by Teagan Kade
I offer him a sandwich. “Hungry, officer? I didn’t bring any donuts, sorry.”
That does it nicely.
He slaps the sandwich from my hand, taking my arm and trying to bend it behind my back without success.
I yawn. “I could do this all day.”
He’s getting red-faced from the effort, hasn’t moved my arm more than an inch. He shoves himself away and draws his weapon. “Turn around. Hands behind your fucking back, asshole.”
I do so slowly, laughing. “Try lifting…. or laying off the sweets.”
“Hands behind your fucking back!” he shouts, stamping to make his point.
I can see some of the homeless getting edgy, a guy near me looking to make a move. I gently shake my head, winking. He backs off, winking back.
The cop tightens the cuffs extra hard. It fucking hurts, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.
I let them put me into the back of the patrol car to applause and hollering from the homeless, shouts of approval.
“Give ’em hell!” one yells, a rock slamming against the door panel. Soon one rock becomes twenty, the patrol car under attack.
The cop driving slams his foot down and we snake out of there. And all the while I don’t think anyone’s ever been so happy to be arrested.
*
The main precinct in Crestfall is small, used to be the courthouse back in the olden days.
“Easy,” I tell the cop leading me inside, “these hands are worth more than you’d make in a year.”
“Shut up, pretty boy,” he spits back.
Heather’s on her way out, almost misses me completely before her head lifts.
There’s a moment of shock before she registers. “Phoenix? What are…?” Her eyes falling to my cuffed hands. “What the hell did you do?”
I stop, the cop behind me shoving to move forward but again failing miserably.
“You look great,” I tell her. “Kind of sexy for a jailbird.”
“What did you do?” she asks again.
The cop gives me another shove, but I ain’t budging… yet.
I grin. “The right thing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HEATHER
My wrists are still red from the damn handcuffs. I rub at them as I watch the police precinct from the other side of the road.
I can’t believe they arrested Phoenix. He must have gone back, must have known what was going to happen, surely.
I smile secretly at the thought.
Question is, what are you going to do about it? I ask myself.
I look around. It’s quiet on Main Street.
I get an idea. But not for much longer.
I take out my cell and scroll to Alissa’s number. I’ve still got it from helping Phoenix organize the auction. He said she was good with PR, that she’d missed her calling to instead play the handbag housewife to his father. Well, have I got a job for her.
It starts to ring. Please answer, I plead.
“Hello?”
“Alissa, it’s Heather, Phoenix’s,” I stumble, “girlfriend.”
“Heather! Hi. Is this about the auction?”
I eye the precinct. “Actually, I need your help with something else.”
I detail what happened to me and Phoenix, tell her what I was thinking. I expected mild resistance, but she’s all for it.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I don’t know how Phoenix’s dad would react.”
She laughs. “Leave him to me. You stay put and enjoy the show.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s just good to be doing something constructive.”
I end the call and slide the cell into my back pocket. A cop emerges from the front doors, smiles and stretches. I recognize him from earlier.
Let’s see how much you’re smiling soon.
Half an hour passes, the sun moving behind the far buildings and casting the street into shadow—a high noon showdown.
I expected Weston, the King’s attorney, to show up again and get Phoenix out nice and quick like he did with me, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You can imagine my surprise when he showed up, briefcase in hand and smiling away like he owned the place.
“How?” I asked him as I was being uncuffed, dumbfounded.
“It’s all been taken care of,” he told me. “Phoenix will explain.”
Maybe they haven’t given Phoenix his call, I wonder. Probably beating him to death in the back.
I know that’s not how things work these days, but it still sends a cold shiver down my spine. The thought of Phoenix being hurt because of me is distressing enough as it is, even his reputation taking a hit.
He’s a grown-ass man, I remind myself. He can make his own decisions.
Five minutes later the first van arrives. I think it’s an ice-cream truck at first before I notice the satellite gear on top. A reporter gets out with cameraman in tow heading into the precinct.
Holy shit. Alissa did it.
A second van shows up and then a third, all local, rushing towards the precinct. The first reporter and cameraman exit the precinct—not by choice, it seems given the way the reporter is getting in the cop’s face. He’s got his hands up as the others swarm around him, cameras rolling.
At the same time I see Weston pushing through them, a quick word with the cop before he’s ushered inside.
I decide to get a closer look, heading over to the steps where the press is gathered.
People passing by have stopped to notice. A car pulls over. A woman stops pushing a stroller to get her phone out.
It’s working.
The reporters start to do their takes in front of the precinct. I catch bits and pieces, hear Phoenix’s name, ‘homeless’, ‘injustice’. I can’t wait to see what comes of this. It’s dangerous, inflammatory, yes, but there’s no way the mayor’s going to be able to avoid the issue now, to sweep it under the rug like he did the soup kitchen.
Not on my watch.
I stay back.
The precinct doors open ten minutes later, and Phoenix emerges rubbing his wrists just like I did. He doesn’t look like he’s been worked over, but he does have that smug King smirk the world, and admittedly myself, seems to love.
