Dirty Disaster

by Addison Moore

  Lex and Shep burst out into laughter as if they heard—as if they didn’t care at all what Teagan and I were discussing. Lex is glowing, and my brother shines in her light. No, I don’t like this at all.

  I hop up and head over, tapping my brother over the shoulder hard like a threat. “Teagan needs to speak with you.” I nod my head that way, and he rolls his eyes before taking off.

  “Shep and I were just having a lively conversation,” Lex spits the words out, and I can’t stop staring at those fuchsia pink lips. Her eyes needle into mine with venom, issuing a warning all their own. “You don’t get to dictate who and when I can speak to someone.”

  I take a step in, closing the gap between us, the heat from her body warming mine, that burnt vanilla musk she wears so prolifically teases my senses, and I’m right back there—as if the past six years never happened, and I crave to have her in the very worst way.

  “I can dictate exactly who you speak to within this establishment. I can dictate the hours you show up and the hours you leave. I can dictate a lot of things, Lexy.” She flinches as if I struck her. “Brody and Levi are taking a little break from The Sloppy Pelican.” A careful smile tugs at my lips. “Meet your new boss. It’s me.”

  Triple XXX Threat

  Lex

  My boss?

  I glower up at Axel for a good long minute. I’ve found that in life there’s no greater way to communicate rage, disappointment, and perhaps overall disgust in a person than a long bout of silence backed up with a hellish glare beaming from your eyes.

  “I see.” My teeth grind as I try to digest this. First, I knew that Ax had a share in The Sloppy Pelican, thus theoretically placing him in this power position. And second, I knew that I would have the occasional run-in with him at my new place of employment, but never in my wildest—weirdest dreams did I imagine him barking out orders—demanding that I jump—fully expecting me to ask how high.

  I take a step in close to him in that three-piece black pin-striped suit, the deep navy tie that gleams in the light like a warm velvet night, and his cologne permeating my senses. Axel Collins has always had the gift of dressing impeccably, but it was his warm, woodsy scent that made me want to wrap myself around his naked body like a scarf.

  “Let me get this straight—you think you’re going to dominate me?” I scoff at the idea. “I’d laugh, but I won’t waste my energy on the idea.”

  Axel inches in with those glowing gray eyes, and my stomach bottoms out like the traitor it is. My breathing picks up, and I try my hardest to hide the fact my chest demands to palpitate as if I just ran the Boston Marathon. His hair is neatly slicked back, dark and glossy, and just begging for my fingers to run through it. Axel had the softest hair, so thick you could get lost in it, and I would often spend hours doing just that. Once upon a time, I loved Axel Collins or so I thought. In reality, once upon a time I was an all-out idiot, and I swore I would never venture into idiot-infested waters again.

  A brief visual of Axel’s naked body gliding over mine rips through me like a nuclear heat wave, and my thighs quiver as if this were a reality about to happen. If I could, I’d sever them and feed them to Strudel for even thinking about quivering for the moron in front of me.

  Axel smolders into me as if reading my mind, and judging by that lewd grin begging to pin itself on his face, I’m guessing that he enjoys what he sees. Pervert.

  “Excuse me?” a tiny female voice drawls out in a faint Southern accent from behind, and I turn to find a petite blonde with blue eyes the size of dinner plates and boobs the size of basketballs. “I happened to notice the now hiring sign out front and wondered if I could get an application? I just tried at the Black Bear—that’s sort of my haunt. I’m there so often I might as well be a fixture—but it’s a no-go since they’ve met their quota. It’s mostly coeds they hire anyway—and believe you me, I’ve long since said goodbye to those schoolgirl days. I am one hundred percent wo-man if you know what I mean.” Her finger glides down Axel’s tie unwarranted. “I’ve waited tables for years back in South Carolina, but, at the moment, I’ve sort of hit a dry patch with the tech firm I work for, and I’d love to give it another shot.” She bites her oversized red painted lip while batting her doe eyes up at Ax. “I’d work real hard all night long just for you, honey.”

  “And I bet you’re hired.” I force a smile.

