4. Draven #2
I wished I had a single family member who cared about me as much as Max seemed to care about Lily. She’d always told me that they’d grown up close, and she missed him all the time since moving off to Montana.
“Since when are you not together?” he asked.
“Last night.”
His brow knit. “Before or after you tried to rob my house and murder me?”
“You gave me the whiskey bottle. I took the whiskey bottle. Lily and I drank half of the whiskey bottle, and then she dumped me. That enough of a bedtime story for you?”
I didn’t bother explaining the finer details, like the fact that I had known we were going to break up at some point, and that I’d had confirmation about that before we arrived in Tennessee.
Or that Lily also was well aware of it—and that she certainly was fine with the idea that I could fuck anyone, anywhere I pleased.
Or that there were other reasons I’d left home which had nothing to do with following a girlfriend.
“Why are you still here?” Max asked.
That really is the question of the day, isn’t it?
“You can quit the good cop act,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you or Lily.”
“You caught me off-guard last night. Try me again and things wouldn’t end the same way.”
“I would love to try you again,” I told him, holding his gaze. “Do you want to take me home with you tonight?”
He picked up a bottle, rearranging more things that didn’t need it. “So that I can actually knock you out this time?”
“Because I want to know how your tongue feels.”
“Shut up.”
“And I want you to clean my cock with it.”
He set down the bottle on the wood with a thud.
“I’m straight, asshole. Not that I’d ever go for a prick like you if I wasn’t.”
For the first time, he’d really surprised me.
Straight.
Why hadn’t I thought he was? Something about his videos, or the way he looked at me, or maybe how he’d touched me, last night?
I was so used to raw physicality that I couldn’t tell the difference between aggression and desire anymore.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and when I pulled it out, I saw the name of the only person in Montana who still wanted to speak to me.
I answered it, pressing it to my ear.
“Dominic. Tell me it’s good news.”
“Good, but also somehow probably very bad,” he said.
I cradled the phone against my ear, glancing up one more time at Max. He was still shooting arrows at me with his eyes, which felt about right.
“Give me a sec, Dominic.”
I picked up my whiskey and downed the rest. I didn’t know how much it cost, so I fished a crisp fifty from my wallet and laid it on the bar.
“All yours,” I told Max, sliding the bill across before heading out and grabbing the phone in my hand again. “Okay, Dom. What’s up? Tell me he didn’t freeze the accounts.”
Dominic had been my financial advisor ever since I’d turned 18, and my friend for even longer than that. He’d always been close to my family, but now that things had gotten even worse between me and my parents, I was glad to know Dom was loyal to me.
There always used to be three of us: me, Dom, and Brody.
Brody wasn’t in the picture anymore.
Dom had stepped up, taking on his role as a bridge between me and the rest of the Lyons family now.
But I knew he had my back above all else.
Unlike certain others.
I’d been waiting for him to call.
“Your father didn’t freeze anything,” he said. “The opposite, actually. He transferred the rest of your money from the family accounts to your personal one.”
“Which means he wants to pay me out and get rid of me forever. So that I don’t tell people about him .”
I heard Dominic pull in a long breath. “It might mean that.”
“And? Anything about Brody?”
“Not a peep,” Dominic said. “Brody seems to be keeping everything close to his chest, too.”
“Could mean he’s trying to fuck with me. Could mean he’s scared.”
Brody, Dom, and I were always a trio. People laughed about it, growing up: Brody, the redhead, Dom, the blond, and me, with dark, nearly black hair.
Three cowboys. Although I’d been the one who rode the most. Dom ditched riding in favor of a career in business, and Brody…
Brody was as fiery as the hair on his head.
I’d always liked him, until things went from bad to worse. He’d been another connection I had to the police force, and it was always good to be friendly with the police.
I watched a crowd of people crossing the road across the street, a group of young, happy couples going from the diner toward an old-timey ice cream shop next door. To everyone else in this town, it was any other night.
For me, it was the start of war.
