Mercy F*uck (6 page)

The Jeep turned into a motorcycle I found in a junkyard.

The motorcycle turned into parties I pretended to like.

Parties turned into family dinners with my family which I did like.

We were tight, the tightest, but I wanted more. We had moments where he hinted we were
something
but I was too afraid to step out of the friend-zone to ask what it was for fear he’d say it was
nothing
.

When he bought the Impala to fix together everything changed.

Every free moment we had was spent in close proximity and I fell so far in love with him I saw no way out.

I began making my own subtle hints, touching him at odd times, offering him my most seductive smile.

So when he asked me to his place before hitting the garage, the usual sexual tension that simmered just below the surface was burning me alive.

I decided I was done fighting it.

The car we restored together had been beautiful, only I never had the chance to ride in it. Because instead of taking the Impala out for its first official test drive, I asked him to have sex with me. I told him I’d never done it and that I wanted it to be with him, only him. Everyone on campus knew me because they drank at my bar, it was like going to school without the class load. Until Axle, I hadn’t befriended customers because most never stuck around. Besides that, most proved to be idiots. For him, I went to ridiculous frat parties and pretended I fit in. Only I never did because I was a bar bitch and years ahead of most in the maturity game. Binge drinking and random hook ups were not my thing. Night after night, I watched people square off, choosing their temporary partner with little care.

I refused to be any guy’s quick fuck.

But in the end, I was something even worse.

I was my best friend’s
mercy fuck
.

I ended up losing my virginity and Axle.

Worst of all, I lost myself.

I never held him responsible for who I’ve become, that was all on me. But I hated him for not being honest with me, for spewing pretty words only to slice me with them. I hated him for making what we had into a joke. For making
me
the joke. That night was the first time I’d ever quit anything in my life. Not only that, I ran away and hid. Since then I trusted no man’s pretty lies, no matter how attractive the package. Although to this day, no one’s package came close to his. I was also positive none ever would. When it came to sex, I took what I wanted and moved on.

No male had anything to offer me nor I them. I was hollow and if anyone bothered to look, they’d see it.

Now sitting in what I presume could only be his driveway, I couldn’t even find the nerve to meet his eyes when I ask him to take off the cuffs. When he didn’t answer, I forced myself to look his way and immediately regretted it. Axle was still Axle and it still fucking
hurt
. Loathe to admit it, his face was the one I saw each time I loaned out my body. For nine years, it has always been Axle that got me off. To hurt him, to keep myself from shattering, I left the men behind telling myself it was Axle Rhodes I had punished. By doing this I was giving him a taste of my misery, only I wasn’t doing anything more than hurting myself.

I was fully aware this was delusional and pathetic but I wasn’t inclined to stop doing it either.

If it ain’t broke and all that
…

Axle was the first, the only guy I ever let get the drop on me.

His appearance tonight was not welcomed and our reunion wasn’t going to end on a positive note either.

Because right now, I wanted to hurt him. As in physically, with my
fists
.

Forget how painful it was to finally be sitting in the Impala and all the other bullshit from the past. This motherfucker put his foot in my ass
after
cuffing me and then had the balls to bring me to his house. A nice house, that had a new porch and fucking flowers out front. Proof he had a life, that he’d moved on.

I’ve never planted a flower or owned a home. I had no roots, no foundation
…

Suddenly, my chest was tight and my nose was burning.

No no no! Go away feelings you’re drunk!

Fuck, I couldn’t do this right now.

“I’ll take them off if you promise not to run,” he says reaching in his pocket for the key.

“Run where exactly?” I counter giving him access to my back. “You don’t live close to anything I’d consider running to. You have a welcome mat,” I say with an eye roll. “
If
I had any respect left for you, that killed it.”

When the metal was removed I was about to rub my wrists in relief when he slid his fingers over my skin and did it for me. Shocked by this, I jerked them back and plastered myself to the door my face made out with earlier. “You’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you, cupcake.” God, I hated the lies he told so easily and that he had the balls to sound aroused.
Grr, that I was aroused by his voice and the stupid cuffs. I was such a she-whore!

“I can’t say the same about you, Axle,” I threaten weakly. “Foxy bailed my ass out a lot and never bothered to mention you once in nine years.”

“Yeah well, he never mentioned you had a record either. He officially sold me the business six months ago,” he said watching me close for a reaction. “I found your file buried at the bottom of a box.”

“You should have left it there,” I say angrily.

“So you’re cool with Foxy taking a hit because of you? He bonded your ass out personally, skittle tits.”

“First, don’t use nicknames, you suck at it.” Sadly, he didn’t suck at it.
Hate him!
“Second, he didn’t take a hit and none of this has shit to do with you.”

“You broke the law.”

