Liquid Courage Page 5

Inside my office, I sync up my music giving Pita my desk space to work. For the next fifteen minutes, I zoned out hoping to clear my mind.

  Checking my phone, I read the text from Dion telling me to dinner. I decided to deal with his bossiness later. Because my immediate response was yes but I wasn’t sold that it should be. Playing hard to get was a lost art, I was certain of it.

  Opening my own laptop, I was checking messages and invoices when Pita announces, “Done.”

  “It’s scary how fast you are,” I mumble in pride.

  “Motivate me with rewards and I’ll come through every time.”

  “I’ll remember that,” I chuckle.

  “Why set up shop in a toy store?” he asks snagging an apple.

  “The proper term is adult novelty store,” I correct. “And why not?”

  “You work with dicks all day,” he says smirking at his own joke.

  “Which is no different than my previous employment. However here, I’m the boss and I needed the write offs.”

  Not exactly true but the kid is nineteen and I wasn’t giving him a lesson in hiding money and tax exemptions. He was learning enough from Ember about the benefits of ball gags, lube and safe words.

  “Hook me up with Ember,” he says watching her from the monitor.

  My best friend is hilariously nutty. She’s been perpetually dating since junior high and happened to be an excellent sales woman. Truly, she can make you buy anything. So why not dicks, dildos, porn and lingerie? When I bought this place, the intent was to hold onto it until my funds were clear. Then one night at happy hour I spilled my guts, shared my idea and Ember said, “I want in. I’ll be the best dick slinger in the Mid-West.”

  And she was. Our store brought in almost just as much as my investigative work.

  Turns out A Dick in Your Box was a crowd pleaser.

  “You’re not ready for Ember.”

  “I’m not ready for field work, I’m not ready for Ember. So, what am I ready for?”

  “Would you rather I tell you-you can have and do whatever you want? That you don’t have to work for it? Should I say if you pout enough, someone will give it to you? Or, do you want me to say you tried and that’s what counts?”

  “Let me think about it,” he says looking at the ceiling. “Yes!”

  “No one gives you anything for nothing, Pita. You fight, you hustle and then you wake up and do it again. When you fail, you suck it up, learn from it and keep failing until you get it right. You say you want to learn this business.”

  “I do,” he insists.

  “Then you show up, you pay attention and you learn.”

  “I gotta pay my dues,” he mumbles.

  “You have to earn it, Pita. The right way. The safe way. It took me years to make it this far and none of those years were easy. I had no help. No one to guide me or teach me. I failed until I got it right.”

  “Well,” he says turning his laptop to face me. “It looks like I got something right.”

  Looking at the monitor I groan, “You filmed me?”

  “Hell yes I filmed you and it’s already got over five thousand views.”

  “When did you post it?”

  “While we were driving.”

  “Less than an hour ago?”

  “Yeah,” he grins. “Am I good or what?”

  Starting it from the beginning, I watch myself take the man down and wince as Pita narrates. Pointing to the screen I ask him, “What does that mean?”

  “That is the number of times the video has been shared.”

  Dropping my head into my hands I knew two things.

  1) I never should have allowed him to film me in the field and,

  2) This was going to absolutely bite me in the ass

  When Pita told me he was good with computers, I had him do my website. Then he designed my marketing ads, business cards and invoices. He was wiz and I appreciated the help since I sucked at technology. So roughly nine months ago, when he told me about his passion for film, I was so happy he was opening up to me, I agreed to let him take video literally thinking it would go nowhere.

  I never logged on to watch it. I wasn’t into social media. Honestly, I could barely type. When Pita said I had followers, I never bothered to ask what he meant. And I had no one but myself to blame for letting it go this far. And by far, I mean, out of control.

  Never in my life had I even considered hitting a woman.

  Until I met this one.

  No, I wouldn’t actually do it but God dammit her smart mouth put the thought in my head.

