by K. S. Adkins
I refused to be any guy’s quick fuck.
But in the end, I was something even worse.
I was my best friend’s mercy fuck.
I ended up losing my virginity and Axle.
Worst of all, I lost myself.
I never held him responsible for who I’ve become, that was all on me. But I hated him for not being honest with me, for spewing pretty words only to slice me with them. I hated him for making what we had into a joke. For making me the joke. That night was the first time I’d ever quit anything in my life. Not only that, I ran away and hid. Since then I trusted no man’s pretty lies, no matter how attractive the package. Although to this day, no one’s package came close to his. I was also positive none ever would. When it came to sex, I took what I wanted and moved on.
No male had anything to offer me nor I them. I was hollow and if anyone bothered to look, they’d see it.
Now sitting in what I presume could only be his driveway, I couldn’t even find the nerve to meet his eyes when I ask him to take off the cuffs. When he didn’t answer, I forced myself to look his way and immediately regretted it. Axle was still Axle and it still fucking hurt. Loathe to admit it, his face was the one I saw each time I loaned out my body. For nine years, it has always been Axle that got me off. To hurt him, to keep myself from shattering, I left the men behind telling myself it was Axle Rhodes I had punished. By doing this I was giving him a taste of my misery, only I wasn’t doing anything more than hurting myself.
I was fully aware this was delusional and pathetic but I wasn’t inclined to stop doing it either.
If it ain’t broke and all that…
Axle was the first, the only guy I ever let get the drop on me.
His appearance tonight was not welcomed and our reunion wasn’t going to end on a positive note either.
Because right now, I wanted to hurt him. As in physically, with my fists.
Forget how painful it was to finally be sitting in the Impala and all the other bullshit from the past. This motherfucker put his foot in my ass after cuffing me and then had the balls to bring me to his house. A nice house, that had a new porch and fucking flowers out front. Proof he had a life, that he’d moved on.
I’ve never planted a flower or owned a home. I had no roots, no foundation…
Suddenly, my chest was tight and my nose was burning.
No no no! Go away feelings you’re drunk!
Fuck, I couldn’t do this right now.
“I’ll take them off if you promise not to run,” he says reaching in his pocket for the key.
“Run where exactly?” I counter giving him access to my back. “You don’t live close to anything I’d consider running to. You have a welcome mat,” I say with an eye roll. “If I had any respect left for you, that killed it.”
When the metal was removed I was about to rub my wrists in relief when he slid his fingers over my skin and did it for me. Shocked by this, I jerked them back and plastered myself to the door my face made out with earlier. “You’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you, cupcake.” God, I hated the lies he told so easily and that he had the balls to sound aroused. Grr, that I was aroused by his voice and the stupid cuffs. I was such a she-whore!
“I can’t say the same about you, Axle,” I threaten weakly. “Foxy bailed my ass out a lot and never bothered to mention you once in nine years.”
“Yeah well, he never mentioned you had a record either. He officially sold me the business six months ago,” he said watching me close for a reaction. “I found your file buried at the bottom of a box.”
“You should have left it there,” I say angrily.
“So you’re cool with Foxy taking a hit because of you? He bonded your ass out personally, skittle tits.”
“First, don’t use nicknames, you suck at it.” Sadly, he didn’t suck at it. Hate him! “Second, he didn’t take a hit and none of this has shit to do with you.”
“You broke the law.”
“Jesus Christ,” I laugh at the absurdity of this convo. “Just take me back to work, Axle. In case you didn’t notice, I’m the God damn bartender and riots are no fun when I’m not participating. Plus, the shit that went down was handled. You have bigger problems to worry about than what I do in my spare time considering you have someone or, several someone’s trying to kill you.”
“About that,” he says draping his arm over the steering wheel, which was manly and fuck him for that too. “Whoever did the shooting saw you with me, which means my problem just became your problem. I’m a fair man, Drew,” he says fully facing me. “How about we cut a deal?”
“Oh yeah? What kind of deal?”
“You know everyone, people relate to you, they tell you shit.”
“Of course they do, I’m fucking special.”
Laughing low, he leaned in a little closer but I had nowhere to go unless I opened the door and fell out. The bastard knew this and was enjoying my dilemma. God, I hated being cornered!
“Help me figure this out. I’ll agree to put your file back in the box but I’ll let you call me Jesus Christ. We’ll go with JC for short.”
“Pass.”
“I’m being reasonable,” he growls and I hated that sound too because I wanted to feel the vibration between my legs.
“No, you’re bribing me, and not very well I might add. Your job is to track bond jumpers, mine is to serve drinks. Each was a choice, unlike you, my job isn’t trying to kill me. Also, unlike you, I don’t give a flying fuck why that is.”
“If that was true you wouldn’t have returned fire,” he says smugly.
“Bullshit,” I snort in a non-lady-like fashion. “My ass was in the way and it’s a great ass, it’s an ass that doesn’t want to get shot.”
“I had that ass in my hands once,” he says way too softly. “That ass changed my life. Fucking missed it.”
