Keep It Sexy (KIS Series Book 3) (3 page)

Smiling while tears filled my eyes, I tightened my hold around her.

“Okay, now lick off her tears,” Pete interrupted. He was standing next to the stairs watching us. Jade let go of me, bending to pick up the air horn. She threw it at her husband, hitting him right on the shoulder. “Ouch, baby. I was kidding. Why do you Harden girls always gotta get so violent?” Pete complained while rubbing his hurt shoulder.

I knew it probably did hurt; Jade was a softball superstar in high school. She was known for her fast and hard throws.

“To think, I made you both breakfast.” Pete started walking up the stairs. Jade and I looked at each other before running after him.

“Wait!” we yelled.

“Wait, Pete, look…I’ll lick her,” I said as I grabbed Jade’s face, pulling my tongue from the bottom of her face to her temple.

“Gross, Billie, you haven’t brushed your teeth yet!” she shouted, recoiling.

“That wasn’t part of the deal. I licked you, and therefore I get my bacon.”

Jade and Pete chuckled while they looked back at me. I grinned mischievously. God, it was great being back home with people I loved.

Chapter Two

Christian

I tried to do the gentlemanly thing. I offered to take her to my place or at least to my car. But she was eager to get on with business…or should I say, on her knees. I knew she had told me her name, and I remember it ending in an
i
, but I was drawing a blank. What was making it harder to remember was having her suck me off in the men’s bathroom at the club I decided to go to tonight, or maybe I just didn’t care enough to remember. I’d gotten here, danced a little, drank a little, and then this girl showed up in a pair of gold shorts and a black top. Completely taking my attention away from everyone else.

Truthfully, she reminded me of a Jack Terrier jumping around waiting for the next ball to be thrown in her direction. An actual ball, not like a testic—anyway, here I was in the farthest stall of the men’s bathroom with the blonde bobbing her head in between my legs. As I went in and out of her mouth, my stare began to wander around the walls of the stall. There was the usual writing you’d see in any public bathroom.

Call for a good time
, nothing new. But what really caught my eye was the name next to a list of numbers.
Declan Saint John gives the best head
. I almost choked on my own spit after I read that. Declan was related to the only girl I had ever fallen for, Ava. Declan and his sister Vanessa would come into the bar from time to time after Ava started working for me. I was a fucking idiot for hiring her, because I knew she didn’t feel the same about me. I’d never been the jealous or possessive type.

Hell, I’ve heard Ava have sex with other guys, because we used to live in the same apartment complex growing up. I’d walked past her getting banged by some neighborhood thug inside a car, or the Laundromat, or even the alley. And every time, it never bothered me. I always figured once she was done getting whatever it was she needed to get out of her system, she’d come back to me, although now something was different. She wasn’t the same girl anymore and there appeared to be another man in her life. Deep down, I knew she wasn’t coming back. So, in honor of that, I was getting head from some random chick.

“Ooh, easy sweetheart, not so much teeth,” I said as she looked up at me. I gently pushed her hair out of her face so I could see her blue eyes better. They were glazed over with a touch of pink in the whites. Suddenly my stomach constricted and bile seeped into it. She was drunk. Not my thing. If I had known that beforehand, I wouldn’t have let her do this to me. Moving to the side, I slid against the wall to detach myself from her face. Quickly, I tucked my shit back into my pants and buckled my belt.

Blondie was still on her knees as she watched me, confused. “You’re drunk,” I clarified. Nearing her, I offered her my hand to help her up. Still with a puzzled look, she took it and stood. Now that she was up and in the scrutinizing florescent lighting of the bathroom, I realized she was very pretty. What intrigued me more was the piercing on her bottom lip. It looked out of place.

“Cute,” I said, tapping the metal. Blondie bit down on it with a smile. “Did you come with friends?” I asked.

She nodded. Taking her hand in mine, I unlocked the door and walked back into the club. As the darkness covered us, the music boomed against our chests, and I bent down to ask her where her friends were. She pointed to a group of girls who stood looking at us from the corner of the club. Tugging her hand, I led her to her friends, giving her a kiss on the cheek before I left.

I sat in my SUV, scrolling down my phone, trying to decide who I was going to call. I still had some stuff pent-up, and I needed a release. None of their names jumped out at me, so I just closed my eyes and called whatever number my finger landed on. When I heard the dial tone I opened my eyes as I called Hannah.
Okay, I can work with that.
Within the second ring, the call relayed inside my car as the Bluetooth connected to my phone.

