Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (37 page)

I hear a faint, almost annoyed sigh from Remy, causing me to wonder about her reaction. “The coaches want to go out for a couple of rounds to celebrate. You want to go?”

When she doesn’t respond, I add, “We won’t stay long.”

With understanding eyes, she smiles. “You guys won. You should celebrate. You should go.”

“I’d like you to go with me,” I counter, sensing her hesitancy. “If you don’t want to go, I don’t have to go at all.”

“So?” Brandon asks, saying it’s only right that we celebrate this victory.

Remy wiggles out of my hold, stands and takes my hand. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“Where are we going?” I ask Brandon, who is still waiting for us.

“The Glass Slipper.”

“What?” I scoff at the idea of taking my girl to a strip club. “Very funny, asshole. I’m not taking her
there
.”

Brandon’s gaze moves to Remy and, even through her mittens, I feel her hand tighten in mine.

“Relax, bro. I’m just kidding. There’s a sports bar down the road a few miles.”

The bar is crowded with sports fans and Friday night partiers. I’m surprised we were able to secure a few long tables. It seems that everyone from work is here tonight, even Dana. She wasn’t too happy with the conversation I had with her about answering my phone. When I asked her why she answered my phone, her excuse was that she was distracted by the persistent ringing of my phone because whoever was calling clearly needed to speak to me. I checked the phone log, Remy only called once. Rather than confronting her again, I let it go.

“You okay?” I eye Remy as she removes her jacket and reveals an oversized, flowing black shirt paired with leggings and boots.

“I’m just cold. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think I like that shirt on you.” I smile, looking behind her casually as I cup her backside.

“Why? What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“It hides that ass I love so much.” My whispered words meet her ears followed by a quick kiss to her cheek. She lets outs out a quiet, needy groan. “I like the boots, though. You should keep those on tonight.”

Perhaps it’s because we’re so comfortable with each other or just crazy in love with one another, but we’ve been more relaxed with sex, allowing it to teeter on the verge of an X-rated movie. Long gone are the days of modesty or pulling a blanket up to cover up that body I love so much. She is mine; I take what I want when I want and the same goes for her.

We push our way to a long table where my work colleagues greet us with high fives and quick hugs. Tight smiles are offered by everyone with subtle nods of their heads in what I can only presume is their approval of my girl. Not that I need anyone’s approval; they can all go to hell. I introduce Remy to Marty, my boss, and he welcomes her with a wide smile and hearty shake hand. Eric and his wife, Cathy, are the next to greet us. We place a quick drink order with the waitress and continue our conversation about the game. Remy sits by my side and listens in between the constant glances down to her phone to type a text message.

“Who are you texting?” I tease, even though I really am curious.

“No one important. It’s just work.”

“How’s Lenny’s hand?” I make a mental note to spend some time cooking with him. He seems a little lonely at times.

The waitress drops off our drinks and takes empty glasses from the table.

“Hi, Shane.” Dana struts over, stands beside me and places her hands on the wooden chair. “Is this seat taken?” It’s difficult to not notice her big tits practically hanging out of the low-cut black shirt.

“Uh no, I don’t think so.” I side glance at Remy who is watching me with a careful eye.
Reassure her. Squash her doubts
. I lean over and growl in Remy’s ear how sexy she is and how much I can’t wait to fuck her in those tall, high-heeled boots.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Dana interrupts as she thrusts a hand in front of my face. “I’m Dana, Shane’s secretary.” There’s a tone in her voice implying that she’s more than just my secretary and inwardly I cringe.
This bitch is crazy!

“You’re not
my
secretary.” I immediately clarify, turning my attention to Remy. “Dana is the
school’s
secretary along with Karen.” As if we were a tagteam, ready and willing to take Dana down, Remy slips her hand into Dana’s and offers a firm squeeze.

“I’m Remy, Shane’s
girlfriend
. I believe we spoke the other day when you answered his cell phone.”

It’s obvious that Dana is looking to make trouble, but my girl can handle her own.

“Yeah, you kept calling so I finally answered.”

“She called
once
,” I clarify, calling her out on her lie.

