For Your Sake (10 page)

“Here I am.”  She walked up to him – white t-shirt, cheap, vinyl jacket, brown boots and denim miniskirt.  She wasted no time as she knew he had an order in.  Her fingers curled around his belt buckle, sinking deep behind the waistband of his jeans. He was stretched straight up inside, full length and hard as a rock. He flinched when her nails grazed the tip of his cock. “Something you want?”

He originally wanted head, but he needed to be the one in control. And a chick on her knees with his cock in her mouth had all of it.  That wasn’t going to fly right now.  And time was of the essence.  He liked his food hot.  And his fucks.  Clasping the back of her neck, he pulled her mouth to his.  She matched his ferocity as their tongues shot into each other’s mouths.  His big hands slid down the sticky feel of that vinyl jacket, to the back of her skirt, sliding it up.  He felt silky material covering a plump, little ass as she lifted one leg to hook around his to grind against him.  It was the reaction he hoped for.  He’d never force himself on a woman, but made damn sure she was on board with how it was going to go down.

“Back off now if you want, sweetheart cuz this ain’t gonna be sweet.”

She answered by pulling away, brown eyes liquid and hot as she turned to plaster herself against the side of the building.  Denim skirt hitched up to her waist revealed her sweet, little tush in a pair of red panties.  “Do it.”  She punctuated that by bending over slightly, sticking that ass up high.

All that was missing was a silver, fucking platter as Ben pulled out and rolled on a condom in record time.  Keeping tabs on his internal clock, he pulled her panties down then dug his fingers in.  Fuck, he was on the mark – she was soaked.  “Oh, I plan on it.”  There was a warning in his voice as he guided his dick down her slick center.  When he went to push in, she pushed back, causing him to sink all the way up to his balls. 

“Sweet, fuckin’ mama!” His voice hoarse, his teeth grit, they both pushed and pulled, until he steadied her hips.  No, she wasn’t going to set any pace.  He needed to do this.  His fingers dug deep into her flesh, holding her stable as he continued to pump her.  When she attempted to try to move, he only held on harder.  Harder and harder he thrust as the girl, again, tried to move with him, which caused him to tighten his grip.  “Stay still.”

She yelped a bit, but he didn’t hear her.  All he heard was Lisa’s pleading voice.  Pl
ease, Ben, please.  I’m sorry.  Please, don’t do this.”

The voice was suddenly replaced with an image of Eva.  Insane curves wrapped in a blue dress with eyes to match. 
“I came around the bend.  Once the road straightened, I saw you ride right across the road into the….”

“Hey.  Ease up.” 

              The girl’s voice broke through his haze, but he didn’t let up.  He was on the verge.  Slowing down wasn’t an option.  He held her ass tight, just a few more thrusts and it would be over.  Just like pulling the trigger last night. 

             
“Oh my God.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I never meant to……..I really did want to see you.  I didn’t….I didn’t mean for this to happen.  Oh my God, Ben.  I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, come on.  You’re…..”

Faster.  Harder.  “
Lying bitch!”
One…..two……fuck!  He came like two freight trains colliding.  His breathing was sharp while his heart was about to bust out of his chest.  When his legs un-cramped, he stepped back, pulled out, tossed the condom in the dumpster next to them then zipped up.  The waitress pulled up her panties then shimmied her skirt down before giving him a wary look.  “I didn’t lie.”

“What?” 

“You called me a lying bitch.”

He ran a hand over his face in frustration, realizing he had verbalized his demons, not to mention thought of his dead sister’s words while fucking.  That alone was sick shit.  “Not you.”  It was all he said.  All he could say. 

“Oh.” 

She began to stumble to her car before he caught her arm.  “Hey.”  Reaching back into his wallet, he pulled out a twenty.  “Here.”

“I’m not a hooker.”

No, you’re a waitress who just fucked a guy you barely said hello to.
  “Your tip,” he cushioned it. 

              The corner of her mouth hitched up as she took the money.  “Thanks.”

              “Sure.  Hey, sorry.”   Sheesh, he felt like a total schmuck.