  So, when she rolled her eyes at me and says, “Are you sure I can’t sell you a butt plug?” I had to walk away so I wouldn’t choke her.

  “When will she be back?” I ask again. By again, I mean the fourth time.

  “I’m not her secretary,” she says blandly. “Look, either buy something or leave. You’re scaring away my customers and you are seriously boring me.”

  “You sound just like her,” I mutter to myself.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment…”

  “Dion.”

  Eyes wide, she nods and says, “Dion, as in the guy she spent the night with? Big shoulders, Dion?”

  “How many Dion’s do you know?”

  “Four,” she replies. “But you’re the only Dion she had a sleepover with. Bitch owes me fifty bucks.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she doesn’t do sleepovers,” she says, then amends. “At least she didn’t use to. And,” she nearly yells, “She didn’t mention if you were good in the sack or not. I’m going with…not.”

  “She talks to you about her sex life?”

  “We sell sex, Dion. Once you crawl down that road –”

  “She’s not answering her phone,” I explain for the fifth time. “I just want to make sure –”

  “Tell you what,” she says turning on the TV, which featured a fucking girl-on-girl porno. “I’ll call her and make sure she’s okay and then you’ll go.”

  “Fine.”

  The second she had Mercy on the line, I commandeered her phone and warned her, “If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m tying your mouthy friend up and torturing her for secrets about you.”

  Handing the phone back, I hang my jacket over my arm and announce, “I’ll just browse until she gets here.”

  I was flipping through a book about 245 sex positions when Ember cleared her throat.

  “What?”

  “Between Mercy and me, we’ve tried all of them,” she smirks in satisfaction.

  “You? I believe. Mercy, not fucking likely.”

  “Oh my God,” she says covering her mouth in shock.

  “What is it now?”

  “You really haven’t boned her.”

  Tucking the book in my jacket pocket, I lean down into her space and growl, “Yet.”

  With round eyes she gulps and mutters, “She must really like you.”

  “Mind your business,” I warn her and when Mercy walks in, I leave Ember with, “And, I’m keeping the book.”

  Clearly agitated, Mercy looks at each of us but asks her tongue-tied friend, “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” she squeaks dashing for the counter.

  “What did you say to her?”

  “Where is your office?”

  “In the back, why?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Steering her down the hall, we come upon her door and once she’s safe inside, I lock it behind me. Tossing my coat on her sofa, I advance on Mercy pinning her against the wall. “Where’s my kiss?”

  “You came here for a make out session?”

  “The answer to what you’re hoping for is, yes.”

  The little minx was already grinding on my leg and my words made her breathless. I was half way there myself.

  “Dion –”

  “Until you fall asleep and then again when you wake up. Go ahead and lie to me, tell me that’s not what you were thinking about.”

  �
�Oh,” she says going liquid in my arms. “Super guilty.”

  “You’ll let me take you anytime, anywhere. Won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” I reward her honesty by trailing my thumb over her nipple. “I like hearing the truth, Mercy.”

  “Do it again,” she arches into me shamelessly.

  “I’ll do a lot more than play with your nipples,” I promise her. “I’ll let you fuck yourself on my fingers, spread your legs wide, bury my face between your thighs and eat you on your desk. I’ll even open the door and let the whole fucking city hear you scream my name.”

  “I want that,” she writhes. “I want that like yesterday.”

  “As soon as you explain that fucking video to me.”

  With lust clouding her eyes, she focuses on me and says, “You saw it?”

  “I did. Along with about two million other people.”

  “Shit, that escalated quickly…”

  She had no idea how it felt seeing her pummeled like that. Thinking the worst, knowing I wasn’t there to help her. But then she got up and I still could not see the woman in front of me bringing any man to his knees with just a flick of her wrist. But Mercy had. And anyone with internet access can watch her do it. Pita made a lot of videos and most were funny, entertaining and light on violence. In previous videos, the most aggressive thing she did was threaten Pita or slap him upside the head lovingly. Each video got more hits than the last. Her popularity was growing rapidly. And given the fucked up world we lived in, there would be someone out there who’d see about taking her down for nothing more than bragging rights.

