Finding Serenity (The Unexpected Love Series Book 2)
Page 6
"I'll see you at work tomorrow. I have to leave a little early to take Abby to her father's house. I hope it's all right ..." Shay questions nervously after getting Abby into the car.
This isn't a side of her I'm used to—shy. Normally, she's a chick who has a wall around her at all times, but it seems like meeting her daughter is making her vulnerable as fuck. It's just as sexy.
"Yeah. No problem. I know the drill," I agree, rocking on the balls of my feet.
"All right. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."
Shay turns around to get in her car and I stop myself from reaching for her. I don't want our time to end. Today was one of the best days of my life, and I spent it with Shay and her daughter.
She buckles herself into the driver’s seat and gives me a small smile laced with something I've never seen before. Her look gives me a little bit of hope and pulls me a mile out of the darkness. It's a glimmer of something between her and me. A silent promise speaking more than words ever can. I take it in and let it surround me. I let it warm my cold, still heart. I let myself feel without the influence of drugs for the first time in a long time. It’s a step.
I LEFT THE zoo after watching Shay drive away. I ended up at the garage since I didn't know what the fuck to do with myself. On the drive home, I became more lovesick over Shay than ever before. I tried to think of the reasons I shouldn't pursue her, but it was no damn use. My heart is a speeding freight train with only one stop on the itinerary. It begins and stops at Shay Kirby.
I force my mind to go somewhere besides the way Shay smells or the way her smile is blinding me into feeling things for her. The way Abby made my heart swell with her tiny touch and the way Shay gave me a silent promise before she pulled out of the parking lot.
"Hey, man. Why the fuck are ya here so early? Don't you have shit to get done at the shop today?" Mac questions skeptically.
I place the radiator hose I've been trying to patch for the last twenty minutes on the workbench and turn around, letting the bench support my weight.
"I didn't feel like going back to the shop, fucker. Is it a crime that I'm trying to help ya out so you have more time with the wife?"
Mac shakes his head, knowing something is up. I don't ever volunteer time unless there's something for me to gain at the end of it. That's how fucking selfish I am.
"Just take it for what it is, man. Add one point to the scorecard for me. I'll collect my winnings from ya at some point," I joke.
Moving from the entryway of the garage, Mac goes to the toolbox and digs through it for something.
“So what brings you here? Did you decide ya wanted to take a break from crawling up Callie's ass for a minute, or is this just a stop on the way there?"
Mac lets out an obnoxious fucking laugh. "You'll see, man. One day you’re gonna be just like me if you're not already. You look like you're thinking about something or someone.”
I scoff, grabbing a smoke off the bench and let the nicotine fill my lungs.
"Nah. Ain't no someone in here." I tap my closed fist off the side of my head.
"Whatever you say, man.”
"Really, there isn't. Where the fuck are ya pulling this shit from?"
Does he know? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'll kill Ryleigh.
He turns toward me wearing a devilish grin on his lips.
"Chill out. I'm just busting your ass. Believe me. I think the whole city knows you don't think about a woman unless she's on your dick."
I confirm to Mac that I'm hiding something when my body freezes. Lucky for him, he doesn't comment on it. I don’t either. We both go about our business like the conversation never happen.
I dodged a fucking bullet.
AFTER A FEW hours of working at the garage, Mac suggested a guys’ night out, and I agreed a hundred percent. I need a break from my thoughts, and I damn sure know how to fix it. I need to bang the shit out of a chick tonight. I'm talking one who doesn't care what my name is and doesn't care that I won't know hers. It's the only way to fix this shit.
Shay Kirby is a fucking plague. She's been wrapping herself around every one of my thoughts without even being near me. She's a fucking virus. A virus I want to inject myself with so I never have to feel what it’s like to be without her again.
"How was your day, assclown?" Ry questions from across the bar.
Her smile has a hidden agenda behind it. I know this because Mac's sitting right fucking next to me. He doesn't know I went with Shay today, and if she spills the beans, I'm gonna fucking snap.
