by Lexy Timms
“I’m trying to fix my nose,” he answers.
“Well, you’re keeping me awake.” She forces back a yawn.
“It kind of hurts.”
“You’re such a big baby.” A smirk comes to her face as she steps to the bathroom. “Do you want me to help you, big guy?”
Grady meets her just outside the bathroom. Using the same approach he had before, Lara places one thumb on either side of the damaged cartilage. The throbbing intensifies, as if a hammer is repeatedly beating at his face. Still, he fights through it as she starts to twist. Grady groans as the stabbing pain returns, but she ignores his cries of agony. She only pushes harder, trying to reset the nose. He has to clench his teeth and pound on the wall just to endure it. Lara gives one final push and they hear the sound of something cracking. Grady falls to his knees from the jolt of pain, but it is followed by a slight sensation of relief. Blood hits the carpet. He takes a few breaths in and out of his nose. Only pressure remains as he gets back to his feet and walks over to the mirror. Aside from a break in the skin across the bridge, it hardly looks like his nose had ever been broken.
He turns to Lara. “How does it look?”
Lara takes a moment before answering. Her eyes run across every inch of his face and body, drinking him in. A smile curls up on her full lips. “Not bad looking. You’re much cuter with a straight nose.”
“Thanks,” he says. On the rack by the sink is an old towel. He wets it with some water and uses it to wipe the dry blood off of his face.
She moves close beside him and his breath hitches. She shouldn’t be there, her warm breath teasing his neck, her curves touching him. She’s not his girl. He could get shot for this.
“You’re welcome, Grady.”
He watches her in the mirror and knows if he turns around he’s going to kiss her. He’ll do more than kiss. She shouldn’t be in here. He swallows.
She moves against him, pressing her breasts, tight abs and her rotated hips on his skin as she faces him and slips between him and the sink. She sits down on the edge of it.
Worried the old sink’s going to break from the pressure of her weight, he slides his hands along her outer thighs and rests them on the curve of her ass. “Careful, sweetie.”
She tilts her head as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her. He doesn’t resist. “Careful?” she teases before she presses her lips against his, immediately slipping her tongue into his mouth.
He shouldn’t kiss her back but he does. He should be exhausted, except her simple seductive touch has made him hard. She’s a real good kisser. Grady finds one of his hands trailing the hem of her dress along to the top of her thighs.
She moans against his mouth when his finger touches her inner thigh.
Encouraged, he daringly lets his one hand squeeze her ass as the other slips under her dress.
Fuck! She’s not wearing any panties. He presses his finger against her folds and touches her wetness. Her hips rotate toward his finger and gently he slides it in. Her cunt is deliciously soft and soaking wet.
Lara bites his lip and his eyes flip open from the shock of the pain. She’s staring at him, daring him to react.
He stares back at her, wondering what the hell he’s doing, but not letting his fingers stop their magic of sliding in and out of her pussy. Her eyes close slightly as her upper teeth press against her lower lip.
Fuck! She’s sexy.
Grady kisses her neck, inhaling her perfume of something like flowers and petals. He wants to taste her and moves his lips over her breasts. The black material of her dress stops him from collecting one of her perky nipples into his mouth.
He drops to his knees, no longer caring if the sink breaks or not. He shoves her dress up over her hips and senses her lean back so her head can rest against the mirror. He puts his hands on the inside of her knees and forces her legs apart. She obliges and gives him full access.
He licks her as he slides his finger back inside of her. Sliding slowly in and out as his tongue tastes her incredible juices. He can feel her body tighten against him just before she comes. Her hands press into his hair, trying to pull his face closer to her. She moans and cries out as her body shudders against his tongue.
When she finally quiets, he stands and pulls her tight against his erection. More than anything he wants to feel it inside her but knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be in there.
He pulls her dress down to cover her beautiful, soft ass. He slaps it lightly and drops a quick kiss on her mouth. “You’re welcome, Lara.”