  When my pocket buzzed, I checked the update and nearly lost my mind. Subscribing to her channel was going to give me a heart attack.

  “Look,” I say putting the screen in front of her face to show her the latest news.

  “Uh oh…”

  Apparently, her job was a lot more violent than I thought. Judging by the two dozen videos Pita just posted, Mercy was very hands on.

  I haven’t had to explain my actions to anyone in years and I wasn’t thrilled to be doing it now. Nor did I like the look of irritation on his face that apparently, I was the cause of.

  After making a mental note to beat the hell out of Pita at the earliest opportunity, I decided to stand my ground with Dion. I needed to set a precedence. Assert my dominance and shit like that.

  “It’s my understanding the videos can be taken down,” I say hoping to calm his concerns.

  “And they will be,” he says firmly. “But I’d like to know why you ever allowed it in the first place. After all, aren’t you the adult, Mercy?”

  “I didn’t want to stifle his creative side.” Which is true. “And don’t tell me how to parent. Or, foster. Whatever the hell it’s called.”

  “Are you standing by that or trying to piss me off?”

  “Can you move back so I can breathe, please?”

  “No,” he says crowding me further. Then he grips my hips and freezes. Shit. Busted. Yanking my shirt up, Dion growls, “Explain the gun.”

  “Pretty sure it’s self-explanatory,” I offer lamely.

  Next thing I know, I’m being frisked and not sexually. He spun me around until there was nothing left to confiscate. Stacking his finds on my desk, I watch him fight for control wondering what to do with me. I also watched him lose that fight. Too calmly he says, “A pistol, two knives, zip ties, mace and a breath spray, Mercy.”

  “Far too often my lead has bad breath and” –

  “The weapons!” he roars in fury. “Explain those!”

  “I know how to use them, Dion, therefore I don’t need to explain shit!”

  “You’re not a cop anymore!”

  “Just because I quit doesn’t mean I’m not still a cop, Dion. That will always be a part of me and the only difference is, now I’m not getting paid for it.”

  “And you don’t have department support or backup, Mercy. You have you and a God damn teenager with a cell phone and ideas. So far, you’ve survived on luck. I don’t need to watch the latest batch of amateur videos to know that. I can look at you and see that. Serving divorce papers and taking pictures does not require weapons!”

  “First,” I say holding a finger up. A finger I wanted to shove straight up his ass minus the lube. “You’re going to knock off that condescending way you’re speaking to me. Second, my training has served me very well, obviously. Third, I fucking earned the right to carry as many weapons as my body allows. I do not take unnecessary risks so bite me for suggesting otherwise. Forth, it doesn’t matter what line of work you’re in, you can’t predict other people’s behavior. Fifth, I realize my size puts me at a disadvantage and I prepare accordingly; hence the weapons. Six, nobody wants to be served divorce papers, Dion, and sometimes those people get pushy.”

  “And you push back,” he snaps.

  “Well yes, considering I don’t like being pushed!”

  “I want you, Mercy. More than I’ve ever wanted anything and I’ve made that more than clear. I’ve made wanting forever clear. What’s also clear is you have no intention of quitting or even being cautious. And I don’t know if I can invest in you knowing you’re out there putting yourself in harm’s way for no reason.”

  I guarantee I flinched because what he just said felt like a bullet to the heart. And not the first one I’ve taken, I might add. Backing away, I do my best not to show him how much pain I’m in. “It’s my dream,” I whisper.

  “What about Pita?” he says hitting below the belt. “That kid wants to be you, Mercy. He watches every move you make. He is memorizing you. Could he have handled himself today?”

  No use in lying about it, so I say, “No.” Because I would have handled it for him.