Weston whispers something into his ear, Phoenix suddenly becoming serious and putting his hands down to quiet the questions from the reporters. He could be a politician up there.
There’s quite a crowd now, a solid mass of people gathered on the steps. I’m right at the back on my toes to see and hear.
“I’d like to make a statement,” starts Phoenix, Weston nodding his approval.
It’s completely silent, only the sound of camera shutters firing filling it.
“Earlier today I was arrested,” be begins, “arrested for something I believe is protected by our First Amendment. Since when did feeding the homeless in this town become a crime? Since when does selflessness and helping your fellow man earn you a place behind bars? It’s injustice in the extreme and it needs to stop.”
Reporters start blasting him with questions, but he raises his hands again and they ease.
I’m so proud he’s taking a stand, want to jump up to the world and announce we’re a thing, not like that would make a damn bit of difference. This is his show. No one would care if it was me up there. I don’t have the pull the King name does in this town.
Phoenix shakes his finger. “The mayor is behind this crackdown. Just like he shut down the soup kitchen, he wants to sweep away all those nasty bums and beggars, pretend they don’t exist.” He stabs his chest. “But I, Phoenix King, am here to tell you they do exist, and they are real people with real emotions and real hunger. You can’t pretend they aren’t there. You can’t enforce these bullshits laws, and I for one won’t stand for it a second longer. Questions?”
They come thick and fast. The crowd’s grown twice as big, swelling onto the street. The doors to the precinct remain closed.
Halfway through the questions, Phoenix finally spots me.
“Excuse me,” he says, pushing through the crowd and sweeping me into his arms. Before I know what’s happening, he’s kissing me, the cameras firing and this overt public display of affection sure to be part of every newscast going out to the greater area.
“You wanted awareness,” he whispers to me. “You got it.” A little louder, the taste of his lips lingering. “Were you behind this?”
“Alissa did the legwork.”
He shakes his head, pressing his cheek out with his tongue. “And all this time I thought she was nothing more than an ornament.”
Phoenix turns to the throng. “We’re going home.”
He claps Weston on the shoulder. “Please direct any further questions to my attorney here.”
I hadn’t even noticed Weston still standing there.
Weston shakes his head. “Thanks for that, buddy.”
Phoenix is still smiling and waving, speaking through his teeth. “You’re sure earning your money today, aren’t you?”
The questions continue.
“Phoenix, is she your girlfriend?”
“Phoenix, have you decided on a team?”
“Phoenix, are your brothers involved?”
“Phoenix, do you have any comment on…”
The questions are endless, but Phoenix ignores them, tucking me under his arm and leading us along with Weston to what I assume is Weston’s car given the KNG LWYR plates.
Weston gets in front while Phoenix opens the back door for me, helping me inside before climbing in himself and closing the door.
It’s plush in here, black leather and dark trim, the greater world outside silenced.
Weston takes a deep breath from the front seat, placing his briefcase on the passenger seat. He looks into the rear-view. “A bit of warning about your circus there would have been nice.”
Phoenix places his arm around me. “But where would be the fun in that?”
“Boy,” he replies, “I haven’t had fun since ’69.”
“The year you signed on to represent my family?”
“You betcha. Given I’m running attorney and chauffeur services today, where to?”
“I left my car down near the bridge, need to pick it up.”
“You think there will be anything left of it?” Weston asks, quite serious.
Phoenix laughs. “Were you not listening to a word I said out there?”
“Yeah, yeah, homeless rights etcetera, etcetera. I’m just here to preserve the family name… and drive people around, apparently.”
“We do appreciate it,” I add, “and everything you did at the precinct.”
“That stuff’s easy, but the shitstorm you guys just brewed up?” He shakes his head. “You sure know how to pick a fight.”
“We,” corrects Phoenix, pulling me closer.
*
It’s sunset by the time we arrive back at the bridge, a dark peach band across the sky. Most of the homeless are holing up for the night, working out how to keep warm and safe. Weston looks through the windshield nervously. “You want me to stick around?”
Phoenix reaches over and takes Weston’s shoulder from the backseat. “We’ll be just fine. And thanks.”
“Just doing my job.”
We get out, Weston leaving in what seems like a bit of a rush.
“You good?” Phoenix asks me, squeezing my hand.
I look at the area under the bridge where barrel fires are already being lit. “I’m just pissed we’re here with nothing to hand out.”
Phoenix leads me to my car. I open the door and lean against the top frame of it. “Why don’t you come back to my place?”
He looks hopeful. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Look, I’m sorry for lashing out at you the other day. I didn’t mean it, I was just… You know.”
I don’t want to derail what’s been a fairly productive day by diving into the whole basketball thing. “Apology accepted, and I want to thank you,” I prod him in the chest, again always surprised how freaking hard it is, for bringing light to the situation here. I know you’re probably going to cop some heat for it.”
“Heat?” he laughs, reaching to stroke my cheek. “I bring the fire, baby. Not the other way around.”
I have to laugh back. “You’ve been watching too many motivational videos, but I do appreciate it, honestly.”
