by Fields, MJ
I walk into the bar. It’s crowded again, but tonight, I see a reason, aside from the fact that I’m sure more than half these men want, the same thing I do—her. There’s a band playing, a country band. Not my normal type of music, but it works here.
I look away from them and toward the bar where I see Phoenix look up, and our eyes meet.
Walking over, I push my way through the crowd toward her.
She nods. “Date tonight?”
“What are you offering in return?” I ask, knowing it will trip her up.
“Excuse me?” She tries to act like she’s pissed, but she’s lost that bite when it comes to me.
“If I take you on a date, you gonna put out?”
“Wow.” She shakes her head. “You need some help with your game. You’re batting oh for three, Gage.”
I like the way she says my name. Not sure why, but I do.
“So, me asking a straightforward question is wrong? I’m supposed to play games? That shit actually works for women like you?”
“Women like me?” she says defensively.
“Sexy, smart, pissed off at the world for something some dick did to you. Probably lied, possibly cheated, but definitely was a fucking idiot for letting you get away. That’s what you need? More bullshit laced in pretty words and false intentions?”
Her eyes widen a bit, and then she fires back, “You have no idea what I need.”
“You want roses, flowers, promises of forever, I ain’t got any of that in me. I will tell you that if I’m fucking you, no one else is. If you’re fucking me, I would expect the same. I’ll tell you that you won’t be going out with dicks like that”—I point to the same asshole who sits in the same barstool every time I have been in this damn place—“who stares at your tits for hours on end.”
She pushes my hand down. “Will you please quiet down?”
“Why, when you know, and I know damn well that—”
“Mandee, he’s yours for the night,” she yells to the other bartender.
“I want you,” I tell her.
“You’ve made that clear. I’m not interested. I’ve made that clear.”
“Everything okay?” the girl she calls Mandee asks as she walks over and stands beside her.
“Everything will be,” Phoenix says as she walks away.
“What can I get you?” Mandee asks.
I look at Phoenix, who’s looking at me, but she looks away quickly.
“Jameson,” I say as I sit down at the stool recently occupied by one of the patrons.
I turn the stool and look at the dance floor that is packed with couples dancing close.
I guarantee most of the men out there are whispering drunken promises to a girl who’s eating up their lies. She wants to be that girl, or at least she thinks she does. She’s fucked up, too. In reality, both of them want the same damn thing. The skin on skin closeness leading to the feeling of a release, in hopes that, in that release, they find something more, something that lasts, something they can build a foundation of forever on.
All of it starting with a lie will fail.
I glance back at Phoenix, and she looks down again.
Didn’t take her as a girl who wanted a fucking lie. Couldn’t muster one up if I tried.
Lies ruin lives, destroy futures, and wreck families.
I fucking build things. Take pride in what I do and who I am. I take pride in my word.
“Your drink,” Mandee says from behind me, and I turn around.
“What’s her deal?” I ask as I pull my money clip out of my jean pocket.
“Um...” She looks toward Phoenix, and then back at me. “She’s my best friend.”
“But what’s her deal?” I ask, handing her a hundred.
She looks down and smiles, her brown hair falling in her face. “She’s strong, and she makes me stronger.”
I nod, wanting her to keep going, wanting to know more.
“I was in a bad relationship.” She frowns. “Really bad, and she helped me.”
“That’s a good friend,” I say because it’s true, and because I want to keep her talking.
“She knows what it’s like, you know, to be hurt. And look at her. She doesn’t give up. She’s still moving forward.”
There is an innocence about this girl, a sadness, something broken.
“Phoenix.” She smiles. “She doesn’t need anyone to watch out for her. She doesn’t hide or let anything hold her back. She’s going to do something great with her life. Something she wants to do, not what’s expected of her.”
“And you?”
That shocks her, and she looks up. “Well, I’m...I’m...” She stops and shrugs.
“You’re gonna be fine. Gonna do great things, too.”
“That’s what Phoenix says.”
“You gotta believe it, too.” I toss back my drink and stand.
“You want another one?” she asks.
“Nah, I’m good.” With that, I walk out of the bar and don’t look back.
I wake up and walk out onto the deck. The sun is rising. It’s a new day.
I left the bar last night, having decided that I’m done trying to get with Phoenix.
Mandee was an eye opener. She thinks Phoenix is strong, good for her, but I call bullshit. She’s every bit as fucked up as the girl who hides behind her hair and has a hard time even looking into someone’s eyes when they talk to her.
I hear my phone ring from my bedside table and walk back in the house.
“Hello?” I answer.
“How’s it going, man?” It’s Zandor, my high school best friend who I have kept in touch with for years.
“Beautiful up here,” I tell him as I walk back out onto the deck.
“I’m talking about getting back on the horse.” He laughs.
“You mean that fuck app you talked me into?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. You fucking everything that walks like when we were in high school?”
“Had a couple meet-ups.”
Silence, and then a sigh. “Falcon, you’re a fucking stud, man. If you’re having a hard time getting it up, I heard there are pills and shit.”
“Steel, next time I see you, I’m gonna nut punch your ass.”
