“Broody Boss isn’t so bad. It’s better than Slick always trying to get in my panties.”
“You ever gonna find out their actual names?” Tabby chimes in.
“I’ve listened to them enough that I think Broody is Hendrix, Slick is Morrison, and Sporty is Jagger.”
“Wait, Hendrix, Morrison, and Jagger? Are you serious right now? I didn’t catch onto that the night we got to watch them shake their ass on the bar.” Toni laughs as she keeps saying their names. “‘Detroit Rock City and their rocking rebel bachelors hosting ladies’ night at Hooligans.’ I can just see the advertising now. This makes for great marketing.”
“Stop it.” I laugh at her.
“Just trying to keep your mind off this job, sweets. And your other job is a great distraction for us all. If only the closet romp guy would come back around, then it would be an even better distraction.”
“Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe you. Let it go. We are not bringing up the closet romp ever again.” Even if I do revisit it nightly in my dreams, I add in my mind.
*.*.*.*
On Tuesday night, Morrison is out of town, leaving Jagger and Hendrix with me as I start my shift. It isn’t long before two ladies cozy up to the bar and start flirting with Jagger without hiding that they are more than willing to give in to his every want.
The three of them disappear to a back bathroom for quite a bit. When they come out, I watch as the girls have that clearly satisfied look to them as Jagger smirks over to Hendrix. The girls order one last drink each, while Jagger goes back to work. I hear them muttering about how great he was. Blah, blah, blah.
“Who should we ask for if we come another night, looking for you?” Bimbo One asks Jagger.
I am wiping the bar when I stop dead at his reply.
“Call me Caldwell, baby,” Jagger replies with the same confidence as my man in the mask.
Oh, my goodness, this is not happening. I was drunk, it was dark, and the closet was small, but I think he’s about the right height. No way, I did not sleep with Jagger. Dear God, I think I did. How big was he?
I rush to the bathroom. Think, Livi, think. It couldn’t be Jagger, could it? The night is so fuzzy in my mind.
Rolling my shoulders back, I rub my butt, needing my undercover inspiration. ‘Toughen up, buttercup,’ my panties remind me to push through.
Okay, so I may have possibly had sex with my boss, but I need this job too desperately to let one night in a closet mess it up. I will move past my drunken escapade, even if that one night in the closet was the best sexual experience I have ever had. Besides, he clearly doesn’t know it was me, so all is well.
I will go about work, business as usual. Can I get some panties to remind me of that?
*.*.*.*
Thursday night, all three brothers are working. Morrison called me in for tonight, even though I don’t think Hendrix wants me working on ladies’ nights. Toni comes with me in case Hendrix doesn’t really want me there. The house is jam-packed. Morrison notices me first.
“Back that ass up behind the bar, girl. I didn’t call you in here for you just watch me shake mine,” he calls out to me.
I look at Hendrix for his approval. He nods me back. I then look at Toni, who winks at me, and I go.
Throughout the night, I push back every thought of Jagger being my mystery man as soon as it comes forward. If I allow myself to dwell on it, all I do is start thinking about the fact that, if Caldwell is their last name, it could be any one of the brothers. What am I going to do? I honestly don’t know who I slept with that night.
I count the minutes down mentally as the night comes to a close. It has been a long few days and a long week at the hospital, so I’m looking forward to getting home.
We are all cleaning up when Jagger starts lining up shots. He is wired tonight with adrenaline from the success of Thursday’s ladies’ night.
“I can’t drink at work,” I say as I continue cleaning the glasses.
“That’s bullshit. It’s ladies’ night, and you are a lady,” Jagger says as he pours five shots.
“None for me.” Hendrix holds up his hand. “Gotta drive.”
I look up at him. For the first time tonight, he sits down and rolls his neck, relaxing. Then, he clasps his hands behind his neck and closes his eyes.
“Looks like you get two, Livi.” Jagger puts two shots in front of me.
“I really shouldn’t,” I say, glancing at Toni in discomfort.