  “You think so?” she squeals like a chipmunk on fire. “I’m Abby Wilcox.” She’s quick to extend a svelte hand with long vixen red nails to Ax. “The waitress I ran into in the parking lot said to look for a handsome devil in a suit.”

  “That would be him.” I snarl in his direction. “The devil incarnate. Beware. This gentleman prefers blondes, redheads, and brunettes—sometimes all at once. He might make you feel extra special at the moment, but when push comes to shoving his tongue down somewhere, he goes for the nearest orifice he can find.”

  Her entire face brightens as if I just spouted off some erotic bedtime story that ended in her favor. “Well, well—a man that goes after what he wants. I’ve always been drawn to the naughty love ’em and leave ’em type.” Her eyes widen and so do Axel’s, but for entirely different reasons.

  He blinks my way. “Lexy here is simply pulling your leg.” Those heavy dark brows frame his face with something just this side of frustration. Speaking of frustration. What the living fresh hell is this Lexy business? I scowl over at him because for one he reduced me to an expletive even if it was simply privy to my own thoughts. “But I’ll be happy to give you an application. In fact, if you ask the bartender, he’ll pull one out for you. Why don’t you come back tomorrow afternoon and I’ll gladly give you an interview?”

  “Great!” She does an odd little bunny hop, and I’m tempted to hook my heels under her feet and send her crashing hard on her bottom. “It was super nice to meet you—”

  “Axel. Axel Collins.” He offers an affable smile her way, and she succumbs to a giggle fit that begs my hearing to shut off permanently.

  “And it was great meeting you, too, Lexy! Something tells me we’re going to be fast friends.”

  “I’m all caught up on my friend quota for the year. Oh, and call me Lexy again, and I’ll make sure you lose the ability to speak for a week. It’s just Lex. And I sincerely hope you get the job.” So you can annoy the ever-living heck out of Axel Collins with that dolphin meets hyena laugh. It’s enough to drive a grown man wild, all right. I’m betting Ax will be counting bottle caps on the roof right along with that silly pelican after three solid days of listening to that braying.

  The Braying Barbie is quick to comply, and as soon as she leaves our air space Axel leans in. The warm smoky scent of his cologne calls to me like an old friend.

  “I think we should talk.” His voice hits its lower octave, something that has always had the ability to drive me insane, and, at the moment, it drives me insane for another reason entirely—we should definitely not talk.

  I don’t even bother quantifying it with an answer. I simply scoff at the idea and turn to leave, bumping promptly into Shep, Axel’s younger lookalike brother. My, my how Shep has grown over the years. Way back when I knew him, he was a scrawny kid, still in high school, just out of braces, and here he is, out of high school, out of both braces and Briggs, with two rows of perfectly white teeth. And let’s not forget that devilish gleam in his eyes. I’ve no doubt that Shep has an entire harem he tends to. I can spot a playboy a mile away, and right now I’m looking at two of them—duplicates of one another no less.

  “I’ll email that paperwork to you.” He offers a partial embrace, and I accept—but only because I know Axel will have to witness the event. If there is a Collins boy touching my body, I’m pretty sure he’d rather it be him. We can’t all get what we want. It’s so nice to incorporate a teachable moment in this brief yet highly connective embrace.

  “Is that a washboard in your shirt, or are you just happy to see me?” I force a violent laugh, and Shep laughs right along with
me.

  “That’s one hundred percent granite, baby!” He lets out a whoop, and I mask the fact I’d like to knee him for blowing out my eardrum. First, the blonde bunny, and now Shep? Is detonating eardrums a thing now? I haven’t exactly kept up with the trends other than myself on Twitter.

  “Well, I don’t doubt it.” I offer his tummy a quick pat. “Sure enough, it’s not granite—it’s steel.”

  Shep leers at me while pulling me in by the waist—a move that could have easily cost him his future children, but I’m slow to protest due to the fact Ax actually has steam coming from his ears. It’s a good look on him, one I’d like to induce often.

