Chapter Twenty-One
Stiletto Threats
Anthony
Sleeping off a beating like that was unreal. It never failed; I woke up feeling worse than when I closed my eyes. Somehow, I did it though. I was a little relieved to be driving the van, because sitting upright on a bike would have been a new realm of hell.
I couldn’t sleep worth a damn knowing I was going to see her tomorrow, but I tried.
“So help me, if he doesn’t answer I’m filing a missing person’s report,” Daisy mumbled under her breath, before making her displeasure known against my bedroom door.
I laid there and let her do it. A gentle grunt and smile taking hold before I sleepily called, “Enter.”
The doorknob twisted a few times before she got a good enough hold on it to open the damn thing. She’d asked me to fix it twice this month. It’d probably take all of five minutes, but I just kept forgetting.
“I didn’t expect you to answer,” she admitted, poking her head inside.
I’d successfully avoided her, hoping the swelling went down around my eye before she got a look at me. I could finally open it. So, I guessed it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
The way her eyes rounded and her lips pinched, I knew it wasn’t on the mend quick enough.
“They did that to you because of me,” she whispered.
“Huh?” I squinted at her with my good eye and drew my arm under my head to prop myself up a little.
“They beat the shit out of you because I called Mark a no-good prick who drags everyone into his dirty business.”
My brows didn’t finish climbing before every muscle in my face froze against the urge to laugh.
I’d have paid good goddamn money to have seen his reaction to that one.
“Well,” I cleared my throat, and regarded her without getting up, “if it was his ass you were chewing, why was it Monty’s face you were tearing off?”
Her glare dropped and she eyed me with open warning.
“I've been in a lot of situationships, Aunt Daisy, but you know, I ain’t never had a chick try scratching my face off like that. What is it about him that gets you so–?”
She whirled around and slammed the door before I could find the right word, “—fucking heated.”
I laughed and shook my head.
It was noon, so I took my time showering, shaving, and getting my vibe together once Daisy’s pain tablet kicked in. I normally didn’t help myself to her medicine cabinet, but damn. I wasn’t trying to be looking crazy and gimping around in front of Crystal.
I hoped to be able to get down on one knee and treat her all romantic like. I could tell she soaked that stuff up, and it made me feel good to see her doing so.
I liked being able to tell that I treated her better than anyone ever had.
That’s what it felt like anyhow. She’d more or less said that.
I was sure of it!
I felt like I was on top of the world. I even gave Daisy the courtesy of, scribbling out a ‘Hold Your Fire’ type note. I wasn’t sure it would save Montana or Mark from another ten rounds if she got a wild hair up her ass, but… It was an effort, right?
I whistled down the drive and fired up my bike.
Even as a kid, I couldn’t remember looking forward to anything the way that I was anticipating time with her.
Rides were always better in that frame of mind, when one could enjoy the wind, freedom, and a sense of contentment that was better felt than explained. It probably carried in my steps, as I parked between the Pink Cabaret, and the Waffle Spot parking lot.
I knew I was supposed to meet her at the Waffle Spot, but I swore as I neared the center of the lot, I saw her standing in the door of the Pink Cabaret.
She was probably getting chatty with that goofy bastard that held the door for everyone.
I inwardly bristled, only for a chill to race down my spine when I heard Big Vick behind me, “Turn around and get back on the bike, Ant. You gotta get out of here.”
My whole face twisted up, even before I rounded to confront him.
“Like hell,” I laughed.
“Ant,” he emphasized, and I swear to God, there was something in his eyes that sparked that territorial little part of me that I struggled with.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice.
“Hey.” His tone solidified, and I stepped toward him, ready to knuckle up if he wanted. “You gotta listen to me. This ain’t my call.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I saw his gaze lift and the way he shifted to retreat.
I knew she was coming, but I wasn’t going to let him walk away until I knew what the hell was going on.
“You gotta stay away from her. Mark needs you focused.”
“I am focused. What the fuck did I do yesterday? I’m down to ten grand. Alright, nobody fucking owns me over ten grand, Vick.” My voice started to raise, and Vick conceded, his hands coming out along with a huff of heavy breath.
“Jesus.” He scoffed.
“What’s going on?” Crystal nervously asked, coming to rest beside me as I watched Vick trot back to a four-wheeled vehicle.
“Nothing,” I lied. “He just rode up this way with me; he’s on his way to Lincoln or something.”
“Oh.” She strangled my arm in hers and shifted up to her tiptoes. I leaned down to meet her kiss and was met by her shock instead.
“What happened? Oh my God.” She tried to whip around and look for Vick, but I grabbed her face and claimed that kiss.
“Don’t be teasing me,” I winked, while doing my best to be a bug and a distraction, I reached down and rubbed her ass, shoving a hand into one pocket to steer her hip to mine as we walked toward the Waffle Spot.
“An– Anthony, your eye…”
“Is fine. I promise.” I paused and brought her knuckles up to brush a kiss to them as well before I opened the door and ushered her through it with the hand I still had buried in her pocket.
The waitress raised two fingers in a quiet guess.
“Yes, two.” I confirmed.
We followed her back to a booth. Rather than slide in, Crystal stood beside the bench and stared at me.
“In.” She motioned. “Go on.”
“Wh–what the hell are you doing?” I laughed, giving the waitress an awkward glance.
Crystal snared my wrist and led my arm forward. I obliged her and sat down first.
“Good, good, now scooch.” She parked her ass on the lip of the bench until I moved over, allowing her to sit on the outside.
“You two are adorable, do you know what you’ll have for drinks?”
“Sprite,” I answered, while planking my arm along the back of the bench.
“‘Sprite?’” Crystal stared, “Who drinks Sprite with waffles?”
I shrugged, not wanting to point out my split lip in front of the waitress.
“I’ll have apple juice,” Crystal finally decided.
When the woman walked off, I hooked her in my arm and squeezed her into a side hug, “What is this, putting me inside?”
“Absolutely. I’ll put my stiletto in that big motherfucker if he shows his face in here threatening what is mine, and you’re not gonna stop me.”
I probably should’ve taken offense, her talking about me like I was some possession of hers. Instead, I carried on until the waitress was making jokes about me spoiling my appetite with the way I was eating Crystal’s face.