“One of us should be celebrating. Huge crowd tonight, great money. Your tip jar is overflowing.” Hendrix opens his eyes, his lip curling up a little. “Go ahead, celebrate.”
I can’t help smiling. It was a rough night, but I didn’t screw up nearly as much as I have on the other nights. Maybe I am finally getting the hang of things
“To one week,” Jagger says, holding up his shot.
“To one week,” I say, and the four of us tap glasses.
Hendrix stands up and nods to us. “I’ll deal with the money and grab your first official paycheck while you guys finish up here.”
I watch him as he walks to the door leading up to his office, admiring his backside.
“So”—Jagger hands me my other shot and pours another for Toni—“what are your plans for the rest of the night?”
Toni pulls her phone out and sends a message. The smirk on her face can only mean one thing. “I’m gonna get picked up here in about ten minutes.”
“Booty call, huh?” Jagger holds his fist up, and she taps it with hers. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“I bet there will be a lot of happy men tonight after watching the three of you shake your fine, toned asses up on this bar.”
“Oh, my goodness, Toni,” I gasp and look at Jagger, feeling my face burning up. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m glad to be of service to the men in the area and, of course, the ladies, too.”
“Damn, boy, had I known you were providing services, I would have never sent that message.” Toni tosses back yet another shot he poured.
“Toni”—I cover my face—“we’re ladies.” And, who knows, I may have already had sex with him, I think to myself.
“And, as you figured out two weekends ago, a lady needs to own her sexuality,” Toni calls me out.
Oh, my goodness, I think as I feel my face start to burn.
“Oh, Toni, don’t stop there. Spill it. Tell me all about our little Livi’s—”
“No, Toni, don’t!” I snap, despite not meaning to. If she says one thing to him, and he is the Caldwell in question, I will be devastated. For a man like Jagger, I certainly wouldn’t be the one he would remember, even though I personally can’t stop the memories of that night.
She giggles. “A lady never tells, but Livi here owns her little sex-capades. She’s not—”
“Okay, enough.” I look at her with pleading eyes.
“Fine,” she says on a laugh and holds her hand up as Jagger pushes another shot her way. “One more of those, and I’ll be dragging your fine ass in the nearest,” she pauses, “closet.”
“Closet?” Jagger leans in. “How about right here on the bar?”
“Not on my bar,” Hendrix says with a laugh as he walks out from the back. “We’ve put it through enough tonight.”
Just then, Toni’s phone chimes. “My ride,” she pauses, “is pulling up as we speak.”
“You go get some, you sexy, sexy woman.” Jagger winks. “But, if he falls short”—he reaches down and grabs himself—“you come on back.”
She laughs, and I swear she starts to turn pink, which is very unlike her.
“Goodnight, girl.” She gives me a hug then walks out the door.
“Do you have to hit on every woman who walks in here?” Hendrix shakes his head.
“Oh”—Jagger throws his hands up in mock annoyance—“this coming from the panty burglar.”
“The what?” Hendrix chuckles.
Jagger laughs as he reaches down un
der the bar and grabs something out of his duffle then flings it on the bar. “Got these from the cleaners where I dropped off the suit.”
Recognition hits me. Instinctively, I immediately reach for them at the same time Hendrix does, knowing exactly what they are. We have a small game of tug of war going on as I want nothing more than to hide my panties and myself for the rest of eternity.
“One of you needs to step away,” Jagger laughs loudly. “Read them sassy little things. ‘Consent is fucking required.’”
Mortified, I pull my hand back and look up at Hendrix who appears shocked at my reaction.
I glance back at Jagger and force myself to laugh. “He wins.” I don’t dare look back at Hendrix. I can feel him watching me. “Another shot please.”
Chapter Nine
Hendrix
I shove the panties in my back pocket. “I’ll be back. You two think you can stay sober enough to sweep the floor?”
“Whoa, man, is it your time of the month?” Jagger laughs as he tosses the bar rag over his shoulder.
