Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  "I don't have any plans for tomorrow. Just puttering around the house until my second job."

  "You work two jobs?"

  "This one's non-profit. Can't pay all the bills on that kind of salary."

  "Where's your other job?" he asked. "Working at an animal shelter? Feeding the homeless?"

  I gave him a sweet smile, but didn't answer the question. "I've got the late afternoon shift. I should be done by seven."

  "Perfect. I'm playing at a club tomorrow night, and then there's an afterparty. We can go together." He pulled into my apartment building with a screech of wheels. I winced at the sound. "I wasn't planning on getting out of bed until after three or four in the afternoon anyway."

  "Is that your usual sleep schedule?" I asked as I climbed out of the car. I closed the door and ducked to speak with him through the passenger side window. "How do you function as human being?"

  He ignored my question, leaning over to speak to me. "Now that I know where you live, I'll stop by and pick you up tomorrow."

  I eyed him. "You seem oddly okay with me babysitting you now."

  He gave me a wicked grin and flipped down his shades.

  "Remember what I told you? Every prepubescent boy has fantasies about getting it on with the hot babysitter."

  With that, he stepped on the gas and peeled away, laughing.

  Chapter 4

  "No. Fucking. Way."

  Gael swore as I pulled open the car door and slipped into the passenger's seat, wearing what I called my "work uniform."

  Tight, short, black leather skirt, knee high lace up boots, and a black corset with my breasts nearly spilling out. I'd caked on a heavy layer of thick black mascara and black eyeliner, and used grey eyeshadow to create a brilliant smokey eye. I'd taken my hair down from its loose bun at the back of my neck, letting it fall down my back in chestnut waves.

  Gael's mouth had dropped open.

  "You look..." he trailed off.

  I suppressed a smirk of my own, one that could have rivaled his usual. I looked hot and I knew it.

  "Can't wait tables at a biker bar looking like a schoolmarm, now can I?"

  "Is that what you normally wear to work?"

  "When I'm not working at Impact Youth Center, yeah."

  "If I'd seen you wearing that yesterday that I would have been a walking hard on all day."

  "It's a good thing you didn't, because that would have been wildly inappropriate around the children."

  Gael snuck glances at me the whole drive. He opened his mouth a time or two, but never said anything out loud. I was content to sit in silence, aside from giving the occasional direction. I didn't need to know what perverted thoughts were running through his brain. I had a pretty good idea, anyway.

  "Is this really the place?" Gael asked as we got closer.

  "You sound nervous."

  "This is an even worse part of town than that youth center."

  "That's sort of the point."

  Gael looked confused.

  "Walt's place is kind of an open secret. It's a place where you go when you don't want to be bothered."

  "Bothered by who?"

  "Normal people."

  His lips twitched. "So your bar patrons are abnormal?"

  I mock-punched him in the ribs. "No. We've just got some celebrities who drink there occasionally. Rock stars, actors, people like that."

  "I thought it was a biker bar."

  "It started that way. Walt left that world a long time ago. He wanted a place where people could go to let off some steam without running into trouble."

  Gael's eyes lit up.

  "No," I told him sternly. "No fighting. That's the rule." It was the only way to keep bikers from rival gangs all under the same roof without daily bloodshed.

  "And you always follow the rules, don't you?" His scheming smile made me nervous.

  When we arrived, I took Gael over to the counter so I could introduce him to Walt.

  "Who's the new kid?" the bar owner grunted as he cleaned glasses. In his late forties, Walt wore his hair long with complete sleeves of tattoos on both thickly muscled arms. The red scar across his left eyebrow gave him a menacing look. Walt was built like a machine. Even Gael, as self assured as he was, began to look a little nervous.

  "He's..." I paused, looking at Gael thoughtfully.

  Gael shot his head up and gave me a pleading look.

  "He's a friend of a friend," I said. "I thought he could use a drink after the week he's had."

