by Brynn Hale
LEIF
Graffiti Street Bad Boys Book 4
Brynn Hale
Copyright © 2020 by Brynn Hale
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contact Brynn at [email protected] for more information.
Acknowledgment
Thank you to authors Lana Dash, Tarin Lex, Mazzy King, Kali Hart, Kate Tilney, Carly Keene, and Lana Dash for making this story and this adventure amazing and inspiring. <3 Brynn
Contents
1. Leif
2. Rissa
3. Rissa
4. Leif
5. Rissa
6. Leif
7. Leif
Epilogue
About the Author
One
Leif
“You may kiss your amazing wife.” I close the Bible and watch as one of the best guys I’ve ever known makes the woman he loves his forever. Something I’ve failed at before, but these two they’ll make it because…
I don’t know…I just know.
I have them turn to the fifty guests inside of Graffiti Street Bar. “Friends and family, I give you Copper Brecklin and Harlow Kincaid-Brecklin, partners in life and love.”
The crowd stands and cheers as Copper and Harlow make their way down the aisle. Harlow’s two teenagers, Arya and Roan, file out arm-in-arm as Maid of Honor and Best Man. None of Copper’s grown guy friends took offense at not being selected for the duty. He’d bonded to those kids like he had their DNA, even if that they didn’t have his. And I think most were relieved not to have to pay a hundred bucks on a tux.
I stare out over the crowd and there are many friendly faces, and one not so friendly.
Why the hell is she here?
Then a head darts around to see me, a hand raises and waves at me. “Dad!” My son Dillon slides out of the row and makes his way to me at a run. I brace my body as he slams into me.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
I haven’t seen Dillon for almost a week, and it’s been too long. Tracie and her new guy—
I think his name is actually “Guy”—some suit wearing stiff executive from the Vegas strip, took Dillon to Disney World over parent-teacher conference days last week. I went to the meeting with his teacher. Dillon needs help and like always, Tracie’s oblivious with her head stuck in her phone.
Well, she didn’t ignore a couple truths. One, that we weren’t right for each other and two, that I had some big problems. Problems she didn’t want to deal with.
My best friend Dane Drake—Hemi to everyone in this room—makes his way over. “Hey, Dill-pickle.” He scruffs my son’s hair.
“Hemi!” He pushes away and smooths his hair. “My girlfriend’s here. I gotta look my best.”
“Whoa…what’s up with that?” I ask him. “Girlfriend?”
“Dad!” He shushes me. “She doesn’t know she’s my girlfriend, yet. So what do I say to her?” My nine-year-old son is growing up too fast. His eyes dart around the room and I follow their trajectory.
Shit.
This isn’t going to end well.
“Dillon, I need to talk to Hemi.”
“Okay. I’ll go get Skye a soda and see if she wants to play pool.”
Hemi’s smile drops immediately, but he keeps his cool. His eyes dart to me. “He’s going to be sorely disappointed. Skye already has her eyes on someone.”
Skye, being Hemi’s eight-year-old stepdaughter, his pregnant wife Cece’s daughter from her first marriage. My son lives next door to all of them with his mother in the house I used to own with Tracie. I live in a two-bedroom apartment near my business, Valore Lawn & Landscaping. I actually have Hemi to thank for still having my business. He saved it…and me.
“She already has a boyfriend?” I ask him.
“Well, she wants to.” He turns his head. “She says she’s in love.”
My stomach rockets into my throat. This is just too much information to take in. Our children talking about girlfriends and love. It’s too soon for me.
Hemi chuckles. “I’m sure it’s just a crush on someone in her class, but she’s definitely got eyes for someone. Cece says she’ll take care of it, if she sees something happening.”
“I need a drink,” I say and Hemi’s tanned face turns ashen. I shake my head. “Not like that. I mean iced tea. My throat’s dry from all that talking.” And this news isn’t helping.
Over three years ago, Tracie found me face down in our bedroom in a pile of vomit. I’d partied for about a hundred nights straight. Not here at Graffiti Street Bar, the owner and my friend Zale didn’t open until after I started getting help. I am a recovering alcoholic. There is no end to the recovery, it’s a journey I’ll always be on. I’m not embarrassed by my addiction; I am embarrassed by how I hurt those people I loved.
I’m still mad at myself for what I put my son through. How I showed him my weaknesses. How I treated…my ex-wife. Part of the journey I’m on includes taking responsibility for what I did and it’s easier with some people than others. Tracie and I hurt each other and, in the end, that pain made us say things we didn’t mean. I have regrets. Not that it’s uncommon as a human, but it’s certainly not making this fight for my future any easier.
“Leif, I know about the night of the shots.” Hemi steps in front of me. “Cray told me.”
I asked Cray and Copper to keep what happened to themselves, and I know my friend didn’t mean to get Hemi on my ass, but it was bound to happen. Cray was trying to be a good friend, but still…
I look over at him as he sits at the bar, in a suit that I’ve ever seen his ass in, talking to the bartender, Marissa Greer. I asked Marissa—Rissa—out. More than once. And she’s shot me down each time and now it’s kind of a running joke between us. I know why she can’t say yes and she has more to protect than her heart.