              She shrugged.  “S’okay.”  She waved the twenty as she walked away.  “Thanks again.”

              He watched her get into her car and drive off.  It was as much of a gentlemanly act he could muster at the moment.  He stepped back inside just as Ziggy was bringing his sandwich.  Guess he misjudged his timing.  He misjudged a lot of shit.

              “Eat hearty, my boy.”  Ziggy patted him in the gut then went back behind the bar.  Wearily, Ben slid back in.  His legs still feeling locked tight, he just stared at the plate.  The aroma of sizzling steak, fresh bread and crispy fries made his mouth water, yet he felt worse than when he came in.  What happened last night had to be done.  His sister came back into his life under false pretenses which he couldn’t see through.  And in doing so, put the entire club in danger.  Now there’s a mystery player behind the scenes added to the Santagio family wanting to part ways.

              Finally relaxed and taking his first bite of food all day, the last thing he wanted to do was end it by plaguing his mind with more shit.  Remembering what Wes gave him earlier, he smiled his third of the day as he took a healthy swig of beer.  He then reached for the paper containing information on the woman responsible for those smiles. 

              Finishing his sandwich and beer, he waved for another then pushed the plate aside.  Leaning back in the booth, he kicked his booted feet up on the other end of the bench seat and opening up the paper.

              Nibbling on the remainder of his French fries, he read. 

Chapter Six

              Even on her day off, Eva was up, showered and dressed by eight.  She had big project to work on today while an MC escort was coming to collect her damaged Jeep at nine.  She hadn’t heard from or seen Ben all weekend.  Not that she thought she would.  He knew where she worked – that was it.  If he needed to get in touch with her for anything, Saturday would’ve been the day to track her down.  Right now, she was at the mercy of a stranger she almost crashed into to keep his word.  That didn’t sit too well.

              Dressed in an old pair of jeans, gray t-shirt and sneakers, she went downstairs while pulling her air-dried hair into a ponytail.  She visually blocked out the stacks of unopened moving boxes as she crossed into the kitchen.  Getting the coffee started, she went back to the dining room and began to spread the plastic tarp on the floor and halfway up the oak wainscoting directly under the mural before taping it in place.  Coffee brewed, she went to make a cup, then opened the sliders to get some fresh air only to get a view of Mrs. Bachman’s large backside while bent over in her yard pulling weeds.

              Sufficiently traumatized and caffeinated, Eva went to work, carefully spraying a thick coat of wallpaper remover over the entire mural.  “Goodbye,” she murmured as she watched it slowly begin to work, bubbling and lifting the mural from the wall.  Good.  As long as she was making progress on something she didn’t feel stalled.  She was one step closer to making something all hers, something which didn’t carry any bad memories she couldn’t erase. 

              Although her dad had done his best, her childhood home had held a vibe which never went away.  And she knew it had been worse for him.  From the front door he watched his wife walk out of, the driveway which held the car that took her away, the crockpot he later threw away along with the overcooked roast he had claimed still lingered in the air, he couldn’t escape the memories either.  Even when he took Eva to the department store, he steered clear of the makeup and perfume aisle, avoiding any whiff of Chanel No. 5.

              Michael Sinclair had promised a much nicer home, one where they could start over, but a lineman’s pay and single-dad duties didn’t see it that way.  Having severed ties with Carol’s parents after the incident, all he had to lean on was his twice-widowed mother who lived in North Carolina who visited sporadically to help out before passing away when Eva was twelve.

              After school, Eva took up a cheap apartment one town over with MaryLynn until her friend met the future, balding George Doyle.  Not being able to swing the rent herself, and with no steady job prospects, Eva moved back in with her dad before taking over the card business from the retiring owner, slowly building it up to where it outgrown its meager surroundings.  She found its new home, as well as her own, in the very same town she wanted to escape from.  Fate really was a twisted bitch sometimes.

