“I’m Drake. What is your name?”
“Ashlea. Now can you let go of my arm?”
The man let her arm go and she jerked it away.
“You don’t have to be such a rude little piggy.”
Ashlea just looked at him, dumbstruck for a moment. It was not the first time that she had heard disparaging comments about her weight, though it was the first time that she had not been expecting it. She tried to hide the hurt that leapt into her eyes as she turned to walk away. The man made a sound akin to a growl, but she refused to turn around and let him see how his words affected her. She did not want to give him any satisfaction in that way.
“Callie, will you take the jerk in my section? I’ll pay you a fiver to take him. I can’t deal with assholes tonight.”
“Oh, so you want me to?”
“You’re skinny. I’m sure he will not find you as piggy-like.”
Ashlea bit the words off and stalked off to the employee bathroom, not really waiting for an answer. She knew that Callie would do it. She promised herself she would never let anyone see her cry, but it was hard at times to hold the waterworks in. As soon as she shut the door to the small bathroom, she sat on the toilet to cry. Ashlea had heard it her whole life, and many times throughout her day.
“You have a great voice, but we’re looking for the whole package. Looks and all.”
It was not like Ashlea was really that big; she was curvy. At 5 foot 10, Ashlea had never felt like the rest of the girls. She never felt petite and small. Ashlea was always referred to as the big girl in her class, and the feelings that she had gotten from the title stuck. At twenty years old and a size twelve, she still felt like the big girl. When men like the handsome customer out there talked to her like that, it just brought back all the years of pain that she had felt. A couple of words uttered from a stranger could bring her to her breaking point, but Ashlea could not help her soft heart.
After several minutes, Ashlea pulled herself together and wiped her eyes in the mirror. Her mascara had started to run, and she looked glumly back at her reflection. She had thought she had looked nice before she left for work, but at the moment, she saw herself in his eyes and she looked horrible. Puffy eyes and dark smears of black underneath them did not help her self-esteem at all either.
She left the bathroom to find her co-worker in the back, and she looked pretty riled up.
“You were right. He was a total douche. You know, he actually thought I would just leave with him? He tipped me a hundred dollars, like I was some hooker.”
“Well, at least he tipped well.”
“No, the bastard took it back when I told him to go fuck himself.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have that.” Ashlea put her hand in her pocket, pulling out the wad of ones and fives to pay her. It was worth it to not have to deal with people like that, she thought to herself. A few dollars was always worth her sanity.
“No really, it’s okay. I’m used to jerks, I guess because I have been in the city a lot longer than you have. When you’ve lived here long enough, your skin will get a lot tougher.”
Ashlea nodded her head, though she didn’t think she agreed. It hadn’t gotten any easier for her, and the rudeness of the fast life there was exhausting. Instead of stiffening her skin, all the negativity just seemed to wear on her day after day. Looking at the clock, she sighed, as the minute hand had barely moved she since the last time she had looked at it.
“Anyone else out there?”
“Nope.”
Ashlea sighed to herself, knowing that it was going to be another night with very little business and even fewer tips. She didn’t know how much longer she could go on with things the way they were. All she needed was a break, a chance, and she knew everything would somehow work out. She was just not so sure if she would get her much-needed break. She was skeptical of her chances, but was not ready to give up just yet.
Chapter 2
Ashlea was leaving the small diner at about the time the sun was coming up in the clear sky. It was a little after five in the morning when the young woman walked out to her car and climbed in, exhausted. She had an interview booked with a new agent at ten, so she debated trying to get an hour or two of sleep before she headed that way. The drive was quick, with only five miles to go before she pulled into the four-story apartment building.
“Morning, Ashlea!”
“Morning, Rick.”
The older man waved and smiled as she passed by his downstairs balcony. Every morning was the same routine, and as always, he was sitting at a small bistro table, sipping coffee. He was at least a decade older than herself, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her incessantly, and it always boosted her confidence a smidge.
“Looking tired, Ashlea. Why don’t you come over here and let me give you a massage?”
“Not today, Rick.”
“Come on. Just give me five minutes with that body.”
Ashlea stopped for a second and looked over at the man. He was slightly attractive, though not really her type. He was thin, but not scrawny. His dark hair was starting to grey at his temples, making him appear more distinguished. He was not bad looking, and they had fooled around a few times, when she had been very lonely.
“Only five minutes? What the hell am I going to do in that amount of time?”
Ashlea turned the corner with a wink and walked the two flights of metal stairs on the side of the building. Her own balcony gave her a great view of another brick building much taller than the one she lived in. She didn’t really like the apartment, but in the city, the choices were slim and costly.
There was a note on Ashlea’s door, and she squinted to see what it was. In her heart, she knew what it was, but she was hoping it was something else. It wasn’t. The piece of paper was taped to the outside of the door. It was an eviction notice, and according to the small print on the paperwork, she had seven days to get out.
“Fuck!”