She throws her head back and laughs at something Cray said. Cray isn’t her type. I’m sure of that. Cray’s type is someone who won’t be back. But I still can’t help but feel the rise of that green monster inside of me and then I remember what he didn’t do that I asked him to do.
Fuck off, Cray.
I attempt to stay calm.
I had a little set back with my clean and sober journey about a month ago. I didn’t drink, but I was close. Five shots lined up in a rainbow. All left on the counter with two twenties. Money down the drain, but no alcohol down my throat. It wasn’t the answer to my problem, but I didn’t have a clear answer to the issue still.
“I didn’t drink them. I stopped myself.”
“And I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“Hemi, you’re not responsible for me. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I know that, but you tried to call me. And you didn’t tell me what happened after I called you back. You acted like nothing was wrong.”
“And nothing was at that point. I had my shit…mostly together. I was having a bad day. I’d just found out that my actions had…” My eyes connect with Vivian Coates’s, she waves for me to come over. Her partner Jillyn Kincaid-Coates wraps an arm around her.
“Leif?” Hemi’s gaze follows mine.
“Man, I still have a ways to go with my actions matching my intent to be a better man.”
Hemi brows rise and his goatee tips up on one side. “Be clear, Leif.” It was a tenant I was trying to live by.
I grab his shoulder. “I had a threesome, didn’t use protection, and the one in red…she’s pregnant with my baby. They’re happy about the baby. I’m not fucking sure what I am, Hemi.”
Two
Rissa
I love love and today’s wedding made me turn my back behind the bar to wipe away tears. But I also need money, so I return to filling champagne glasses and waters like I haven’t been touched by these two amazing people joining their hearts and lives. It doesn’t always work that way for everyone. I knew that for a fact.
My job as bartender at Graffiti Street pays the bills, I like what I do, but I’m realistic, I’m not going to get rich. On a good night, I pull in enough tips to put a little away for my dreams, but not enough to truly make a difference, because then my car ends up having a shit-fit or the air conditioning bill comes in a little higher than expected or… a hundred other things and it’s all gone and I’m back to ground zero.
Zero hope. Zero luck. Zero love.
I smile when my eyes catch Leif Valore talking to two of my favorite regulars—Vivian and Jillyn. His slate gray suit wraps around his body like a glove, exposing every perfect muscle on the man. I’d never been attracted to suits, but on his broad shoulders and tight ass, it’s winner. I bite the inside of my lip.
Leif’s asked me out…more than once. A lot, actually. But I don’t date customers. It’s a bad idea. Regardless of how my boss broke his own “no fraternizing with the patrons” rule and then basically, just did away with the edict like it never existed when he fell for his wife Ella, I still know there’s a reason the rule was there. And it still is there in my mind because I have a reminder of why it should be there.
Leif’s sweet and hotter than a solar flare in August, but bringing another man into my life, when the last one had left a lasting reminder—that I don’t regret—that it isn’t smart. I’d done everything I could in the past to ruin my chances at happiness. I was trying to be smarter this year. Even if the Universe seemed to think it needed to fuck with me at every turn, I’m not giving up.
Riley deserves it.
“Rissa! Hey!” Cray’s voice brings me back as the pint glass overflows in my hand.
I flip the tap handle. “Shit.”
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Long night.”
Cray chuckles, raising his beer. “Don’t need to know about your bedroom exploits, Greer.”
I’ve never seen Cray in a suit and tie and honestly, it’s not a good look. He’s so big that he looks like he’s been sewn into the fabric as it stretches across his bulky muscles and when he moves the seams are at their max hold. I’m hoping he doesn’t Hulk-out soon.
“Not that. My daughter had a rough night. She’s going through the mommy-doesn’t-need-sleep-and-I-want-to-scream-all-night terrible twos.”
“Ugh. Kids.” And with those two less-than-supportive words—and what did I really expect from him—Cray slips from his stool and he’s gone.
“Thanks for the support, Cray,” I mumble under my breath as another person sits at the bar.
Leif knocks his knuckles against the counter. “Hey, Rissa. Can I get an iced tea?”
“You wanna live dangerously and make it an Arnold Palmer?”
“Nah, just give it to me straight up. And while you’re at it, you could give me your number for a date…” His swagger-filled smile makes my nipples pebble into tight peaks. Thankfully, this flowy summer dress will hide the effect he has on me.
I set the glass in front of him. “That was a great ceremony. I didn’t know you were ordained.” I ignore the ask. I don’t want to encourage it. But I don’t want to discourage it either.
He leans forward. “Don’t tell them…I’m not.”
My eyes are like half-dollar coins. “What?”
“Just kidding. It’s one of those internet ordaining things. I told Copper I’d do it, if he’d do it for me.”
“Paybacks are hell?”
“I gotta have a woman to say ‘yes’ first, but yeah, I’ll make sure that the payback is well worth it.”
Leif’s smile has a cockiness that has women wringing their soaked panties out in the bathroom. His jawline, long, creating almost a heart-shaped face. And his bottom lip. Puffy.