“That bad? I mean, I’ve heard some stories...” He chuckles. “Profile pics are from ten years ago and shit.”
I don’t say a word.
“You got a fucking tranny, didn’t you?” He laughs his ass off.
“Nut punch with a fucking ball bat,” I sneer.
“You at least fucked her face, right?”
“I’m thinking a fucking sledgehammer now,” I warn.
“Jesus, man, throw a guy a bone.” He cracks up now.
In the background, I hear whispers and know it’s his brothers.
“No, man, he got a tranny,” he tells them.
“The fuck I did!” I yell at him. “You better make damn sure they know that’s shit, Z.”
“You’re on speaker, man. We gotta hear this from the horse’s mouth.” It’s Cyrus.
“You assholes run a billion-dollar business and got nothing better to do than sit around that boardroom like it’s fucking story hour?”
“Nope, not one thing.” It’s Jase. “Tell us about the tranny.”
“There was no fucking tranny, assholes. Just three women and a cockblock.”
“All at once?” Xavier pipes in.
“Shut up, X. Falcon’s gonna tell us the story. Three chicks and a cockblock. That anything like Goldilocks and The Three Bears?” Zandor laughs.
“Let it go,” I warn.
“Once upon a time, there was a hot fucking Jersey stud who yielded a golden fucking hammer. His name was Falcon,” Zandor starts.
“Oh, here we fucking go,” Xavier mutters.
“Enough, Zandor,” I tell him.
“He hadn’t eaten porridge in a long-ass time, and he forgot how damn delectable it was,” he continues, ignoring my warning.
“I remember what pussy tastes like, you fucking asshole,” I almost laugh...almost.
“Yeah, but he forgot that some pooty porridge is too hot.” He chuckles.
“Or too fucking loose,” Jase adds.
“Or too fishy,” Cyrus pipes in.
“Fuck, that’s nasty. You wanna pull back, run from that shit. But at porridge tasting point, you’ve already promised your dick a nice, warm pussy. There is no retreat.” Jase snickers.
“Yeah, Falcon, you just gotta be strong, man.” Xavier is dying now.
“The fuck you do! Pussy ain’t supposed to taste like fish,” Cyrus says in disgust.
“Yeah, but if you’re eating a pussy that’s fishy, you know that chick is about to give up anything ’cause you haven’t run the fuck away like the others,” Xavier chimes in.
“Two words,” Zandor says, serious as fuck. “Fake. Chow.”
“You fucking assholes done yet?” I ask.
“No, man, just getting started,” Zandor says on a laugh. “Unless you’re gonna tell us what’s up.”
“Fine. There’s this girl who seems to be around every damn corner. Three times I’ve been out, three times she’s cockblocked me.”
“Keep going, man.”
“Ends up she’s a tenant here,” I say, leaning back against the railing.
“Nice, man. She an easy bake?” Xavier asks.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Hot and ready?” he answers.
“She’s fucking hot, but nowhere near ready.”
“Bekah needed a preheat,” Zandor tells me. “Fucked her good, and she tried to push me away. They always come back to good dick, Falcon, always.”
“Have you fucked her?” Jase asks.
“No.”
“You tell her straight up you want in that box?” Cyrus asks.
“Yes,” I grumble.
Silence.
“Trust me when I tell you that Phoenix isn’t your typical woman.”
“Phoenix and Falcon. I love that.”
Oh, fuck no. It was Carly, Jase’s wife.
“What the hell? Am I on speaker for all of Steel?” I’m pissed.
“Just us,” another female says. “Hi, Gage.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“That would be mine.” Zandor chuckles.
“Maybe the boys need to take a trip to see you. I mean, until we met the rest of them, we couldn’t really understand our Steel men.” There’s a pause. “It’s Taelyn.”
“Jesus Christ,” I grumble.
“If it helps any, I was glad Cyrus was honest with me. Oh, this is Tara.”
“Kind of figured that,” I reply, annoyed as fuck.
“Right.” She giggles. “Still, maybe we can help convince her you’re a good man.”
“No disrespect, Mrs. Cyrus, but I don’t want to wife her, just let off some steam.” I clear shit up really quick.
“Uh-huh,” several of them say.
I need out of this call.
“Hey, Zandor, nice fucking talk, you dick.” I hang up.
Chapter Six
Like A Back Road
Phoenix
I wake up, knowing I slept longer than normal. I dreamt of him, and woke up several times, forcing myself back to sleep. Each time I awoke, he was so close to being inside of me. God, I want him, and I haven’t wanted a man in years.
Mandee told me about their conversation and that she thinks I should give him a chance. What she doesn’t know, and I’m not going to tell her, is that he doesn’t want anything more than a sexual relationship. She still believes in that storybook kind of romance. That innocence that she still has, I hope it never goes away. I won’t ever ruin it for her, but it’s lost on me.
Her story began much differently than mine. Her princess years were tea parties and watching her parents hold hands. She still believes that’s what is supposed to happen.
I don’t.
I get out of bed and throw on a hoodie. Then I brush my teeth and use the bathroom before wandering outside.
“Morning, honey girl, coffee?”
I smile as I head down my porch steps. “Of course, Mags.”
