3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
As soon as I woke on Tuesday morning, blonde curls and a pretty smile were at the forefront of my mind. Lehra . Maybe I’d dreamed about her, but I couldn’t remember any specifics.
Getting ready for work, I pushed her from my thoughts and reflected on my dinner meeting last night. These dinners had been a weekly thing for the past month, every Monday, and I had begun to actually look forward to them. Last night was very informative.
Checking my tie in the mirror, I stared at the man looking back at me, deciding I looked pretty damn sharp in the black suit and tie. The Bouvier company provided all employees with their clothing for work to promote the brand or some such shit. I guessed it made sense. It wouldn’t look good for employees to wear their competitor’s clothes.
To my surprise, it didn’t bother me to wear a suit each day. The fabric was luxurious and breathable, and the shoes were like goddamn butter on my feet. A helluva lot more comfortable than combat boots, that was for sure.
My phone chimed with a message from my boss.
Auburn: Come up to my penthouse. Your key card should give you access.
That was weird. I usually brought the car around and waited for him in front of the building. Striding through my apartment, I marveled at the view of Manhattan from the tall windows. I still couldn’t believe my housing was a benefit of being Auburn Bouvier’s driver. He said it was for convenience since he lived on the top floor of this lavish building, and I was his personal security guard.
It was a two bedroom, two bath and very spacious. I’d heard rumors about New York apartments, so I was pleasantly surprised the first time I’d walked in here a few months ago. This was way more than I would have ever been able to afford, despite my generous salary.
Tucking my gun into my holster, I headed up to the penthouse and knocked on the door. Auburn Bouvier answered in his shirtsleeves and gave me a tentative smile, something you didn’t see from the man very often.
“Come on in, Cruz. If you don’t mind, I thought we could have breakfast together.”
“I, uh, of course, sir.”
His smile turned wistful, and I got the feeling he was… sad, maybe? “When it’s just us, you can call me Auburn, if you want.” He sounded hopeful, and his smile turned genuine when I nodded.
“All right, Auburn. Do I need to go pick up some food?”
“No, I cooked.” I guessed my face registered my surprise because he chuckled and said, “Don’t look like I just told you I’m the pope. I can cook.”
My sharp eyes took in everything as we walked through his expansive living room. If my apartment was big, his was absolutely fucking enormous. The well-appointed kitchen looked like it had every high-end appliance known to man, and Auburn gestured for me to take a seat at the breakfast bar.
“I grew up with a full staff in our house. Chefs and housekeepers, all that,” he explained, “but I always found it annoying to never have any privacy. So I taught myself to cook and clean.” He lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t really like people in my personal space.”
“Understandable,” I said, wondering why I was here as he dished up the food and placed a plate in front of me.
“It’s just eggs and bacon.”
“My favorite breakfast,” I said. “It looks good.”
He visibly relaxed and took the seat next to me.
I’ll be damned. I think Auburn Bouvier is lonely.
I waited out front of the Bouvier office building a little before noon. Auburn had a lunch meeting across town. A flash of green caught my eye, and I inhaled a deep breath when Lehra exited the building and walked swiftly toward the Bentley.
She looked like a million bucks in a grass-green dress and heels, her hair pulled back on one side, and she was carrying a small pink box. I rolled down the window, and she filled the December air with her summery scent when she leaned through.
“Hey, I made you some cookies as a thank you for the ride yesterday. You’re not allergic to almonds, are you?”
“Not at all,” I said, unable to control the upward curve of my lips.
Opening the box, I found a stack of misshapen beige blobs with some kind of red filling on top of each. Popping one into my mouth, I chewed. It was awful.
“Mmmm,” I feigned, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long pull to try and moisten the sawdust forming in my mouth.
“They’re almond-cherry,” she announced proudly, and I nodded, the sawdust now a wet paste that I valiantly managed to swallow.
“This is so sweet of you,” I croaked, taking another drink. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she beamed. “I better get back to work. Don’t eat all of those and spoil your lunch.”
“Oh, I definitely will not. Thanks again, Tink.”
Her brow creased for a second, and then she laughed in realization. “Oh, like Tinkerbell because of my dress.” And your pretty little face. “See you later, Cruz.”
My eyes followed her, and the blustery wind whipped her hair into a frenzy as she retreated back into the building. Auburn exited a few minutes later, and I hopped out to open the back door for him.
