8. Deacon
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Uh, I bet I shake the room (Ayy, woo, woo, woo)
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The heavy bass of Pop Smoke’s cut sounds just as Squeak and I reach the front entrance, causing me to bob my head while stepping outside.
“Yo, you out, Deacon?” Jones asks once I guide Squeak toward the parking lot where my truck is.
Wordlessly, I nod without slowing my steps to verbally answer the inquiry because having some private time with Squeak makes me anxious. Squeak hasn’t said anything since I walked up intervening in the exchange between her and Ravish. She didn’t know I clocked her from the minute she and Tinker Belle walked through the door. Having Tinker Belle’s blessing to move in on her best friend meant my plan to get Squeak to hang with me was successful. The party is at the City Slickers clubhouse, and with them being a part of our brotherhood, my attendance was required. I have been itching to engage with Squeak one-on-one, so this is my moment. My damn chest is pounding, and my pulse is racing like a mothafucka, but I refuse to miss an opportunity to talk to this woman.
“Hold on. Where are we going?” Squeak stops, turning toward me while staring inquisitively.
“Only to my truck so we can talk.”
Squeak’s eyebrows hike, and she crosses her arms over her breasts, bringing my attention to the vast expansion of her titties. Her mocha skin is glowing despite nightfall, giving me an instant craving for something sweet. While assessing me, the hesitant twinkle within her orbs has a smirk upturning my lips.
“Look, I ain’t gonna kidnap you or anything. I just want to kick it and get to know you. Can I do that, Ms. Squeak?”
“How fond of your balls are you?”
My brows hike, and wrinkles instantly form on my forehead as I take a cautious step back before answering her question with one of my own.
“What kind of question is that?”
“The one I need to know before we go any further.”
“Shit. I can’t live without the mothafuckas. Why?”
A grimace forms, transforming Squeak’s beautiful mocha face, and she nods slowly before providing the clarification I’m seeking.
“Remember that, because if you attempt to get out of pocket, handsy, or anything that could cause me discomfort, I will do everything in my power to rid you of one or both of them.”
Well… fuck, marry me, Squeak.
My dick twitches and hardens uncontrollably at the serious expression Squeak is wearing and the hint of danger shining through her orbs. Heat crawls up my back, and my hands itch to test the threat she’s given without hesitation.
“Hello. A verbal response is needed, or I’m gonna march my happy ass right back into that house of sin.”
“Is it too soon to tell you I love you?” I ask.
“What?” Squeak’s armor breaks, and she laughs, brightening her face while restoring light to her brown eyes.
“A threat like that has me ready to risk it all. Tell a nigga something. Size seven, right?”
“Size seven, what are you talking about?” Squeak’s tone is light and humorous, and a small smile slips into place.
Yeah, I’m definitely in love with this woman.
Warmth spreads throughout my body, and my chest expands while taking in the woman who doesn’t realize the truth within my question.
“Deacon.”
My name coming from her lips in the light and angelic tone has me closing my eyes lest I contain the urge to remove the separation between us. The temptation to kiss her increases with every second my eyes remain closed, forcing me to open them.
“Are we going to my truck for a quieter and private conversation, or are you running for the hills?” I ask because, at this point, it’s the only question that matters to me.
“Truck, but I’m big on trust, so don’t give me a reason to leave you bleeding below your dick. Which one is yours?” Squeak asks, looking from me to the parking lot where several trucks sit in varying spots.
“So, how old are you?”
Squeak and I have been sitting in my truck silently for ten minutes as faint music from the radio serves as background noise. Not wanting to overwhelm or make Squeak uncomfortable, I decided to remain quiet until Squeak was ready to talk. Being in her presence and smelling the heavenly scent of whatever fragrance Squeak was wearing would be enough if it was all she allowed.
“I thought it wasn’t customary to ask someone their age,” I say, smirking.
“Women. It’s a rule that applies to women, although I don’t care about things like that. One thing I know about life is that you have to appreciate the small things, including my age. So if it helps you be more comfortable sharing, I’m twenty-eight.”
Damn, there’s only a tiny difference in our ages, and I’ve still seen and done more than she has at her age.
“I’m thirty-one,” I say somberly.