And before I could fire back, he grabbed the front of my Johnny Cash vintage t-shirt that took five years to break in, hauled me across the armrest and kissed me.
“You moan when you kiss,” I rumbled against her addictive lips. “Did you know that?”
Pulling my mouth back to hers she said, “I only moan when you kiss me.”
“I wonder what sounds you’ll make when I’m inside of you.”
Arching up to wrap herself around me she smiled sinfully, “Let’s find out.”
Her lips were softer than I remembered. Her scent in my nose was like coming home. Even back then she only wore lightly scented body lotion because she thought perfume was for whores who were hiding something. Deepening the contact, she mews beautifully and I break the kiss only to ask her to, “Come upstairs with me.”
Rearing back, she no longer looks aroused, but murderous. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, I could tell she was debating whether to fuck me or stab me.
“You still moan when I kiss you.” I blurt hoping it was the former.
“You remember that?” she asks quietly, in a voice that was all Drew. A voice only I ever heard.
“I remember everything.”
“I do too,” she says menacingly and this was the Drew I did not know. Before I could ask her what she meant she opened the door and slid out taking off on foot. The look of hate on her face stopped me from chasing her. If I was going to get answers, I needed to slow down and be prepared. Drew was not a woman you pushed, ever. Giving her a head start before I caught up, I went inside to grab her file and the six pack in my fridge. Further taking my time, I shower and an hour later was back in my Impala heading toward The Hole. I knew she lived in the apartment above it and I also knew she kept a boat, a really fucking nice boat which was actually a Regal 46-foot Sport Coupe that cost more than my house, cars and everything I owned combined, including my business. I also knew she docked it at the Detroit Yacht Club because Foxy kept great notes.
Did you do this for me knowing I’d need the help old man? If so, thank you.
Drew watched her money, she wasn’t known to be materi
alistic. She never spent needlessly which told me she spent a lot of time on that boat. Fuck knows, I would. She came from a huge family that never had much. She told me she started working young to make life easier on her parents and her sisters who, unlike her, wanted to go to college. The woman busted ass for everything she had. I respected the hell out of her for that, then and now. Plus, I was a guy and wanted to see the Regal. Odds were good it was my only shot since I’d never be able to afford one.
Parking behind the bar, I entered through the back and stayed out of her peripheral. Pushing midnight, the joint was in full swing and metal was blaring through the speakers. Old school Pioneer speakers that were held up by a lot of wires were proof you don’t fuck with a good thing. Another fact about Drew, she loved metal and she loved it loud. She also loved Motown, the blues, and eighties hair bands but the last was a secret I never spilled. A secret we kept between us. When the customers started stomping their feet on the floor the energy soared and it felt electric. With all eyes to the bar, I watch in fascination and jealously as Drew is lifted up by a man-boy and placed on the top. When a cowboy hat is tossed to her, she puts it on and pats the top. Then she’s handed a mic and the track playing ends and American Bad Ass by Kid Rock kicks in.
Fact: You play Kid Rock anything at a bar in Detroit and people lose their shit.
You give a hot woman a hat and a microphone, you best be prepared to fight a motherfucker. Which was exactly what I was gearing up to do because all eyes were on her and I did not like it.
I didn’t like it in college and I didn’t like it now. Drew got your attention and kept it, always.
When the track drops, she doesn’t use the mic but struts up and down the bar doing a two-step while flinging her wild hair and grabbing her luscious tits. Security (which was one fucking guy from what I could see) was doing a shit job of keeping people back but if she was scared she didn’t show it. Hell, if anything she was egging it on.
Slapping her perfectly fat ass, she raises the mic, tips her hat up and yells,
Ohhhhhhhhh! They call me cowboy, I’m the singer in black
So throw a finger in the air and let me see where you at
With a room full of middle fingers the place chants; Hey Hey!
Then Drew puts her hand to her ear and yells, Let me see where you at and say hey hey!
I was pushing people away from the bar and Drew, not caring, took shit to the next level. Three choruses and a shit load of fights all around, she literally keeps pace with Kid himself. Swear to God if he could see this, he’d have a semi, fuck knows I did. The longer the song went on the rowdier, dirtier she got, the tighter my jeans got.
Like right now, for instance, she was holding her finger up to silence the crowd and when her part came she eyed the room with the sexiest look on her face and smiled.
It was a smile that said, I own you and we both know it.
Yeah, I saw your band
Jumping around on stage like a bunch of wounded ducks
When you gonna learn sucker
You just can’t fuck with, and then offering a sultry grin, every motherfucker in the joint points to her and they all scream along with her, This bitch!
Time absolutely stopped as I watched Drew thrash like a seasoned rocker.
The energy she emitted demanded I take her and claim her, crowd be damned. But it was her right hook that kept me on ground level. It’s been nine years and the woman rocking the house down wasn’t ready to be claimed. Not yet anyway. Whipping her hair back, she raises the mic and right on cue catches the next verse.
I am an…American bad ass watch me kick, Grabbing her crotch she thrusts forward and the crowd sings with her;
You can roll with Rock or you can suck my dick!