"It was full of pussy and booze," I clip, joking.
Ryleigh frowns for a moment before directing her attention to Mac.
"How about you, playboy? How's the engaged life treating ya? Are you and Callie running off to Vegas yet?"
I chime in, busting Mac's balls before he can answer.
"Nah, babe. He's too busy finding the right spot in Callie's ass to run off with her yet. Give ‘em some time."
Mac turns his head, shooting me a wicked glare I can't help but laugh at. He's too fucking easy to get riled up. All you have to do is say one word about Callie and the guy turns into a fucking nutcase.
"Shut the fuck up, asshole. You don't see me saying anything about you going to hang with Shay and Abby now, do you? I kept my mouth shut about it until now. Should I start asking ya when the wedding is or what?"
My face pales then it turns fucking beet red. My head swings toward Ryleigh, who’s now standing with a bottle opener in her hand, ready to use it as a weapon against me. She knows what she did.
"Are ya fucking kidding me, Ryleigh? You told him?" I scream at her.
Her eyes dart behind me, but I couldn’t care less right now. I trusted this chick. She's family to me, and here, she is selling me out to Mac. Screw her. I'm fucking done.
She pleads with me not to freak out while she's working, but I focus on the ringing inside my eardrums. I don't want to fucking hear it, so I choose not to.
I stand up from my stool, looking around the bar for the first decent looking chick I can find. Sure enough, five feet in front of me is a smoking hot chick. She’s looking right at me. Yeah, I'm coming for you, sweetheart. Get ready to drop those panties tonight.
I stop in front of the brunette and give her a deadly smile I know is already working. Her eyes are darting over every inch of my body, and her tongue peeks out from its home, running across her lower lip.
"You wanna get fucked now or later, sweetheart?" I invite.
Her brown eyes grow bigger by the second, and I watch them turn hungry before my own. She looks around the bar before meeting my eyes again, but this time, she makes my night so much fucking better. She reaches into her dress, presumably in her bra, and produces a small bag of white powder. Even fucking better.
"Wanna get out of here and have the time of our lives?" she questions, holding my stare.
I snatch the bag from her hand, careful to make sure Mac didn't see, and inspect it a little closer. I open it, dipping my finger inside and running the white substance across my gums while I wait for the numbing sensation to begin. Within seconds, my gums are weightless. They're floating somewhere in the feeling of cocaine-induced bliss, and I'm grabbing the chick by the hand, eager to get her to my apartment.
"You ever had someone snort this shit off those pretty tits, baby?" I test her.
The All American Rejects – “I Wanna”
SATURDAY NIGHTS AT the club are the worst thing ever to happen to me. The place is jammed with people and the men are relentless. It's pathetic. Every time I come to work, I think more about quitting. Tonight is no exception.
Marco informed me the club was a waitress short, and unfortunately, the new owner chose me from the fill-in list. I get more tips waitressing if I work the room, but I don't want to work it. Filling in for Jamie, the missing server, provides men with the opportunity to flirt with me, touch me, and attempt to seduce me. At least on the stage, I can keep my distance from them if I choose. The stage has boun
daries; the floor doesn’t.
"Can you please tell me why the new owner thought you should be on the floor instead of me?" Katie snaps from behind me.
I balance a drink tray from the bar, waiting for it to be filled. Katie is a bitch. Well, saying she's just a bitch is putting it mildly. She’s way beyond that.
"How am I supposed to know? I’ve never even met the guy! Jackson knew I hated being on the floor, so he never put me on. The new owner obviously didn't get the memo."
I stack the shot glasses quickly to get a move on to table five, ignoring Katie purposely. I walk back to the table, the crowd having grown in size. The two men, who occupied the table when I left, now have three friends pulling up a seat.
I put on a fake smile as I approach because nobody tips a bitchy waitress.
"Here you go, boys," I chime in as I start unloading the tray.
"Thanks, Shay."