“Okay. How long have you been in a motorcycle gang?” Squeak asks, smirking with twinkles in her eyes.
“I ain’t about to fall into that trap. However, ever since I was twenty-four. Gunz is my best friend and pulled me into the club after he became vice president.”
“Hm.”
Smirking, I take in Squeak’s side profile as I remember this plan wasn’t a spur of the moment thing for me.
“Would you like something to drink?” I ask, opening my door before she responds, moving quickly to the back passenger door. Retrieving the basket, I return to my seat and stare at Squeak, waiting for her response.
“Either you do this all the time, or you’re far more presumptuous than I know. Who has a picnic basket on standby in their back seat?” Squeak gives me an assessing gaze while watching me intently.
“A man with hopes of gaining access to the woman who’s been keeping him up most nights. I have water, fruit punch, or Sprite, so which would you like?”
“Depends. What else is in the basket?” A smirk upturns Squeak’s lips, causing a light feeling in my chest.
Opening the basket, I start pulling out the contents, hoping Squeak will appreciate my effort. While unconventional, I’m counting this as our first date, which I will inform her of once it’s over. To hell with being inside the club and looking for someone to eradicate me of my obsession with this woman.
“Ooh, are those sliders?” Squeak asks with her brows hiking when I remove the foil from the mini burgers that took me far too long to make presentable.
“Mhm. I also have chicken sa?—”
“Pass the burgers. You can keep the chicken salad. Do you have any chips?” The amused wonder shining in her orbs has a goofy grin sliding into place.
Damn, I love the fuck outta this woman.
Reaching into the basket, I remove the bag of Doritos before a low chuckle leaves my mouth when Squeak begins dancing in her seat.
“Ooh, you’re all right with me, Deacon.”
“I’m happy to serve you, Ms. Squeak.”
Without a word, Squeak picks up one of the burgers and takes a bite, causing me to tightly clench the basket when a moan slips from her mouth.
Fuck! That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“This is good.”
“Thank you,” I say huskily, barely holding onto my restraint and ability to keep this interaction between us nonsexual.
“Where did you get the name Deacon?” Squeak asks, taking another bite of the mini burger while dancing happily in her seat.
“My father and mother are the deacon and deaconess at their church. When I joined the club and had to come up with a name for people to reference me on this scene, it was the one that came to mind first. It’s also the one I’ll never have the privilege of holding outside of the club scene,” I say, picking up a burger and biting as the flavors burst in my mouth.
“Why is that? Being a part of a motorcycle club doesn’t invalidate you with God. From what my granny said before she died… He can use anybody He sees fit to use.”
“Yeah, but in my case, my sins are the one thing I haven’t felt the need to ask for forgiveness from. I have used my hands for evil with a smile, and for that, along with other things… He will never use a nigga like me.”
My chest tightens at the thought of the lives I’ve taken since becoming a part of Baxtown Iron. Shadow often calls me when niggas need to be taught a lesson, and I have quickly snatched their breaths. Ma’s constant prayers for me to change and come into the Kingdom of God fall on deaf ears because being a heathen excites me. I enjoy killing niggas, deserving of vindication, which makes me unlike the King of Kings.
“Are you saying you’ve killed someone?” Squeak asks in a voice that signifies the name Gunz gave her at our initial meeting.
“More than that, I know I’m a nigga you should run far away from, but my truth is, something in you spoke to me on day one. Therefore, I’d chase you from Ribax to Hell and back until you surrender your heart to me.”
Squeak’s mouth opens and closes, her hands shake slightly, and her breathing changes while she becomes still as her eyes assess me. There isn’t a single lie in anything I’ve said, so I do not need to cower or break the connection of our stare-down. While I know my lifestyle in the motorcycle club makes me the last man Squeak should tether her heart to. I can’t stop trying to get her to be the light source in my dark world.
“You’re not smiling or laughing, which tells me you’re serious.”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
“Why tell me this if your end goal is getting me to fall for you?”
“It’s my truth and all I have. I also don’t want you to discover the hidden skeletons in my closet that could make you run. This way, I get to lay my cards on the table up front and without bullshit methods to convince you I’m it for you.”
The ball is in your court, Squeak. What’s your move gonna be?