Desire
Page 35
“Yes, those rich fuckers have too much as it is, there’s no need for them to set foot in our territory.”
“I see.” She’s so young and idealistic. It’s cute.
“This is what I think of her,” Skye says. She hands me a small piece of paper.
It’s an empty sheet from her orders notepad. I turn it over. On the back is a drawing of Freya. It’s so lifelike it looks like a photograph, except this Freya has dragon fire coming out of her mouth and pointy horns on her head.
“You just drew this picture of Freya?”
“Yeah, I was bored while waiting for another table.”
“This is amazing. Can I keep it?”
She shrugs. “Sure. And don’t worry, I’ll tell the dragon lady we’re out of fruit salad.”
“You’re a star,” I say and kiss her cheek. Her eyes widen and her hand flies to where my lips have just been. Before she has a chance to say anything, I turn and walk back to my table.
Skye appears at our table a few minutes later and, as promised, tells Freya there’s no fruit salad. Instead she lays the check on the table, halfway between me and Freya.
Of course, Freya makes no move to look at the check. She doesn’t even glance at it. I pull my wallet out of my jeans pocket. As I open it, the drawing Skye did falls onto the table.
Freya stares at it, her eyes wide and body rigid. “What’s that?”
“Just a little picture Skye drew me.”
“Who’s Skye?”
“Our waitress.”
“She should be fired! I’m going to complain to the manager!”
“Relax, no one is getting fired. Now, if I’m calculating this right, your half of the check is fourteen bucks with tip.”
Back Again
(Skye)
That night in bed, I slide my hand between my legs and remember the hot guy at table six. After he left, I kept messing up orders, kept taking the wrong drinks to the wrong table. I even undercharged one table by twenty bucks, which got me in deep shit with Kevin.
It’s a good thing I’ve never made a single mistake before tonight. Even my first day went by without a mistake. In the end Kevin just chalked it up to a bad day. I wasn’t about to tell him that the real reason was a bad boy who wouldn’t leave my head.
My lungs heave at the memory of him. I wish I’d been able to look closer at the art on his arms. It tells so much about a person. From what I saw, the art on one arm was all clever geometric play; shapes that morphed into one another. The other sleeve was a mix of so many styles and subjects, I didn’t have time to even begin to appreciate it.
I’d bet any money they all have deeper meanings. I tremble at the idea of him wrapping those inked-up arms around me.
My fingers continue to work around my entrance.
When he’d kissed me, my cheek burned in heat. That same spot is burning now, a feeling now radiating through the rest of my body.
The memory of him saying my name pops into my head, as real as if he were standing in the room saying it now. It sends me crashing over the edge. My body pulses with the first orgasm I’ve been able to reach in months.
All the tension, all the worries about money and my parents and my career vanished that night, and I had the best sleep I’ve had since leaving Michigan.
In the morning, feeling fresh, both physically and mentally, I head straight to my studio and start on a brand new canvas. I try to explore the themes I thought I saw on the arm I had a better look at.
“Oooh, are you moving in a new direction?” Ava asks, bringing me a cup of tea.
“I thought I’d explore basic linear shapes today.”
“It’s fascinating. I can’t wait to see where you go with it.”
“Thanks,” I say and take a sip of the tea, inhaling the peppermint smell.
“I’ll leave you, I don’t want to disturb creative genius at work. I just wanted to bring you something to drink.”
I stand back from the canvas, sipping my tea and examining it. I can’t go down this little self-indulgent path any further; it’d never sell. Not that my other stuff is flying off the shelves, but at least it has potential.
I whitewash over the canvas and put it aside. In my sketchbook, I draw out a few ideas about the woman the man was with, and all the places she would be out of place in. I run with the idea, jotting and sketching everything that comes into my mind.
Soon I’ve come up with a concept for a series of paintings on out-of-place wealth, and how money detaches a person from the rest of the world. An evening gown on the beach. Dangly diamond earrings on a tree in the woods. A tiara on top of a scarecrow’s head.
I immerse myself in the project for four days, spending every waking hour on the paintings. Ava brings me food and drinks, and I break to eat, but otherwise spend every second of my time on them.
Thursday meets me with dread I have to work at Johnny’s tonight.
The three canvases are lined up in a row in my studio, and I fiddle with the green of the trees in the forest, trying to make the leaves appear as natural as possible.
Noticing my hunger for the first time in days, I put down my brush and make my way to the kitchen. As I approach it, I overhear Ava speaking on the phone in the living room.
“I don’t understand why you won’t remortgage my property,” she is saying.
My heart sinks. I pause to listen to her conversation, I can’t help myself.
“Yes, I know I’m over retirement age, but I have a pension that covers the payments.”
My heart is now pounding in my chest, and I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. Not wanting to hear anymore, I rush into the kitchen. I try to unwrap the bread bag, but my hands are shaking so much I give up and grab a banana instead.
It doesn’t matter what Ava says, I’m going to have to take on extra shifts at Johnny’s. And I’m going to start painting more mainstream projects. Enough of the self-indulgent museum pieces, I’m not having a kind woman fritter away her house and pension because of me.