She blinks, as if in a daze, but steps away from him back toward the bathroom door. “Have a good night with the girls.”
“Oh no, I would never—”
“I know,” she muses. “You’re a good boy, right?” Giving him a wink, Lara walks gracefully out of the bedroom.
He’s about to follow her, but stops himself by the bed. As inviting as the soft-looking mattress is, he is repulsed by the two women passed out on it. Instead, he grabs his shirt from the bathroom and puts it back on. He walks over to the couch and takes a seat. Sinking into the cushion, he finds it a lot more comfortable than it looks. That of course does not mean too much as it feels like a slab of concrete on his back. Luckily nothing is jabbing him through the material. As uncomfortable as the couch is, he manages to shut his eyes long enough to drift off into a sleep deep enough to knock out the shitty surroundings.
The sun poking through the window wakes him a few hours later. With the light comes soreness across his face. He lets out a groan as he opens his eyes. The world is brought to him in a bit of a haze. Getting up off the couch, he is greeted with a sharp jolt of pain down his spine, as if someone had stabbed him in the back. He stretches and bends backwards. The spinal cord pops as he twists, sounding like firecrackers. After that, the world starts to clear up as the groggy blur dissipates from his eyes.
Looking over to the bed, he finds that the two girls are gone, along with the sheets. A knot ties itself in his stomach when he imagines their fates. Sadly, he knows there was nothing he could have done for them. Rather than regret, he walks into the bathroom. Enough sunlight allows him to see his reflection in the mirror. Some bruising can be seen across his nose and under either eye, but it’s already yellowing. He splashes cold water on his face to wake him up and washes it with the hotel-size bar of soap. After drying off, he walks into the living room.
Miles is sitting on the couch with Tony standing by him. He didn’t hear Tony come back in and wonders what else he missed. Great job undercover, dickhead. The greasy Italian drug dealer is talking to Tony while sipping on a cup of coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, Grady sees Lara in the kitchen reading the newspaper with a cup of orange juice in her hand. She picks her head up from the print and gives him a smile. He smiles back at her.
“Grady, my man, I got another job for you,” Miles says with a hint of warning on his voice, like he wants Grady to stay away from Lara. “You finally awake enough to do some work?”
He shrugs and looks to the informant, Tony. “Fine with me. You ready to go, Tony?”
“Oh no, this is a job just for you.” The little man rises from his seat on the couch and waddles over to Grady. He holds his hand out. “I need to make sure you really do have some balls. This is dirty work here. You have the balls for it?”
Grady nods, half expecting Miles to reach over and grab his balls. He takes a step back as he takes another look through the kitchen. Lara looks back at him, as if she is watching him, studying him carefully. Finally, he says, “What do I have to do?”
“No one cheats me out of my own money.” Miles glares at Grady.
He shrugs, not sure where this is going exactly. “You pay me, I won’t need to cheat.”
Miles frowns, obviously not liking his remark. “You being a smart-ass?”
“No. I’m just telling you I don’t take what isn’t mine.”
Miles’ eyes move to Lara before turning back to Grady. “Fin
e.” He waves his hand. “Here’s my problem; I got some kid helping me get with a younger crowd,” the drug dealer explains. “It was all good until last week. He didn’t show up with the money he owes me. I know where the kid is now. I need you to go out and find him. Teach him what happens when people get on my bad side. Rough him up, but don’t go killing him.”
Looking uneasy about the idea, Grady gives a weary nod before hiding anything readable on his face. “Fine. What’s he look like?”
“Lara, baby,” Miles calls into the kitchen, “get that picture off of my dresser.”
“Go get it yourself,” Lara shouts back as she turns the page of the New York Times.
The yellow-toothed smile on Miles’ face vanishes. “Bitch, did you just talk back to me? Do I have to come in there?” For a fat little guy, he suddenly moves fast.
Lara looks up in time to see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His greasy face has turned a shade of red, starting to purple. Folding the paper and tossing it on the kitchen table, she gets up.