  "Yeah?" Walt looked him up and down. As much as he acted the cocky bad ass, compared to a guy like Walt, Gael looked like a prep school pretty boy. "What did you get up to?"

  "Uh—" Gael looked to me again.

  "Close brush with death," I said, hiding a grin. I could have been mean and embarrassed him, but I decided to have pity.

  Walt grunted again, but the distrust in his eyes faded as he accepted Gael as, if not one of his own, at least someone he didn't hold in contempt.

  "You guys do live shows?" Gael asked, nodding to the small stage at the front of the bar.

  "Not really. It's just karaoke nights, mostly."

  Gael choked back a laugh. "Karaoke? This place? Are you shitting me?"

  "I told you, it's a place to let off some steam. What better way than screaming into a microphone and wailing on the fretboard."

  Gael nodded thoughtfully. "I get that."

  I introduced him to a couple of the younger guys playing pool and left him to his own devices while I worked. Even though it was menial grunt work, waiting tables at Walt's was sort of fun. The guys, though they looked like typical tough-guy bikers, were always respectful of me. The ones who weren't soon learned how to be when they ended up on the wrong side of my tongue lashings. I could handle a few grabby hands here or there. Besides, if any of them got too handsy, I knew Walt would have their balls.

  The bar owner treated me like his own daughter. I'd worked there since I was seventeen. I'd lied about my age, and I was pretty sure Walt had seen right though me, but he'd offered me the job anyway. I'd needed the money. My job at the youth center, plus my job at Walt's, including tips, was just enough to make ends met.

  Or, it had been. With my car on the verge of death and my rent increase, I'd have to figure something else out.

  I glanced at Gael. At least the money Cerise had offered me to watch her brother for a few weeks would tide me over.

  "Just until we can nail down a contract with a real label," she'd begged. "We've had a few show interest. One of them is talking with us seriously about signing a contract. I don't need them thinking one of our band members is a liability. No one wants to deal with a loose cannon."

  I gave token protests, but the truth was, I needed the money.

  No. The real truth was, I wanted an excuse to see Gael again. As much as I told myself I should continue blowing him off, I couldn't help remember the spark of heat in his eyes when he'd offered to take me upstairs. When he'd offered to prove to me just how big he really was.

  From the few times I'd been pressed against him, I had no doubt he could deliver on that promise.

  "Hey Jess, another drink?" one of the guys asked, holding his empty beer bottle in the air.

  I gave myself a mental shake. "Sure thing." I took the bottle and threw it into a cardboard box. Walt returned them to the recycling depot for a few cents each. Doing my part for the environment, he always said with a grunt.

  Boisterous laughter sounded from the pool table, along with growls of displeasure. Money changed hands, with Gael seeming to be on the receiving end. One of the other guys looked murderous. Gael threw him a smug grin, almost puffing out his chest. The other guy clenched his fist, looking ready to clock the punk who beat him. Gael strutted to the other side of the table.

  "Can I get a beer, too, Jessie?" Gael asked out, setting down his pool cue and coming over to me.

  "No way. Remember what I said?" I didn't want to rehash our conversation in front of his new bar buddies
, but there was no way I was going to let him get drunk and make an ass of himself at my place of work.

  "It's just one beer," he protested, sliding an arm around my waist. "I'll give you a big... tip." He drawled the last word, not even being subtle with his innuendo.

  "That's one beer too many."

  I removed his wandering hand from my hip and squirmed out from under his hold, even as I mourned at the loss of his body heat. I couldn't continue to let him touch me, or I'd end up giving in.

  "I've heard what happens when you drink," I told him as I moved to the back of the bar, wanting to escape the temptation. "Remember our no fighting rule?"

  Gael snorted, but his eyes were sparkling as he followed me, not letting me get away.

  "You and your rules," he said again. "You really are a good girl, aren't you?"

  He came up behind me and turned me to face him with his hands on my hips. My eyes met his.