“Hey, you,” she answered.

“Where are you?” I asked, pulling out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of her apartment.

“Just got home.” I heard keys hitting a surface in the background.

“Oh, yeah? What did you do tonight?” I asked, looking both ways for incoming traffic.

“There was a gala I had to go to tonight. Work stuff.” Her voice had lowered into a husky undertone.

“So, you’re all dolled up?” I asked, matching her tone.

“I suppose I am. Want to help me undress?” She was being flirty, and I could picture her taking off her glasses and biting down on the earpiece. I groaned.

“What do you think, sweetheart?”

Hannah sucked in a breath, and I felt my pants start to tighten around my crotch.

“Door’s open.”

“Be there soon.” I hung up, then turned on the street that led me away from downtown Denver to University Park. Hannah lived a few blocks away from Blush, my bar. That’s where I met her. She had stopped in for a drink with a friend after work. Hannah was sexy in that secretary kind of way with her caramel colored hair pinned up in a bun and dark glasses. When I asked if she had a boyfriend, she gave me a flirty smile as she sucked on the straw of her fruity purple drink.

She told me she was too busy for boyfriends and wasn’t looking for anything serious. Well, that was music to my ears. Now, Hannah was part of a roster of girls I called whenever I was feeling…lonely. I may sound like an asshole, but I’ve never made promises I couldn’t keep, and I never lead girls into believing I want more. I was just a fan of the female species, and luckily they were a fan of me.

Chapter Three

Christian

I loved and hated coming home. I loved to spend time with my mom, but I hated how much the neighborhood had gone to shit. It was never a treasure of a neighborhood, but growing up it was at least
relatively
safe. We all took care of each other. After my older brother Roman went to jail, it all seemed to fall apart. It wasn’t long until the rival gangs showed up and started causing bigger problems. Soon after that I had saved up enough money to open my bar. In order to be closer to it, I had to move out of my mother’s apartment and into my own.

Roman and I have always made enough money that we could have gotten our own place, but we stayed to keep mom safe. I tried convincing her to move with me to Denver, but she refused. Luckily, a couple of guys Roman and I grew up with still lived in the building. It eased my fears, knowing she was still looked after. Ma was loved by all around these parts.

As I walked onto the front yard of the tall brown building, I noticed a group of guys posted up on the corner. Two pressed languidly against the russet colored brick and the other three stood lax while they passed around a blunt and a couple of 40s. It wasn’t even noon yet and they were already on their way to
I-don’t-give-a-fuck
land. I felt pity for them. This neighborhood banged out gangsters and thugs like it was a well-oiled machine. It was nothing short of having a trademark ‘Made in Aurora’ brand tattooed on their backs with the content label reading,
Thug comes with Dickies and Locs sunglasses. Batteries not included.

These guys were products of their environment and didn’t know any better. But then, I managed to live the same way for so many years, I was weaved and threaded into the deepest part of this neighborhood. And still I managed to not only survive, but also leave. My pity shriveled up and died instantly. When the five of them noticed me, their backs stiffened like steel and they greeted me with nods and a
what’s up
.

“Come to see your mom?” Hector asked. Hector was the local tattoo artist. He was famous for receiving different types of payments for his work.

“Yup.”

“Good, good. Uh, we’ve been keeping an eye on her when we can.” He spoke like a child who was preparing to get backhanded by a parent.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate that.”

Hector’s eyes lit up and the rest scowled at him.

“You’re not the only one, Hector. We all do,” Juan snapped. My jawbones worked and tightened as I fought the urge to smack them all upside the head.

“Come on by the bar one of these days. Drinks will be on the house.”

Their faces split into big smiles.

“Hell yeah, man. I’m down with getting some college pussy.” Hector laughed before taking a drink from the bottle. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Speaking of pussy, you talk to Ava lately?”

He was trying to probe me without saying anything too disrespectful. Hector had never liked me ever since Ava chose to sleep with me one night instead of him. Out of the six of us here, four had slept with Ava. It didn’t bother me that she had—that was her prerogative—but Hector seemed to think she was my weakness. And maybe she was, but not in the way he was thinking.

“Yeah, actually, she’s working for me.”