It takes everything in Grady not to step in. Tony shoots him a warning look.
Lara shoots Miles a harsh look as she stomps past him, which only makes him angrier. He swipes at her but she must have anticipated his action because she ducks and all he hits is air. She disappears into another room that Grady has yet to go into. A minute later, she reemerges with a photograph, tossing it at him.
She goes back into the kitchen, but not before Miles decides to grab her by the hair again. “Don’t you ever disrespect me in front of my men again, bitch.” Spittle showers her face as he pushes her back toward the kitchen.
Grady controls his temper when he sees Lara pretend to stab Miles while his back is turned. He smiles and quickly looks down at the picture, not wanting Miles to see his amusement and get Lara into any more trouble. In his hand a teenager is smiling at him from a school photograph. No more than fifteen years old. The sight of a kid being drawn into this business makes Grady’s stomach churn. The kid is thin-faced with a shaggy mop of dark hair. Amber eyes are touched with sadness. Despite the despair, he is smiling. His teeth appear to be either severely crooked or broken all together. “What’s the kid’s name?” Grady manages to say as he puts the photo in his back pocket.
“The little shit’s name is Bradley,” Miles sputters. “He usually does his work at Central Park. You know how to get there, right?” He doesn’t wait for Grady to answer. “Find him. I want the grand the little prick owes me. Don’t come back without it. All of it.”
Grady looks away, trying to hide the guilty expression. “Yeah, got it… boss.” He salutes before he heads to the door, slamming it shut behind him. A few hops down the steps have him heading out of the back door to the restaurant.
Out in the open, the sun is heating up the day. The sky is blue with a cool breeze running its way along the streets. From the alleyway in the back of the restaurant, he emerges onto the streets of a daytime New York City. The sidewalks are much livelier. Of course that doesn’t mean much in the city that never sleeps. There’s a sea of people flowing across the pavement. More like a river than the ocean, it seems like he could get swept up just by reaching a hand out into the crowd.
Taking out his phone, he checks the directions to the park. Once he has a map, he dives into the river of people. Rather than fight it, he goes with the flow. Occasionally, he glances down at the map on his phone to see if he’s going the right way. Times he is not, he jumps into another river-crowd.
After a few miles of swimming through the people, he eventually is dumped out at the only wooded area he has seen in the city. Looking down at his map, Grady’s sure that it is indeed Central Park. He didn’t need to double-check. He’s been to New York before, but it seems like forever ago.
A short stroll along the hedged path confirms his suspicions when a large sign naming the park comes into view. Walking through the twisting foliage, he is given a moment to admire the lush green beauty of the flowers and shrubbery that decorates the park. Children are playing near the fountain at the center of the park. Benches are filled with all sorts of people. Businessmen in fancy suits look at their watches while their lunch sits on their lap. Women congregate in a horde as they talk to one another as their newborns are fast asleep in the stroller. Grady even spies a homeless man taking a nap at the feet of a statue.
On the other side of the fountain, he spots his target. Bradley sits on the stone edge with his hands in his pockets. The deep pools that are his eyes dart in every direction, like a hawk searching for its next prey. Grady sees a twisted smile lap over his lips. Suddenly, Bradley gets up from his seat and walks over to a group of kids that are most likely seniors in high school. This group all dress as if they had just crawled out of a dumpster. Their clothing is torn and tattered. Of course, this is the style nowadays. Bradley approaches them, and all three of the kids stop talking. They listen to the boy, who is a good foot smaller than them, before they start conversing. When they are done talking, Bradley walks away with a stack of cash gripped in his hands. Returning to the fountain, he perches on the ledge, stuffs the bills in his coat and looks for his next target.
