Page 14 of Going Down Smooth: Part Two

“Songbird, there is no way Chasson, Derrick, or Mal have the mental capacity to be anything other than giant, entitled bitches.” I purse my lips in disgust.

Mercy frowns, then her mouth drops open in realization. “Grace, one of her Alphas is a detective. No shit?”

“Yep,” I say, popping the p. “I think Lox asked if he could be the one to come see you. Familiar face and all. I didn’t question if it was a conflict of interest, but hey, you know Lox. He loves to pull the entitled card out when it comes to you,” I say, rolling my eyes. It is handy, though, despite where he stands with his family, the community still sees Maxim for who he is. Daddy money bags, only without daddies’ money. Ha. Daddy moneybags. Lox would kill me if I called him that.

“There is still so much I don’t know about them. I’ve never been formally introduced. During my father’s will reading, I practically ran for my life out of the room. I guess I will get a chance today.” She groans. “I’m a terrible sister. Grace is pregnant. Faith is fighting for her life on a daily basis. This is not how things are supposed to be, Trey.”

“Songbird, you’ve barely been home a month. Look at everything that’s happened to you in such a short period of time. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have all the time in the world to catch up with them.” I glance down at my watch, noting the time. I don’t know Freeya very well, but she was very insistent on seeing her bestie today. She threatened to cut off our balls if we turned her away again. I don’t think she is the type to make empty threats, especially when it comes to Mercy.

Mercy nods her head. “You’re right. I’ve lost a lot of time with them, with all of you. I think I need to just clone myself. I’ve got a lot of relationship rebuilding to do.” She chuckles softly.

“Songbird, give yourself a whole lot of grace. Take life one day at a time. The people that matter the most and who want to rebuild those bridges will make a way for you.” I give her hand a squeeze and stand.

“Alright, oh old wise one.” She laughs. “Thank you, Trey. You’re the best nursemaid a girl could ask for.”

I throw my head back and laugh at my new title. “Nursemaid?” I arch a brow.

“Yes. Next time, wear an apron, preferably with nothing else underneath.” She attempts to sound serious, bossy, and demanding while raising her eyebrows suggestively, and we both laugh. But I will consider it.I love this woman, and after the events of the past few days it’s good to see her smile.

I lean in suddenly and scoop her carefully into my arms, making her gasp.

“Trey!” she shouts in surprise.

“It’s time for your sponge bath, Miss Smooth,” I say with a smile.

Mercy giggles, her head is thrown back over my arm and the sound brings me joy. The sound makes me feel whole once more and I get my wish. Still a bit shaken, but whole.

NINE

MERCY

Sitting on the corner sectional downstairs in the living room, the big flat screen TV is on mute as I absently peer over Freeya’s shoulder watching the stock market numbers scroll rapidly at the bottom of the screen. My eyes travel from the television then back to my best friend. Pausing, I watch her out the corner of my eyes as she recounts the number of video chats she’s had with the board over the past few days. She hasn’t noticed, but I’m not really listening, well, I mean, I am, but I’m mainly watching her. I can’t figure out what it is yet, but something is off. I don’t even know why I keep glancing up at the screen, it’s as if the inanimate object stuck to the wall can somehow give me the answers I seek.

From the moment Freeya arrived with Omari and his Alpha, Dez, in tow, with barely an introduction between us all, she had immediately gone into Freeya assistant mode; my hackles rise just thinking about it. Yes, she greeted me with a hug, and we were both teary and full of regret for not calling the other first last Sunday. Then, she had gone on with the customary ‘I could have lost you’ crying, that had led me to more tears in return, because she was right. I could have died. I thought I was going to die, my tomb, a fiery distillery. None of the guys spoke, our watery reunion, though needed, felt strange because there was something else in the air. Freeya and I have been friends for so long, I know when she is holding back. Before I could start asking awkward questions, her guys followed Trey into the kitchen, with the excuse of letting us talk shop. I turned back to Freeya, to see the strained relief on her face before she launched into talks of Smooth Bourbon, money, percentages, and numbers. My bestie radar was on full alert, usually it’s her calling me out. I was almost giddy with excitement; it was finally my turn.

