Chapter 2
I counted my tips and tucked them into my bra as I crossed the empty bar, beyond happy with what I’d made throughout the night.
I’d stayed a little later since it was my turn to clean up for the night, wiping down the bar and tables while the other ladies took care of the floor and the owner ran through the alcohol inventory.
I slipped a pre-rolled joint into my mouth as I pushed the back door open. I yelped, cursed, and jumped at the sight of three men lined against the back wall smoking. I recognized one as a bartender’s brother and assumed the others were his friends.
“Have a good night, Jazz!” he called, using the name I typically used to bartend, a play on the name I used to post my adult content, Jezebel.
“Have a good night.” I gave him a little wave.
“Jazz,” one of his friends repeated. “Let me talk to you.”
“I’m good.” I waved him off and grabbed my lighter from my pocket.
His friends chuckled.
“Damn. It’s like that?”
“Yep.” I grabbed my keys from my purse and kept walking.
“I just want to talk to you.” He walked toward me and grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warned and jerked my arm free. “I’m serious.”
“Oh. Come on. You didn’t have a problem with my hands on you a little while ago.” He smacked me on my ass and I turned around and rocked him in his mouth as hard as I could.
“Bitch—”
His statement was cut off when I popped his ass again. I started wailing on him, straight closed fist punches to his face.
I was a firm believer that if a woman planned to hit a man, she had to be prepared to hit them until they hit the ground. It would only take one good hit to have me at their mercy and I wasn’t going down like that.
He grabbed his nose and I kneed him in the nuts as soon as I had the chance and watched him fold in half. I reached into my purse for my keys and got ready to book it for my car.
The man reached for me but was gripped by the back of his neck and yanked backwards so hard he stumbled.
It took a second for me to realize my savior was one of the bar’s security guards, Stone. The man hissed through his teeth.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Stone asked. “She’s a bartender. That means you paid her for a drink, right?”
“Look, man—”
Stone cut him off. “It wasn’t a fucking trick question. It’s a yes or no answer. You paid for a drink and got a fucking drink, right?”
“Yeah.” The man spit blood on the ground and I was instantly proud of my handiwork.
“Then why the fuck are you grabbing this woman up?”
“She fucking hit me!” he argued.
“After you hit me on my ass after trying to grab me up!” I snapped. “You’re lucky I didn’t have my gun, you shrimp dicked bitch!”
“Ay. Calm yo’ ass down,” Stone snapped and I shut my mouth immediately.
He put the man in a headlock and jerked him in, making that nigga’s feet hang.
“The next time you touch her, I’m gon’ knock yo’ lil ass out.
You hear me?” he asked, waiting for acknowledgement.
The man nodded and his friends rushed over like they were going to help.
Stone glared at them and they paused where they were.
Stone tightened his grip, the veins in his arm becoming more prominent the harder he held on and the man looked like he was about to pass out when Stone finally let him go and pushed him away.
“Don’t let yo’ homeboys get yo’ ass whooped out here, nigga,” Stone warned and watched him stumble toward his friends then he looked at me. “You cool?”
“Always.” I blinked up at him and he shook his head.
“This is why I tell y’all to wait for me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off.
Stone glowered at me like a disappointed parent and I batted my eyelashes and made a sweet face at him until he grinned, making me smile in return.
He was a handsome man, all six foot two of him.
He was light skinned with the prettiest hazel eyes I’d ever fucking seen, covered in tattoos from his neck to his hands, and built like a fucking tank.
I didn’t blame that man for not wanting to fight him, but honestly, he was a good guy. He walked each of the girls to their cars at the end of the night and made sure we were treated right more than he handled actual fights between patrons.
“You here to carry me to my car?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Thank God.” I bent over to unzip both of my large boots and Stone knelt for me to hop onto his back.
I didn’t get him to carry me to my car every night but any time I could I took it.
He had a little crush on me that he’d never outright acted on but I was confident he’d crack if given the opportunity. I was thinking about giving him the opportunity.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me by my thighs while he walked me through the employee parking lot. I kissed him on the cheek.
“Stop being trouble,” he said gruffly.
I giggled and kissed his cheek again.
“Whatever you say, Stone.”
He grumbled but still walked me to my car and let me unlock it before turning me around and plopping me into the driver’s seat.
He turned and looked down at me.
“You sure you okay?”