Hector’s face fell. It was almost comical.

“See you guys around,” I said. “Thanks again for looking out for my mom.” I shook everyone’s hand, pressing tighter around Hector’s grip. It was a silent warning, one that didn’t go ignored.

Inside the apartment building, I raced the two flights of stairs to my mother’s apartment. Before unlocking the door with my own set of keys, I knocked, letting her know I was here. The last time I opened the door without warning, she’d hit me over the head with an iron skillet. She thought someone was breaking in.

“
Ma?
” I called, closing the door behind me.

“
Estoy en la cocina, hijo.
” Of course she was in the kitchen. She was always cooking something up. Either for my brother and me or someone in the neighborhood who was sick or simply needed her cooking to make them feel better.

“Smells good,” I said, bowing to kiss the top of her graying head. From the looks and smells of it, she was cooking
pozole
.

“I made extra for you,” she replied with a thick accent. Turning away from the stove, she hugged my waist. My mother was tiny; it was amazing how Roman and I came out of this little woman. “
Sientate
,” she demanded sweetly.

I did as I was told and sat on the old yellow eighties’ style dining chair. The plastic was worn and torn and the color was stripped in random places from all the times my mother scrubbed it clean. It was old and dingy like everything else in her apartment, but it was spotless and smelled of bleached. I’ve forgotten the amount of times I’ve shown up with new furniture or handed her a wad of money, but she’d always refused all of it. My mom prided herself on being able to support herself with her own money. She always told me she left my father for a reason, and even though I was her son she would never accept my money. She’d never accept the money of
any
man.

“You want some coffee?”

“Is it the good stuff?” I asked. She grunted, offended by my question.

“
Claro, café Mexicano
.
Gringos
don’t drink good coffee. They don’t know any better,” she explained. I smirked to hide the grunt gurgling in my stomach from her ignorance. Mom set a brown coffee mug in front of me, and alongside it, a small porcelain plate filled with little powdered cookies. “How’s the bar doing?”

I quickly swallowed the cookie, taking a sip of the strong coffee before answering her.

“Great, it’s the busiest bar on the block.”

“Que bueno, hijo
.” She beamed with pride and love in her eyes. “I have good news too.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I asked, popping another cookie into my mouth.

“Roman said he has a parole hearing. He might get out early!” She squealed, unable to contain her excitement.

I struggled to swallow, also to show my enthusiasm. Roman could never do wrong in my mother’s eyes, even after he was caught and charged with three years in prison. Roman was her firstborn, so I figured maybe there was a connection between them I could never understand. Mom never intentionally made me feel like second best, but it was there in the small details. Like giving Rome a little extra food, or always giving him the Ninja Turtles cup growing up, when she knew it was my favorite show. Roman only asked for it to prove a point. Even after getting locked up, Ma still picked up extra shifts to fill his inmate fund account. Then lectured me for not lending any of my money to him.
Yeah, sure, lending.

“When is it?” I asked.

“In a month.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “
Con el favor de Dios
.”

God willing. Looking down to my lap to suppress my eye roll, I lifted my waist to take out my wallet from my back pocket. Before I could take out the cash, Ma lifted her hand to stop me.

“No.
Christian, no quiero tu dinero
.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for Rome. Buy him whatever he needs,” I explained, softly placing two one hundred dollar bills on the table. It was all I had for spending cash for the month. Even when I worked at the bar, I never took the tips; I would divide them between everyone and give it to my employees. My mother sighed in relief and I wasn’t sure if she was relieved that she didn’t have to work so many hours these next two weeks to get Roman what he needed, or if she was relieved that I wasn’t offering money to give to her personally.

“
Gracias, hijo
.” She smiled, leaving the money in its place. I knew once I left she’d pick it up; presently, her pride was too big to take it in front of me.

“All right, Ma, I gotta go. I need to take care of some stuff for the bar.” She nodded in agreement, pushing back her chair to stand. I did the same before kissing the top of her head.

“Take care,” she said, hugging me.

“You too. Call me if you need anything.”

“
Si, claro
.”

I didn’t walk down the stairs until I heard the locks on her door turn behind me. Once outside, I noticed the group of guys was gone. I glanced back over at the apartment building that had been my home for so many years. It was mind-boggling to see how much things had changed in so little time. It didn’t seem that long ago that I was living this life, but at the same time it felt like an eternity.