15. Gator
Chapter fifteen
Gator
Two Nights Later…
Today was a fucking shit show from the moment I opened my eyes.
My morning kicked off with three relentless, back-to-back tattoo appointments, each more demanding than the last. I barely had time to breathe between inking clients, cleaning up, and prepping for the next session.
As I scrubbed down my equipment, I got hit with even more shit.
One of our buyers for our weed is going to be late picking up his supply.
It turns out some of his guys got popped in Kansas, and now he's under federal surveillance.
The feds are apparently watching his every move, which has thrown a wrench into our entire operation and made things far more complicated than they should be.
If that wasn’t enough, shit escalated at Tiger-Lillies, the strip club we run.
An all-out catfight erupted when a jealous wife stormed in and went after one of our dancers.
Tables were broken, drinks learned they could fly, and hair extensions were ripped out.
Cops and news vans showed up. Between keeping the business afloat, managing supply issues, and dealing with the chaos at the club, I spent the whole day putting out fires and running on fumes.
I kick off my boots in the mud room. I walk into the kitchen and see the best view.
Emma looks like a hot mess in one of my shirts that hangs to the middle of her thigh, with one sleeve slightly hanging off her shoulder and her blonde hair in a messy bun.
She stands at the stove, stirring what smells like spaghetti sauce, while Fijor sits at the kitchen island, his tongue poking out in concentration as he sprinkles a cookie he and his momma must have baked.
A candle flickers above the mantle, and fuzzy throw blankets have been tossed over the back of the large sectional.
The air carries a faint scent of sandalwood from the candle, mingling with the aroma of simmering spaghetti sauce from the kitchen.
The gentle glow from the candle casts warm, dancing shadows across the living room.
New rugs have been scattered throughout the home, along with small decorative accents, including a lazy susan with a napkin holder and a vase of flowers on the kitchen island.
It’s these little touches Emma has started adding that transform the house into a home, wrapping everything in a sense of belonging.
The scene is calm and peaceful. She’s already turned this house into a home, and it’s perfect.
Fijor notices me first and hobbles off the stool to run to me.
I catch him mid-spin and toss him into the air.
“I missed you today, kid!” I exclaim.
I slide up behind Emma, pop a kiss on her forehead, then wrap my arm, the one not holding Fijor, around her and look over her shoulder. “Looks good, Pet. I missed you today, too.” I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You wanna get high and fuck tonight?” She sags into me and smiles.
“Don’t you just know how to treat a lady?”
“I don’t know about that, but I know how to treat my ol’ lady.
” I smack her on the ass, then walk Fijor back to where he was decorating his cookie.
I snag one off the plate and pop it in my mouth.
I moan as the icing melts on my tongue. I’ve got a major sweet tooth, and having this woman bake like this is going to make my big ass start doubling up at the gym. What a problem to have.