Read Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) Online
Authors: Raven St. Pierre
Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) (44 page)
I couldn’t give in, though. Not if I was serious about building a relationship with my sister. Not if I was going to be effective here.
With my mind made up that I wouldn’t risk the rapport I was trying to build with Ivy, I forced myself to be content with the idea of looking, but never being able to touch.
I could do that. It’d be easy, right? Simple.
I mean… as long as Justin kept his distance, too.
*****
Justin
A single, blue light was all that lit the bar. It glinted off the tips of her large, hoop earrings where they peeked out from underneath her choppy haircut. Something equal parts cute and sexy. It hit just below her chin and she wore the top pinned away from her face; a face I couldn’t stop staring at. Part of what drew me in was the two dermal piercings set within her cheeks—not something you saw every day, but they fit her. There was something about this girl.
Something good.
Something I liked.
I got the sense that she didn’t march to the beat of anyone’s drum but her own and I’m a sucker for that—a woman who’s bold enough to be exactly who she is. Her t-shirt, of all things, was the first thing to catch my eye when we were in Ivy’s office. It was black and barely touched her midriff with the words
‘PARENTAL ADVISORY’
across the middle in white letters. Beneath it, in smaller print:
‘explicit everything’.
It made me smile then and now.
A set of pink suspenders stretched up over her shoulders from the waistband of incredibly short, jean cutoffs. They covered little more than her hips, but I wasn’t complaining. While she got lost reading the labels on liquor bottles, I got lost watching her. The classic, shell-toe Adidas on her feet earned my respect on sight. I mean, I like a woman in heels as much as the next guy, but, as a sneaker-head myself, I had a feeling her shoe game was pretty sick.
I glanced at her knee again where it showed just above a pink and white striped sock. I noticed before that it was kind of banged up. The wound looked fresh, but it wasn’t my place to ask where it came from. The ones on her hands either. Still, I was curious.
The words, “Must be strange being here when it’s empty,” brought my eyes from smooth, brown thighs to equally beautiful eyes.
“Always,” I answered with a smile. “There’s this faint echo I always notice when nobody’s here, but when it’s packed out? When the music is bumping? There’s a totally different sound. A different
feeling
,” I added.
Nodding, Sidra passed in front of me and continued to check out the bar. I knew this place like the back of my hand so, again, the only interesting thing I found to check out was
her.
“Ivy mentioned something about the alcohol shipment coming in every Tuesday. Should I try to be here for that?” she asked.
This time, I stumbled a little, realizing I was staring at her chest instead of her face when she turned toward me. My eyes got stuck on that
‘explicit everything’
for a second.
“Uh… no. Security has two guys here at all times when the club isn’t in operation, but with Tuesday being delivery day, they always have three,” I explained. “So, you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”
She gave a nod and then her eyes locked with mine. It was only for a second, but I knew I didn’t imagine it.
“So, you think you’re ready for all of this?” I asked.
Sidra took a deep breath and when her eyes slipped away, I knew it was because she was nervous. Even if she didn’t admit it.
“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay once Ivy shows me the ropes. I usually pick up on things pretty quickly.”
I nodded, not wanting to discourage her, but this place could be a lot to handle. We hit numbers that were unheard of in this industry. Most nights, we were at max capacity a good hour before the show even started. And as far as money? From the greatest to the least, our pockets were well-lined. As
‘veterans’,
my boys
Logan, Carlos, and I were probably pulling in the most, but I knew for a fact the other guys were raking in the cash, too.
Wearing a smile, I wondered if Ivy had prepared her for…
everything
. Namely?
All-In Saturdays
. Coming up in a few weeks, Sidra would to get to know me, and the rest of the guys, a whole lot better. That was Ivy’s idea, setting aside one Saturday a month where we bared it all. And I do mean
all,
leaving nothing to the imagination
.
Because things had a tendency to get crazy on those nights, we had a strict “no alcohol” policy in place when they rolled around. But even still, I’d seen some wild things happen.
That look stayed on Sidra’s face and it was enough to help me decide
not
to be the one to drop the bomb about the
‘special’
Saturdays. Ivy could handle that herself.
“Have you been doing this long?” she asked casually, and then looked like she wished she hadn’t the very next second.
I burst out laughing at her expression, which made her ease up a bit.
