was so pissed off that Rosie was here, let alone in my new town to begin with.

  “Why the fuck do I even have to tell you that you’re inappropriate?” I snarled as I finished buttoning my pants.

  June followed suit, then reached down to do something on the ground, which if I had to guess was likely slipping on her boots.

  “I’m inappropriate?” Rosie laughed. “Try pointing that finger in the opposite direction. I didn’t just have sex on the side of a building.”

  She was right.

  I had been extremely inappropriate. Yet, I couldn’t find it in me to care that I had been. I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I got the chance.

  June touched my back, and I reached sideways to grab her hand. She willingly gave it to me and squeezed it tight.

  I felt something in my chest loosen at the knowledge that she wasn’t running away, and then squinted to see if I could get a better look at the interloper.

  I could just barely make out an outline of her at the end of the building, just at the corner. There was no way that she’d been able to see anything that we were doing, not unless she had a night vision scope handy—which I doubted.

  The only thing she could do was listen to our voices—and even those had been low. She knew nothing. She was just assuming—even if her assumptions were correct.

  “Well,” I squeezed June’s hand. “As nice as it’s been chatting…”

  I urged June forward by tugging on her hand, and she came. Hesitant at first, her spine stiffened the more steps we took toward the light until suddenly she was side by side with me.

  When we arrived at where Rosie was standing, she put her hand out to touch me—but June’s hand was suddenly there as if she’d known what Rosie was going to do.

  She’d moved her hand up to my chest, just under my nipple, and flattened her hand. When Rosie moved to place her hand on me, June’s hand blocked her.

  And when Rosie tried to move her hand farther down, June growled and shoved Rosie. “Off. Mine.”

  I would’ve laughed had my dick and my heart not been over the goddamn moon with her declaration.

  “Goodnight, Rosie. Safe drive home.”

  The light from the distant streetlamp illuminated her face just enough that I could see the anger there.

  It was more than obvious that she was not happy with me—not even a little bit.

  With that, June and I left, her still clinging to me.

  “I need to tell Amanda that I’m leaving,” she whispered as I helped her into the passenger side seat of my truck.

  I slammed it closed, then rounded the hood before finding the door and climbing inside.

  I winced when the dome lamp blinded me, being reminded of my headache that never seemed to go away anymore.

  June immediately picked up on it.

  Which made my heart warm.

  “Is it your head?”

  Not, who was that woman? Not, you’re a fucking douche for doing that where anybody could come up and see us. Not, I hate you for making me have to pay two hundred dollars and then having the judge embarrass the shit out of me in front of about a hundred witnesses.

  No.

  All she cared about was me and my head.

  “Come home with me.”

  Before she could even open her mouth to answer, my phone rang.

  Since we were in my truck when I answered, it automatically hooked up to the Bluetooth and Tyler Cree’s angry voice filled the space around us.

  “I need you to come back to work.”

  I looked over to June, and I could practically see her face fall.

  “Sure.”

  Chapter 15

  When you gotta delete your post because you’re not the same person you were six minutes ago.

  -Hostel PD FB page

  June

  I was late.

  That had to be the reason why I was speeding. Had to be.

  It wasn’t because I wanted to see the man again—the same man who hadn’t called since he’d dropped me off the night before.

  Sure, he had to work today, but would it kill him to send out a text message?

  No.

  No, it wouldn’t. Not even a little bit.

  I would know. I nearly sent him about a hundred different text messages today. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to hear from him. I wanted to see him again. I wanted him.

  Which had to explain my reasoning for doing what I knew I shouldn’t do.

  But, mostly, I was pissed at him.

  I’d read the post on Hostel Police Department’s page—the one that said ‘Don’t speed on Justice Road, or justice will be served.’

  So I damn well knew the little shit had his phone.

  That had to be the reason that I sped past where I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, there would be a cop.

  And not just any cop.

  Him.

  He sat there at the end and beginning of every shift because it was notorious for speeders to do what I just did—blow through the cut through road to the main street that would take me and everyone else—where they needed to go without hitting any lights.

  It drove the residents of Hostel nuts—the ones that lived on that road, anyway. Since I lived on that road, I could tell you, sometimes it was a harrowing experience to walk down the street. People sped through there all the time without a care in the world, like I’d just done.

  Though I didn’t have kids or pets, so it was easier for me to not have as much of a problem with it because I wasn’t affected by it like they were. And I damn sure wasn’t going to do any walking or running on it. Which translated to the only thing I did do on this road was drive—and drive fast, at that.

  I don’t know if subconsciously I knew that his little warning meant he’d be there, waiting for speeders. Or if I was just pissed, and I wanted him to know I was pissed.

  Whatever the reason, I wanted to see him.

  The reason why didn’t necessarily matter.

  So when I blew around the corner, knowing there was a possibility that I’d see him, my heart was pounding. And when the lights flipped on in the rearview mirror, I gently pulled over to the side of the road and tried not to announce that the possibility of seeing him was making my heart palpitate.