“Nope. I think you need to hang out with me to make sure I don’t have PTSD or something. Look at me.” I held my hand out and pretended it was shaking. “I shouldn’t even be driving myself.”
Stone laughed loudly. “You’re full of shit.”
“Are you willing to bet my life on that?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“What do you want, Trouble?”
“Breakfast for dinner. You can drive.”
“If I’m driving, we’re taking my truck.”
“Fine with me.” I reached toward the floor by my passenger seat and grabbed shoes to slip on.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?”
“Eating pancakes?” I asked as I hopped out of my car. “Jesus, Stone. I’m not offering to suck your dick.”
He exhaled. “Alright. Whatever. Let’s go.”
I hopped out of my car with a smile.
Honestly, I didn’t want to go home just yet and knew Stone would be good company, or at least he seemed like he would from the conversations we’d had cleaning the bar and taking smoke breaks together.
Besides, if our hangout went well, I’d had fucking him nearly to death on my wish list for weeks now.
He led me to his truck and walked around to open the door for me.
“Oh! A gentleman,” I teased.
“Just get in the truck, Trouble.”
“Yes, sir.” I hopped in and looked around while he jogged around the front and climbed in.
His truck was a mess but I hadn’t expected much. He had plenty of crumbs on the floor and when I looked back I was met with a car seat. I looked at him as he hopped in.
“You have kids?” I asked.
“I have a niece,” he corrected, started his truck’s engine, and pulled off.
“And you keep a car seat in your truck for her?”
“That’s right.”
He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask a follow up. Instead, I opened his middle console. He had a weed grinder settled inside as well as wipes, loose cash, gum, and a gun tucked beside it all. I let the console shut and yanked his glove compartment open.
“Are you looking for something?” he asked.
“A wedding ring,” I deadpanned.
“Sorry to disappoint you but I don’t have a wedding ring in my truck.”
“Then, where is it?” I rummaged through his glove compartment anyway but it was mostly papers and napkins.
“It doesn’t exist because I’m not married.”
“Right.” I shoved his things back into the compartment and slammed it shut.
“Put on your damn seatbelt and stop being crazy.”
“I’m not being crazy,” I argued as I put my seatbelt on. “I’m just covering my bases.”
“For?”
“In case I decide I want to ride you into oblivion,” I said simply. “I’m a slut, not a homewrecker.”
“You’re not a slut either,” he argued and I rolled my eyes. “And I don’t have a home for you to wreck, but if you really want to build a home together, I’m open to the possibility.”
“Of course you are. You’ve been in love with me for years now.”
“Fuck you. It hasn’t been years.”
We both laughed.
“But you’re in love with me?” I teased.
“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “Obsessed.”
“I figured.” I shrugged and reached forward to tap his radio screen.
I synced my phone with his Bluetooth and played my music.
It was almost hilarious to me how easygoing Stone was about everything.
I didn’t think I’d ever truly seen him angry.
Even when he was manhandling patrons and kicking them out or breaking up fights, he never exactly looked upset or stressed.
He always had an air of calm around him.
I played my music, singing and rapping to each song while Stone drove us to a twenty-four hour pancake house.
He reached into the backseat and grabbed a sweatshirt then pushed his door open.
“Don’t touch that fucking door handle, Selle,” he snapped.
I usually hated when people shortened my name, and I usually corrected them every single time, but not Stone.
I rolled my eyes but let my hand fall to my lap.
He jogged around and yanked his door open then offered a hand to help me down.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He nudged his head toward the entrance and followed me inside.
“You can sit anywhere you’d like.” One of the ladies in the kitchen spoke up as soon as we entered.
Several pairs of eyes landed on us and I heard someone whistle from the opposite side of the little pancake house.
“Ay.” Stone looked over. “Eat your fucking eggs and shut your fucking mouth,” he warned. “Or I’ll come over there and shut that shit for you.”
“Down, tiger.” I gripped his arm, picked out a booth in the far back corner, and led him toward it.
We slid into opposite sides of the booth and I clasped my hands on the table.
“You have a short fuse,” I noted.
“And?”
“Should I be worried about that?”
“I don’t hit women if that’s what you’re asking and you should know that shit. I’ve taken more punches from women than some female professional boxers.”
I laughed because he was right. He took much more shit from female patrons than men by a long shot. He restrained women for sure but he fully knocked men out when it came down to it.
“And yet you’ve never let me slap you. Should I be jealous?”