I’m thankful when Eric and his wife engage us in conversation which ranges from football to a debate about whether or not President Obama should put more troops on the ground over there.

“Have you ever served, Eric?” I ask.

“Thought about it.”

“Why didn’t you go?” I prod further.

“Eh…I don’t know. But I’ll tell you what, I would’ve easily kicked some Afghani ass if I had been there. I would’ve whacked those fucking ragheads off in a heartbeat.”

“You think it’s that easy?” I sit up and lean forward. “You think it’s easy to know who the enemy is when you’re in the desert training them day in and day out? You think it’s easy when they welcome you into their home only to ambush you?”

“Relax, bro. I’m just saying. If I were Obama, I’d drop a fucking bomb and wipe the entire Middle East off the face of the earth.”

With a shaky grip around the neck of the beer bottle, I tip back the last of my beer and excuse myself to the men’s room.I assure Remy that I’m fine when she offers to go with me. She doesn’t need to see me right now. I need to calm the fuck down.

When I return to the table, Dana seems to be interrogating my girl.

“So, Remy…what do you do? Are you a teacher?”

Remy leans forward, looking around me to give Dana her full attention. “No, actually I’m in college.”

“College?” Dana gasps dramatically. “Did you get a late start?” she snorts.

Each second I sit here and listen to her speak condescendingly to Remy is a second too long. I feel the tension rising once again.

As if completely unfazed, Remy answers the question. “I’m a graduate student at BC, working on my Master’s degree in Mental Health with a minor in Child Psychology. I’ll graduate in May.” I don’t know why Remy’s given out all that information, but I’m glad she did.

I restrain myself from laughing out loud when Remy asks what college Dana attended and her response is that she attended Stratford Career Institute. SCI is one of those pseudo college programs that you see on television which is basically for people who barely graduated high school or didn’t like the four year program of an actual university. It doesn’t even compare to a real college.

“Boston College. That’s expensive.” Humorless laughter escapes her red lips.

“It is.”

“Your parents must hate that bill, huh?”

“I pay my own way.”

“You must have a really good job to afford that much money.”

I feel as if Remy is being scrutinized by this woman. Dana’s asking some pretty personal questions for having just met my girlfriend.

“Where exactly do you work?”

“A diner.” Remy answers quickly.

“A diner? You can afford BC on a waitress’ pay?” The skepticism and disbelief are clear by the expression on Dana’s face and in her voice.

“It’s a busy diner.”

I feel as though I need to raise my boxing referee hands and send each one back to their corner to chill out, but the tight squeeze of Remy’s hand on my thigh restrains me. I turn to her and the subtle shake of her head, tells me to shut my mouth and let the cat fight continue.

“Really, which one?”

“Lenny’s Luncheonette.”

I hear the ping of Remy’s phone, but she ignores it.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s across town.”

“You must get some pretty good tips to pay for college.” Dana picks up her martini, takes a sip while keeping her brown eyes on my girl.

I can’t bear it any longer. I need to interject and stop this from escalating.

“She does. Some customers even leave a fifteen dollar tip just for coffee and a muffin.” I say as I lean down and kiss her cheek and then quickly thank the waitress for the full bottle of beer.

“And some leave $15.25.” Again her phone alerts of an incoming text message.

I grin, remembering how mad she was at me. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but she was pissed.

“That’s impressive. Do they get a song and dance, too?” Dana inquires sarcastically.

Remy glances away from Dana’s obnoxious glare to look at me while dragging her hand up my thigh before finally stopping at my growing erection. “Only the really special ones.”

I set my beer down and slip my hand under the table, covering her hand and pressing it down hard. This determined side in Remy has turned me on. Her fighting spirit and strong sense of defense is erotic.

Her fingers reach below and stroke the length of me while she whispers in my ear. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.” A soft promising kiss replaces her words.

My body tenses at her public display of affection, although the actual touching is done privately under the table, and I pray no one notices my response to her touch. She pulls her hand away and reaches for her phone. My girl stands and walks in the opposite direction, looking for the bathroom. Not once does she look back. She simply struts away with an air of confidence to which Dana replies with a questioning huff.