  "Or maybe I'm wrong." He walked me backwards slowly, pushing us through the doors to the backroom, out from under everyone's eyes. My back hit the wall. He pressed one hand beside my head, boxing me in. He leaned in until our noses were almost touching. "Maybe you secretly want to be bad."

  I swallowed hard. "And you think you're the one who's going to corrupt me?"

  His eyes narrowed, dark and amused. "Sweetness, I know I'm gonna corrupt you."

  I knew it was a bad idea. The worst idea. But with those teasing eyes and tempting lips, my self control was hanging by a thread. Despite my best effort, I was halfway to pulling him into the furthest dark corner of the back room and jumping him then and there.

  "I told you. I'm immune to that rock star playboy attitude. I've got to get back to work." I wanted to duck out from under his arm, but he had me trapped. "You go back to the pool table and play nice."

  "I don't do nice." He trailed a finger down my neck, feeling my pulse beating wildly, before sliding down. He stroked the swell of my breasts, rising and falling with my heavy breathing. My nipples peaked underneath my corset. He noticed, circling one of them with a hum of satisfaction. He knew he'd gotten to me. "And right now I don't think you want nice."

  I turned my face to the side, avoiding his eyes. I knew I should pull away, but I couldn't make myself. The beginning of wetness made itself known between my legs. He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss on my exposed shoulder. A full body shiver went through me.

  "I'm not going to let you feel me up in the middle of work." I aimed to sound firm, but the words came out weak.

  "So I can feel you up after work?" I felt his wicked grin against my skin.

  The idea was tempting. I had no doubt if I invited him back to my place I'd have a hell of a night. "I thought you had a concert later."

  "I can make time, if it's for you."

  That was almost sweet. I ducked down and slipped away, escaping the circle of his arms. "You're just trying to get me to fall for you so I'll let you get away with murder."

  Surprisingly, he let me escape, not following. "Hey, I may trash hotel rooms and get into fistfights but I've never murdered anyone. Which is more than I can say for the patrons of this bar."

  "I'm not going to let you go off and start fights and get into trouble."

  "And if I promise to behave? Then will you give me my reward?"

  I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the evidence of my arousal. "Your reward is getting a record deal. I thought you wanted to be a rock star?"

  His eyes narrowed, but not with heat. Instead, they burned with an inner passion, some sort of fervent desire that had nothing to do with his own arousal.

  "So, there is something you want even more than sex. Good to know." I stepped away, gathering myself before placing my hand on the door. "You behave yourself for the next few weeks and maybe you'll even get it."

  I didn't clarify which reward I was talking about.

  As I stepped out of the backroom, I was confronted with Walt. He glanced behind me, and I panicked for a second, but the door had already swung closed. Walt hadn't seen Gael.

  That didn't mean he didn't suspect. I had no doubt he noticed my flushed face and heaving chest.

  Walt gave me a scrutinizing look before grunting and going back to cleaning glasses. "Your new boyfriend better behave."

  "He's not my boyfriend." There was no universe in which Gael even came close to being my boyfriend.

  "You tell him the rules?"

  "Of course."

  "Cause if he breaks them, he's out."

  "I know. He'll behave."

  I hoped.

  I continued waiting tables and tending bar, making sure each customer was taken care of. Just like the kids and volunteers at the youth center, I'd come to think of these guys as a sort of family. Maybe that sounded weird or pathetic but it wasn't like I had much family of my own to compare it to.

  Gael came out of the backroom and went back to hustling pool. I lost count of how much money was exchanged, but he seemed mighty happy with himself by the end of the night. Once my shift was over I pulled him aside and told him we could head over to the concert hall.

  "I hope you didn't fleece the guys too bad," I said as we got into his car.

  "They'll get over it."

  He put the vehicle in drive, drumming his fingers against the wheel in an almost anxious beat. The tapping increased in tempo the closer we got to the venue. He was practically vibrating in his seat.

  "Are you nervous?" I asked. "Do you get stage fright?"

