Rescued

by L. P. Maxa

  The waitress looked at me, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Great. Maykin cockblocked me right from the gate. “Anything else?”

  Nicky spoke up and ordered us a couple beers and another round for the girls while I glared at Maykin. Which didn’t faze her in the least.

  “Oh, cheer up, buttercup.” Maykin batted her eyelashes at me. “She wasn’t going to go home with you anyway.”

  “And why not?” I crossed my arms over my chest, mostly to help keep all my warmth from escaping.

  “Because I am.” She sent me a tight smile. “I need a place to crash.”

  I loved the shit out of Mayk, I did. But I’d have also loved to take the cute waitress home and let her bunny hop all over my dick.

  “You have two houses, why do you need to stay with me and ruin my good time? Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten my dick sucked? Do you, Maykin?” I was talking a smidge too loud, and drawing attention from the next table over. Luckily, it was a table full of dudes and they seemed to sympathize, if their sad nods were any indication.

  “My studio is overrun with work for that gallery show I’m doing and there is a party at the sorority house that I bailed on.” She wrapped her arm around mine and laid her pretty red head on my shoulder. “Please, Bleu? Please?”

  “Stay with Nicky and petite parrot over there.” I gestured to my best friend and his girl. My imaginative take on her nickname caused her to flip me the bird. Ha. Get it? Nicky’s little bird flipped me the bird.

  “Ew, no.” Maykin stood up straight, untangling herself from me and visibly shivering. “Last time I did that I heard things that I can never un-hear.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not sorry.” Nicky cut Evie off. “It’s our house, we don’t need to apologize for having great sex in our own home.” He wrapped his arms around his girl, nuzzling her neck. “Speaking of which, you ready to leave?”

  Evie swatted his wandering hands away. “We just ordered another round.”

  “So?”

  She ignored him and addressed her friend. “Mayk, you are always welcome to stay with us.”

  Nicky wrinkled his nose and shook his head at her.

  “Thank you.” She sent Nicky a pointed, victorious smile. “But I’ll pass.” She clasped her hands together, sticking out her plump lower lip. “Because Bleu is going to let me crash at his place, right?”

  In all seriousness, I enjoyed having Maykin stay with me. We spooned and stayed up watching old movies. She always went on a coffee run as soon as her eyes popped open, and more often than not she’d bring home breakfast as well. And she smelled good, like really fucking good. My apartment was pretty much saturated with whatever perfume Maykin wore. She was like my own personal Glade Plug-In.

  “Fine.” I rubbed my knuckles on the top of her head. “What’s one more night of not having my dick touched?” I cocked my head to the side. “Unless, of course, you’d want…”

  “I don’t want.” Maykin shoved me away from her playfully. “Keep your giant pierced dick away from me.”

  And that was the moment our waitress walked back up, precariously balancing a tray of drinks in her hand. She stopped short at Maykin’s words, blushing red and fumbling a bit. Nicky reached out and grabbed the tray, quickly unloading our drinks on the table before they were sent crashing to the floor.

  “Thanks.” The waitress smiled, taking her tray back. “Anything else I can get you?” Her eyes kept darting to me, like she was trying to determine if what she’d heard was true.

  “We’re good, thank you,” Evie spoke kindly, sparing the pretty girl any further embarrassment.

  She left and I turned to glare at Maykin. “You’re like the best wingman and the worst cockblock all rolled up into one fiery package.” I shook my head. “Unbelievable.”

  Maykin winced. “Maybe she’ll tell all her friends. And the next time you come in here you’ll have your pick of Truck Yard waitresses. And then, you’ll thank me when you meet your soul mate. And I’ll give a toast at your wedding, because I’ll be your best man, of course.”

  “What? I would be his best man.” Nicky clinked the neck of his beer bottle to mine.

  “Not if you weren’t the one who introduced him to the love of his life.” Maykin handed me my shot of fireball.

  “I’m not looking to get married.” I tossed back my shot, and then took a sip of my beer, not because I was a pussy that needed a chaser. “I’m just looking to get my dick wet.” I was speaking too loudly again. But the guys at the next table sent me a silent cheers.