Once back in my seat, I fought a smile as I picked up the pink box and stretched my arm back. “Want a cookie?”
He eyed the box suspiciously. “Did Lehra make those?”
“Yep.”
“Noooo, thank you,” he drawled out with an eye roll. “Thank god that woman is beautiful because she won’t be winning any awards for cooking.”
I burst into laughter. Bossman got jokes. “So you’ve had her cookies, I assume?”
Auburn shuddered. “I have. And just a warning. Do not, under any circumstances, eat any cakes that she makes.”
“Duly noted,” I said, reaching for my bottle and draining the rest of it.
That evening, I walked into Flannery’s Pub where I was supposed to meet the SWAT guys. A tall, burly, bald man stood near the front.
“Estrada?” he asked, and I nodded, holding out my hand and receiving a firm shake.
“I’m Cruz Estrada.”
“They call me Curly,” he announced, leading me to a table in the back where four other men sat. “Guys, this is New Fucker.”
I laughed at that and introduced myself. “Cruz Estrada.”
In response, everyone lifted their drinks and called, “New Fucker!”
Okaaaay, guess my name is New Fucker. I could roll with it. Curly sat, and I slid into the only open seat, on a long bench facing the three chairs on the other side of the table.
Curly continued the introductions, pointing out a burly brunette with a healthy dose of gray. “This is Maverick. We call him Grandpa Fucker.”
“Because of my age, not because I fuck grandpas,” the man clarified. “We leave that to Chris.” He jerked a thumb at the blond man who appeared to be the youngest of the group. He had a baby face that seemed incongruous with his huge frame.
“I like older men,” Chris said unashamedly. “They’re more stable.”
“Sugar daddy,” another man fake-coughed, and everyone laughed, including Chris. I liked these guys already. I could tell their teasing was done good-naturedly and with affection.
Curly sighed as if he was dealing with a group of children and pointed out the last two guys. “That’s Kai. He’s the quiet one.” The Asian man gave me a wave. He was smaller than the rest of the men, but he had well-defined muscles that were obvious beneath his long-sleeved black T-shirt. And his dark eyes looked like they could cut you quicker than a razor slice.
“And Jayden here is an asshole, so we call him Motherfucker.”
“That’s what your mom calls me,” the Black man retorted with an easy grin. He had thick arms that told me he spent a good amount of time in the gym.
Curly simply rolled his eyes, obviously having heard this insult before. “There are some other guys, but most of them are married so they don’t come to these Tuesday night gatherings.”
“I’m married too,” Maverick stated, “but my wife is on duty tonight. She is a firefighter.” His ruddy face beamed with pride.
“That’s cool,” I replied.
“So tell us about yourself, New Fucker,” Jayden piped up.
I didn’t really like talking about myself—though I’d had no problem doing so with Lehra yesterday—but I wanted to play nice with these guys.
“I’m thirty-one. Grew up in Galveston, Texas, but went into the Marines right after high school.”
“I’m from Houston,” Kai said quietly, holding up a fist for me to bump. “Nice to see another south Texas guy.”
“Same. How long have you lived in New York?”
“Six years. I was a sniper in the Army before that.”
“Kai here can shoot a booger out of a fly’s nose from a thousand yards,” Maverick commented.
“Do flies have noses?” Jayden asked, and we all chuckled as the waitress approached.
“Another round, fellas?” Everyone nodded, and she turned to me. “What can I get for you, New Fucker?”
I grinned and shook my head. They even got the staff in on their little game. “Beer. Whatever you have on tap is fine.”
“You have a woman?” Curly asked me, and I shook my head.
“No. So you’re all single except for Mav?”
“Yep, I’m holding out for Curly’s mom,” Jayden commented, his lips curling into a mischievous smile when the bald man flipped him off.
The server brought our drinks, beer for everyone except Mav, who was drinking soda. “Sober for fifteen years,” he informed me as he took a sip.
I really liked these guys. They razzed the hell out of each other, and it felt good to just hang out again. I hadn’t done that in a while, not since leaving the military. Besides work, my family had been my focus the past couple years.
At the end of the night, Curly slapped me on the shoulder and said, “Same time next week, New Fucker. See you then.”
Pleased, I went home with a smile on my face.