While the kid hunts, Grady approaches. When the boy finally notices him moving toward him, he hops from the fountain and starts running. It’s not much of a chase. Grady’s able to jog after the kid running full sprint. His longer legs give him an unfair advantage. It takes only a few seconds before he catches up. Bradley tries to run faster, but Grady puts an end to his lame escapee by grabbing him by the back of his shirt. He picks the kid off the ground while Bradley kicks his legs around wildly.
While the kid tries to break free Grady tells him calmly, “Where’s Miles’ money?”
“Lemme go!”
“Not until I get the money.” Grady loosens the grip on his shirt but doesn’t set him down.
“I don’t have it all,” the kid squeaks, panic fills his words. “Please don’t hit me.”
Shit! “What’d you spend it on?”
“Food,” he mumbles.
Grady takes a look at the boy squirming in his grip. Like the seniors, his clothes look like they belong in a trash heap. But judging from the smell, it is more likely that Bradley actually fished them out of a dumpster. Dirt on his fingers and a pungent odor of body sweat tells Grady that the food was not a luxury. “Where do you live? Where’s your home?” He knows the kid’s not going to tell him.
“I don’t have one.” Bradley starts to cry and tries to hide it. “Can you please put me down? I’ll get the money. I promise.”
The kid really stinks… like he just peed himself. Grady wants to let him go but knows he can’t. He tries another option. “Where are your parents?”
“Dead.”
The kid’s either a great liar or actually has this shit life for real. “I see.” Grady sets the boy back on the ground, but does not let go of his shirt. “You tellin’ me the truth or just shittin’ me?”
The kid gets a hard look in his eyes. “You think I wanna live on the streets? I got no one and nowhere to go.”
Grady knows he’s telling the truth. At least the kid’s trying to go to school and figure things out. “How much do you have?”
“About eight fifty.” Bradley cowers, covering his head with his skinny arms.
“You owe Miles a grand.”
“I know.” The kid’s trembling and his nose is running.
Grady lets out a long sigh. Cops don’t play this way. He didn’t play this way. “Just give me five hundred. I’ll try to work something out with Miles for you.”
“What?” Bradley’s eyes grow big. “You shittin’ me?”
Grady lets go of the kid and laughs. He played him with his own line. “I’m not shittin’ you.”
“Really?” Bradley looks at him with disbelief on his face. No one’s ever given this kid a break.
“Yeah.” Grady crosses his arms over his chest. “But you’re going to have to do something for me.”
“What?” The kid looks ready to run.
Grady puts a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him like he would if he were wearing his badge. “I need you to get out of this town. Go somewhere, anywhere you can. Trust me on this.”
“Huh?”
“This is not the life for you. You’re a kid. You can become whatever you want to be, but this…” He motions to Bradley’s pocket where the drugs are. “This won’t help you get there.”
Bradley just stares at him for a moment. “You’re not going to kick the shit outta me?”
Grady shakes his head. “Not if you leave town. Go to Philadelphia or something. You got family anywhere?” He waves his hand. “Don’t tell me. Just go.”
The kid turns to leave.
“Gimme the money and what you got left, kid.” Grady taps him on the shoulder.
“Oh, yeah. Here ya go.” He hands Grady half the money he owes the drug dealer and three little baggies. Then he takes off running, disappearing from sight. Grady pockets the money and drugs and then pulls out his cellphone. Taking a look around to make sure no one is eavesdropping this time, he dials. The phone rings and he waits.
“Hello, New York Police,” the operator speaks. “State the purpose of your call.”
“Yes, I would like to report seeing a homeless child in Central Park, goes by the name of Bradley.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing,” Grady lies. “I gave him some money, but the kid needs more help than that. I wanted to take him to the precinct, but the kid freaked out and ran. The kid just needs a home.”
“I understand,” the operator says. “Thank you for your call, sir.”
Hanging up the phone, he makes another call. “Tony, I got the money. Yeah, no problem at all. Look, I’m not going back to the restaurant tonight. You can tell Miles that if he wants the money, he can come pick it up at my place. Yeah, I’ll send you the address. All right man, thanks. Okay, bye.”