  He barked out a laugh. "Nervous? Fuck no. I love being on stage."

  "Then what is it?"

  "Nothing."

  "You're obviously worried about something."

  He was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Just wondering how Cerise is doing right now. She's been pretty stressed lately. Freaking out about record labels and publicity and stuff." He adjusted the rearview mirror, avoiding my eyes. "We need a huge following if we want to get noticed. We need people talking about us. I just hope the house is packed."

  "I'm sure it will be. You guys are Cherry Lips. You're hot in the indie scene."

  "I thought I wasn't a rock star yet," he said mockingly.

  "You're not a star," I said, hiding a smile. "You're a rock asteroid. Maybe a small moon," I added graciously. "Don't worry. You're on your way to star status."

  "Are you trying to stroke my ego?" He turned his head to leer at me. "Cause I'd rather you stroke something else."

  I poked him in the stomach. Rock hard abs. Why did I keep turning him down? Right, my no rock stars rule. "Eyes on the road."

  He turned his head back around, but looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Yesterday I was going to suggest you wear something more suited to a rock concert. Guess I didn't have to."

  "You really do have a preoccupation with my choice in clothes, don't you?"

  "Like I said. I dig the schoolmarm look." Removing one hand from the steering wheel, he stroked a line down my arm, from shoulder to wrist. A shiver ran through me, the hairs on my arms standing on end. "But I have to admit, this outfit does it for me, too."

  "I didn't dress up for you. This is what I always wear to work at Walt's."

  He continued stroking, moving from my wrist to the exposed line of skin between my leather skirt and my corset. My inner muscles clenched. "Does Walt have some kind of dress code?"

  I batted him away before his exploring hand could go any lower. "No. I just like dressing this way."

  He put both hands back on the steering wheel. "I knew it. You wanted to be a cool rocker chick growing up, didn't you?"

  "What little girl didn't want to be the next Joan Jett or Shirley Manson?"

  He huffed out a laugh. "Not many, I don't think. My sister wanted to be Barbie when she grew up."

  "Cerise? I can't imagine that. You sure we're talking about the same person?"

  "She used to be different." The corners of his lips twitched downwards, looking almost downcast. "She wasn't always like this."


  I gave him a curious look. "Like what?"

  "Even though she's a bundle of nerves inside, she's always putting on that tough, take-no-shit attitude of hers on stage."

  I hesitated before asking. "Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?"

  Gael went silent for a moment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again. He shook his head with a forced laugh. "It doesn't matter. Music execs love the ass-kicking rocker chick thing. That's what will get us signed. That's what will sell records."

  "Is that all it is?"

  He shrugged casually. "We've all got our parts to play, right?"

  "And what part are you playing?" I asked without thinking.

  He seemed shocked for a moment. The surprise on his face melted into amusement. "It's a figure of speech. I'm just saying. It's not surprising. People change. We're not teenagers anymore."

  Except sometimes it seemed like Gael hadn't grown up at all. "What did Cerise used to be like?"

  "When we were younger she was more open. She was a such sweet girl. Always happy, always laughing." He kept his face forward, eyes on the road. "She didn't have that hard edge."

  "What changed?"

  Gael flicked his eyes to mine quickly. "She lost someone."

  "I'm so sorry."

  "Harper was a great guy. I thought they were too young, but—" he shrugged. "They were in love. And losing him almost destroyed her. I'm almost surprised she recovered as well as she did. But sometimes..." he trailed off.

  "Sometimes?" I prompted, trying to keep the conversation going. This was the most serious I'd ever seen Gael. He seemed more vulnerable somehow. I didn't want to lose this chance to learn more about him.

  I wanted to know more about the man who made me forget all about my rules.

  I thought he wasn't going to continue, until he finally spoke.

  "Sometimes I miss the old Cerise." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible over the car's engine.

  "Have you ever told her that?" I asked softly.

  "No. I get why she acts the way she does."

  And what about you? I wanted to ask. Why do you act the way you do?