  Chapter Two

  Maykin

  I didn’t like the guy currently yapping across from me. He’d walked up to our table right after Bleu had announced to the whole bar that he wanted to get his dick wet. Which had been fucking hilarious. Thad, that was yappy guy’s name, was a family friend. That’s what my parents would call him anyway. I’d call him a yuppie prick who cared more about himself than anything else on this damn planet.

  He was gross, and unimaginative, and he always had been. His aftershave was too strong and he was wearing slacks. Everything about him was a turnoff. But me not giving him the time of day would certainly “reflect poorly” on my family.

  My parents wouldn’t punish me, not that they could if they tried. But they’d bring it up, passively showing their disapproval. And that would be irritating as fuck. So. I smiled and nodded, feigning mild interest in whatever mundane thing this guy was going on and on about. I think he was talking about his new boat. He either said boat or coat, and since it was winter, it could really be either.

  Evie and Nick were in their own little world, canoodling and giggling about something. Those two couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Often times I told them to get a room because they were making me nauseous, but in reality, I was over the moon happy for my best friend. Nicky had wanted to leave thirty minutes ago but had stuck around when Thad had sauntered up to the table, overly joyful to “bump into me.”

  Now Bleu, on the other hand, he appeared murderous. Which wasn’t really all that abnormal. He had an adorable baby face, and when he smiled, he looked like he could be crowned homecoming king at any moment. But when he wasn’t smiling? He looked like a death-row inmate. Albeit a hot-as-fuck death-row inmate.

  Bleu was covered in tattoos. They crept up his neck and onto the backs of his hands. Eventually he was going to run out of skin to ink. He kept his hair pretty short, but every once in a while, like today, he let the scruff on his face take over a bit. His light blue eyes sparkled in contrast to his inky black lashes, and that was something I would never admit out loud. Ever.

  I liked Bleu, he was one of my favorite people in the world. He was funny and easygoing, he liked to have a good time, and he was kind. Over the past few months of Evie, my best friend, dating Nicky, his best friend, Bleu and I had grown close. We spent a lot of time together. He’d given me my first tattoo, a vintage carousel horse. And, subsequently, my second and third. Bleu was hella talented. I’d been begging him to try his hand with a paintbrush and canvas, but he hadn’t budged yet. He said the gun was his paintbrush. I made fun of him, but the truth was I thought his words were poetic and endearing.

  Why, you ask, do I keep all my good thoughts about Bleu to myself? The answer to that is twofold. One, his ego does not need any help. And two, if I said them out loud I was afraid things would go from flirty, funny, and harmless to serious. And I hated serious. Serious led to commitment and talks about feelings and directions. No thanks, ain’t nobody gonna hold me down.

  “So what do you say?”

  Bleu nudged me with his elbow, snapping me out of my thoughts and drawing my attention to the fact that Thad’s question was directed at me. I’d almost forgotten that he was still here. “Oh, um, I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Would you like to come to my family’s lake house this weekend? In Possum Kingdom? I have the house to myself, everyone else is running from the cold to the Caribbean.” Thad
’s smile was incredibly too suggestive.

  If the poor bloke would have looked hopeful, I’d have searched for a more delicate way to brush him off. Maybe told him I already had plans, but thanks for the invite. I wasn’t heartless, no matter what some of my sorority sisters said. But the guy standing in front of me appeared cocky and, like, slimy. Plus, telling me we’d be alone? Creeper much?

  He deserved what was coming to him, any girl would agree. I grinned, my face not matching the words about to spill from my lips. “Oh, no. Not even a little bit. That actually sounds terrible.” I picked up my vodka and soda, taking a small sip, and sent him a shrug. “Real fucking terrible, Thad.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Is that a joke? Are you trying to be funny?” He chuckled again, like him laughing at it would will it to be my attempt at humor.

  I shook my head slowly. “No. No, Thad, I am not joking.” I sat my drink down and leaned forward. “You have been talking about yourself and your possessions for the last five min—”

  “Ten. It’s been ten minutes, Midge. You spaced out for most of them.”

