Charged (5 page)

Ryker’s motions are fluid and perfected. He’s a man with talent, and what seems like years of practice. I feel like I shouldn’t be here; hell I know I shouldn’t be here watching this, but looking around I realize I’m not the only one. 

Their escapade has drawn the attention of the college boys out on the patio, who all cat call and holler their approval. It doesn’t seem to faze either the girl or Ryker. In fact, it seems to egg them on. Knowing they have an audience, Ryker pulls her closer, dipping his hands to the button on her jeans, loosening the material and slipping his hands inside. She, on the other hand, already has one hand inside his pants, the other snaked under his sticky sweat drenched shirt, pressed against those rock hard abs. Jealous, nope. Not me. 

Shaking myself mentally to stop being a voyeur, I turn towards Hazel behind the counter. 

“Can…” Damn, even my voice fails me. I sound breathless and worked up as I try to squeak out the words. Clearing my throat, I continue, “Can, I get my check please.”

Hazel smiles, reaches into the front pocket of her apron, sorting through a few leaflets, then hands me the appropriate one. I’m doing all I can to avoid looking back out to the visual porn in progress, but I gotta say, I’ve been dry in the man department lately, and I might just use this as fodder for moments alone later. 

The only thing I won’t be able to handle is if they full on get busy on the hood of my car. I will fucking lose it on their asses. Creature has never seen that type of devious and exhibitionist behaviour from me, plus if anyone is going to get their rocks off on, in or around my car, it’ll be me. 

I gaze over again nonchalantly and see Ryker touching her so perfectly that her head is slung back with a look that speaks of pure, blissful pleasure. Honestly? 

Shit. If I can’t handle this, then I only have two real choices — sit here and avoid watching, or go to the bathroom and avoid working through my own frustration. 

My gaze drifts back to them again as I try to fish the money out of my bag, just to distract myself. It’s not working. I rise off the chair, reluctantly grabbing out enough for the meal and a tip, before heading to the door because really, I am enjoying their pregame entertainment. The only issue, I tell myself, is that if I want out of this town, then I have to do something. 

Making my way to the door I hear, “I wouldn’t even think about what you’re thinkin’, girl. That’s just askin’ for a heap o’ shit.” 

“Pardon?” I turn towards the voice, finding an older man, in his mid-fifties, with a balding widow’s peak, a cream colored cotton dress shirt, and a brown tweed fedora on the table beside him, smiling back at me with his bright, hazel eyes, alight with mischief. He reminds me of someone from that Andy Griffith Show; Barney Fife. 

“I see where ya’ thinkin’ of going. Bad idea is all I’m saying. Last time it wasn’t pretty, and you don’t look like you could take on the likes of him. Trust me, sit yer' ass down and just deal with the idea you can’t tame that horse.” 

I cock my head, sizing up the thought that this elderly gentleman thinks I’m best to leave this lie. 

“This is allowed? Really? No one stops him in the midst of getting busy in public, in perfect view of the restaurant, on the hood of a car?” He nods his assent and smirks. “Well that’s
my
car, and I can’t just stand by and condone it. Sorry if it sounds prudish.” 

“Yep, that’s what Harold’s tellin’ ya’ sister. Be the bigger girl and leave him be.” Hazel appears around the counter, bearing a full tray of drinks, salads and a full steak lunch. “He ain’t fixing yer’ car if you stop him. He’s nothing like the men you’re used to trifling with.” She laughs lightly then walks out the door toward the voyeurs on the front deck. 

Come on, this can’t be real. The sexiest mechanic I’ve ever seen is about to fuck in broad daylight, and no one here wants to stop it from happening? If I interrupt and he decides to trash my car, then I can’t get anywhere without a bus and a smile. If I leave it alone, then I’m perpetuating the activity — hell, I’m absolving his behavior. 

“Fuck this,” I mutter and storm out the door to confront the pervert getting his rocks off on my sweet, innocent car. 

The door dings loudly, breaking the silence as I exit into the musty warmth, not missing the catcalls changing tempo. Now instead of them pushing him to get down and dirty on my car, instead they’re yelling at me. ‘Good luck sister,’ ‘Wrong man to try that with.’ ‘I’ll call the funeral home for you.’ ‘Balls of steel if she thinks she’s got a chance in Hades.’ 

I turn back towards my supporters, raising them a single finger salute and smirk. If they think I’m afraid of a mechanic in butt-fuck-nowhere, they have another thing coming. I’m not scared of any shit these people could toss out. I’ve beat down worse demons that live in my own closet, and this man has no chance in hell. 

Tromping across the hot blacktop, my heart rate increases as I move closer and closer. His hands explore and expose various parts of her, and she in turn does the same. Why did I think this was such a smart idea? Well, I’ve started down this path, so I might as well complete the trip. 

Getting closer and closer to them, I see more of her bare skin that I wish to. Ryker has the cheap thrills shirt raised, her frayed jean shorts pulled low enough to see she’s a natural redhead, and as he leans her to the side facing the restaurant, she moans against his mouth like a wanton whore. I have no respect for her, and even less for him thinking this is how you treat women. 

Ryker’s back is up against the engine area, her lily white ass airborne across his hips. I come up behind her, tapping her shoulder. Coughing, I clear my throat, awaiting their response. 

Nothing happens. She doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m here, let alone the fact that I touched her.

“Excuse me? Bordello bitch?” I ask the in-heat kitten. “Do you have no morals?”

Without missing a beat, she turns around to face me, winks, and continues her moaning against Ryker’s shoulder. 

Oh, what a fucking faker. 

“Give me a break. This is bullshit,” I clip off under my breath, finally gaining Ryker’s attention. 