“Sorry… I don’t know if that’s inappropriate to ask,” she apologized.
“It’s cool,” I assured her, still smiling. “I don’t mind questions. To answer yours; I’ve been here six years. Since I was nineteen.”
She nodded slowly and one corner of her mouth tugged up. “That would make us the same age. My birthday just passed a week ago,” she shared, and while she spoke, I noticed a small, silver ball in the center of her tongue. A piercing I hadn’t seen until now.
“Very cool. Happy belated birthday.”
Another smile. “Thank you.”
She had every ounce of my attention. I couldn’t even help it. “What were you doing before you came to join the I.E. family?”
She worked her hands inside the back pockets of her shorts and replied, “Tending bar. At a place called Josie’s,” she added. “Well, that and I also play in a band. Haven’t given
that
up, though.”
A band. For some reason, that didn’t surprise me. “Oh really? What do you play?”
Piano. Guitar. Bass.
Those
were the answers I expected. Not the response I got: “Drums.”
When she said it, I tilted my head to the side. “Word?”
She smiled at that, nodding.
“How long?” I asked next, forgetting all about the fact that I was supposed to be showing her around as I rested my back against the DJ booth.
“Well, I’ve been playing since I was six. My dad… my
stepdad,
” she corrected, “used to play and he taught me. But our band didn’t form until my senior year of high school.”
“What kind of music do you guys play?”
“Alternative rock,” she answered, and I noted that her eyes seemed to light up talking about it. Talking about music. “Think along the lines of the energy of the
Foo Fighters
meets the heart and depth you get from
Audioslave.
” After saying that, the light I saw dimmed a little and the next part came out kinda shy. “Unless… you have no clue who or what I’m talking about.”
I shook my head, assuming she misread the blank look on my face for confusion. Truth was, I just got caught up listening to her speak. “Actually, I have both on my workout playlist.”
A quick side-eye came my way with a smile. “Yeah… okay,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.
I chuckled and reached inside my pocket. “Honest!”
She waited while I scrolled. When I handed my iPod over, her jaw dropped.
“No freakin’ way!” she said with a laugh, staring at the name of the song I just pulled up for her—
‘Like a Stone’
by one of the groups she named a moment before,
Audioslave
.
“Told you,” I teased. “I listen to some of everything.”
The light I noticed before came back and shined brighter this time. She handed my iPod back and her eyes found mine. “Okay, so… you just got major points for that.”
I tilted my head and took in the pretty smile of a girl I’d just met about ten minutes ago, but felt like I’d known much longer. “Nice to know you’re keeping score.”
She grinned, but didn’t deny what I already picked up on—she felt it, too; felt it when we clicked.
I leaned my arm against the rail surrounding the booth beside the stage, feeling brave when I asked my next question. “Care to tell me how I’m doing? I mean, as far as points go.”
She inhaled and her shoulders lifted a little. When they did, the slightest hint of reluctance touched her expression and I was staring too hard to miss it.
“Let’s just say you’re racking them up quicker than expected,” she admitted, letting her eyes do a slow sweep of me as we stood in the mostly dark room.
The breathy tone of her voice had my attention and I held on to the sound of it as my mind wandered, nodding as a realization hit me. Right then and there, I knew.
I had to have this girl.
Yeah… this was only the beginning.
*****
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And now, something new from
Victoria H. Smith
Please Enjoy this Teaser from:
That's some kind of name, isn't it?
Body-to-body,
Capri
was packed tight, more like a mosh pit than a record store tonight. My feet hurt from the never ending shift and my fingers cramped from all the anti-theft removal off the store’s CDs. The bulky plastic cases, instead of our previous measures of the standard magnetic strip, were very much Dom’s idea, one of my employees. The cases kept the CDs in the store, but they sure were a bitch to take off.
I sucked the tip of my thumb, the lingering sting a not-so-pleasant reminder of my previous battle with one of the snap traps. I didn’t have long to recover, before bagging my next customer’s purchase. I grinned upon seeing a vinyl record in her hands, a good one too; The Stones.
“Have a nice day,” I told her, happy when she said keep the change for the “share-a-penny, take-a-penny” jar. Sometimes that little thing came in handy for people. I had a kid once who saved up all year for a signed Jimi Hendrix’s guitar pick. He was just a few dollars off. He scraped the bowl clean that day, but I couldn’t think of a better cause.
