position I had lined up while I was on tour, but they’re offering
me two to three days a week. Now with a mechanic certificate, I can live on
those three days of work with somewhere cheap to live, unless I want to dip
into the money from the tour and indie album sales that I put away, and I
don’t.
I glimpse into the small, but clean, bathroom off
the kitchen. “Compared to my pop’s , this place is a
castle.”
As I expected, that declaration jerks April from the
cloud of deliberation she seemed to be stuck inside .
She glances around the room with a frown. “You still live with your father?”
I shrug. “He may be a dick, but he has never asked for
rent to live in his shithole.”
Her frown grows. “No, he just probably used you for
a punching bag.”
I shrug again. “A slap upside the head keeps me in
line sometimes.”
Her eyes grow wide and her mouth twists in outrage.
“Relax. I’m messing with you. After this long, I
know when to stay away from him.”
She stares at me, worry lining her face. Her concern
hits a nerve. I hate people feeling sorry for me. I come from a shithole and a
shithead. Feeling sorry for me doesn’t change shit. It just belittles me and
pricks at my pride.
And yeah, I’ve learned to hold on to my pride like a
motherfucker.
I stalk across the room until I’m feet from her.
“I’ll admit I’m screwed up, emotionally scarred, whatever …but I’m a man now
and my old man doesn’t mean dick.”
Most likely sensing my hit nerve, or maybe
understanding my position from all the shit she has learned about me, she nods.
I let out a breath. “So what about you?”
She blinks in confusion at me.
I force a light grin. “Are you going to let this
screwed up asshole help you?”
She draws in a deep breath. “You’ll report
everything to Jeff?”
It takes me a second to put two and two together.
She wants to do it for show, not to help her. What does it matter? She’ll be
indebted to me either way. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
She wraps her arms around her waist and sort of
rocks on her feet. “I mean we don’t have to do all of them, just enough for him
to think I’m trying. I mean the Thomas thing, going to L.A.
that’s a bit farfetched . And the kissing ones…” She lets out a nervous
laugh. “You freaked out when I merely touched your lips…”
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I hadn’t let my head go there,
even while contemplating the offer, but now that she has said it, my head is
full of visions. Pushing her against the back of the door. Covering her mouth.
Tasting her. Again and again as things go further.
Much further. Dirtying up her wholesomeness. And she’d like it. They all like
it. At least for a little while.
Staying calm on the outside, I let out a low laugh.
“I’m not glass. A few pecks won’t shatter me.”
She winces. “Still, we can do only the ones that
you’re comfortable with.”
“Whatever works,” I say nonchalantly, moving toward
the door and out of this space that is suddenly filled with images of
touching her. “So you taking the plunge downstairs?” I ask and gesture for her
to exit.
She winces again as she steps outside. “Suppose,
it’s something to report, right? And I probably won’t have the courage to come
back.”
I follow her down the stairs, trying to ignore the curve
of her ass and failing miserably. If she knew my deviant thoughts, I’m sure
even the bonus of me reporting to Jeff would cancel our agreement.
In the shop, it takes seconds for a smiling Allie to
whisk a nervous April and a bellybutton barbell with a dangling music note to a
back room. Once Allie comes back to the counter, we discuss the apartment. She
gives me paperwork to fill out, but in my mind, I’m visualizing Todd lifting
April’s shirt, checking out her smooth skin, and touching her. The rage that always simmers under my skin feels like
it’s about to boil over.
I struggle internally to talk myself down. Todd did
the barbells in
me two to three days a week. Now with a mechanic certificate, I can live on
those three days of work with somewhere cheap to live, unless I want to dip
into the money from the tour and indie album sales that I put away, and I
don’t.
I glimpse into the small, but clean, bathroom off
the kitchen. “Compared to my pop’s , this place is a
castle.”
As I expected, that declaration jerks April from the
cloud of deliberation she seemed to be stuck inside .
She glances around the room with a frown. “You still live with your father?”
I shrug. “He may be a dick, but he has never asked for
rent to live in his shithole.”
Her frown grows. “No, he just probably used you for
a punching bag.”
I shrug again. “A slap upside the head keeps me in
line sometimes.”
Her eyes grow wide and her mouth twists in outrage.
“Relax. I’m messing with you. After this long, I
know when to stay away from him.”
She stares at me, worry lining her face. Her concern
hits a nerve. I hate people feeling sorry for me. I come from a shithole and a
shithead. Feeling sorry for me doesn’t change shit. It just belittles me and
pricks at my pride.
And yeah, I’ve learned to hold on to my pride like a
motherfucker.
I stalk across the room until I’m feet from her.
“I’ll admit I’m screwed up, emotionally scarred, whatever …but I’m a man now
and my old man doesn’t mean dick.”
Most likely sensing my hit nerve, or maybe
understanding my position from all the shit she has learned about me, she nods.
I let out a breath. “So what about you?”
She blinks in confusion at me.
I force a light grin. “Are you going to let this
screwed up asshole help you?”
She draws in a deep breath. “You’ll report
everything to Jeff?”
It takes me a second to put two and two together.
She wants to do it for show, not to help her. What does it matter? She’ll be
indebted to me either way. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
She wraps her arms around her waist and sort of
rocks on her feet. “I mean we don’t have to do all of them, just enough for him
to think I’m trying. I mean the Thomas thing, going to L.A.
that’s a bit farfetched . And the kissing ones…” She lets out a nervous
laugh. “You freaked out when I merely touched your lips…”
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I hadn’t let my head go there,
even while contemplating the offer, but now that she has said it, my head is
full of visions. Pushing her against the back of the door. Covering her mouth.
Tasting her. Again and again as things go further.
Much further. Dirtying up her wholesomeness. And she’d like it. They all like
it. At least for a little while.
Staying calm on the outside, I let out a low laugh.
“I’m not glass. A few pecks won’t shatter me.”
She winces. “Still, we can do only the ones that
you’re comfortable with.”
“Whatever works,” I say nonchalantly, moving toward
the door and out of this space that is suddenly filled with images of
touching her. “So you taking the plunge downstairs?” I ask and gesture for her
to exit.
She winces again as she steps outside. “Suppose,
it’s something to report, right? And I probably won’t have the courage to come
back.”
I follow her down the stairs, trying to ignore the curve
of her ass and failing miserably. If she knew my deviant thoughts, I’m sure
even the bonus of me reporting to Jeff would cancel our agreement.
In the shop, it takes seconds for a smiling Allie to
whisk a nervous April and a bellybutton barbell with a dangling music note to a
back room. Once Allie comes back to the counter, we discuss the apartment. She
gives me paperwork to fill out, but in my mind, I’m visualizing Todd lifting
April’s shirt, checking out her smooth skin, and touching her. The rage that always simmers under my skin feels like
it’s about to boil over.
I struggle internally to talk myself down. Todd did
the barbells in
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