Ashlea ripped it off of her door, wondering how long it had been there and how many people had seen it. Her hands shook as she stuck her key in the lock. Ashlea did not know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something fast. Her dreams were slipping away, and she was unsure how to get back on track. She had six days to make enough to find another place to stay, or she was going to have to go back home to the small town that held nothing for her.
That night, after, predictably, another failed audition, Ashlea knocked on Rick’s door, and he answered as if he’d been expecting her. He didn’t have to say anything—he folded her into a fatherly hug, and held her for a moment, steering her wordlessly into the bedroom. She stripped to bra and panties, and flopped onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow.
She sighed as she felt his hands on her, stroking her back, his fingers rough and calloused, yet extremely gentle. He massaged the tension from her neck and shoulders, and she sighed as his hands slid to the small of her back. It always made her shiver, that little spot just at the base of her spine, and he chuckled, as he usually did, as he ran his fingers over the spot.
Ashlea rolled over, glad that he had not turned on the light, so most of her oversized body was obscured in the dimly-lit room. He’d only complained the first couple times—he knew, after she stalked out, not to ask about the lights again.
His fingers slid between her skin and the soft silk of her panties, and she groaned, her hips reacting in pure reflex. She never really thought about Rick as he was touching her, and Ashlee thought he probably knew that—he was always quiet, giving her what she needed, never asking for anything in return. The rough pad of his middle finger found the hood of her clit, and she gasped as he tugged it up, exposing the sensitive little bundle of nerves beneath. Just the exposure to the air was pure pleasure, and he waited until her hips began to shift and arch before using his pointer finger to slowly roll her clit around, pressing firmly, never quite on her clit, but just around it, waking it up, so that it swelled and ached.
&n
bsp; She began to whine, and he obediently shifted his hand to slide a couple fingers between her now-soaked lips, and she gasped, swallowing, arching her back as he slowly finger-fucked her. She pushed all thoughts of the day from her mind, surrendering to the feeling of his fingers, and she cried out as she felt the climax approaching, like waves lapping at the shore, the tide slowly rising. He kept up his slow pace until the very end, and she gripped the sheets, crying out her pleasure, biting her lower lip as she smelled her own arousal soak the bed and his fingers.
“Better?” Rick asked gently, stroking her hair with his other hand.
She nodded wordlessly, gathered her clothes, and left.
Ashlea stayed up several hours past her usual bedtime, thinking. She was not ready to give up on her dreams, and she assured herself that she would figure it out. One way or another, Ashlea wanted to stay right where she was. The only problem was that after all that brainstorming, she was still not sure how she was going to stay there, exactly. She had a few friends that she thought about asking. She knew Rick would be happy to take her in. But she was still confronted with her pride, which she was not ready to give up. She didn’t want to ask for help, but she sure did need it.
Chapter 3
Conrad’s driver asked him where he wanted to have dinner. It was no longer dinnertime, but they both knew that since Conrad was back at home, he wanted to go to Smiley’s diner. It was a small establishment, certainly not in his pay grade, but the small place held sentimental value for the man, which kept him going back again and again.
His parents had met in the small diner, and every week, the family would go out and eat dinner there when Conrad was younger. It had become a tradition that Conrad enjoyed, and even now that his parents were no longer together and his father was dead, the diner felt like all he had left of a time that he would always treasure. The man had been away on family business for months, and he just couldn’t wait till the next day for dinner--he had to have his usual in the middle of the night. His father was in the walls of the building, in a sense, and even though he died of a broken heart from his mother, it had remained his favorite place, until his death. While Conrad’s mother may have not loved his father anymore, his dad had still gone there each week for the year after his divorce. He mourned her, like Conrad, wanting to be close to a ghost.
Andre shook his head and rolled the divider back up. He never understood why such a rich man would eat so poorly, but he was used to the man’s simple tastes and laid back personality. Conrad was not like most of his previous clients, who seemed obsessed with appearances. Conrad genuinely didn’t care what was expected of him. He just did exactly what he wanted to do, and that was it. Some of his wants included paying for Andre’s son to go to college for a Christmas present the year before, so Andre would drive him to hell if he asked him to. Everyone who knew Conrad either loved him, or wished they were him.
The dark blue car pulled up in the front and Andre got out to open the door for him. It was pure habit, even though Conrad had repeatedly asked him not to. Conrad hated to have people fuss over him.
“You know Andre, I sometimes wonder if you do that to irritate me.”
“Of course. Sometimes I wonder if you would be happier as a pauper, Sir.”
“Maybe.”
Conrad chuckled and handed the man his outer coat.
“Are you coming in for some food?”
“I think I will pass. 3 a.m. steaks never sat well with me.”
He nodded and walked towards the familiar place that he knew so well. Nothing had changed, and he had actually paid an owner several years back to keep it just the way it was by blocking a renovation. Conrad couldn’t bear to think of anything being changed, and had considered just buying the store outright to maintain control over it. Conrad would step up to own it if he had to. When he wanted something, he would go out of his way to get it.