“Jesus Christ,” I laugh at the absurdity of this convo. “Just take me back to work, Axle. In case you didn’t notice, I’m the God damn bartender and riots are no fun when I’m not participating. Plus, the shit that went down was
handled
. You have bigger problems to worry about than what I do in my spare time considering
you
have someone or, several someone’s trying to kill you.”

“About that,” he says draping his arm over the steering wheel, which was manly and fuck him for that too. “Whoever did the shooting saw you with me, which means my problem just became your problem. I’m a fair man, Drew,” he says fully facing me. “How about we cut a deal?”

“Oh yeah? What kind of deal?”

“You know everyone, people relate to you, they tell you shit.”

“Of course they do, I’m fucking special.”

Laughing low, he leaned in a little closer but I had nowhere to go unless I opened the door and fell out. The bastard knew this and was enjoying my dilemma.
God, I hated being cornered!

“Help me figure this out. I’ll agree to put your file back in the box but I’ll let you call me Jesus Christ. We’ll go with JC for short.”

“Pass.”

“I’m being reasonable,” he growls and I hated that sound too because I wanted to feel the vibration between my legs.

“No, you’re bribing me, and not very well I might add. Your job is to track bond jumpers, mine is to serve drinks. Each was a choice, unlike you, my job isn’t trying to kill me. Also, unlike you, I don’t give a flying fuck why that is.”

“If that was true you wouldn’t have returned fire,” he says smugly.

“Bullshit,” I snort in a non-lady-like fashion. “My ass was in the way and it’s a great ass, it’s an ass that doesn’t want to get shot.”

“I had that ass in my hands once,” he says way too softly. “That ass changed my life. Fucking missed it.”

And before I could fire back, he grabbed the front of my Johnny Cash vintage t-shirt that took five years to break in, hauled me across the armrest and kissed me.

“You moan when you kiss,” I rumbled against her addictive lips. “Did you know that?”

Pulling my mouth back to hers she said, “I only moan when you kiss me.”

“I wonder what sounds you’ll make when I’m inside of you.”

Arching up to wrap herself around me she smiled sinfully, “Let’s find out.”

Her lips were softer than I remembered. Her scent in my nose was like coming home. Even back then she only wore lightly scented body lotion because she thought perfume was for whores who were hiding something. Deepening the contact, she mews beautifully and I break the kiss only to ask her to, “Come upstairs with me.”

Rearing back, she no longer looks aroused, but murderous. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, I could tell she was debating whether to fuck me or stab me.

“You still moan when I kiss you.” I blurt hoping it was the former.

“You remember that?” she asks quietly, in a voice that was all Drew. A voice only
I
ever heard.

“I remember everything.”

“I do too,” she says menacingly and this was the Drew I did not know. Before I could ask her what she meant she opened the door and slid out taking off on foot. The look of hate on her face stopped me from chasing her. If I was going to get answers, I needed to slow down and be prepared. Drew was not a woman you pushed, ever. Giving her a head start before I caught up, I went inside to grab her file and the six pack in my fridge. Further taking my time, I shower and an hour later was back in my Impala heading toward
The Hole
. I knew she lived in the apartment above it and I also knew she kept a boat, a really fucking nice boat which was actually a
Regal 46-foot Sport Coupe
that cost more than my house, cars and everything I owned combined, including my business. I also knew she docked it at the Detroit Yacht Club because Foxy kept great notes.

Did you do this for me knowing I’d need the help old man? If so, thank you.

Drew watched her money, she wasn’t known to be materialistic. She never spent needlessly which told me she spent a lot of time on that boat. Fuck knows, I would. She came from a huge family that never had much. She told me she started working young to make life easier on her parents and her sisters who, unlike her, wanted to go to college. The woman busted ass for everything she had. I respected the hell out of her for that, then and now. Plus, I was a guy and wanted to see the Regal. Odds were good it was my only shot since I’d never be able to afford one.

Parking behind the bar, I entered through the back and stayed out of her peripheral. Pushing midnight, the joint was in full swing and metal was blaring through the speakers. Old school Pioneer speakers that were held up by a lot of wires were proof you don’t fuck with a good thing. Another fact about Drew, she loved metal and she loved it
loud
. She also loved Motown, the blues, and eighties hair bands but the last was a secret I never spilled. A secret we kept between us. When the customers started stomping their feet on the floor the energy soared and it felt electric. With all eyes to the bar, I watch in fascination
and
jealously as Drew is lifted up by a man-boy and placed on the top. When a cowboy hat is tossed to her, she puts it on and pats the top. Then she’s handed a mic and the track playing ends and
American Bad Ass
by Kid Rock kicks in.

Fact: You play Kid Rock
anything
at a bar in Detroit and people lose their shit.

You give a hot woman a hat and a microphone, you best be prepared to fight a motherfucker. Which was exactly what I was gearing up to do because all eyes were on her and I did not like it.

I didn’t like it in college and I didn’t like it now. Drew got your attention and kept it, always.