While I finish my banana, I scan the commissions available on a local artists’ website. I send my details off to a handful, then decide fuck it, I need anything I can get, and send my details to all the current postings.
Most are for things like portrait paintings. A few are for things like ‘paint my house’ or ‘paint my dog’. Some people have way too much money on their hands.
With Ava’s comment about remortgaging echoing in my head, I put up a profile of myself with photos of both myself and some of my pieces, as someone looking for work. Until now, I’d always viewed the artist profiles as people who weren’t being true to their art. Now I’m one of them.
Throwing myself back into my paintings, I decide I need to finish this project as quickly as possible, even if the quality suffers. By the late afternoon I’m absorbed in making the diamond earrings shimmer. I lose total track of time and only realize I’m late for work when Ava comes in and tells me.
That night, I make sure to set my alarm to make sure I’m not late for Friday’s and Saturday’s shifts. I’m skating on thin ice after last Saturday, and then being late today. Now, knowing Ava’s situation, I can’t risk the income.
On Saturday, I hide in my waitress station wiping down the menus. Kevin lets me know a party of two has just arrived at table six. I grab two menus and head to it, ready to give my standard welcome spiel.
When I reach the table, the hot guy from last week is sitting in the same spot he was last Saturday. A different woman sits across from him. A thousand butterflies fill my insides.
“Hey, Skye,” he says and winks at me.
“Welcome back to Johnny’s Roadhouse.” My smile is not the fake plastered-on one I normally greet guests with.
My cheeks burn red when the thought crosses my mind that he’s become the star of my nightly fantasies. Shamed, I drop the menus on the table and hightail it back to my wait station.
Leaning against the wall, I try to calm my breathing. I pat my cheeks, w
illing the red to go away. This is nuts, I have to calm myself down, or how will I be able to go out there and take his order? Let alone carry a plate of food to him without dropping it…
“Hey,” he says, poking his head around the partition. It startles me and I jump, which seems to delight him.
“Is everything okay?” Instinctively, I revert to my robot waitress mode.
“You forgot to take our drinks orders.” Okay, I tell myself, he’s just here for normal, everyday restaurant stuff. It’s nothing to do with me; he hasn’t read my mind about what I do with him in my fantasies at night.
“Oh, oops, what can I get you?” I smile, but am painfully aware of the slight tremble in my bottom lip.
“A couple of Buds would be great.”
“Coming right up.”
“Cheers, Skye.” He winks and leaves me leaning against the wall for support.
I take a few deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down. What is the matter with me? Just because the hottest guy who’s ever walked in this place is back, I fall apart and start acting like a star-struck twelve year old.
First Taste
(Lawson)
I sit back down in the booth with Julie, my thoughts still on Skye and what I’d like to do to her.
“You haven’t stopped grinning since we got here,” my sister says.
“I’m happy, what can I say?”
“I say I haven’t seen you this happy in ages. And by happy I mean excited. What’s going on?”
“What do you mean? Can’t your big brother be happy?”
“Something’s up. I should’ve known when you said you wanted to take me out for a burger.”
“You’ll see.”
“Oh God, is it the waitress?” She rolls her eyes as she says it.
“Obviously, have you seen her?”
Skye appears with our beers and says, “Here you are, two beers. I’ll be right back to take your order.” She runs away before I can even thank her. That’s fine, she looks as good going as she does coming.
“Her? You must be ten years older than her. Are you having a midlife crisis already? You’re too young for that.”
“It’s not just her looks, she cracks me up. And she’s so talented, you saw the picture she drew of Freya.”
“Poor Freya, I still can’t believe you ditched the yacht party to bring her here. She still hasn’t spoken to me — you probably cost me a friend.”
“Who cares? You have too many friends as it is. Besides, you don’t need ones who are only interested in money.”
Julie rolls her eyes and says, “Aside from the fact I love a good plate of ribs, why am I here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to see Skye again.”
“And?”
“And I needed your opinion. Is she going to turn out to be a gold digger too? If you say yes, then I know I’m okay. It’s when you say no that I know I need to start guarding my wallet.” Skye talked all that shit about the rich, but people to change their tunes pretty fast when money is within their reach.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
Skye arrives back at the side of the booth and says, “Have you decided what you want?”
When she puts it that way, I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her exactly what I want.
“I’ll have the ribs, with fries,” Julie says. Skye looks at me with raised eyebrows, apparently she approves of my date for the night.
“And you, sir, what would you like?” Fuck, the way she called me sir again overloads me with the desire to answer that question truthfully.
“The burger.”
“The works again?”
“Absolutely.”
“Awesome.” She turns and goes and I can’t take my eyes off her. Even after she’s out of sight, I keep my eyes on the last spot in hopes she’ll reappear.
“Enough of this. We’re supposed to be talking about Kelso,” Julie says.