Out of breath, Dominick leaned his bulky body against the back counter. He was six-foot-four inches of pure Puerto Rican muscle and had a rich copper tone to his skin that challenged the darkness of even mine. His chest heaved, large pecs rising and I tsked. All
that
and as always, simply wasted on the likes of me and Tess, my other employee. Oh, and Dom definitely loved to remind us of the loss. His daily use of muscle tees let us in on that. We could look all we wanted, but we couldn’t touch. He didn’t exactly
swing
that way, and after knowing him for so long, that became kind of all right. The kid was more like a brother to me now. He slid those big, brown eyes my way, fingers folded across his chest. “Still alive over there?”
Just damn barely.
I groaned, sliding my fingers into my hair. Tipping my head up, the big hand and the little hand of the clock across the store offered me sanctuary. The hour of hell was officially over. Gripping the counter, I made as if I was going to crawl onto it. “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to climb up here and die now.”
Dom chuckled, pulling at my bicep. I lowered myself to the floor and settled for resting my head on the counter coated with band stickers. My violet-tipped tresses fanned out and covered the lot and I no doubt had bags the size of saucers under my brown eyes, but I really didn’t care how I looked in that moment. I was hella tired.
Dom’s hands went to my shoulders. My saving grace.
“Question one,” he pipped. “Where’s Tess, and question two, can I have her room once you kick her out for not being here on our busiest day of the month?”
I had to smirk at him, turning my head to do so. “You wish, big boy. And I don’t know. Doing something she simply
had to do
,” I sing-songed, putting on my best Tess McGuffy voice.
His hands moved to the small of my back, catching skin exposed by my crop top. This was a very dangerous zone to tread for most men, but again, this was Dom. Thinking about the guy in any type of way like that was borderline incest. Again, he was like a brother. A scoff sounded behind me.
“When does Tess not have something she just
has
to do?” he asked.
“Well, she pretty much works for free so…” And he did too, which was why I gave them both so much slack. We had a bit of a bartering system going. Discounted rent at my apartment above the shop and discounted pay for my two sole employees. It was a win, win for all.
I pushed up, feeling Dom’s large body back away while I got in front of the register to count some of the money down. He watched me for a few seconds, whistling behind his teeth. I assumed he did so at the sea of twenties and a few hundreds.
“These ‘free first listen’ days really clean up,” he said, nodding.
I banded a stack. “Yeah, but they’ll send me to the poor house if we have to do as many as we do. We can’t keep giving away free stuff all the time to stay ahead.”
The free CD promotion drove the customers in since we launched it last year, another Dominick Garcia creation. We gave a free CD to any new customer from our “used” bin during a designated time. They usually bought something else, so the promotion had been a cash cow. But what started off as one day every few months turned into one every month. We always made out, but I worried we’d become too reliant on them. Some months we just made building rent because of it.
I’d just bumped the register closed with my hip when the store’s chime sounded through the air. I fought myself from rolling my eyes, knowing we were getting ever so close to closing time and I needed to count down two more registers.
Dom gripped the counter to push off and I assumed help the new customer, but then he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “This one is yours.”
This kid’s got jokes.
I snorted before dampening my finger to riffle through more twenties. “Nice. Now, get your ass over there and help whoever.”
Tan fingers removed the twenties and getting behind me, he pushed me off. “I said, this one is yours. I’ll count this down.”
“Dominick, seriously—?”
I adjusted, straightening up. I guess for a clear view over the counter and once I did, I had a hard time looking away. If Dom was what one called big and brawny, this guy who just came in the store was his direct male opposite, but not necessarily in a bad way.
He was soft where Dom was hard, but toned where Dom was too thick to show any type of definition, his black t-shirt making out every dip and curve of his biceps. And he was tall and lean. His body craned over the CD display like the Atlantic crashing over the shores just a few blocks down from my shop. One hand gripped the rack while the other riffled through the compact discs and a piece of jet black hair slid over intense dark eyes as he searched his way through the merchandise. We had quite a strong Asian population here in So-Cal, so I wasn’t surprised to see him here. That’s one of the things I enjoyed the most when I decided to take over the store: how diverse the area was. The music we carried explored the nooks and crannies of the music industry, and though we sold mainstream too, our diversity allowed us to appeal to many audiences. That element must have appealed to this guy too, seeing as how it brought him through my shop’s doors.
