Cash Braddock Page 6

  “Hey.” One of my better opening lines.

  “Hey.” She swung around so I could sit and handed me a beer. Then she kissed my cheek and everything was right in the world. The young couple glared some more. Laurel was wearing a sports bra under a tank top with the arm holes cut to below her ribs. It afforded me quite a view. I stretched my arm along the bench behind Laurel, tried not to stare down her shirt, and took a swig of beer.

  “Waiting long?” I asked.

  “Nope. You walk?”

  Technically, I had walked from Nate’s car four blocks away, but I figured she didn’t need that level of detail. “Advantage of living in the heart of Midtown. You?”

  “Not everyone has the good apartment karma you have.”

  “I did have to kill a few orphans and sign a blood oath to get it.”

  She laughed. “That explains it.”

  “Actually, I just had a really good real estate agent.”

  “Wait. You own it?”

  “Yeah, Robin—Andy’s mom—rents the other half from me. It makes the mortgage payments easy.”

  “Damn. Organic farming pays better than I thought.”

  I shrugged. If organic farming was lucrative, Clive wouldn’t need me. “Clive manages the business well. The first good year, I paid off my student loans. But it took a few years to get a decent down payment.” Twice the usual down payment, but she didn’t need to know that either.

  “I’m still paying my student loans.”

  “Mine were…low.” I waited for the look that suggested she wanted me to elaborate. She complied. “I sold weed in college. It helped with the whole tuition thing.”

  Laurel started laughing. “Shut up.”

  “Nope. It was super glamorous.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. My weed dealer in college was super glamorous too.”

  “Really?” She was taking this way better than the last chick I had dated, Libby who liked to throw things.

  “Yeah. I mean, not a lot of people understood his glamour, what with the not showering and all. But I could see it.” She nodded sincerely.

  “It’s a common misconception among weed dealers. You know, the need to shower. But I feel I moved past that admirably.”

  “Clearly. You almost never smell like a Snoop Dogg show.”

  “It’s one of my better qualities,” I said. She wasn’t wrong. My entire senior year, everything smelled like weed. It was worse than fast food. My apartment, my car, my clothes, all reeked. The worst part was everyone assuming I was stoned all the time when I didn’t touch the stuff.

  “So you outgrew weed with graduation?”

  “It was that or the lesbianism, and I’m partial to my queerness.”

  “Well, that explains it,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Why you keep looking down my tank top.” Laurel polished off her beer, the epitome of casual.

  I laughed at getting caught. “I am doing no such thing.”

  “Liar.”

  “In my defense, you look super hot. You’re basically inviting it.”

  “Solid logic.”

  “I know.” I drank some more beer. Mine was almost gone. I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “So if I go in for more beer, you think you can keep the junior heteros from taking over the bench?”

  Laurel tilted her head back so her mouth was just brushing my neck. “Please. They’re terrified of me. The girl spent five minutes angry whispering at him to ask me to move my feet.”

  I managed to slow my heart rate enough to reply. “You’re a badass.”

  “Hey, you shower, I’m a badass. We all have our winning qualities.”

  Having her lean in so close was torture. It wasn’t just the smell of hair product, which I inexplicably enjoyed. Before, I had noticed the smell of cedar, but it was richer than that. It was leather and the biting sweetness of raw almond.

  Her lips were tantalizingly close. Every exhalation danced across my throat. I tilted my head just a little and stared into her eyes. I could have kissed her. She would have let me. I waited. This wasn’t the place. Not with the next generation being ignorantly conceived a foot away. Not without telling her the truth about myself.

  What a fascinating moment to grow a conscience.

  “I’ll be right back.” I really didn’t want to leave. Laurel was radiating heat. If I fantasized any more about touching her warm, bare skin, I might be tempted to take her home with me. We weren’t there yet. Well, maybe I was, but she wasn’t. She was teasing me and I was enjoying the hell out of it. So I stood, waited for her to put her feet back on to the bench, and took her empty glass.

  It was marginally cooler inside the bar, but the press of body heat and sweating hipsters was an unwelcome perversion of Laurel’s warm skin. It felt suffocating. I pressed through the crowd toward an open spot at the back of the bar.

  One of the bartenders made eye contact, then looked away. He was crafting a series of unnecessarily delicate cocktails. Artisanal, I was sure. I didn’t get it. Then again, I didn’t generally drink anything stronger than beer. Maybe that was the source of my aversion.

  After the second bartender looked at me and proceeded to help someone else, I leaned against the wall. Once more and their tip was going to be crap. I knew it and the bartenders knew it. They would get to me.

  I felt someone slide in next to me but stop short of the bar. I glanced over and had to stifle a curse.

  Jerome St. Maris, epic fuckwad and shitty street dealer extraordinaire. He smiled at me and turned just enough to block my view of the bartenders. It didn’t help that he was well over six feet and solid muscle. Actually, it probably helped him a great deal. It wasn’t helping me though.

  “Let’s talk,” he said.

  “Nope. I’m busy.” I tried to edge around him.

  Jerome grabbed my arm and wrestled me into the hallway leading to the bathrooms at the back of the bar. “You always have to make shit difficult, don’t you?”