“Yeah, something like that.” I start for the door. “I’ll be back with your ride,” I say to Olivia without bothering to look back as I walk out the door.
Once the door closes behind me, the cold air hits my lungs, and I finally let out a breath. I stand there for a minute, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do about this little predicament I’ve found myself in. Sins of the father. I don’t want it to be like that.
After I realize my balls are in serious danger of freezing, I start the walk home. I should have left earlier when it was warmer, but that little, crazy chick held my attention and kept me amused the entire fucking night.
This shit is not good, not good at all. Fucking Jagger. It is his fault. I mean, sort of. If he had only gone to that damned benefit like he was supposed to, none of this would have happened.
I open up the garage door and look at the car, shaking my head while thinking about how much time I have spent on it. I mean, who the fuck does that? Not me. Well, not for some chick I fucked the hell out of and had no intention of seeing again, even if I didn’t know it was her when I started.
Then, she shows up at my bar, acting like the modern day version of some fairytale princess who needed saving. Cinderella and the little panties she left at the ball. Yet, I am no fucking Prince Charming. I don’t even like to cuddle and shit after getting laid. I need a few moments after I come to get my shit together before I even want to be touched. Although, I sure as hell am not the kind of guy who comes, gets up, and walks out. And she fucking ditched me. She, miss smut panties who loves cartoon cats and fairies, ditched me, and I cleaned up her ride.
I was someone’s bitch, and I didn’t even know it.
*.*.*.*
I walk in the bar to see Jagger leaning over the bar, smiling as bright as one of those florescent beer signs hanging in my damn window. The way she is looking at him is bothersome to say the least.
In the time it took for me to go home and come back, she has worked her way from tipsy to sloppy drunk. Here she is, grinning at Jagger, drunk off her ass. Then, she fucking snorts when she laughs, and the proverbial glass panties now fit Miss Smutty Panties’s ass, covering up that sweet as fuck pussy.
“You about ready?” I ask both of them. Jagger is staying with me, so at least there is safety in numbers.
“I got a lady waiting down the block.” He winks at Livi then walks toward the door. “Take it easy on this little one. She’s shit-faced.”
Take it easy. Take it fucking easy?
As I walk around the bar and hit the lights, I glance over, and Livi looks away.
“You ready?” I ask as I walk around the bar.
“Yesss,” she slurs.
As she stands, she stumbles. I have to force myself to keep my hands from reaching out to make sure she doesn’t fall. While she grabs the bar to steady herself, I just stand and stare.
“I shouldn’t have done the shots,” she slurs again and then shrugs. “I’m not good at shots.”
I don’t respond because I am well aware of how she is with shots. Who the fuck says that? A half crazy and drunk girl.
“Or drinking actually. I’m really, really bad at drinking.”
I give her a moment to collect herself, taking some odd comfort in her being uncomfortable. Hell, I’m uncomfortable.
“That’s obvious. Look, let’s get you home.” I walk slowly so, if she falls, I can catch her.
When we make it outside, she laughs out loud, giving a little snort and covering her mouth. For a moment, I forget I’m angry with her for deceiving me, which is what I assume is exactly what she has done. Damn if she doesn’t make it hard to be angry with her, though. The little snort brings me back to the closet, which is where I wish the shit had stayed.
I catch her gaze as she takes in her car. Even in her drunken stupor, she is lit up in excitement. Her eyes are brilliant with a chaser of bloodshot, but either way, she is beaming.
“You did this?”
“It was nothing,” I say as I open the passenger door, playing it off that way.
“It certainly was—is—well, both,” she says as she crawls into her car. I swear she smells the seats before sitting back and moaning, “Oh. My. God. You even cleaned in here.” She peeks up at me through the open door.
“Can you sit back so I can shut the door?”
Once she does as I asked, I walk around the car, open the door, and start to get in. Livi is draped over the console, rubbing the steering wheel.
“You replaced the cover.”