  “Right, thank you.” I nodded at Bleu before turning my attention back to the problem at hand. “You’ve spent the past ten minutes talking about yourself. You didn’t bother to meet my friends, you didn’t inquire as to my health.” I tsked. “You are a narcissist with rotten people skills. Not to mention the fact that you are boring and smell like you walked through the Dillard’s cologne department sampling each one.”

  Thad stared at me, and I stared right back. I could see the indignation in his dull brown eyes. He wasn’t going to take that lying down. His preppy nice guy act hadn’t worked, so he’d quickly tossed it to the side. “You stupid bitch.”

  And there they were, Thad’s true colors.

  I opened my mouth to hurl a way more inventive insult his way, but my boy Bleu beat me to it. “Now, wait a minute there, guy.” He pointed at me. “Was what she said bitchy? Yes it was.” I dropped my mouth open in mock outrage. “But it was spot-on accurate and you have no right to call her names.” I took another sip of my cocktail, feigning indifference. “I think it’s time you head back to your own table, but thanks for stopping by and asking my friend if she wanted to come bang you at your super-cool lake house.”

  “She is a fucking bitch.” Thad pointed at me, scoffing. “And get to know your friends? Please.” He rolled his poopy brown eyes before gesturing to Bleu and Nicky. “You two are tattooed losers and that other one is an ex speed whore, fucking—”

  And that’s the moment Thad went down in a blaze of glory. Or, more accurately, one punch to the face from Bleu.

  The dude crumpled, like jelly legs and lights out. I bit my lips together to keep from smiling too big. “Damn, son, that was a hell of a punch.”

  Nicky came around the table and stood over Thad. “That was a nice hit.” He put his hands on his hips. “It’s a good thing Bleu knocked him out, I was two seconds away from ripping his windpipe through the back of his neck.”

  That was graphic. Not that I could blame him though. No one should ever be allowed to talk about Evie that way. I was a bitch, and Nicky and Bleu were covered in tattoos. But Evie was not an ex speed whore. She was a recovering addict, and stressors like Thad were not to be tolerated.

  “Hey, Midge?”

  I secretly smiled at the nickname Bleu had given me when we’d first met. Midge, Barbie’s redhead friend. It was fitting and I liked it, although I’d never admit that to him. “Yeah?”

  “Before those frat straps over there make their way to our table, you want to mention what Thad’s parents do for a living?” Bleu cocked his head to the side, studying the starting-to- come-around guy on the ground. “How much trouble we talking here? Indignant doctor? Senator that wants to keep it quiet?”

  I pursed my lips, a tiny sense of dread creeping up my spine. “Angry lawyer with a bad golf game.”

  “Fucking perfect.”

  Chapter Three

  Bleu

  It was two o’clock in the morning and I was at the local police station. This was a somewhat regular occurrence when I was a young hooligan. But lately? Like the last seven years, I’d really had my shit together. So sitting at the booking desk after a bar fight was kind of pissing me off.

  That guy, Thad, had said some real shithead things. And I hit him, which he fully deserved. Most men, who had any pride whatsoever, would have picked themselves up (once they regained consciousness) and left with their tail tucked between their legs and their ego bruised as bad as their face. But not Thad. No, not Thad. After his equally-as-douchy friends revived him, he called the cops. And his daddy. No joke.

  “Bleu, man, I can’t get you out of this.”

  My arresting officer was actually a friend of mine and Nicky’s. We’d met him a few years back, I’d done a huge piece on his back to honor his…wait for it…dog. I’d been inking him ever since. “Miller, this is bullshit. The guy needed to be put in his place. He called Evie—”

  “Something he shouldn’t have.” Nicky crossed his arms over his chest, finishing my sentence with barely veiled rage. “Can’t you help us out here? If Bleu hadn’t punched him, I would have. And I can promise you I wouldn’t have stopped after one hit.”

  Miller sighed, rubbing his forehead like we were giving him a headache. “What do you want me to do? Walk up to his lawyer father and say, hey, we let the dude go because he was the lesser of two evils and your son deserved his ass kicking?” He rolled his eyes, his fingers resumed clicking away on the keyboard.

  Booking my ass.