  I bit my lip as I put my truck into park and then tried not to look at him walking toward me. If we made any sort of eye contact at all, he’d see that I’d done this on purpose.

  I inhaled deeply when he stopped outside my window, then leaned over and quickly rolled down the window using the crank and steeled my nerves.

  Moments later, I looked up at him and met his eyes.

  He didn’t say anything, he only held my eyes. Stared at me like he knew me better than I knew myself.

  I opened my mouth to tell him I was sorry, but before I could so much as touch my tongue to the roof of my mouth to start the sentence, his face was in mine. Then he was kissing me.

  I gasped into his mouth and then leaned into the kiss, my hand going up to curl around his collar to hold him where I wanted him.

  When he pulled back, my eyes were dazed, and I was fairly sure I’d need a new pair of panties.

  “You know,” he said as he pulled away. “All you had to do was pull over and give me a kiss. You didn’t have to resort to speeding.”

  With that, he walked away, and I stared at his ass the entire way to his patrol car by way of my side mirror.

  And didn’t once feel guilty for it.

  ***

  I went through my entire morning on cloud nine. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and the way he made me feel.

  Even Coke had noticed my new and improved demeanor.

  “Not that I’m not ecstatic with having a happy chick around, but you’re
making me nervous. It’s like I’m just waiting for you to pull a gun out of your pants and shoot me with it,” he said. “Will you do that if I ask you to run to the gas station and pick us up some chicken?”

  I snorted. “No. And if you’re nice, I’ll get you a couple extra of those biscuits that you like.”

  Coke winked. “Grab my girl a couple of those Air Head Laffy Taffy blue thingies.”

  Then he pulled his wallet out and extracted forty dollars. “It’ll be half that, Coke.”

  “Just in case,” he shooed me away. “Now, hurry. Get yourself somethin’, too.”

  With that, he walked out the door and back to the car he’d pulled in today. Normally I was the one who processed the cars, at least lately, but this car had been covered in fur, and since I was allergic to dogs, he told me he would do it for me.

  I was thankful.

  Because of my allergy, it was best for me to just stay away from dog fur if at all possible.

  Though, Coke did have a dog at the yard, I rarely ever saw him. He was literally a ghost when I was around, and the one and only time I’d gotten close enough to spot him, he’d been gnawing on a large bone on top of a crushed Cadillac that Coke had brought him, and had bolted the moment he spotted me.

  Coke said that he may not look all that ferocious during the day, but at night he was a completely different animal—and thankfully I’d never have to know since I was out of there by six most days.

  It wasn’t that I was deathly allergic to dogs or anything, but if I touched the hair, I started to itch.

  Which was why Amanda and I didn’t have dogs even though we both wanted twelve.

  A piece.

  I had to settle for a calendar, and Amanda had to wait until I got my shit together and moved out before she could bring her dog back home.

  Yes, I had the best friend in the entire world.

  She was my savior and didn’t even know it, or if she did, she wasn’t gloating.

  Hurrying to my truck, I got in and started it up, then proceeded to drive into town to the gas station that really did have some awesome fried chicken. They also had the best biscuits in Texas and the biggest assortment of candy that I’d ever seen at a gas station other than that totally awesome mega-convenience store, Buccees.

  Pulling in to a spot that was close to the exit, I got out and hurried across the lot, mostly not paying attention.

  I probably should have.

  Because if I had, I would’ve seen that there were two people there who weren’t my biggest fans.

  Those being my parents.

  The first one I saw came when I ordered eight extra biscuits to go with mine and Coke’s meals.

  “You really should hold back on the carbs, or you’ll balloon up like your grandmother,” an amused, snotty voice said from behind me.

  I stiffened and turned to look over my shoulder at my mother. Two steps behind her at the window for the Dr. Peppers was my father.

  Neither one of them looked especially pleased to see me.

  I turned away from them, not bothering to deign her comment worthy of a reply.

  Instead, I continued to stare forward as I watched the attendant glance nervously back and forth between us. It was as if she was just waiting for the perfect time to take her break.

  Right after you’re done with me, lady.

  She didn’t hear my inner dialogue, which was probably a good thing.

  “So, you’re too good to talk to us now that you got your new job as Coke’s desk whore?” my mother continued.

  The more she spoke, the more upset I became.

  It happened once or maybe twice a year if they were out of jail—I would have to face down my mother and father—but each time it happened, it got easier to hate them.

  I never used to be quite this emotional about them—but each time Johnny was near, he showed me how much he cared just by me allowing him to open up.

  I didn’t reply to my mother’s words, which pissed my father off. “She’s talking to you.”

  “Is she?” I asked carefully. “Imagine that. Someone talking to you, telling you needed to get your anger under control.”

  My father stiffened and took a threatening step toward me just about the time the attendant said, “Your chicken is ready.”