The breath left my mouth in a small whoosh and a body warmed behind me, moving to my ear.
“Seriously, what?” Dom whispered, giving my back another push. “Now, don’t come back until you smell him. I mean,
thoroughly
. And if you go so far as copping a feel? No judgment here, my friend.”
I had no words to tell him off, studying how the guy moved his lengthy fingers through that dark hair. He had it shaved on the sides, the strands silky with a waxy shine. It flopped over his brow when he pulled his fingers back and I made myself ignore how it fell so subtly over one eye, brushing his black eyelashes.
Coming over to him, I rubbed suddenly too damp hands on my jean shorts. “Hey. Can I help you?”
Sharp cheekbones rose as he made eye contact with me. A bicep lifted, his arm pushing that hair out of his face and back. He had a tattoo dotting the underside of his arm, and my goodness, if I didn’t forget to breathe.
His eyes smiled at me before his mouth did, but only by moments. He dropped his arm to his side.
“I hope so,” he said, a distinct accent riveting from full pink lips. He was foreign, far east if I were to guess. He pushed that hair back again. “I’m looking for some music.”
The simplicity in his statement had me smiling, as well as the obviousness of the request. He was in a record store.
I decided to be cheeky. “Hmm, well I guess it’s a good thing you found your way in here.”
A focused look passed over me from his direction that had my insides trying to figure out their next function.
Heart beat.
Brain think.
Swollen arms reached back as he pushed his hands into his back pockets. “I suppose so,” he said, his teeth coming over his lip a little. He tipped his chin at me. “Can you help me out?”
I was quite sure I could. In fact, thoroughly confident. I grinned a little. “Possibly. It depends on what you’re looking for.”
For that, he seemed to have the exact answer. He turned, retrieving what he’d been looking at before I came over and took a step back after he handed it to me.
“Hip hop,” he said, using the side of the rack to lean on. He dug a black boot into the carpet. “I’m pretty new to the area and had to leave the bulk of my collection back home.”
He said his
collection
, this guy that looked like he stepped off one of the billboards advertising Calvin Klein downtown.
Studying him, I let my eyes fall away to the album he picked up, one of Drake’s most popular albums.
Mad respect that this is his genre of choice.
“Where’s home?” I dared to ask, though as I suspected with his accent it was far from here.
The hair flopped again. He pushed the inky-black strands back and something sliced the air, something hot and thick. It laced my shop with a subtle strength and was all-too male.
He even smells like a Calvin Klein ad.
He slid me a grin. “South Korea,” he said, dipping his head. He was so much taller than me. “Mostly. I travel a lot for work, but I’m here now for quite a while.”
The thought moved over me that maybe he was an international model. Hell, there were many of them here, so it wouldn’t surprise me.
His hands gripped the shelf and he moved closer, watching me watch him. “So can you help me? I need something good. Something different I can sit back and relax to.”
A stomach jump followed a heart flip this time.
“Sure,” I said, stepping away, and he watched me with curious fascination, his eyes on the CD he gave me. I dropped it off with a shrug. “You said you wanted something good, right? If so, we need to head out of the Top 40 section.”
That made him chuckle. It was deep, throaty. His hands moved into his pockets again. “Right.”
As his presence moved behind me, I kept my head on, trying to be smooth, collected, though inside I felt anything but.
Dom noticed.
Chuckling, he not-so-casually counted twenties from the register, eyeing the pair of us while we passed by the counter.
I stuck my tongue out at him, making my way over to the section of my desire.
“This is a nice place you guys have,” came from behind me, and the words tugged at my lips, making me smile.
I fanned through the CDs, looking for what I needed. “Thanks. We put a lot into this place.”
True,
Capri
came with a history before me, but it was myself who added those little touches, recruiting nameless faces to play sets and leave their mark here. Their essence filled the place, signed promo posters from their small in-store performances filling the walls. They also gave us memorabilia to house in the store and we never sold it. We made sure they were never forgotten no matter if they blew up or faded away into the oblivion of the industry. They all meant something to this place.
Warmth caressed my left side, the appearance of a long frame settling in beside me. He was close, but not too close, respectful. I definitely felt him there, though.
