by Reid, B. B.
“How are you twenty-seven years old and still can’t knot your own tie?” Grabbing his collar after he shrugged, I yanked him into me before getting to work on his tie. “I think you’re full of shit, Noble.” He didn’t say anything, and he wouldn’t. Not when we were this close. I could feel his unsteady breath even through my dress shirt. I took my time sprucing him up, and the moment I was finished, I grabbed a handful of his jet-black hair and yanked his head back before he could thank me. “Do not use me again for your little thrills, Rich. I don’t like being teased.” Before he could lie and deny it, I shoved him out of the door before slamming it in his face.
Twenty minutes later, after I was finally satisfied with my appearance, we found Barry in the driveway waiting. Another forty-five minutes and we were walking through the back door of Succulent and into a private dining room. Our assistant had called ahead and managed to bypass the six-month waiting list once she told them who had inquired.
My ass had barely warmed my seat before we were swarmed by the gushing team the manager selected to wait on us.
“Is Brax working tonight?” Rich’s thirsty ass inquired.
The manager frowned in confusion. “Braxton Fawn,” I insisted when he simply gaped. “Red hair, banging body, terrible attitude? Ring a bell?”
“Oh, yes! She is working tonight, but unfortunately, she’s our hostess. She doesn’t wait tables.”
“She does tonight. We want her.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. James, but—”
“But what?”
His mouth opened and closed like a fish, and I could tell he was torn between pissing me off or just doing what the fuck I asked. “Right away,” he eventually decided.
I watched him hurry to the front where Braxton was as I absently sipped water from a glass meant for wine. Our table sat on a raised level. The short stairs were roped off with red velvet, so it was only semi-private, allowing me to see the dining room below. Since it was a Tuesday night, it wasn’t as packed, which was a goddamn relief. Still, we’d already been recognized, and I could see the debate in the other patrons’ eyes whether to come over and ask for an autograph. I hoped the “fuck off” written on my forehead kept them at bay.
Any other night I would be at the world’s beck and call, but tonight, I simply wanted to be a man on the hunt for a woman. Houston and his rules could suck my dick.
It took a few minutes before I spotted them.
As expected, even her boss had a tough time getting Braxton to comply. She was still arguing with him even now as they made their way toward us. Just as I was wondering if he’d told them who had requested her, she climbed the stairs, and her big eyes widened when she saw us sitting there. She was wearing this black number made spectacular only by her subtle curves as the dress hugged her body.
Her brown gaze moved from Houston to Rich before narrowing on me. Of course, she assumed this was my idea.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Miss Fawn!” the managed bellowed his outrage before turning to us and apologizing profusely. “She’ll be terminated immediately,” he swore.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I warned him.
Utterly shocked, he blinked rapidly at me before regaining most of his composure. “I-I don’t understand.”
“We know her,” Rich informed him.
“And we like her,” I cheerily added with a wink directed at Braxton.
Houston, of course, said nothing as he looked Braxton over like he was bored. I bet he was already planning to make her quit this gig but wisely kept his mouth shut rather than seize the opportunity that just landed in his lap.
“Nevertheless,” the manager began before facing Braxton. If he fired her anyway, I was knocking his toupee-wearing ass down those steps. “Succulent prides itself on providing fine dining and excellent service. These are our special guests who’ve personally chosen you to wait on them. I expect you to be professional from this point forward and give these gentlemen whatever they desire.”
Now you’re talking. Maybe he wasn’t common-sense deficient, after all.
The manager stormed away, taking the rest of the actual waiters and waitresses with him. They looked disappointed about not being able to wait on us, so I sent a quick text to our assistant before focusing on Braxton.
“You look nice,” I complimented after slowly looking her over once more. “Why don’t you dress like that when you come to rehearsal?”
“I didn’t realize there was a dress code.”
“There is now.”
Rich kicked me under the table, a nonverbal demand for me to be less verbal, so I knocked his glass over, spilling his water into his lap. He jumped up like he was on fire before snatching up his white napkin cloth and dabbing at the ice-cold water wetting his crotch.
Braxton, catching the entire exchange, shook her head. “You know it’s hard to believe that the three of you are grown men.”
I had so many dirty responses to that. Wisely, I kept my mouth closed. Jericho, sitting down again, swiped my water for himself since I spilled his and started guzzling it down.
“So,” she said with a sigh before lifting the notepad and pen in her hand. “What can I start you off with?” She clicked the pen a little harder than necessary.
“Depends,” I spoke before the others could. “What do you recommend?”
“To leave.”
Rich choked on his water while Houston frowned down at him. He was so embarrassing.
“Sorry, but I don’t think that’s on the menu.”
Braxton didn’t respond. Instead, she leaned over, giving me a full view of her breasts and the freckles there while she flipped open the menu in front of me. I wondered where else she hid her freckles.
“We have an amazing selection of wine—”
“Don’t drink the stuff.”
She paused, meeting my gaze, which I’d been smart enough to remove from her tits before she caught me. “Well, what about your friends?”