I glance in the guy’s direction, almost dropping my tray in the process. One of the new members of the group is none other than the mob guy who was at the tattoo shop the other day.
"Hello," I peep, still in shock.
This isn’t good.
He can't know I work here.
My heart drops to my stomach, and my palms sweat profusely, making my once shaky grip now slippery as hell. What if he tells Trent? I’ll be mortified.
"You look gorgeous tonight. A hell of a lot better than stuck behind the desk at the tattoo shop."
His words are smooth and well thought out. He knows what he's doing here, and I'm guessing this is about Trent in some way. I saw the way they argued outside the shop, and I saw how it screwed with Trent afterward.
"Thank you," I almost whisper.
My head falls in shame while unloading the shots on the table. I feel filthy. It's one thing to work here when no one knows you do, but now, Anthony can change that. He can air my dirty laundry if he wants to.
"Let's talk, Shay."
This isn't a question but a command. His voice sends shivers down my spine, and not the good kind. His shivers make me fearful. They make me worry, and they drive me to panic.
I look up as Anthony stands from his seat. He’s adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket slowly. He wears what looks to be the same attire as what he wore at the shop, but a man who exudes this much wealth has, at least, a hundred of the same outfit.
He moves to me, his hand brushing against my ass discreetly. I have to stop myself from physically gagging. I don't need to piss him off right now, so I go along with him while he walks us to the back of the club.
We get close to the employee only door, and I look for Marco in the crowd. Where are you when I need you? I find him standing a foot away with a smile on his face.
"It's okay, sweetheart. The big guy over there isn't going to stop us. I own this joint now."
I forget to breathe.
My lungs beg me to suck in air, but I won't allow it. My heart wants to beat, but I keep it immobile, too. My limbs, airways, my heart—none of them are allowed to do what they’re supposed to.
"W-w-w-hat?" I stammer, gasping on oxygen flooding my airway.
Anthony smiles, making my stomach turn. Why would he buy this place? I doubt it was a coincidence. The club came on the market when he was looking for a new business venture? Highly unlikely.
"Follow me, Shay. We'll talk in my office."
He holds the door open for me while I move past him.
I sit in what used to be Jackson's office, willing myself to stop shaking. I feel sick. My stomach hasn't stopped rolling, and my face is surely a shade of green. Tony, as he insisted I call him, has his gold ring-covered fingers intertwined together. He watches me, and I watch him, his eyes roaming over me.
He clears his throat, and I jump. His hand moves the slightest bit, and I flinch out of instinct. I know deep down this man can hurt me. Not just physically but also emotionally. All he has to do is spill my little secret and everyone will look at me while my head hangs low.
"I'm sure you’re wondering why I’m now your boss," he suggests.
My stomach drops again. I answer him, my voice small. "Yes."
A tiny chuckle rips from him, but in my ears, it's as loud as a freight train.
"Your boyfriend, Trent, is a very foolish man. I asked one favor of him and he turned me down. Not only did he insult me, but he also owes me money. You see, that isn't going to work for me, Shay."
"He's not my boyfriend," I spit out, defending myself.
He laughs again; this time, his head moves back and forth.
"You two can call it whatever you will, but I see the way he looks at you. I've seen him when he's high as a kite. He has a big mouth when he's high, and I've heard him mention you on more than one occasion. You see, this leads me to believe you’re lying."
My arms go limp and my heart races erratically for the first time since I've laid eyes on Anthony. Did he just say "high"? As in, Trent gets high? Which would mean he uses drugs?
Jesus Christ. How did I not know this?
"What do you mean, ‘When he's high’?"
This earns another laugh from good ol’ Tony, and it makes my heart hurt.
"He does drugs, dear. I sell it to him, and he shoves it up his nose more often than not. Did you not know? Because if you didn't, I'd say Trent is a selfish man for not sharing his supply with you."
I stare at him in pure disbelief. If I had known Trent was doing drugs at all, he never would’ve been around my daughter. God only knows if he had them on him when he was with us at the zoo. It's not as if I can call him out on it, so I'm left with one option.