“Hello!”
Conrad nodded to the thin blonde that popped her head from behind the door, and took a seat at the counter. He watched her disappear again into the back, and Conrad’s eyes fell to the menu, which he could have written in his sleep. The man had been getting the same thing for over 30 years, and he wasn’t going to change.
“Hey hon, what can I get for you tonight?”
Conrad heard a different voice than the first waitress, and he looked up. His eyes held hers for a moment, and Conrad’s heart started to race faster. His dark brown eyes were lost in her green pools, and neither spoke for a moment. The woman looked down, almost turning red from a blush creeping up her neck and coloring her cheeks.
“Sir?”
She seemed to have pulled herself back from his eyes, faster than he was able to. Conrad did not know her, but her scent nearly drove him mad. He had always heard about love at first sight, yet never experienced it. If it was a real thing, Conrad figured that it was happening right then.
“I am sorry, what?”
“Um, what can I get for you?”
Conrad’s own face started to get a little extra color, and he tried his best to compose himself. The voluptuous redhead was beautiful in his eyes, perfect in every way. There was a glow about her, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he could feel his body exciting by just her close proximity.
“Steak and eggs, rare and over medium.”
“White or wheat?”
Conrad was again staring at the woman as she wrote in the little pad in her hand. Her hands moved swiftly as he spoke, yet he did not hear her last question. She raised her face and their eyes met again. He could tell by her expression that she was waiting for some kind of answer from him.
“White or wheat toast, Sir?” she repeated.
The woman was getting impatient, and Conrad was blowing his first impression. His looks seemed to afford him a little more patience from the world, and if that didn’t work, his money paved the rest of the way. But she did not seem interested in his thousand dollar shoes, nor his tailored-made suit. The waitress was not giving him any slack whatsoever and that made him like her even more.
“I’m sorry, I just got back into to town, and my mind must be off. Dry wheat toast please. With a cup of coffee and a glass of milk with the meal.”
With her question’s answered, Ashlea turned around and was about to walk away. Conrad reminded her of the rude man that had been in there the night before, and when she felt his hand on her arm, the similarities were uncanny. She turned around quickly, but instead of being upset, there was a look in his eyes that cooled her temper.
“Can I ask your name, Miss?”
“Ashlea.”
“Thank you, Ashlea.”
His hand was gone as quickly as it had been put there. Her skin started to cool from where the heat of his touch penetrated hers. She looked back one last time as she walked into the kitchen. His eyes followed her as she left. There was something in his eyes that she didn’t quite understand, but the desire she’d seen in his depths was unmistakable.
“Wow, he is hot.”
“I know, right. I almost thought he was that douche bag from last night. They kind of look the same. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, for sure. Well, hopefully he isn’t like the other one.”
“I don’t think so. He seems really nice.”
“What did he order?”
“Steak and eggs, rare. So what does your theory say about him?”
Callie had been working the graveyard shift for many years, and as she had waited on thousands of people weekly, she was convinced that what they ordered told her about them in some way. They both knew it was bullshit, but it helped to pass the time when it was slow in the diner, which was most of the time.
“Strong man that needs lots of protein and attention. That anyone could order steak and eggs in the middle of the night though, I think that makes him a control freak.”
Ashlea busted out laughing before she could let her finish. Callie could go on for several minutes, making up a whole bio for the guy. It was funny, as
always, but Ashlea almost burned herself laughing.
“I’ll be back. Don’t want the control freak to blow a gasket.”
Chapter 4
Ashlea felt almost nervous as she walked back to the man sitting at the counter. His eyes were on her as soon as she opened the door, and it was almost like he was drawing her to him. Her hand trembled as she set the coffee down.
“Did you need any cream?”
“No thank you. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I see that you do not have a wedding ring. May I assume that you are unattached?”
It was a weird way to ask her if she was single, she thought, but she nodded her head to the question.
“Yep, solo, as always.”
“I can’t believe that. I bet you have men lining up for a mere chance.”
Ashlea was not sure if he was mocking her or not. She certainly didn’t feel that way about herself, and there was no line forming. His dark eyes told her that he was being serious, and that he wanted to change her singles status. Ashlea could feel herself getting warm in the face. She was not good at compliments--she rarely got them, so she was not adept at what to say. The man looked at her like she had always wanted to feel: utterly desired. With a man like Rick, it was an ego boost, but with a man like the one in front of her then, it felt more like being chosen.
She heard a ding that took her mind off her rambling mind. Excusing herself, she went to the back and grabbed the plate from under the heat lamp. With a minute or two under the powerful lights, the plate would be scorching and the steak would be medium. The waitresses figured that it was there for incentive to get them out quicker. After grabbing a few glass plates that instantly burned skin, the waitresses learned. So even though she was transfixed by the man, the bell was a conditioning that superseded her sudden attraction for the customer.
Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance Page 7