  “Hey”—Shep brushes his finger over the tip of my nose, and it takes everything in me not to gasp—“why don’t I stop by sometime with those papers instead? We can go over a refinance plan that works for you. I gotta run.” He shoots Axel with his fingers, but Ax doesn’t bother to crack a smile. “Let’s do it, Teagan. I’ve got fifty places to be.” Their little sister hops up and glowers at me on her way out, offering Axel a meager wave. I’m shocked how much she looks like Emilia. In fact, Emilia is the Collins I’m looking forward to seeing the most. I hate that my breakup with her buffoon of a brother cost us what was shaping up to be a true friendship. As much as I’m loath to wade ankle-deep in the friendship pool, Emilia had a sardonic sense of humor that I could truly appreciate. Not to mention the fact she really knew how to put Axel in his place. And God, I’m going to spend the rest of my employment history at this place doing just that.

  I try to make a break for it, but he glides over and blocks my path.

  “About that conversation.” The dimple in his left cheek embeds itself deeply, and my chest squeezes tight. I used to live to kiss it, to stick my finger in it—heck, my tongue was no stranger to that beautiful divot. I hate the way the entire universe seems to be warping toward it at the moment.

  “It’s not happening.” I also hate that I had to qualify my answer with words. God, speaking, let alone to Axel Collins is the last thing I want to do. All of my words, the best of me in general is strictly reserved for my family.

  Brody steps up with his keys in one hand and his laptop in the other. “I’m taking off. It’s all yours, Ax.”

  A quick burst of panic pumps through me. “What do you mean you’re taking off? It’s my first night. Low said you’d be here to walk me through it.” My voice hikes in that ridiculous way it’s prone to when I’m about to spiral into a fit.

  He winces as he glances to the door. Brody reminds me of everybody’s big brother. Handsome and rugged and an all-around nice guy that you secretly want to look after. “I’m sorry, Lex. I just had my ass handed to me by our accountant. It looks like I’ll be buried under a mountain of paperwork for the next few weeks. There’s no easy way out of this. I hate to do this to you because both you and I know what an asshole Ax can be.” He offers a playful wink at his longtime friend, and I’m suddenly enraged by their camaraderie. “But I’m sure Ax can give you a few quick and dirty tips to keep you afloat tonight. I’ll check in as often as I can.” He reaches over and smacks Axel over the arm. “Behave yourself. Lex here is a lady. I don’t care about your history. Don’t make her uncomfortable. We need her.” He nods my way before taking off.

  “You do need me,” I hiss tersely at the ass standing before me—Brody’s terminology not mine. “Judging by the fact you’re functioning on a skeleton crew, I’ll be a treasured commodity by the end of the night. I’ve always understood my worth even when those around me did their best to disparage it.” I practically bite the air between us as I make a break for it, but Axel glides to the left, yet again dictating that I don’t move.

  His chest expands and deflates dramatically as if he ran a mile to get here. His eyes narrow to slits, but there’s not a hint of anger in them. He’s bedroom eyeing me, taking me in ways that I would never let him. I can practically see the pornographic scene play out in his eyes.

  “I would never disparage you. I treasure you.” He doesn’t break his gaze as if driving home the point with those steely beams. “Remember that night at the Witch’s Cauldron?”

  “The hot spring I scalded myself in? How can I forget? It melted the fingerprints right off my hands.”

  He flexes a dry smile before the moment grows tense once again.

  “Yes, I remember that night at the Witch’s Cauldron. It was the beginning of the end. It started off with me on top of the world and ended with the world sitting on my chest cutting off my air supply.” I burst past him with a violent thump to his shoulder as if we were two dumb jocks ready to come to blows. And I was dumb way back when for ever falling for anything he had to say.

  “Lexy”—he spins me back gently by the elbow—“not that part.”

  There’s grief in his eyes that I was hoping would never leave him, and now that I’m witness to that tender ache myself, I’m practically walking on air. As a general rule of thumb, it’s every ex-girlfriend’s dream to see your ex still pining for you, embroiled in so much misery and pain they can hardly catch their breath. And right now, Axel Collins is a giant ball of heartache, and that alone fuels an unnatural level of glee in me.

  “The other part.” He winces. “You and me, the moonlight. It started off as the best night of our lives.” He’s pleading, those eyes are downcast, and a sudden urge to bubble with laughter overcomes me, but I won’t give it in the event he mistakes it for a fond rehashing of that all-night make-out fest, which led to a proposal, which immediately thereafter led to an epic breakup. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I’ve long since taken off my rose-colored lust-tinted glasses. We were destined to crash and burn all along.