“Birds of a feather.”
“We have other drinks—”
“I’ll just take a lemonade.” She looked surprised, but I wasn’t about to elaborate or explain my drinking choices.
Sensing this, she stood up straight before turning to Houston. “And you?”
“Coke.”
She wrote it down before turning to Rich. “I’ll just take more water,” he answered before she could ask. I caught the dirty look he gave me and laughed.
“All right then. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she walked away—yes, I watched her walk away—I turned to my friends. “A hundred bucks, she thinks we’re alcoholics.”
“Does it matter?” Houston asked. Irritation creased his brow.
“If I’m going to bone and possibly marry her, it does.”
“You’re not, so I guess it doesn’t.”
I resisted the urge to cause a scene by breaking my best friend’s nose. “Afraid I’ll beat you to the punch?”
Houston waved me off. “I’m only interested in her guitar skills.”
“Which you act like she doesn’t have. Care to explain why you’re keeping her around then?”
“Because you know as well as I do we don’t have a choice. You know what Carl is up to. We all know why he chose her.”
“So you think you can get her ready in three goddamn months? Toot your own horn much?” Houston’s frustration was palpable at his point, so I leaned forward, eager to go in for the kill. “Just admit it.”
“Admit what?” he snapped.
“That either she’s a damn good guitarist, or you want her pussy bad enough to risk everything we’ve built. Same as me. Same as Rich.”
That vein in his forehead looked ready to burst as our staring contest intensified. He couldn’t choose, and I, honest to God, had no clue why. It was like someone held him by his heel when he was a child and dipped his complicated ass in a pool of angst, much like Thetis did Achilles in the River St
yx.
I figured if anyone could crack that wall, it was Braxton. Maybe that’s why he was afraid of her.
“Pussy,” I muttered when I caught Braxton making her way over to us while carrying a tray topped with our drinks.
None of us said a word as she set our drinks on the table along with a basket of bread. “Can I start you off with something to sample, or would you like more time to look over the menu?”
Although most of the six menu choices looked foreign even to me, we each rambled off what we wanted. Somehow this world had gotten even more pretentious since I was kicked out of it years ago, and I didn’t think that was possible.
“Okay, I’ll be back—”
“Wait,” Rich interrupted before she could run off again. “Stay.”
Braxton shifted from one foot to the other before chewing on her plump lower lip. “I can’t. I’m working.”
“We obviously know that,” I reminded her. “That’s why we’re here.”
“So you purposely came to distract me from my job? You do realize I almost got fired.”
“In our defense, no one made you be a bitch,” Houston piped in, making me wince. He was definitely the pot in this scenario, but I said nothing since we were on the same side for once.
“Excuse me?” Braxton blinked as she took a step back from the table. It was hard to believe she was that appalled.
“You heard me.”
“You ambushed me. Again. What did you expect?”
“Hi?” Houston suggested with a smirk. He was in rare form today since his weapon of choice was indifference. “Maybe hello?”
Nostrils flaring, Braxton stormed off without another word.
“Could have gone better,” I mused out loud. “This next round, I’m going to try to get her in my lap. Think she’ll go for it?”
Houston and Rich both looked at me and spoke at the same time. “Shut up, Loren.”
Thirty minutes later, Braxton returned with our food, but she didn’t give us time to apologize or make things worse before she stormed off again. A starry-eyed waiter refilled our drinks minutes later, and we took turns signing his notepad at his request before he practically skipped away. Braxton still hadn’t shown her face by the time we were done eating.
“What I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger right now,” I said after I topped off my fish that was smaller than my fist. The food cost so much they didn’t even bother to list the prices. Apparently, if you had to ask, you had no business dining here.
“Do you think she left?” Rich asked the moment he swallowed the last of his food. At that moment, Braxton appeared, her face flushed and coated with sweat like she’d just run a mile. I noticed her dress was wrinkled at the hem, making me frown. “Are you okay?” he asked when she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
“Yes. My apologies. Would you like dessert?”
“Are you on the menu?” I flirted.
“You shouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to. Shall I bring the checks?”
“Rich got it,” I answered. Since this was his idea, he could pay for the fucking food. Braxton looked at him for confirmation, to which he gave with a nod of his head. She scurried off, and like all the times before, I watched her go. I wondered if she knew that dress was tight enough to tell that she was no longer wearing panties.
Oh, hell yeah.
I know your secret.
I stared at the text message from the unknown number. My heart pounding inside my chest seemed loud to my ears as I walked to the bus stop. My shift was over, and my feet were killing me. The concrete pavement seemed to turn my heels into daggers as I practically limped down the sidewalk. Needing a distraction, I decided to text back.
Who is this?
The response was immediate, like they were just waiting for me to ask.
The reason you’re not wearing panties.
I stopped walking as I became painfully aware of the fact that I wasn’t. How did they know? I texted back to get an answer.
Tell me who this is, or you’re blocked, creep.
A moment later, my phone rang, and my gut painfully twisted when I realized it was the same number. Even worse…it was a video call.