“I know a guy, and he had some stuff lying around, no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. She’s gorgeous. I don’t ever remember this car looking like this.” She sits back, and I finish climbing in. “Thank you, Hendrix. Thank you so much.” She covers her face with both hands. “No one has ever”—she sniffs—“ever, ever, ever made me feel like you.” She stops and looks up. “Uh-oh, wrong story, wrong story.”
I am trying not to laugh. I’m supposed to be annoyed. Hell, if she isn’t making it difficult because she is fucked up. Nah, she is wasted.
“How about you get your apartment keys out of your bag, so, if you pass out on me, I can get you inside?”
“Of course,” she says, wiping her eyes. “Of course.”
I pull out on the street, and she still doesn’t sit up from digging in her purse. When I speed up, she giggles, finally sits up, but then suddenly holds her stomach. She stops giggling immediately and covers her mouth.
Oh, hell, I think as I pull over quickly.
I reach across her and open the door just in time for her to throw up, but she only half makes it out of the car. She doesn’t stop, either. The shit goes on forever.
I have her hair in my hands for two reasons: one, so she doesn’t puke on it; and two, because if she starts falling out, I have a firm enough grip that I’m sure I can prevent it and pull her back.
After she stops throwing up, she sits back, panting. I look around for something she could use to wipe her mouth off on. When I can’t find anything, I reach in my back pocket where I usually have a bar rag or a grease rag and hand it to her.
She looks shocked and then I look down.
“Livi, I got nothing else in here. These panties will have to do.”
“But, I don’t—”
“Just use them,” I say, and she takes them.
When we pull up to her house, she is asleep once again, and I can’t wake her up. I also can’t find her keys, and the car reeks of vomit.
Fuck it, I say to myself as I make a u-turn and head home. It’s not like I can leave her in the hallway of her building. I wouldn’t want to anyway.
As I hit the remote and open the garage door to pull in, Floyd is hanging out on her pillow, waiting for me like she always does.
I get out and look at her. “We got company tonight. You think you can behave?”
She lays her head down and, I swear to fuck, sighs.
/>
“Trust me, it ain’t going down like that,” I tell her as I walk around the car and open the door, careful not to open too quickly since Livi is leaning on it.
I carefully lean in, avoiding the vomit, and lift her up. She is out cold. I bet I could drop her on the ground, and she wouldn’t remember it, not that it would be a smart move at all.
I blame Jagger for this, too.
Once upstairs, I kick off my boots then pull her shoes off before walking up the stairs and into my bedroom where I lay her on my bed. She might as well stay up here. She needs some clothes and who the hell knows if my brothers have clean anything in their rooms. Damn, she looks good in my bed.
She doesn’t open her eyes, but she whispers, “Sleep.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I am situating her on a pillow when I notice some shit splattered on her shirt. I don’t want my bed smelling like puke. The sheets get changed on Monday, and I’m not doing wash until then.
I stretch my leg out and grab the clean clothesbasket with my foot and drag it across the floor. Then, I pull out one of my T-shirts and throw it over my shoulder. I look at Livi for a moment, trying to decide if I can deal with the smell or not. The answer is not. I pull her shirt up and try my best not to look, which is nearly impossible.
I quickly throw one of mine over her head and shove her arms in. I then lay her back on the bed and throw a blanket over her.
I look beside the bed at Floyd. “We aren’t in here tonight, girl. We’re taking Morrison’s spot. But, first, we have a Chevy that needs some attention.”
After cleaning up her car, I make my way upstairs. I am dog ass tired, yet can’t stop thinking about that fucking night two weeks ago. The way her pussy tasted, the way it milked my cock, and I laugh to myself. Cinderella and her panties.
I end up taking a quick shower, hoping I can wash away some of my thoughts of that night. I wrap myself up in a towel then walk in my room to grab some clean clothes. Normally, I wouldn’t bother—I prefer to sleep in the nude—but not tonight, not with this guest occupying my bed.
Hendrix (Caldwell Brothers #1) Page 7