Mercy F*uck (7 page)

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.

Belting the lyrics,
Is It Too Late Now to Say Sorry? Cause I’m missing more than just your body. Yeah, I know that I let you down, is it too late to say I’m sorry now?

As the snappy chorus plays, I twirl and drink at the same time. Closing my eyes, I dance my ass off enjoying the solitude. I needed more nights like this, I realized. Though my parents and sisters, hell even my staff, all complain I work too hard, I always dismissed them. They counted on me and I couldn’t let them down. Not now, not when I have so much on the line.
And there goes my fucking Zen
…

Feeling a disturbance in the cabin, I opened my eyes and started screaming. Losing my balance, I nearly break my neck on my way to the floor. Because standing five feet in front of me was Axle holding a six pack, wearing a smirk I remembered well. Too well. Pushing up and doing my best to play it cool, I casually lean against the wall like I hadn’t just let loose a B-movie scream and ate carpet.

“You got a thing for minors now?” he asks, fighting a laugh and I zeroed in on his laugh lines. On how perfect they were. On how I wasn’t around to watch them happen. Mostly it gutted me that I wasn’t responsible for them. Because I used to make him roar with laughter. Then I got pissed for giving a single shit.

I give no fucks because I am sans feelings!

“Fuck you,” I squeal which pissed me off.  “How’d you get in here?”

“Bieber, Drew? Really?” And when the track changes to another Biebs hit he actually loses it. This pisses me off because the Biebs new album does not suck. It was different and I liked it. I wasn’t sure why I did but I assumed it was because his balls dropped and I wouldn’t go to hell for wondering what he looked like naked.

“Stop laughing!” I demand but he wasn’t listening. Shutting off my iTunes a few things became very clear.

I was naked; only wearing boy shorts, it was deathly quiet, and Axle had a semi.

I had my fist around it once…Focus, slut! And it was twice, asshole.

“Again, how’d you get in here?”

“Jimmied the lock,” he was blatantly staring at my tits and I couldn’t blame him, they were big
and
perky. Time had not altered my rack. If anything, it immortalized them.

“How’d you find me, he-slut?”

“File said you had a boat, that it stayed docked here and I heard this ear assault from the gate. Wasn’t hard.”

No, but he was and that was a problem. Giving him my back, I hit the steps to my room and pull a t-shirt on before facing him again. Not that it mattered, though because he was still staring and I despised that I liked it. If my nipples could smile, trust me, they would be all teeth.

“Despite Foxy’s aversion to rules, bondsman do not have the jurisdiction to pick locks and trespass, douche fairy. So, turn around and leave before I make a call.”

“You’re going to call the cops on me?” he asks, cracking a beer uncaring of my threat.

“No,” I say grabbing my own. “I’ll call Foxy and let him do the dirty work.”

Shrugging it off he asked, “Is it true you hired the kid you pistol whipped?”

“Yeah, so? His dad was the problem, not him. And it was a bitch slap from my hand that happened to be holding a pistol. I didn’t actually use it on him. I do have manners, you know.”