  “No, he couldn’t because he’s had no training. He takes his cues from you and to him, I’m sure you make it look easy. Can you live with yourself if something happens to Pita?”

  “You’re right,” I concede, kinda. But there was more to this than I was willing to argue about right now. Because no matter what I say the end result was the same. He wanted me to be someone I wasn’t. Dion wanted me to be…docile. Gag.

  Letting out a sigh he says, “Look at me, Mercy.” Doing as instructed, he kisses the top of my head saying, “Had something happened to you…we’ll be okay, as long as you promise not to cross that line again.”

  Stiffening in his arms, I push off him and say, “I can’t make that promise and you have no right asking it of me.”

  “Fuck,” he says throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m no one to you, am I? We’re nothing, right? I’ll be God damned if I’m going to beg you to be with me. Especially when you’re so hell bent on keeping me at arm’s length. It’s obvious the only dream that matters here is yours. “

  And without speaking another word, he walked out.

  Before the tears set in, I called Pita and when I got voicemail, my message was simple.

  “Take the videos down before someone gets hurt.”

  Falling into my chair, I felt numb and heart sick. Because Dion was a good man, was trying to look out for me, start a future with me and I was nothing but a coward. I was also unwilling to cower, change or quit my fucking job. That wasn’t happening for any man. Ever. I’ve convinced myself that independence was not needing anyone. Because if you put yourself in someone else's hands and trust them to take care of you, they will disappoint you every fucking time.

  “He’s not Nick,” Ember says from the door.

  “Not now, Em.”

  “Nick wouldn’t give a fuck,” she continues. “Because Nick only gave a fuck about Nick.”

  “Nick was an expensive mistake. One I’m still paying for but thanks for the reminder.”

  “Nick was decent dick and a distraction,” she says softly. “But Nick isn’t the point. Was Dion right, Mercy?”

  “No,” I say reaching for the booze in my drawer. “Well, maybe about the kid. And that’s a hard maybe.”

  �
�You would never let anything happen to Pita. Dion is just worried about you and I get that, I do. And I can’t fault him for that. Hell, I’d fault him if he didn’t. But you deserve the dream and the great guy. If he doesn’t support your dream then maybe he isn’t as great as you’d hoped he’d be.”

  “What would you do?” I ask my best friend.

  “What I would do is quit my job, get knocked up and spend all of his money.”

  “Okay,” I try again. “What do I do?”

  “You do what you always do, Mercy.”

  “And that is?”

  “Run shit.”

  And because I had no idea what to do with that, I drank.

  Two hours later, I was filled to the brim with liquid courage and still didn’t have the balls to call him.

  How’s that for running shit?

  The apartment over the den wasn’t my permanent residence.

  In fact, I hated the cramped space and spent as little time here as possible.

  Until, I found Mercy. She alone gave me reason to stick around.

  I debated packing up and heading home a hundred times. Yet I hadn’t budged.

  It’s been three days since I walked out on Mercy and it felt like an eternity. It also felt like I had made the biggest mistake of my life. To pass the time I’ve been drinking, watching her videos and wondering what I could have done differently. But no matter which angle I took, I always came back to; How was I wrong for wanting her safe? What kind of asshole wants his woman in harm’s way? For a fucking paycheck, no less… I had enough money for ten Mercys.

  Refilling my glass, Roger takes my left and asks, “If Mercy said to be with her, you’d have to walk away from the den, would you do it?”

  “She’d ask me this because?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he sighs in annoyance. “Because it’s pleasure with a snap of the fingers.”

  “I have no desire to fuck the employees. Jesus Christ, Roger, I’m never even here.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “We’ve touched on it, yes.”

  “Yet she doesn’t throw what goes on here in your face. Most women would, Dion. And I don’t blame them. We exist inside the walls of temptation, we profit from sex, secrets, and alcohol. My ex couldn’t handle it and you saw how that ended. She supports what you do without complaint. Why can’t you support her?”