I’d never had my family’s love. I didn’t have their approval.
But I had their secrets.
My father’s secrets, especially, were stacked inside me like a rigged deck of cards.
Everyone in my hometown had known about my … problematic lifestyle for a long while.
The fighting, mostly. The things I allowed to happen on my property, when people wanted to be violent or depraved. The occasional gambling nights.
What they didn’t know was that my father was more like me than anyone knew. The same Randall Lyons that smiled and hugged them at church, nodded along at town hall meetings, and was buddy-buddy with every sheriff, sharing pots of coffee over brunch?
He wasn’t just cheating on my mother.
He was cheating on her with a minimum of six other women.
I discovered the second phone in Dad’s office one night after he’d been profoundly drunk and passed out early. I’d only stepped foot in there to grab one of his Davidoff cigars, because the guy I was going to fuck that night had a taste for them and I wasn’t going to deny him his pleasures.
Then I saw the corner of a screen light up at the edge of Dad’s desk.
The cell phone was badly hidden, with a yellow, lined legal pad tossed on top of it barely covering the edge.
I uncovered it to see the front screen littered with names. Melanie, Emma, Natalia, and many others, all messaging my dad.
The passcode had been the same as all of his passcodes: my mother’s birth year.
Yikes, Dad.
Each of the text threads had an endless Rolodex of nudity, dirty talk, and future plans in their message history. All brunettes, of all sizes and heights, all gorgeous, and all of them probably not a day over 21, while Dad was nearly 60.
There had also been group photos. I never needed to see his cock, but I sure as fuck didn’t want to see it stuffed in a brunette’s ass while her mouth was between the legs of another woman. There were even a couple photos where thin white lines of powder were visible on their tits. Sloppy sloppy.
The evening business meetings my father kept attending were sex parties.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I guess.
I just have much broader tastes than dear old Dad. In hair color… age… gender.
And you know what?
I don’t fucking hide a single one of them.
I don’t hide anything at all.
“How is Lily?” Dom asked over the phone.
Even after all the shit that had gone down in Montana—Brody had almost ruined everything, between me and Dom—I was still always happy when Dom asked about Lily.
Dominic had more of a heart than any of the rest of us.
“Lily is doing great, actually,” I said. “She’s here for her friend’s wedding. Keeping busy so far. Happy as a clam, unlike us.”
“Speak for yourself," Dominic said. “I’m happy. You’re just a stormcloud.”
“I do what I can.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re safe in Tennessee.”
I breathed deep. “Stay safe, yourself,” I said. “Keep tabs on Veil for me. I miss her every moment of every day.”
“She has better hay than the food I eat every night,” Dom said. “I think Veil’s very happy, too.”
“Keep me updated,” I told Dominic before we hung up.
I looked down at my phone and my eyes widened when I saw what was on my screen.
A text from Max. I tapped out a reply quickly, and he messaged me back.
Max Baby Blue
If anyone is going to have their tongue on a cock, it would be yours on mine. Not the other way around.
Draven Lyons
Is that right?
I said what I said.
Then why couldn’t you say it to my face, ten minutes ago?
Because you pissed me off. Now I’ve had time to think. I don’t trust you, Draven.
Good. You shouldn’t.
Don’t try to intimidate me.
You’re the one asking for my mouth on your dick. Straight much?
Straight or not, a tongue is a tongue.
Finally something we agree on.
Is that why yours is pierced? Better for when you’re giving head?
One of the reasons.
Even if I was curious about men… I’m not curious about you. Fucking your throat would be payback. Like I said, just a tongue.
…You’re hard just texting me about this, aren’t you?
Guess revenge gets me off.
So we agree on two things.
I still don’t trust you. Not in my town, not with me. Don’t expect me to act like a doormat for you just because I’m a nice person. You’re not going to get “nice” from me.
Okay, Baby Blue. I know you’re totally in control, and totally straight. But if you find yourself curious again about what my tongue ring really feels like on a cock… all you have to do is ask.