  “You could try not being an ass.” I crossed my arms over my chest, leaned against the wall, and did my damnedest to look like I wasn’t trapped. This was why I brought Nate whenever I had a deal that wasn’t one-on-one. I could hold my own, but some people simply responded better to height and muscle. At the moment, my five eight was looking pretty sad.

  I hoped Laurel kept defending that bench and didn’t come looking for me. I only had a few more minutes before she would notice my absence.

  “I just want to talk. You’re forcing my hand here.” Poor boy.

  “Go ahead, then.”

  “Nate is dealing X,” he said.

  I scoffed. “Oh, please.” This was not good.

  “Tell him he’s done.”

  “Sure. I’ll get right on that.”

  “Stop fucking around. He’s moving in on my customers. Does that mean prescriptions are fair game?” Jerome smiled. He knew he had me on that one.

  “I’ll ask him, but he’s not dealing X. Someone is lying to you.” It was me. I was the one who was lying to him.

  “My information is good.”

  I took a deep breath and made a decision. “Fine. He might be. But it won’t happen again. I just had some product to unload.”

  Jerome relaxed a little and shook his head. “Not good enough. You know that’s my territory.”

  “Yeah, I should have given you a heads-up.”

  “No, you should have given the pills to me.”

  “Right.” As if I was going to give him quality drugs on a whim. Or give him access to Henry. Not fucking likely.

  “I’m not being unreasonable here.”

  He wasn’t, which made him that much more dangerous. Nate and I had broken an unspoken agreement. I never should have given in to Henry. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell St. Maris that. I tried to walk past him, but he blocked me. “Get out of my way.”

  “No, I’m not done talking.”

  I shoved Jerome aside, and he punched me in the stomach. Which made thin
gs like standing and trying to look cool really difficult.

  “What the fuck is going here?” Laurel asked. She was standing in the mouth of the hallway. The look she was giving Jerome was terrifying.

  “Nothing. Go back to the bar.” Jerome took a step toward her.

  I forced myself upright so I could try to get between them. There was no way I was going to let her get involved with Jerome in any way.

  “Not happening.” Laurel moved closer. Jerome blocked my view of her, and I tried to push past him. “Hey, let her go.”

  “This isn’t your business, bitch.” Jerome brought his arm up. I don’t know if he was going for me or her, but it was my jaw his elbow clipped.

  As my head snapped back, I watched Laurel clock him. It was sexy. She hit him hard. Didn’t do much damage, but it made him slow down.

  “Back the fuck off,” Laurel said. “Come on, Cash.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. Jerome was probing his cheekbone, which was already turning pink. It distracted him enough for me to squeeze past. Laurel and I moved out of the hallway and into the bar.

  “We’re not done, Cash. Get your boy in line,” Jerome shouted as we slipped into the crowd.

  Laurel grabbed my hand and led me to the door. We didn’t stop until we got to her truck. It was massive and baby blue and about forty years old. I had no clue how she had parallel parked that beast. The door creaked and popped when she opened it for me, but I just stared at her.

  “Get in. We need to get out of here.” Laurel waved at the open door.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Away from here.”

  “Don’t you want to know—”

  “Not at the moment. Right now, I want to get you home and put some ice on your jaw,” she said.

  I debated walking away, but my jaw was throbbing, and she had looked really hot defending me. It was enough to help me forget that she wasn’t going to stick around once she figured out what had just happened. I got in the truck.

  Laurel drove to my place and parked on the street. She followed me up the walkway. I went straight to the kitchen once we were inside. Laurel sat at the table while I filled a baggie with ice.

  “I’ve never hit someone before.” She sounded pensive. I turned around. She was holding her hand out for inspection. Her knuckles were rosy and starting to swell. “Like, my brothers and I used to duke it out, but we always pulled our punches.”

  I grabbed a clean kitchen towel and wrapped it around the ice bag I was holding. “Here. Put this on it.”

  “Thanks.” She arranged the ice over her hand.

  I prepped a second bag for myself. I was stalling. This was not going to be a fun conversation. I sat across from her.

  “So you’re still a drug dealer,” Laurel said.

  Apparently, we were diving right in. “Yep.”

  “And I’m guessing that guy is also a drug dealer.” She picked at the edge of her towel.

  “Yep.”

  “But you’re not friends with him.”

  “Not so much, no. He peddles street drugs. Party stuff. Acid, X, coke, that kind of thing,” I said. This felt far too civilized. She was supposed to get mad.

  “So you don’t deal those drugs?”

  “I stick with prescriptions. Housewives love their Xanax and Vicodin. College kids need their Adderall.” I adjusted the ice pack so it conformed to my jaw better.

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Is that what you were doing at that party when we met?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why not the party drugs then? You know, acid and stuff.”

  “Street drugs fuck people up. Prescriptions are less ugly.” It was a half lie I’d told myself for years. I knew people overdosed on prescriptions just as much as street drugs. But the demise seemed cleaner.

  “Got it.” She continued her towel inspection. A piece of plastic bag was pushing out of a fold. She poked it in, pulled it out, tucked it back again.

