Chapter 7
Phoenix
As has become tradition, I go for coffee the next day to my favorite little coffee shack. Her shack. But, sadly, she’s not there. It’s just Mercy. Then again, holy shit, Mercy. Oh my fucking God. She is dressed to ruin a man.
I personally don’t know what possessed her to wear such a short skirt. It strains to cover her firm little ass, fishnets, and a white top so see-through it might as well be lace, but my cock throbs at the sight.
I catch her smile when she sees me walking to the window, and frankly, she seems a little too excited.
“Bet you’re looking for Roni, huh?” she asks with a sweet little one-sided smirk, showing off a sexy dimple. Her hands are crossed in front of her, shoulders scrunched, on her toes, with her perky tits right in my face.
“What? Uh, no. I just… um, my coffee.” I stumble over my tongue.
“Mm-hmm. Sure thing, Coffee Daddy.” She leans closer, seeing straight through my lie. “She’s off today, but I’d love to serve you.” She waits, looking at me subtly as if I’m supposed to say something.
I clear my throat, trying to ignore the way she practically cooed the word 'Daddy.'
“Just a large black coffee, please.”
“Coming right up.” She winks and turns around, giving me a full view of her assets as she bends over, unnecessarily, to grab a cup.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, a welcome distraction. I pull it out, glancing down to see a text from the boss asking if I’ve had any luck with his request. I type a quick “yes” as Mercy works the espresso machine, knowing I can fill him in after I’ve paid and left.
“So,” she says over her shoulder, “you and Roni, huh?”
“There's no me and Roni,” I say, perhaps too quickly.
She laughs, the sound light and knowing. “Right. That's why you've been here every day this week, taking your time appreciating my girl.”
Bile churns in my throat thinking about how similar Mercy is to my ex, Sam. She was a flirty little whore too. But she preferred drinking coffee to serving it, though the irony isn’t lost on me.
“I'm just a regular customer.”
“A regular customer who makes her blush? Interesting.” Mercy swipes my card and bends forward, so her face is mere inches from mine, bringing scented clouds of cotton candy and flowers with her.
“Look, I'm not trying to cockblock. She's been different this week. And I kinda wish someone would make me feel the same way, y’know?”
“Different how?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and Mercy bounces back up with a ‘that’s what I thought’ smirk. “And what do you mean? Make you feel what way?”
“Oh c’mon, Coffee Daddy.” Her eyes roll back in her head with exaggeration. “You can’t be this dense. Roni’s a smitten kitten. I’m a little jealous, to be honest.”
“Jealous?” My head cocks back at the word. “Of Roni?”
“I dunno, maybe.” She checks out of the conversation long enough to fill a cup with my black coffee. “You don’t want any sugar or anything? That’s kinda gross, no offense.”
“Must be an old man thing,” I joke.
“Hehe,” she giggles like a damn schoolgirl. “It’s alright, Coffee Daddy. Some of us go for older.”
“What?” I ask rhetorically. I heard her. I just don’t believe she might make this easier than I thought.
Mercy's painted lips curl into a victorious smile before changing the subject. “She smiles more. Her energy’s more infectious lately. And she gets this faraway look sometimes. I never know what she’s thinking.” She huffs out a long sigh.
“Who does?” I ask like a fucking idiot who hasn’t been participating in this conversation.
“Silly goose.” Her words are more of a laugh than a comment. “Who do you think? Roni.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I am usually much better at this playing coy shit. “Is she okay?”
She laughs again, turns her backside to me, and skips across the tiny hut interior.
She bends over again, intentionally taking her time pulling a lid for my coffee from a box beneath the counter, and fuck me if I’m not looking.
I know more about this girl than I probably should.
I’ve scoured the internet for anyone who knows Roni.
I know she’s an adult and well past legal, but I almost feel guilty for the hardon she’s giving me.
“She's better than okay,” Mercy responds, handing me my coffee with a lingering touch. “She's crushing hard.”
I take the cup, careful not to let our fingers brush. “I'm sure you're reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” She leans against the counter, hip cocked. “She cannot shut up about some new hot customer. Dark hair with some sexy strands of grey, broody vibes, expensive watch.” Her eyes flick to my wrist where my Rolex sits. “Ring any bells?”
My pulse quickens. “Lots of guys have watches.”
“Mmm, but not all of them look at her the way you do.” Mercy taps a long, crimson nail against the window. “Or come back every day just to see her.”
“Maybe I just like the coffee,” I mutter while taking a sip, buying time.
“Bullshit.” She laughs, and there's something almost predatory in the sound. “You barely touched it yesterday. Or the day before.” Her eyes narrow playfully. “You know what I think?”
“I'm sure you're going to tell me.”
“I think you're scared.” She leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Big tough guy like you, afraid of a little barista.”
“Puh-lease,” I exaggerate and flop my hand at her.
“No? Then why haven't you asked her out?”
The question hits like a punch to the gut.
Because she's right. I've been fixated on Roni for days, stalking her like some villain.
But I'm twice her age and she deserves better than whatever twisted thing I've become.
I know exactly what I'd do to her if given the chance, and none of it is the sweet romance a girl like her probably dreams about.
“Maybe I'm not interested in dating,” I spit more dumb shit out, taking another sip of burnt-toast-tasting coffee.
“Really, Coffee Daddy?” She turns the sultry charm back on in a flash. “So, what, then? You’re the type of guy who likes to have some fun, but never wants anything serious?”
“Pretty much.” I don’t know even know if I’m lying when I say it. I check my now eyesore of a watch. It’s pushing five. “Hey, what time do you guys close here?”
“Hehe,” she giggles. “Why d’ya wanna know? You wanna take me out and pump me for information?”
“What do you mean?” I feign ignorance.
“I mean how about you take me out when I’m done here. Let me see this charm Roni’s always talking about. Make me feel like a million bucks. And in return, I’ll give you the goods on our girl.”
She leans down to rest her elbows on the drive thru counter, then plants her head on her hands. It must be her perfume I smelled before, because it’s assaulting me again.
“I promise you won’t regret it, Coffee Daddy,” she mocks.
I wish things were always this ideal. I’ll have to send someone to get rid of her car, but there’s not surveillance to speak of and traffic is at most, light, in the evening. She’ll be the only one with regrets.