  I turned, took my chicken, then walked around the back of the store to grab the rest of the items I’d been tasked with acquiring before heading to the front.

  Anger rose in me the more that I stood in the same store with them.

  My dad, whom I hadn’t seen since he got out of prison.

  Apparently, he hadn’t been reformed.

  Imagine that.

  I heard he had gotten a speeding ticket, but hadn’t heard he was out officially. Normally it was my grandfather that told me when he was released on the numerous times he’s been in jail, but I hadn’t had lunch with him this week yet.

  It was scheduled for tonight since last night I’d had that speed dating round in Jefferson.

  Then again, the last time my father got out, it warranted a call from him, which made me frown.

  He must not know, I decided.

  When it was my turn to get checked out, I set it all on the counter and waited for the attendant to ring it up.

  She offered me a sneer, and I replied back with a soft smile.

  Everyone hated me, and it was all because of the people I could feel now standing at my back.

  I hated them.

  I hated them with a passion, and I wished that they’d both just disappear. That would make my life infinitely easier.

  Nobody had any idea what it was like to be in my shoes. And let me share with you. The outlook was quite bleak until about a month ago.

  My life was no picnic.

  I’d tried to go to college at the local campus, but unfortunately for me, the dean of admissions also happened to be the woman that my mother stole from on her last offense that had landed her in lock-up for two months. Meaning that I couldn’t go to the local college because I wasn’t allowed admittance since my ‘grades were unfortunately too low.’

  I then had to drive an extra forty-eight minutes to the college two counties over, which also meant more gas, and higher tuition because I wasn’t a local.

  The only jobs I was able to get were ones in the surrounding towns—hopefully where my last name and face had never been tied to my mother and father—which was a hard thing to accomplish since they were so notorious. Not to mention that the name Common wasn’t common at all.

  Unfortunately.

  And that hadn’t included my childhood. My teen years? Yeah, I was lucky I wasn’t the type of person that was unstable enough to kill myself. Because if there was anyone who had a good enough reason to do something that drastic, it was me.

  Constant bullying. Men thinking that it was okay to touch when no woman should ever have to tell them no. Friends that weren’t friends doing things to me that friends shouldn’t do—like jokingly writing my name on a homecoming queen card, and then voting for me. Yeah, that had been the worst year of my life, and the first time I was ever arrested.

  Ashley Patterson, Amanda’s friend who was also my friend, but only by association, had voted for me to be put on the ballot. And then everyone had voted for me to win just so I would have to get up on stage. Once I was up there, they’d thrown eggs at me.

  I’d left the prom in the dress that I’d scraped and saved for, spending every single cent that I had on it, covered in eggs. Ruined, with a little less than a half an hour of wearing it.

  Then, to add insult to injury, they’d published my picture as the ‘Prom Queen’ in the yearbook with an egg flying at me.

  Needless to say, my parents ruined everything.

  “Is that it?” the attendant asked, looking behind me at my parents.

  “Yes,” I said, even though my mother started to put her things next to me.

  The woman hesitated.
>
  “I’ll only be paying for my stuff.”

  My mother snickered behind me, and the attendant said something under her breath that I didn’t quite catch.

  Bitch.

  The door beside me sounded as it was pushed open, the bells hanging from the handle jingling with the movement.

  I didn’t turn around, because turning around meant that I would have to see my mother and father, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to see them any more than I had to.

  “That’ll be…”

  I slid the cash over and tensed when I felt someone move up behind me.

  That tenseness dissipated as fast as it’d arrived when I felt familiar hands, and a bearded cheek rub against my face as Johnny brushed a kiss against my cheek. “Hey,” he whispered. “You okay?”

  I felt myself deflate.

  I had no idea how he knew that I was upset—I’d refined the blank look after all these years. I had no idea why he was even here. I also had no idea why I needed him so much, but I did. I needed him, and I had no clue that I had.

  Not until his arms had slid around me and pulled me to his side.

  His gun was digging into my belly, just below my ribs. His Kevlar vest that I could feel underneath his uniform shirt was hard and unyielding, and he smelled of something weird…chemicals maybe. But it was the most reassuring thing I’d felt in a lifetime.

  The woman placed the change on the counter with a slap of her hand, making eyes that I hadn’t been aware had closed to open.

  She sneered at me.

  “I don’t know how you treat your customers usually,” Johnny drawled. “But most attendants place the money in a customer’s hand when they’re giving it back.”

  My mother snickered. “Us Commons got a taint to us.”

  I felt more than saw Johnny turn since my eyes were focused on the money that I couldn’t make myself pick up.

  Johnny was right. It was very rude.

  Johnny took a look at my parents, grunted something under his breath, and then turned back to the counter. Upon seeing that I hadn’t collected my money yet, he did it for me, grabbed my chicken, and then hooked his arm through mine to guide me out the door.