  “You can go.” I hated myself for saying it. I hated making things easy for her. I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to want to stay. But asking that would be cruel. It was better to let her go.

  Laurel looked up sharply. “What? Why?”

  I didn’t really know how to answer that. It was a sky is blue sort of question. “Because I’m a drug dealer?” I didn’t mean for my answer to be a question.

  “So?”

  “So maybe you don’t want to date a drug dealer?” Another question, dammit.

  “That doesn’t seem like a solid reason.”

  “Okay, how about you just punched someone for the first time because I dragged you into a fight?” Great. Now, I was convincing her not to date me.

  “Technically, you didn’t drag me in,” she said. I didn’t know how to respond to that. “I wanted to cause damage, you know? Plus, this kind of ramps up my badassery.”

  “So you don’t want to leave?”

  In response, Laurel stood and came to my side of the table. She sat next to me. “No, I don’t want to leave.” And she kissed me. Not the cheek this time. A real kiss. Soft lips pressed firmly to mine, a swift intake of breath, a small nibble at my bottom lip. I dropped the ice pack and kissed her back more firmly. I didn’t stop until she pressed her fingertips to my cheek and brushed the rapidly growing bruise on my jaw.

  “Owww.”

  “Shit. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I feel way better.” I grinned. Which made my jaw ache more.

  “Here.” Laurel pressed the ice pack back into place.

  “Thanks.”

  Nickels chose that moment to investigate the strange voice in the kitchen. She stuck her head around the corner and stared at us.

  “Hey, Nickels.” I put my hand down to coax her forward.

  “You have a cat?”

  “I don’t like people very much.” Nickels went around the far edge of the table so she wouldn’t have to walk past Laurel to get to me. I scratched her head.

  “Yeah, but you’re a drug dealer with a cat. Shouldn’t you have a pit bull or something?”

  “I almost never need protection. Today notwithstanding.”

  “And her name is Nickels?”

  “Yeah, Cash, Nickels. It’s a thing.” Nickels jumped onto my lap.

  “That is oddly adorable.” Laurel reached out slowly and petted her. Nickels let her.

  “Damn. She’s not even drawing blood.”

  “Why would she draw blood?”

  “Nickels hates people as much as I do. It’s why we get along. But she’s letting you pet her.”

  Laurel thought that over. Or it looked like she was thinking what with the furrowed brow and all. “I’m thinking this is one of the more exciting dates I’ve been on.”

  “Swell. I get you into a fight with a drug dealer and you call it exciting.”

  “I’m not looking to repeat that particular experience, if you don’t mind.”

  “Noted. Next time we go out we’ll bare-knuckle box with someone who isn’t a drug dealer.” I really emphasized “isn’t.”

  “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

  “Actually, I’m thinking something more civilized. Maybe verbal sparring instead.”

  Laurel smiled and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “It’s a date.” I smiled back at her like an idiot. “Shit. The whole farmer thing is a front, isn’t it?”

  I dropped my gaze to the table. “Maybe.”

  “Damn. I kind of liked that.”

  I looked back at her. “If it helps, Clive wanted to be a farmer. The dealing just keeps the farm in the black.”

  “I guess that helps. So I can still tell my friends I’m dating a farmer?”

  “That would certainly help keep my cover intact.”

  “This is all very strange.” Laurel shook her head. “Okay. I’m going to go. But I’m coming back. You owe me a nonviolent date.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Laurel stood. She set her ice
pack on the table and flexed her hand. It was still mottled pink, but it hadn’t gotten any more swollen. I walked her to the door. Before I could open it, she pushed me against the wall and pressed the entire length of her body to mine. We stayed like that for a moment as she studied my face.

  “You, Cash Braddock, are nothing like I expected.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “I’m not sure.” She leaned in and kissed me again. This time, she was surprisingly chaste, which made it that much sexier. The pressure from her lips seemed to be a promise. Then she stepped away and left. I heard the creak and pop of her door and the big engine starting up.

  I stayed against the wall for a long time after the door had closed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Hello.” Nate finally picked up the phone.

  “Hey, sorry it’s so late.”

  “No worries. What’s up?”

  “Jerome interrupted my date to inform me that you’re dealing X and he doesn’t appreciate it,” I said.

  “Fuck me. What did you tell him?”

  “That it wasn’t a big deal and I promised we would never do it again.” I readjusted the half-melted ice pack on my face.

  Nate scoffed. “I’m sure that went over well.”

  “Yeah, I really enjoyed the part where he punched me.”

  “You’re fucking kidding.” He sounded mad. Which was nice. I would have been mad if someone punched him.

  “I didn’t even get to the good part yet.”

  “I hesitate to ask.”

  “Laurel showed up and punched him in the face,” I said. Nate started laughing. “So she knows I’m a dealer now.” Nate stopped laughing. “I got her in a fight with another dealer. My face is mangled. And Jerome wants to kick our asses. Yours and mine. Not sure how he feels about hers.”

  “You’re a menace to the lesbian dating scene.”

  “Thanks. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” I said.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with her. I know you liked her.”