"I quit," I snarl, standing up from my seat.
Anthony makes a tsk-tsk noise, also rising from his seat behind the cherry wood desk.
"That isn't going to happen, Ms. Kirby. If you walk out the door without giving me what I want, I will just have to tell your little boyfriend you take your clothes off for money."
My arms race to cross over the bra I'm wearing as I come to my defense.
"I don't take my clothes off for money."
His rancid smile twists up at the sides of his mouth, making me feel like I'm a foot tall in size.
"But you sure don't wear any. Now, do you? Do you think it's going to matter to that boy whether you wear no clothing or take it off? He's going to see you for what you really are. Then there are the courts. I'm sure they’d love to let you keep your daughter knowing what you do."
My shoulders sag, and my body temperature plummets to below freezing.
"What do you want from me?" I whisper.
Anthony takes a step around his desk, moving in for the kill. My head hangs down, eyes focusing on the wooden floor of the office. His black pointy leather shoes block my line of sight. His fingers grip my chin roughly and force me to look at him.
"You're going to get Trent to give me what I want, and in return, your employment here will stay between us," he confirms.
Fuck.
I SIT AT my desk trying to stop staring at the door every second, but it's no use. Trent isn't here yet, and the tick in my jaw won't stop. I'm annoyed. I have no right to be annoyed, but someone should probably tell my heart.
It's been three hours since I opened up, and neither Trent nor Gunner has decided to show up yet. So that leaves me sitting here alone lost in my mind.
I question every encounter I've ever had with him. How long has he been getting high, and how do I get him to answer without revealing a secret of my own?
Just as I'm about to text the guys asking where the hell they are, Gunner stumbles through the door like his ass is on fire.
"Sorry, I'm late, Shay baby. I got caught up talking to my old man on the phone," he says in a casual tone.
"It’s fine, but some warning next time would be nice. I had to cancel two of your appointments," I snap.
Gunner leans on the desk giving me an odd look. His brows crease and his nose wrinkles up in a disgusted grimace.
"You and Trent, huh? I
didn't see that happening twice."
I shift my gaze away from the computer, ready to defend myself. "Yeah. Well, nothing happened because you barged in and put an end to it. So don't count your eggs before they hatch."
Gunner lets out a sigh, running his tattooed hands down his face. "Why does it sound like you wanted it to happen?"
I shoot him a confused look, my eyebrows flying up. "What does it matter to you, Gunner?"
"Why do you think it matters, Shay? Just answer the question. Did you want it to happen or not?"
His voice touches a soft spot in my heart. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost sounds hurt. Has everyone gone crazy around here? First, I find out that asshole bought the club, then I find out Trent is using drugs, and now, Gunner is acting like a jealous boyfriend. I replay these events in my mind but stop on the last one. You have to be kidding me.
"Are you jealous?" I question, my mouth hanging open in shock.
Gunner being jealous is the only reason for him to be acting this way. He has always been protective, yes. But he's never attacked me this way before now.
I watch Gunner from behind, his back turned to me. His veins threaten to pop from his neck, and he’s a shade of red on the tips of his ears. He looks tense.
"I'm not fucking jealous, Shay! Why would I be jealous?” He turns around, letting me get a clear view of his face. His expression morphs with anger and his teeth clench in his mouth. "I'm just looking out for you, all right? Trent may be one of my best friends, but he's still an asshole! You have a kid, for fuck's sake! Do you think he can take on that kind of responsibility? He's a fucking child himself, Shay! You need someone who’s gonna take care of you and your little girl! Not someone who can't even take care of himself!"
I open my mouth to ask Gunner if he knows about Trent's issues, but the door to the shop flies open again before I have the chance. Trent pops in the doorway with a girl attached to him like she's a second skin. My eyes won't focus on anything other than his hands on her waist, and their mouths connected. He leans her against the doorframe while he places soft kisses on her lips. She releases a small purr while her hands stick to him in the way I wish mine were.