I debated for all of two seconds before quickly tapping the green button. What harm could a phone call do? If it turned out to be a stalker or a creep, I could just block the number.
The call connected, and my jaw dropped when Loren’s face appeared. Smiling wide, he moved his gorgeous face closer to the camera.
“Now you know, baby fawn.”
“Loren?”
A blond eyebrow arched. “You know anyone else who looks this devilishly handsome?” His nostrils flared as if expecting my answer to piss him off.
“What exactly do you think you know about me?” I asked instead of falling into his trap.
Rolling over in what looked like a bed, he stared at me before responding. “I know that you’re incredibly responsive to unusual persuasion.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
Instead of answering, his gaze moved to my background, turning from playful to assessing. “Where are you?”
“Bus stop.”
His brows instantly dipped as he shot up from his lazy lounge. “At this time of night?” he spat as if I’d done something out of line.
“Gee, Dad, I didn’t realize I had a curfew.” After rolling my eyes, I added more amicably, “My car broke down, remember?”
“You could have told us you needed a ride.”
“You guys left the restaurant hours ago. You expect me to believe you would have waited around that long?” My coworkers had lost their shit when Bound signed and gave a bunch of free merchandise before finally leaving. They’d also left me a generous tip I hadn’t earned before they left—enough to repair my car.
“We would have sent Barry to pick you up.”
“I assumed that perk was for rehearsals only.”
“Now you know,” he responded shortly.
I was thrown for a moment. Utterly bewildered. I couldn’t decide if Loren was acting like my father or my boyfriend. What right did he have to be upset about my choices when they affected him in no way? He didn’t even know me well enough to care this much as a friend.
“Speaking of late, what do you say we pick this up at a more appropriate hour?” Or not at all.
“Don’t you dare hang up,” he ordered, but it sounded more like a growl.
I hadn’t known Loren long, but this side of him had taken me by surprise. I assumed Houston was the only dominating one. Loren was more of an anarchist, staunchly rejecting authority and proudly boasting his devil-may-care attitude. I envied him.
Right now, though, he looked ready to rip my head off—mine and an imaginary enemy who wished me harm.
“I have pepper spray.”
“Do you have a gun?” he countered. “Or even a drop of self-defense skills?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No.”
“Then keep your ass on the line.”
Something akin to freshly cut grass, morning dew, or what I imagined a meadow would smell like stormed my olfactory senses. When I inhaled, the air felt clean despite the smog covering the city. It was almost familiar and not at all unpleasant. I had no clue what triggered it, but I had a feeling I’d soon find it.
I don’t remember what we talked about for the ten minutes it took my bus to arrive, but even after I safely boarded my ride home, Loren refused to let me hang up.
“Okay,” I said after I entered my apartment forty minutes later and panned the camera around to show Loren that I was home. Like a smartass, I even showed him that the door was locked, and the windows were closed. Maybe it was me that didn’t want to end the call. “Thanks for the talk. Good night.”
Ignoring my rush to get him off the phone and my head back on track, he switched topics faster than a race car switched lanes. “You know Houston is going to make you quit that little job of yours, right?”
“W
hat?” For some reason, my vagina reacted to that way before my head, heart, or any other part of me that made sense could catch up.
“Just a heads up.” Laughing, he ended the call, leaving me hanging.
I stood there, fuming with the phantom scent of burning wood in my nose to prove it, before storming to the bathroom and a hot shower.
What right did Houston have to think he could make me quit anything? Maybe Loren was just fucking with me, but in the morning, I would absolutely get to the bottom of it.
“How do you like your eggs?” Loren greeted me hours after our late-night video chat. I couldn’t even call it the next morning since it was after midnight when we talked. It was much too intimate for two strangers who didn’t even like each other.
I’d just finished storming into Bound’s kitchen, where I found Loren and Houston waiting but no Jericho. Where is he? I wanted to ask but understood why that wouldn’t be wise. Instead, I ignored Loren, who was busy cooking breakfast at the stove and pretending he hadn’t planted this seed in the first place.
“You’re making me quit Succulent?” I demanded of Houston.
He didn’t seem surprised that I’d come in with guns blazing, making my stomach pool with dread when he shot Loren an accusatory glare. Apparently, he already knew who spilled the beans.
“It wasn’t high on my list of things to do.”
That was all the answer he gave. Not hitting Houston was becoming a full-time job.
Loren turned from the stove, scooping a steaming helping of eggs onto an empty plate and pushing said plate toward me. He didn’t seem at all concerned by the storm brewing or the fact that I’d ratted him out. It irritated me how self-assured these guys could be. They were spoiled, entitled, and had more arrogance than the ocean had water. Just once, I’d like to get under their skin as easily as they got under mine.
“I’d ask why Loren would tip you off,” Houston drawled, “but I already know why.”
Unfortunately, Houston made no move to explain it to me. I was more than simply curious. I was obsessed. They hated me, unequivocally, but there was more to it. I’d never experienced hate-sex before, and it was quickly shooting to the top of my fantasies.