“Hold up, love,” he says to the hooker before lifting her off his lap. 

“What do you want girl —”

“Kate.” I remind him. 

“Kate, Mildred, fucking Cory. I don’t give a shit what your name is. What do you want? You fucking blind? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I see you’re busy. So does the restaurant, and probably half of the town that has had the misfortune to drive by. Ever heard the phrase ‘get a room’? Not everyone wants to see your fucking weeny prick.”

“You must have seen some big cocks if you think Ryker’s is weeny.” She giggles then dips her head low to suck on his exposed neck, “Don’t stop what you’re doing, that’s fantastic right there, Ryker.” 

Great. Just the info I
didn’t
need. 

“Look, Kate, if you need a display of my cock for comparison to others you’ve seen then you’re more than welcome to take a look.” He says my name as if his tongue is on fire, spitting it out with malice and disgust. 

“Well if you put it that way, I’m sure your cock is average at most, and I really don’t care to see it at all.” Lie. “I need you working on my car, not fucking a random whore on my engine.” 

The girl dislodges’ her lips from his body long enough to huff at me before Ryker snaps his fingers. She then returns to the task of pulling at his jeans and essentially ignoring me. 

“Can you stop long enough to battle your ADD and finish the task at hand. I’m paying you —”

“Not yet you aren’t, Kate. Don’t worry though. I’m going to give you your money’s worth. Now Kendra is giving me
my
money’s worth, so could you leave us?” He flashes me a dangerous smirk. “Or would you rather join us? I can take a bit off your bill if you’re good.” 

Kendra giggles, looks back at me with a seductive smile — like she can entice me to join in, then shoos me off with a wave. 

“Run along, sweet Kate,” Ryker says, then dips his head to her pert, dusky nipples, taking one into his hand, giving a long, hard sensuous lick to the other. 

Fuck. I’m fucking pissed. I may be the one at his mercy for repairs, but there’s no way I’m going to join them, nor will I let this play out further.  

Looking back to the restaurant, listening to the hooting and hollering from the ‘peanut gallery’ in front of Hazel’s, I know I can’t back down. One, it’s not in my nature, and two, I came out here for a reason, and that reason was to stop him. I wanted to end the debauchery on my innocent car, and yes maybe a bit of my reasoning was green eyed, sexually deprived jealousy. Regardless, what they are doing here is wrong. 

I stop, take a deep breath and stomp closer to them, muttering to myself like a crazy ex-wife on the warpath. “Ok, that’s the end of this shit.” 

Gripping a handful of Kendra’s hair, I pull back hard enough that she falls off his lap. Stumbling she tries to right herself before hitting the ground ass first. I release her hair, giving her a chance so she can get her balance before I round on her verbally. 

“Look, I’ve had a bad fucking day. A worse week than you could imagine in your whore, coke infested mind, and I need that car running. Ryker is being paid, and I’m sure he’ll be available after he’s done. Now before I put your teeth in the asphalt, get the fuck out of here.” 

Kendra tucks her tits back into her bra, looks to Ryker for defense, then for a fleeting second she sizes me up as if trying to decide if she can take me. I may be little, but feisty-crazy kicks psycho-tripping hooker’s ass any day. 

I look to Ryker as he rights his clothing, laughs deep and gives her an ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ eyebrow raise. She’s certainly not getting any assistance from him. 

“Time to go Kendra. If I need you, I’ll call.” 

She huffs dramatically. “Don’t bother,” she snaps, then leaves the way she came, the sound of college co-ed’s calling out to her as she goes. 

I wait until she’s out of sight before turning my full attention back to the manwhore draped across my hood, as if this whole experience was just a normal day in the life of Ryker.  

“Are you ok now that you got that out of yer’ system, Kate?” 

Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell?  

Without thinking about it, I pull back with as much force as I can muster slapping him hard across the cheek. He reels for a second before fire alights in his eyes. 

“I’ll give you that one, but that’s all you’ll get.” With fire in his words and charcoal rimming his eyes in brimstone, I can see that the devil himself is waiting on this one to reach his gates. 

As I walk away towards the pawn shop, I call over my shoulder, “Just work on my car.” 

“Are you sure?” I ask, staring down Horny. “Come on. You’re sure you can’t do better than that? I could really use a bit more.” I’ve tried my best to turn my charm on full. I’d already perked up my tits before I wandered into the one room business. I pulled down a few buttons on the shirt, then leaned as far over the glass display case as I could, hoping for a bit more money. 

God! I’m no better than that whore, Kendra. 

“Kid, I get it,” Horny tells me, still looking at the ring through his jeweler loupe. I
know
the ring is worth the value I’m asking. He knows it is, but he’s not budging. “Everything that comes through that door has some sentimentality to it. It was grandma’s, nana’s, mom’s or an ex-wife’s, and I’m telling you that’s really the best I can do. I wouldn’t be a pawn broker if I didn’t make something off this bauble, or worse, I’d be a schmuck loaning to friends and losers. No offence.”

“None taken,” I tell him. 

“Take it or leave it.”

I understand how this hock shop thing goes. I’ve watched Pawn Stars, UK Pawn, hell, even the Detroit one — though I don’t understand how there’s anything of value left in Detroit with the stripping. I’ve bumped him twice, and tried for a third, but now he’s not inching. 

“Fine. I need it. Do I have to fill something out?” Horny nods and passes the papers over that he needs me to fill in. I’m signing over my mom’s ring and the last connection I had to New York. I’d hidden it for all these years, holding it as tight as I could. She’d understand how much I need to get on the road to safety, and that if I had any other choice, I wouldn’t even consider selling it.