              At nine sharp the doorbell rang.  Through the bay window in the living room she saw a flatbed parked on the street and expected to see Ben on the other side of the door.  Instead, what greeted her caused her to literally gasp.  It wore a mechanics jumpsuit and facial piercings with the name ‘Taz’ sewn on it in black thread.  And the thread wasn’t the only thing that was black.  Hair, eyes, sideburns and mustache and beard cut to a point.  The only thing this ‘Taz’ was missing was horns and a tail.

              “Pickin’ up, sweetheart.”

              Eva wasn’t about to internally rant about the sexist endearments.  She wasn’t one of those die-hard feminists who were easily offended by them.  Plus, if this guy was also a Skull who doubled doing body work, he was no doubt cut from the same cloth as Ben regarding their terminology for the female of the species.

              “Oh, yeah,” she said, forgetting that she was expecting Ben instead of Beelzebub.  “Maroon Jeep.  In the driveway.”

              He saluted.  “I’ll get it hooked up.  Just need your keys.”

              “It’ll be done end of day, right?”

              The pads of his thumb and index finger twirled the tip of his beard into an even sharper point as he thought.  “Three-ish should do.  If you need a ride, we can send someone else to pick you up.”

              She didn’t want to have to do that, but with Cyndi and Marie manning the store, she didn’t have anyone else to bum a ride from.  Hopefully this ‘someone else’ wasn’t someone who looked as if they escaped Hades.  “That’ll be great, thanks.”

              He swept an arm in front of him and bowed.  “Your wish is my command.”

              Oh, he was quite a charmer.  He had to be to compensate for those frightening looks.  She stood outside on the stoop as she watched him back the flatbed into her driveway before going inside to get her keys.  Going out the slider, she stepped onto the deck and handed them over the railing to Satan……er…..Taz who was waiting at the top of the driveway.  She then looked across the yard where Mrs. Bachman had stopped pouring birdseed into a feeder in order to check out what was going on.  Spotting Taz, her mouth practically hit her mulched beds. 

              “Hello, Mrs. Bachman.” Eva waved, rubbing it in a bit.

              Taz paused hooking up the jeep to mimick her. “Hello Mrs. Bachman,” he called out, waving a hand over his head.  The old biddie practically keeled over.  This Taz truly was a little devil.

              Car successfully towed away, she went back inside to check the mural.  Taking a scraper, she inserted it in a corner and gently pushed.  It came off pretty easy, but she decided to spray one more coat for good measure.

              While the second coat took, she decided to tackle the moving boxes.  In an hour she got all the kitchen boxes unpacked.  Putting everything away was a different story as the contents now littered her kitchen table, countertops, floor – hell, even the stove top.  She then got a step stool, set it up in front of the mural and began to slowly scrape away the ugly, melted goo.  Each sweep of the scraper revealed the clean wall below which would eventually have to be sanded and primed before she could paint.  She thought a nice, muted shade of Hunter green would work.

              Two hours later the plastic tarp, as well as her shirt, were covered in the sticky remains of the mural, but the wall was finally clean and exposed.  Stepping back, she viewed her work, feeling quite proud of herself.  And suddenly ambitious.

              With a couple more hours to kill, Eva made the best of them.  In the kitchen she took just the unpacked cookware, washed, dried and put it away.  By then, the coffee pot had automatically turned off, so she poured it into a glass with milk and sweetener then added ice.  Caffeine did not go to waste in her house.  She went upstairs to at least change out of her gooey t-shirt, but decided against it when she decided what to do next.  Before heading back down, she paused at the top of the stairs, looking at the small set which led to the third level.  To her most favorite room which she hadn’t a clue what to do with yet. 

              Ascending them, she twisted the crystal doorknob and opened the door to the turret.  Her nose wrinkled at the staleness of the room, but wanted it closed off while in this state of flux.  She cracked open the two windows which led to the street below.  Ever since her dad bought the mailbox she picked out, this part of the house was her favorite.  Most six year old girls would envision being a trapped princess in that room, waiting for a prince to rescue her, but not Eva.  For her, she wanted that tiny room to be her escape, her sanctuary, a place she could play or read or even forget why a mother would willingly walk out on her husband and child.