I really need to get laid.
Almost three years. Three years since I last felt the touch of a man. Engaged in that act that brought two bodies together and created one explosive moment. Not that I’d ever had an explosive moment. He had. They all had. But nobody seemed to care if I did or didn’t get my moment in the bright sun. I knew it wasn’t right, but still I hoped each time that it would be different. Not that I had sex with hundreds of men. I think at last count I was under double digits.
Oh, no wait, I guess with the last guy I would be double. But a number doesn’t make a woman a slut, or easy, or whatever. It makes her willing to test her heart. To want to have some connection. To desire what we all want…to be accepted.
“What’re you thinking about?” Leif asks as a woman stands behind him silently. She crosses her arms and glares at the back of his head like she can shoot lasers from her eyes.
I lower my voice. “I think you have company.” And I really don’t want to answer that question. I nod my head at Leif, and he clenches his eyes as if he can feel her lasers.
Leif
I spin my stool. “Tracie, hey.” I try to smile, but that clenched jaw just tells me that anything I do will be wrong.
“Don’t hey me. I heard about your stunt with the shots.”
Women.
“I didn’t drink.” I lift my tea and take a sip, remembering one of the reasons I…Nope, don’t blame your actions on someone else. I started drinking to cover for failure. My business. My marriage. My life.
“I mean, I hit a rough patch, Tracie, but I didn’t consume any alcohol. I stopped myself from falling down the hole.”
I don’t want to have this conversation right here, but if I ask Tracie to go somewhere, she’ll start yelling when we’re alone. Here is safe. She will keep her cool because Dillon’s close. It’s self-protective and it sucks. She’s mad and I get it. I created this monster and until she finds a way to make me pay for what I’ve done to her the monster won’t die.
“I hope so. You need to pick Dillon up from Kids Network on Wednesday and Thursday. I’m in court.” She stops Ella as she walks by. “We’ve got a big week. I’ll text you tomorrow with a plan for the week.”
Ella nods quickly. “I’m ready. Hey, Leif. Great ceremony.”
I nod back.
That’s how she found out…the womenly barking chain in our group is strong.
Zale Carter, owner of this bar, his wife Ella works at Tracie’s partner law firm—Darby, Rice, Evan, Tucker and Hill—DRETH Law. Tracie Rice being the youngest female lawyer to make partner at their firm. I’m sure Hemi told Cece, his wife, and Cece told Ella, her best friend…and…
Fuck my life.
And I know Cece worries about Dillon.
I like how close I am with my friends, but at this moment, I wonder how I can have some separation. Do I stop asking them to be concerned? Or is that what a friend does?
“Leif, can you do it or not? You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll get Guy to do it.”
I was right about his name, not that it makes me feel better.
“No, I was thinking about something else.”
She crosses her arms. “What’s more important than your son?”
“I’ll get him. Tuesday and Wednesday, right?”
“Wednesday and Thursday. I’ll text you to remind you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Right. How many times have I heard that and then I did it all without you?” She stomps off and I remember how we used to communicate.
We didn’t.
“Doing okay?” Copper walks over. “Another, please, Rissa.” He sets his pint glass on the counter and I stare at it.
I won’t. I don’t want to. It won’t help.
“Doing good. How about you?”
“Just wanna say how thankful I am that you did the ceremony. We didn’t want it to be…”
“Not you?”
<
br /> “Exactly. This was us. Simple. Friends and…family.” He grabs my shoulder and squeezes.
“You know?”
He leans toward me. “I figured it out after Jillyn told me how Viv got pregnant in Vegas and it happened to be the same weekend you were doing that big job at the Golden Lily Casino. Harlow told me it was someone from the gym and I remembered how you came up to Jillyn when I was working out and you said you were tired of doing the wrong thing the night of the five shots.”
“Nice work, Sherlock.” I toast my glass of tea and he chuckles, but leans in.
“You want to be a part of the baby’s life?”
I didn’t move. I didn’t want to indicate either way.
I still don’t know.
Three
Rissa
After midnight, people start filing out and soon it’s just me, Zale, Leif, and two of Harlow’s friends over in the corner.
Zale cleans up the bar and I take care of restocking alcohol. My phone buzzes as I fill the beer cooler.
Cami: I’m really sorry, but I can’t watch Riley tomorrow night. I have a study group for a big test on Monday. I’ll be back on Wednesday. Again, sorry! Don’t hate me!
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Sunday nights weren’t busy at Graffiti Street Bar, but I was usually the only bartender.
Rissa: Don’t hate you. Thanks for letting me know. Good luck on the test.
Riley’s father wasn’t an option. Hell, I didn’t even know where he was these days. He was number ten on the list of men who’d disappointed me, in many, many ways. I’m too used to being abandoned by now, but Cami hadn’t ever done this. I couldn’t blame her. She was twenty years old and in college, something I was doing four years ago, too, and then I met Number Ten and imagined we would be happy forever together. It lasted just over a year before I realized how miserable I really was, and that he’d been cheating from the beginning.