After the beer I’ve nursed for the last hour is all but watered down, Brandon staggers over to where Remy and I are gathering our things to leave.

“Yo, my main man!” I’m assaulted by the stench of his breath. “I’m going to see my girl at the Glass Slipper.

I remember him telling me a few times that he was in love with this stripper but was disappointed because she hadn’t been at the club for a few weeks. We argued about whether someone would actually want a woman who takes off her clothes for other men. He couldn’t care less, but I was of another opinion.

“Good for you, man. Have fun.” I reply indifferently. I hold out Remy’s jacket as she slips one arm and then the other into the sleeves before whispering a quiet “thank you.” I want to tell her that I’d do anything for her, but then I’d sound like a pussy.

“You guys should come, man. Hopefully you can finally meet the girl of my dreams. My boy said she might finally be back. She was probably in fucking rehab, having an abortion or something. Some other chick was there, but I would know that little slut’s body anywhere.” Brandon’s slurred words match the swaying of his body as he leans in and looks at Remy, his eyes traveling the length of her body.

“Maybe you should just go home, Brandon.” A quiet defiance rises from Remy as she speaks sternly.

“Nah, baby, I’m gonna wait for her all night. I love to watch her spread those legs and show me that pretty pussy.” He sticks his tongue out and flicks it wildly. “Then I’m going to make her to fuck me…or at least suck my cock.” Again his eyes rake up and down my girl’s body.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my hands are fisted around his throat and I’ve got him shoved up against the wall, his eyes wide with fear.

“Listen, you stupid fuck, I don’t care if the girl of your dreams is fucking Kate Middleton or some dirty, slutty stripper, show some goddamn respect in front of my girl.”

Our boss Marty steps in and easily pulls my shaky grip from Brandon, separating us with strong, tatted arms. “At ease, boys. Not the time or the place.” He looks at me and then to Brandon. “You have a problem with each other, take it somewhere else. You’re both wearing something that represents our school and that means you’re wearing something that represents me. I’ll be damned if my reputation gets tarnished by a couple drunk idiots.”

“I’m not drunk, sir. Just pissed off.” I step back and look him in the eye. My jaw ticks as my hands involuntarily and continuously clench and release.

“Davis, take that nice girl of yours home and get some rest.” He looks down at my fists and raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take care of this one,” he grunts, eyeballing Brandon whose face is now a shade of green as he struggles to control the liquid contents in his stomach.

“Good night, sir.”

As I lead Remy away from the chaos, the unmistakable sound causes me to look back just in time to see Brandon vomit all over Marty’s pants. The look on this former Navy SEAL’s face is murderous as he grabs Brandon at the nape of the neck and drags him to the bathroom.

I have this overwhelming need to punch the shit out of something and then apologize to my girlfriend for Brandon’s behavior. I’ve come to realize I don’t really like him. I tolerate him and my patience for his antics is wearing thin very fast.

“It’s not your fault he’s an asshole,” she says as she slides into the truck and moves close to me.

“He’s not an asshole.”

“He’s not?” she gasps.

“No, he’s a fucking douche bag, idiot, prick, son of a bitch asshole.” I sound like I have Tourette's Syndrome as my fingers grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

Remy’s laughter fills the space of the truck. “Shane!”

“What? What’s so funny?”

She peels my fingers away and takes them in her hand. “You! You’re funny. You think that adding all those swears makes him a bigger asshole?”

“Yes,” I release a chuckle as I feel the tension in my body begin to dissipate.

“Well, it doesn’t. Brandon is an asshole of the biggest proportions. The way he treats women and talks about them…he’s disgusting. He’s a disgusting
asshole
.”

“Who thinks he’s in love with a stripper.
A stripper for Christ’s sake.
”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. He’s just so fucking stupid to think anyone would want a girl. Those girls are disgusting.” I shiver at the thought of a stripper spreading her legs for everyone to see.

“A girl like that? Wow! That’s kind of messed up. I mean, who cares what she does.”

“It’s not what she
does
, it’s who she
is
.”