“Mercy,” she calls my name, and I am so busy Nancy Drew-ing it, she has to snap her fingers, repeating my name for a second time.

“Huh,” I say, turning my eyes from the television, I focus my eyes on Free, really taking in her appearance since she arrived. She’s always so well put together, never a stitch out of place. Of course, she doesn’t raise my suspicions there. Impeccably dressed, heffa.Her hair is up in a high ponytail as she sports a high collar with a frilly white sleeveless blouse, and high waisted blue jeans. The smooth dark brown skin of her face is makeup free, her eyes bright, lips shiny with a slight bruise marring the corner of her bottom lip. Well, fuck! Bingo! I narrow my eyes and lean forward to get a better look, but she returns my gaze with a glare of her own.

“Ah, Mercy, are you okay girl? Are you in pain?” she asks, deflecting. If she’s figured out that I have noticed her lips, she doesn’t show it. The second question catches me off guard and I reply with another nonword answer. No, Free, I am not in pain, just wondering why you’re being secretive.

“Huh.” I almost roll my eyes at myself for sounding like a cave woman. Apparently, I’ve lost all semblance of speech. Clearing my throat with a cough, I blame it on my recovering vocal cords. They are still recovering after all, so, it works. “I’m sorry, no, I’m not in pain. What were you saying?”

“Mercy, are you for real right now?” Her eyes widen as she places her tablet down on the coffee table in front of her with a huff of frustration. “I was saying, thank goodness your dad built a secondary warehouse where all the aging barrels and special blend barrels are stored. Which means the company won’t take a hit in sales, in fact, they’re up as well as the company’s stocks.

“My idea,” I say under my breath. The last idea my father had taken on board before my world had blown up and my body had betrayed me. I had been so proud when he’d told me he thought building an offsite warehouse was a brilliant idea. “It will allow for more inventory, you’re thinking like a boss, baby girl.”My father had said , his eyes shining with pride.

“Why am I not surprised, Mercy. You’re always thinking bigger,” Freeya replies. “The board is happy, the world is supporting you, Mercy. This is big. I’ve already had to set up an account for donations, there have been several big ones from some very heavy hitters who want to help you rebuild.” Freeya’s smile widens, and honestly, the news floors me. Interesting, to say the least.

“Hmm. Well, the company has insurance, so there’s no real need for donations, our employees will be compensated. We will rebuild,” I say absentmindedly.

I can feel Freeya’s eyes boring into me, but my thoughts are too caught up on the unwanted attention. A part of me wants to believe in the goodness in humanity, that those who sought to help, really and truly wanted to. The darker part, the part of me that seems to be winning in my subconscious landmine, believes that nothing is done with good intentions. Help the poor little Omega rebuild her father’s company.The poor woman is too weak to sort out her own problems. I can see the condescending Alphas in power sitting on their high horses as they watch countless stories of my company going up in flames, deciding to give me a handout. They are all rooting for me to fail, to prove a point. To justify their reasonings for why the world should remain the way it is when it comes to Omegas. Fuck them. I don’t need their handouts, but I will indeed use them.

“Speaking of rebuild. I thought because of their connection to you and Smooth Bourbon, maybe Nate would be interested in the distillery’s redesign?” Freeya asks with excitement, but I’m so lost in my own thoughts, I don’t answer her question.

The world has turned its eyes on me. I didn’t ask to be a poster woman for the liberation and equal opportunity representation for Omegas. For so long I fought against what I’d become. I pushed it down, suppressed my heats, attempted to ignore my designation. But in the end, it all caught up to me. I know who I am in my soul, but maybe there are others like me, who need to see that I am embracing my duality. My Omega body and my Alpha heart—my Alpha soul.

My mind wanders back to the activist who exchanged words with Christopher outside the hospital the other day.“Mercy Smooth is the perfect example a lot of Omegas seek to emulate. She is a woman in a position of power, an Omega with a voice. One who can make change in her community and the world.”At the time, I didn’t think too much about what she was trying to say, but then I think of my sister Faith, how helpless and hopeless she’s become. I want to do more. I want to make a difference.

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