She hands me the cup, and I hold it while she pours.
“So, what does Phoenix have planned for today?” she asks, patting the spot next to her on the glider.
“More mowing.” I take a drink of the steaming hot coffee. “Then laundry, I suppose.”
“Care to have dinner with me tonight? Unless you have plans, of course.” She smiles.
“I’d love that. Just let me know what I can bring,” I tell her, leaning back.
“Will do.” She leans back herself. “It’s a beautiful day, Phoenix Star.”
“It sure is,” I say, looking up at the clear sky and bright sun. “Sure is.”
With no lawn to mow, I look around the barn to see if I can find any spare scraps of wood, but then decide that would force me into a conversation with Gage. It’s his property, after all.
When I walk out of the barn, he is walking in. He looks past me and doesn’t say a word.
I stop and look back, expecting him to say something, anything. He doesn’t. Not one thing. Therefore, I turn back around and walk up the driveway.
It hurts that he said nothing, but then...Then I’m pissed. I’m pissed that he won’t talk to me because I haven’t given in to his request.
Fucking men.
I walk inside, grab my laundry basket, and then head to my Jeep.
“Where you off to?” Mags calls down to me.
“No lawn left to mow, because he...” I pause, knowing I sound bitter. I am bitter. “Just heading to the laundromat.”
“The one in the big house not working?” she asks.
I open the back of the Jeep and set the basket in, trying to choose my words kindly.
I close it and look up at her. “I’m sure it’s fine, Mags, but I’m going to do all of mine and my bedding. It’ll be easier at the laundromat.”
And I won’t be near him.
I head back inside to strip my bed because now I have to do it, too.
As I walk out, Mags yells down, “Have a good day.”
“Need anything at the store?” I ask.
“We still gonna head into town tomorrow?” she asks.
Shit. “Yes, of course, Mags. It’s our shopping day.”
“Drive safe. Remember dinner at seven?”
“Looking forward to it.”
Pulling down the dirt road, I see the sign, Falcon’s Landing. For a few weeks, it blanketed me with peace. Now I feel the completely opposite.
I turn on the radio, and a song I have heard a few times comes on. “Body Like A Back Road” by Sam Hunt. I try to embrace what I have come to like about country music—the fact that it inspires thoughtfulness and hope.
This song, though...This song makes me think of him.
I let my mind drift to what he looks like completely and totally bare, standing on his deck. My insides clench, and my annoyance spikes.
“So what? He’s hot. There’re plenty of hot men out there.”
I lean forward and knock my head against the steering wheel. I want to believe what I just said out loud, but it’s not true. I know damn well it’s not.
The man is perfection, from his perfect hair, to his liquid, mystical eyes, his lips, that fucking face, his neck, shoulders, chest, waist, that ass—dear God, that ass in the bare—to his thick, strong thighs.
“Shut up,” I scold myself. “Shut it off.”
I bet his feet are nasty, and he has a small dick. I smile inwardly, absolutely believing that could be true. I have yet to see for myself, so logic is on my side. No one could be that perfect.
When I get to the cabin, Mags isn’t on the porch. I look at my watch to see it’s six thirty. I managed to stay away all day. I grab my basket of laundry out of the back and walk up on the porch, seeing there’s a note tacked to the door.
It’s a beautiful night, honey
girl.
Dinner down by the lake.
If you have some paper napkins, bring them along.
~Mags~
I shower quickly then throw on some shorts and a tee-shirt, grab a sweatshirt, and throw it and the napkins in my backpack. At the door, I shove my feet in a pair of sandals and head out.
After closing the door behind me, I put my earbuds in and hit my music, keeping my head down as I walk past his house. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see the way he looks at me. And I don’t want him to see whatever he sees when I look at him.
He told me the very first night we met what he wanted to find out, and I will be damned if I don’t want to find out the same thing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Fucking joke. I’m a fucking joke.
When I get to the lake, I see him before I see Mags. They are standing on the dock, and he’s helping her cast a fishing line.
I hold my phone up and take a picture of her smiling up at him and he down at her. I take another when he leans down and kisses the top of her head. Then I take a moment to breathe back the emotions it stirs in me.
I miss my grandmother. Mags reminds me of her in a way. A little less reserved, but she’s amazing just the same.
I clear my throat as I walk closer, and they both look back at me.
“Grab a pole, honey girl.” Mags points to the bench that they rest against.
I shake my head. “I don’t fish.”
“Gage will put that worm on the hook for you,” Mags says.
I look at him as he looks back and shake my head again. “I’m all set.”
He rolls his eyes and shrugs as he looks away, dismissing me.
Ouch. No. No, ouch, fucker. He’s a fucker.
“Mags, can I do anything to help?”
“Nope, just gotta wait until we catch dinner.” She laughs. “They should be biting soon.”
Catch dinner? Oh, hell no.
He looks back and catches my facial expression then smirks and looks away.
“I got one!” Mags laughs. “Gage, I got one!”
“Feels like a big one, too. You want me to bring it in, Mags?”
“No, this is mine to deal with.” She chuckles as she spins the handle on the pole. She looks back. “Dinner, honey girl.”