  I flick a finger in the air. “You, me, and moonlight? I don’t think I remember those details in particular. I’ve revisited the Witch’s Cauldron many times since and with an entire assortment of suitors. It’s all blending together.” I take a step in and latch onto those shining pale eyes. “You’re just another face in the crowd when I think of that place—so interchangeable. In fact, when I think of all the men who have graced my bed, I have a hard time remembering anything about you.” I tap my finger to my cheek as if struggling to summon a memory. “Oh, that’s right. Finished quick and then rolled over and played dead. On second thought, I do remember you.” The muscles in his jaw bounce as he grinds his teeth. You can practically see his blood pressure hit the ceiling, as his rage demands he speak out in self-defense, and yet I’ve rendered him speechless. What a crying shame. A wicked smile clips my lips as I stride right on by, and this time he doesn’t stop me.

  I flatten my hands over my skirt, girding myself for the task at hand. An entire army of bodies just walked through the doors, and I do what I signed up for—I serve the masses. Hours zip by as if The Sloppy Pelican were caught in some space-time continuum that worked in my high-heeled favor. For the love of all things holy, each time I looked to the clock the hands were spinning. My feet feel as though they’ve both been flatten by a steamroller, my back feels as if the bartender took a baseball bat to it, and my head is pulsating with a heartbeat of its own, ready to explode all over this miner catastrophe of a restaurant.

  If I never look at another Mason jar again, it’ll be too soon. Try carrying a tray full of them brimming with water, iced tea, and don’t forget the fourteen kinds of lemonade Low made sure to instate. Sure, infusing the menu with sophisticated offerings was a great idea, but if I have one more person ask me what part of the cow is the Wagyu from, I’ll be roping humans in this establishment until they haul me off to a nice warm jail cell with a glorified ironing board for a cot. Solitary confinement for one, please. The muscles in my legs ache, my vagina aches, and both she and I know that was a load of testosterone-riddled bull I was feeding Axel earlier. Axel was the last man I slept with. That’s right. It’s been a long hard nuclear winter in my nether region. But it’s a secret I’ll drag to my grave right along with my unused pink parts.

  I stagger over to the
bar as the patrons flood the exit. The last of my customers just took off. There’s just a drunk mumbling into his beer and a couple dry humping—oh heck, they could outright be doing the nasty. I think everyone in here is too tired to care. Mojo, the bartender, nods me over—yes, he assured me that was his formal moniker, and considering the fact he’s ratted and tatted head to toe, including his shiny bald head with a snake that dips into his forehead, I didn’t dare question him on it.

  “You look like someone just wiped the floor with you.” He grunts out a laugh that sounds more like a threat, and instantly I like him.

  “That’s because I listened to someone who told me these heels would pay for themselves by the end of my shift if I knew how to move in them. They’re Louboutins for the record, which means my tips better amount to a cool grand or I’m quitting.”

  “Was she right?” He nods to the bulge in my apron where I’ve been stuffing all the cash that was flung my way.

  “I don’t know. I’m too tired to care at this point. What good is money when all I really want is a bed or the back seat of my car, whichever I hit first.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Words I hear the ladies say often.” He flops a towel down onto the counter. “You mind manning the fort a moment? I gotta hit the head.” He nods to the restrooms.

  “Hit as many heads as you like.” I snap the towel up as if that made me look official. Axel disappeared in the back about fifteen minutes ago—probably banging his own head against the wall for ever letting his so-called friends talk him into ponying up the funds for this place. Only two other waitresses are left on the floor with me, and they’ve started flipping chairs up on tables in an effort to start closing the place. If anyone thinks I’m going to start picking up seventy-pound wooden chairs and hoisting them through the air, they’re delusional. A bodybuilder I am not. And my heels are designed for a lot of things, but juggling furniture is not one of them. Although, I can’t help but admire the way the other girls are able to flip seats with the best of them and all the while carry on a conversation that contains the words BJ and diapers. I’m guessing one led to the other.