  “Bro, I held you while you cried.” I pointed at the cop, the handcuffs on my wrist jingling a little. “You wept in my arms for five minutes before I could even ink that dog’s ugly mug on your hairy back. You owe me.” I was angry, and I was lashing out. I instantly felt bad about it when Miller’s eyes welled up with tears. Dammit. It wasn’t Miller’s fault that I punched a guy. I was an adult, and I believed in owning my actions. Including, but not limited to, the real fucking stupid ones.

  I shook my head sadly. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Fredrick wasn’t ugly, he was adorable.” The old English bulldog was kind of cute, in an odd way. But the dude’s back was incredibly hairy.

  Miller nodded, letting me know he forgave me but was still too choked up at the memory of his dog (that passed away three years ago) to speak.

  “I know they’re demanding his arrest and that they want to press charges, but is there anything you can do to help?” Nicky sank down in the chair next to mine, his head in his hands. “Anything at all, man.”

  The cop stopped typing again and leaned back in his chair, giving us his full attention. “I’ll get you in the system, and then I’ll immediately start your bail paperwork. I can try to talk to the judge, try to sweeten things for you.” He shrugged. “You’re probably looking at probation, and maybe some anger management courses. But you’re going to have to spend the night in here, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

  Fucking fantastic. I was exhausted, and I’d been ready to fall face first on my mattress the second I’d finished my last client. Now, because of my excellent right hook, I was going to be up all night listening to the drunk tank chorus.

  “Thanks, man, any help at all would be great.” I didn’t want this one stupid punch to follow me around for the next five years, but I certainly didn’t regret knocking the guy out. “Nicky, head home, bro, I’ll be fine here.”

  “No, I’ll stay until they take you back. It’s partly my fault that you’re even sitting here.”

  “No. It’s not your fault at all. I love Evie too, I won’t let anyone talk about her like that.” I kicked up a smile, trying to lighten the mood and make him feel okay about leaving me at the station. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Maykin’s. She had to run her smart little mouth.” I sighed. “Go home, check on our girls.”

  “Our girls?”

  I wrinkled my nose at my slip. “Your girl and her troub
lemaker pain-in-the-ass best friend.”

  Thankfully Nicky left after that, promising to be back first thing in the morning to get me out. Booking took another hour, and by the time I was tucked into my cell it was almost four o’clock. I let out a deep breath and sat on my cot, leaning against the white cinder block wall. I rarely let my temper get the better of me. I was a pretty laid-back guy. But what Thad said about Evie was uncalled for. She’d had a pill problem, and she’d dated a fucking asshole who’d attacked and almost raped her. He was currently in jail, serving way less time than he deserved. And Evie had spent the last five months working on her sobriety, on her pill detox and her therapy. She’d come a long way and she was doing real fucking well. Having her past thrown in her face like that had to sting.

  Maykin? Well, Maykin was acting bitchy. That girl was kind and pleasing, until she wasn’t. It was like she could only put forth so much patience at a time. Once that little dam broke? Look the fuck out. She probably would have told him off sooner if she hadn’t completely spaced and stopped listening.

  I lay down on my back, staring at the dingy white ceiling. At least Miller had given me my own cell, and I was as far away from the drunk tank as possible. I didn’t believe in regretting your actions; I was more of the mindset that you needed to own them. Learn from them. And I’d learned something tonight for sure, Maykin was trouble with a capital T.

  Chapter Four

  Maykin

  I felt fucking terrible. Awful, even. I mean Thad deserved that punch to the face for what he’d said about Evie. But it was my smart mouth that started it all. I should have brushed him off with a lame excuse and said my good-byes. That’s what most girls I knew would do. Turn a blind eye to the insinuation in his voice, pretend I wasn’t completely disgusted by his personality. Not me though, I had to go and put him in his place. It was like a compulsion or something. I couldn’t not say something bitchy to him.

  And because of that, Bleu had been arrested and he’d spent the rest of the night in jail. I hadn’t been able to sleep, so I’d spent the last four hours cleaning his apartment top to bottom and doing his giant mound of laundry. Domestic chores weren’t my strong suit; I’d literally had to do an Internet search on how to start the dishwasher. But I’d done it all out of love and guilt. He shouldn’t have had to pay for the shit I started. I should learn to throw a good punch, and then the next time something like that happens, I’ll be the one spending the night in jail.