Kelso Wilson is my ex-business partner. We made billions together, before I decided I couldn’t take any more of the asshole. It was a great business, he built the hotels and resorts all over the world, and I ran them. Except I realized I could get anyone to build the shit, and didn’t have to put up with him in the process.
We’ve been locked in a legal battle to divide up the business for the past fourteen months. It’s pretty easy to carve off the construction division, but for some reason the asshole thinks he deserves more.
I’m arguing all the non-construction divisions are all mine, since I add all the value. His buildings always come in over budget and after the deadline. If anything, he’s cost the business.
“There’s not much to say about him,” I say.
“I think it’s possible to talk him into a deal. That would save tens of millions in legal fees and get the headache over with.”
“Whoa, is my legal counsel really advising me over what’s best for me instead of what gets her firm the most money?”
“Piss off. It’s Saturday night, I’m speaking to you as my brother.”
“Fine, I’ll go see the piece of shit, but I want all the points I need to hit him with laid out to me beforehand and drilled into me. There’s a good chance I’ll forget it all when I see him, because I’ll be too busy punching his face in.”
Skye had arrived at our table as I was speaking. Her eyes widened as she heard the tail end of what I’d said.
“Ribs for you, and a burger. Is everything else okay?”
“That’s great. There is one thing you can do for me: draw me a pretty picture of my companion here, will you?”
She looks at me with a furrowed brow. “Um, okay, if I get some time, it’s pretty busy in here tonight.”
“Thanks, Skye.” I wink at her and she scurries away.
Julie and I continue to talk about handling Kelso as we eat. She’s the slowest eater I’ve ever met and I finish way before her.
“We’re going to be late for Pamela’s.” Our baby sister has ordered us over for weekend drinks. Pamela doesn’t cook, and always insists we eat before we get there.
Julie shrugs and stuffs more fries in her mouth.
“I’ll go pay.” Julie has a mouthful of fries, and nods at me.
I make my way to the wait station, where I find Skye drawing on her notepad.
“We’re late for something, I’ve gotta pay now.”
“Leaving so soon?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Maybe I am,” Skye says, with a genuine smile, not that fake smile she wore the first time I came in here.
“In that case, I’m pissed I have to leave.”
“Sure I can’t interest you in dessert?”
“You can interest me in all sorts of things, but right now I have to go.” I say, raking my eyes down and back up her perfect body. When I reach her eyes again, I capture her gaze.
“You’ll have to come back next week,” she says, chewing her bottom lip.
“Next time I’ll definitely stay for dessert.”
“We have several on the menu, you could stay long enough to sample them all.”
“The dessert I want isn’t on the menu.”
Skye’s eyes flare, and she turns away from me.
“Here you go.” She prints off our bill and hands it to me.
“How’s the picture coming?” I pull out several rolled-up bills and hand them to her.
“Well, I didn’t get much sense of who your date is, so I drew you instead.”
“Let me see.” I snatch her pad, intrigued by how she perceives me.
“It’s not finished yet,” she says, grabbing for the pad.
I hold it out of her reach and take a look. I’m so ripped in her picture that I look like a superhero. There are no horns on my head, and no fire coming from my mouth. Instead I’m standing with my arms crossed, my arms covered in ink and a hamburger in a thought bubble over my head.
“That’s definitely not what I’m thinking about,” I say.
“It’s hard to put into words,” I say. Skye swallows.
“Then show me,” she says, her voice barely audible.
I reach out, cup the back of her head and press my mouth against hers. My cock stiffens at the softness of her lips. I pull away, leaving my hand cupping her head and holding her eyes with mine.
As soon as her mouth is free of me, she says, “Your date is right over there.”
“She’s not my date, she’s my sister.”
“I’m at work, I’ll get in…” I silence her by planting my mouth back on hers. She moans and parts her lips, allowing my tongue to dart into her.
I brush my hand down the length of her tight T-shirt. When I get to the fine ass I’ve been watching all night, I rub my hand over it. My cock aches for more.
“Skye! In the staff room. You! Stop harassing my employees or I’ll call the cops,” a man barks.
She pushes away and I release my hold on her. “Sorry, Kevin,” she says.
The man, I assume he’s her boss, stays where he is, glaring at us. I tighten my hold on her, ready to go back in for more, but she places her hands on my chest and it stops me.
“I have to go, I need this job.”
“Sure.” I can’t resist myself, I give her one more quick kiss on her lips then release her.
Gasping, she says, “Is that my tip?”
I laugh and say, “No, this is your tip: Stop waiting tables and become an artist.”
Before she can respond, Julie appears and glares at me.
“Later,” I say, and we leave the restaurant.
The Offer
(Skye)
I can barely concentrate on driving. My mind keeps flipping between that guy kissing me, and Kevin sending me home straight after. My first real kiss, and holy cow was it amazing. But it’s cost me big money in tips since the restaurant was so busy.
Kevin said that was my last chance. I can’t afford to be out on my ass. But if that man comes in again and tries to kiss me, there’s no way I’ll stop him. No matter how much I need the money from the restaurant. His kiss just felt too damn good.