Page 86 of Wreckage of Us
I shake my head as if to clear the fog of jealousy suddenly taking over. I want Arlene just for myself. I hate that Frank is staring at her the way he does, especially now that he is already suspecting that I have it bad for her.
“I love your shirt, Jon,” Arlene takes me by surprise when she addresses me. I glance at her face and am struck by the shy smile she gives me. “It goes really well with the tie you have on.”
Sudden visions of me tying her hands up with my tie pop into my head. Spread eagle on my bed… Unable to move an inch… Other than to take my cock.
I shake my head again and catch the knowing smirk on Frank’s face. Fucker.
“Thank you, Miss Carter,” I reply to her in my most polite tone. My parents spent a shitload of money for me to go to the best schools in the country. Knowing my manners has been drilled into my head since birth.
Arlene gives me an awkward smile, the dimple on one side more pronounced. I love that fuckin’ dimple so much.
“You know,” Frank leans against me again, “all you gotta do with this b… girl,” he corrects himself before he manages to say something that may trigger my killer instincts. “As I was saying,” he clears his voice awkwardly, “all you gotta do with Arlene is chat her up in your smooth voice, with your fancy words. And she’ll fall right where you want her.”
I snort at the stupidity coming out of his mouth.
“Me being polite is the equivalent of fancy words?”
“You forgot smooth voice,” he snickers into the beer bottle he’s holding.
“Well, thank you very much, Franklin, for the sound advice on dating,” I counter.
“See what I mean?” he points at me with his bottle. “Who talks like that? No one I know, that’s for damn sure. And who said anything about dating?” His eyes are about to pop out of his head now. “You wanna date her?”
I shrug. “Isn’t that what people in civilized society do?”
“That may be,” Frank’s almost whispering, which is not in his nature. “But I thought you and I had plans. Big plans, D,” he slams his bottle on the table now, sounding upset.
I fix cold eyes on him, surprised by this turn in conversation.
“Who said I can’t do both?”
“Do both,” Frank snorts in disgust. “No man in the history of men has ever been able to conduct serious business while they were buried deep in pussy.”
“Ah, I see,” I nod in understanding. “So, based on your theory, you will also be celibate while we conduct business. Correct?” I raise an eyebrow in question and give him a condescending smile. I know I got him, and he knows it, too.
“Whatever, fucker,” he rolls his eyes and picks up his bottle of beer from where he slammed it earlier.
“Speaking of that,” I ignore his remark. “Should I start calling you Bricks now?”
Franklin Knight prospected for a local motorcycle club and was recently not only voted in as a full member, but he also got a seat at the table. Meaning that the business dealings we started should go much smoother now that we have a whole damn gang at our backs.
“Hey, it’s Mr. Bricks to you,” he points a finger at me and starts laughing again.
“To Mr. Bricks then,” I put my bottle of beer up for us to toast. “Job well done,” I praise him, knowing that will soften him up more toward me.
For as badass Franklin “Bricks” Knight wants to appear, he is a very insecure man at his core. I can only hope that I am making the right call here by going into business with him. Once we get deeper into these operations, it will take years to untangle and separate. But I trust Frank. He’s been by my side for years now, he’s been the brawn to my brains. Besides, I would not betray him by pulling out of the deals now. Way too late for that shit.
In the corner of my eye, I see Arlene heading our way again.
“I got five minutes left in my shift,” she tells us when she’s reached our table. “If you want anything more, I can do it for you now before I leave.”
She is talking to the both of us, but she is staring right at me. I can’t take my eyes off her either, so I get it. The more I watch her, the more I feel my resolve breaking. What would be the harm in having her at least one time?
“I’d like to take you out to dinner,” the words spill out of my mouth.
“What?” She sounds just as shocked as I feel. What the fuck am I doing? But too late now.
“You asked if I want anything more,” I remind her, although I am fully aware that is not what she meant at all. “And I want to take you out to dinner.”