Loving it, she swivels her hips, drops down to her heels and sings perfectly, I’m a porno flick, I’m like amazing Grace, I’m gonna fuck some hoes after I rock this place! When a guy breaks through and tries to grab her, I had him by the back of the neck-tossing him out of the way like trash. Fisting her own hair, she yells, smell the aroma, check my tits, I know it stinks here ‘cause I’m the shit!
Tossing the hat and the mic, she continues dancing while pushing the crowd toward violent chaos as they all chant with her, Hey hey hey!
At a fever pitch, she bites her lip, finding me in the crowd. Slowly using one hand to make like a jack-in-the-box, I watch her middle finger rise and she finishes with flipping me off with a smug look on her flushed face. The look that said, you lost your chance, bitch.
By God she was hot when she was clueless.
When the music changed, she jumped from the bar and disappeared into the back. After a while, the crowd settled from what was, hands-down, the sexiest thing I’d ever seen and I was close to following her upstairs when I saw her talking to the man-boy before ducking out the back door. Not able to help it, I adjusted my cock in anticipation.
Because I knew where she was going.
It was seventy degrees and mild out tonight which meant Drew was heading toward the water.
Unfinished business was beginning to be my favorite kind.
“Rick Astley?” He asked laughing at my concert for one. I loved the sound of Rick’s voice almost as much as I loved Axle’s. Nothing compared to his voice, nothing.
“It’s a fact he won’t give me up, let me down, run around or desert me.”
“Any guy tells you he won’t make you cry, say goodbye, tell you a lie or hurt you, is just trying to nail you.”
Stifling a laugh, I watch as his face gets serious and held my breath when he whispered, “Except me, Drew.”
Silly me for believing him.
With Axle prowling at the bar tossing customers around like rag dolls (Which was hot!), there was no way I was crashing upstairs. The further away from him I was, the better. Because I couldn’t decide if I was more offended by the unexpected kiss or the bribe. Best kisser ever! Oh, he is not! Liar!
First order of business, no more kissing.
Then there was his offer to ditch my file. Laughable!
As if I would allow him to hold a bond over my head. Fuck that. I gave Foxy, a great man, ten Gs to bury the file when I should have told him to burn it. What happened that night was necessary and a good parent would have commended me for setting his kid straight. The kid didn’t have a good parent, what he had was a dad who took the cop mentality to a new level. But the kid learned his lesson. He even came back the next day to apologize, which impressed me and I hired him. Daddy didn’t like his boy getting an ass-whooping and he really didn’t like his kid working for said ass-whooper.
Problem was in my world, males of any age did not put his hands on a female, ever. To be fair, he was young and had a dad who encouraged that kind of behavior. In the nine months he’s been with me, I was able to reverse quite a bit of the damage. I led by example, showed him how a woman liked to be treated and he flourished.
Not only was he a model employee, he’d also earned my respect and trust.
This made him mine.
As in, a part of my family.
That night was water under the bridge and we’d both moved on. His dad, though… he wanted to make an example out of me. How about no. So I didn’t show in court, did not plan on showing, and if papa bear came into my bar, I’d kick his ass. But he hasn’t because, while he approved of hurting women and children, he knew stepping foot in my place would get him hurt, cop or not. It was no secret that once you walked through my door; what you do and who you are on the outside do not matter. Inside my place, everyone was on equal ground.
Which meant a cop wasn’t a cop and wouldn’t be treated as such.
That’s not to say I haven’t seen him lurking around because I have. The asshole had his eye on me and because of this, I stayed alert. So when Shane comes into work with cuts and bruises, I do my best to let him know he’s safe with me, that I’ll protect him. Every time I approach, he refuses my help and it kills me to see him suffer.
; Recently, he came in looking seriously worked over and I’d had enough. Shane’s dad was an abusive prick and he needed a safe haven. Putting out a few calls, I began getting the kid’s protection in order but the issue was it would take time. I wanted him away from the city and in school, preferably in Guam.
However, until that happened, I made it clear if shit got out of control he could crash upstairs whenever he needed it.
In a perfect world, he’d just move in sparing me from begging. The idea of Shane going home to his dad made me feel nauseous and helpless.
Turning up my music, I let go of all things cops, kids, gunfire, Impalas, and unwanted magical kisses. Honestly, I had to let it go otherwise I’d go insane or even worse, cry.
We don’t do feelings, remember?
I lived life simply for a reason. Giving into feelings only hurt one person; me.
I avoided drama and I liked my alone time.
I wasn’t a shopper (I didn’t own a pair of Levis that were less than six years old), I was not a collector of art or into lavish vacations. What I was, was a workaholic who spent money on business and making sure my employees and family were taken care of. Despite saving my money, I will plead guilty to one itsy-bitsy splurge.
This ridiculously pimped out boat that was my only material possession purchased solely for gluttonous purposes.
Few stayed on the water in September because the weather was unpredictable. I, however, came here every chance I could. I owned a boat. A bad ass boat. I was in my happy place; I was floating on a half-million dollars of Zen. Shedding all my clothes minus my boy shorts, I snagged a beer from the fridge, lit a cigarette and started dancing.