“I know,” he smiles, the back of his thumb brushing the corner of my lip and undoing me in new and profound ways—not that this is the time nor place for sexual escapades as much as I’d like a roll in the hay or, ah, dirt.
“Where would I be without you?” he asks, eyes glinting from a car passing on the hill overhead.
“For one, probably not out here on the wrong side of town freezing your ass off after spending half a day in jail.”
“For you, I’d spend an eternity behind bars.”
I laugh aloud. “With only Mrs. Palmer and her five daughters to take care of you? I don’t think anyone’s worth that.”
“You are,” he says, tone even and steady. He holds my gaze.
“There’s only been one other person in my life who told me I was worth anything, and he’s definitely not as dreamy as you are.”
“Gordy? I don’t know. Get him off the pastries and onto a treadmill and I might have a bit of competition.”
I slap at him. “Stop it. You guys are going to have to get along if you want to share me.”
The smirk follows. “Who said anything about sharing?”
He kisses me then and the warmth creeps upwards from my toes, pooling between my legs and fanning out until I’m pretty sure I’m going to start melting this car door down.
I pull away. “Come on. Follow me home and maybe we can discuss it further… naked.”
“I like the sound of that. Will there be food?”
“Mmm,” I tease, slowly lowering myself into the driver’s seat and closing the door, “Depends if you’re looking to eat or dine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
PHOENIX
I’ve never been this buzzed waking up in the morning. Caught between the curtain and the window, a square of light has fallen on Heather’s sleeping face and I don’t know if there could be anything more beautiful.
Her eyes flutter open slowly. “You’re still here,” she mumbles, smiling.
I place my head down on the pillow beside her. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
“Mmm,” she purrs. “You better start paying board then.”
“I’m fresh out of cash, sorry.”
I’ve come to recognize the grin of mischief that follows our flirty back-and-forth. It pulls her mouth slightly to the left, her lower lip rolling out. That’s all it takes to get me hard.
She rolls onto her back and lifts her knees, the whisper-quick sound of her panties passing over her legs. She takes her hand from under the cover, dropping the panties between us and spreading her legs under she sheets. “Better get to work then.”
“With pleasure.”
I lift the sheet and get onto my stomach, hooking a leg over my head and parting her with my fingers, the sheet creating a giant soft-box that’s turned her sex a tinted, coral pink.
“Wet already,” I note, her body bent like an archer’s bow in response. But it’s when I place my mouth on her, my tongue pressing deep into her core, she loses it completely.
She grips onto the sheets, pulling them tight in her fingers. Her moaning turns animal, buttocks pulling taut together as I ease a finger inside her pussy.
I reach down and start to stroke my cock while I lick at her clit. The mutual pleasure tangles and weaves together, makes me falter when I realize I don’t know what to do next.
“Uhhhh, God,” she moans, twisting on the bed like she’s possessed, not even my lips enough to exercise the demon within.
She goes tight and slack, her sex mirroring her body, drawing in and releasing my finger, letting it glide easily within her heat and wetness.
“I wa
nt you inside me.” Her voice is suddenly so quiet I almost miss the instruction.
I let go of my cock and take hold of her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and throwing the sheet over my head until it falls over her back like the sash of a pageant queen.
I take a pillow from the floor and stuff it under her stomach, add another until the two hemispheres of her ass are round and ready before me, the fuzzy peach of her pussy on full display.
It’s not worth wasting a second more. I have to be inside her.
I kneel between her legs and take hold of my cock, place it against the wet patch seeping from her sex and add pressure until I sink in, all ten inches disappearing.
She groans aloud, fingers clawing up more sheet, head lolling forward until it doesn’t look like she has one at all, only the angel wings of her shoulder blades remaining.
I stroke into her slowly, want to take my time and eke out as much pleasure as I can. I run my hand up her back and down, let my fingers grip and pull at the fleshy mound of an ass cheek, drawing my hand back and swiping upwards with a sharp thwack.
She grunts and grinds back against me, clearly taken by the sudden change of tack. I give her other ass cheek, the same treatment, a wonderful blush spreading across her skin to match the pastel lips I’m sinking my cock into.
I’ve had my fair share of sex, but there’s something intangible here I can’t put my finger on, an emotional connection that makes even the simplest of sexual acts extreme.
“Yes,” she moans. “Just like that.”
I lower my hips a little and rock up against the roof of her sex, know I’ve hit the right spot when her legs spread wider and she reaches between her legs to play with her clit.
Her fingers brushing the shaft of my cock, her ass laid out before me… I don’t want to come this fast.
I spank her again, harder now and lean over her back, pulling her hair together into a ponytail and fisting it there between us while I fuck her properly.
The moaning’s replaced by a simple uh-uh-uh of pleasure each time I drive inside her, the wet chorus of the act loud in the room, echoing off the floorboards and walls.
I pull her hair harder, force her head back and eyes to the roof. I don’t hold back any longer, my hips swinging like a battering ram and driving my full length into the hot cornucopia of her sex, sluice and thrust until her syllables string together and I can’t imagine it’s more than a few seconds before she comes.