Junkyard Dog (9 page)

T
he fucking irony is Andrew Mayer is a woman’s safe
choice. He has a boring office job, managing a boring company selling boring
products. He shoots hoops with his boring coworkers and has pool parties with
his boring neighbors. When his pent-up energy needs a release, he grabs for his
boring wife and makes her pay for choosing him over a more “wild” man.

I stop by his office where he sells blinds and
carpet. He’s laughing it up with his moron coworkers when I enter. The look on
his stupid face when he sees me is fucking priceless.

Asshole Andrew tries to send one of his coworkers
to help me, but I shake my head and point at him. He shuffles toward me like a
kid knowing he’s got a beating coming.

“Can I help you?” he asks as if he doesn’t know who
I am and why I’m here.

“You have a house,” I say, lighting a cigar. “Is
that right?”

“Yes.”

One of his tubby coworkers rounds a counter, sees
me lighting up and is ready to tell me to put out the cigar. Then the moron
realizes who I am and his mouth clamps shut.

“Your wife and kids are sleeping in that house
tonight. I don’t give a shit where you sleep, but they’ll back in that house
this evening. Do we understand each other?”

“Did Honey talk to you?”

Exhaling smoke in his face, I shrug out my
shoulders. “Are you looking to make trouble for me like you do your woman,
Andy?”

“No. I just…”

I cock an eyebrow. “I have a direct line into your
household. You do something wrong, and I’ll know about it. You keep that in
mind next time you overcompensate for your small dick. Do we understand each
other?”

“Yes,” he mutters.

“Just between us men, your wife would make out fine
as a widow. You keep that in mind. I know I will.”

Exhaling smoke in his face again, I pat him hard on
the shoulder. He grimaces, fighting the urge to cower. Men like Andrew aren’t
fighters. They don’t like pain. I see the fear in his eyes. A little part of me
fucking hopes he smacks Honey tonight so I can smack him. Letting him live
makes me look like a fucking pussy, but I know Candy wants her sister to make
the big play.

I spot Andrew’s car on my way to my truck. For the
hell of it, I pull out a blade and cut one of his tires. I’d rather cut him,
but I’m apparently taking orders from my assistant these days. Something has
clearly gone wrong in our fucking relationship.

When I return to the office a few hours later, I
find Candy’s children playing soccer in the parking lot. They stop and look at
me when I arrive and then return to kicking the ball back and forth.

I consider ignoring them but decide to give a shit
about their frowning faces.

“Problem with life?” I ask.

Cricket frowns bitchy at me. “Yeah.”

“Who’s messing with you?”

“At our old school,” she blurts out as if she’s
been waiting for someone to ask, “they let me and Chip be in the same class. In
our new school, they say because we’re twins we should be separate. They want
us to make friends with other people, but other people suck. I want to be with
Chip. He gets me.”

Chipper begins nodding as soon as his sister
speaks. They stare at me with dark, cranky eyes. I tell myself these kids mean
nothing to me. It’s a lie, though. They belong to my assistant and future fuck partner.
So like with Honey, the twins’ happiness is part of the package.

Besides, Cricket’s disdain for people is admirable.
I agree with her hatred for school fucks and their well-meaning bullshit.

“Which of you has the better teacher?” I ask.

Chipper isn’t sure about talking to me, but he’s
pissed about the teacher situation. “Mine. Mrs. Dover.”

“I’ll make a call. With that out of the way, are
you two aware soccer is a Communist sport?”

The twins look at each other, and then Chipper
picks up the ball and walks inside with his sister close behind. I follow them
and find Candy sitting at her desk, reading paperwork.

“Mom, is soccer a Communist sport?” the boy asks.

Shaking her head, Candy doesn’t look up. “No.”

“Yes, it is,” I tell her. “It’s popular in Communist
nations.”

“Baseball is popular in Cuba. In fact, the only
truly American sports are football and basketball. Nothing else should be
trusted.”

I can’t tell if she’s making fun of me. The kids
glance between us before focusing on their ball.

“Should we play soccer?” Cricket asks. “And what’s Communist
mean?”

Candy looks at her daughter and gives her a
wonderful smile. “Kicking a soccer ball is good practice for kicking people in
the balls when you’re older. As for the definition of Communist, grab my phone
and google it.”

The kids take her cell and hurry to a table. I
appreciate their enthusiasm. Like them, I was a curious kid growing up. Unlike
the twins, I did my shit alone. A team sounds smarter, but people are morons,
and I trust no one.

“Any calls?” I ask Candy.

“Three but I didn’t take messages.”

“Why not?”

“They were all whiny shits being whiny. I told them
to fix the problems themselves and call back when they had something positive
to say.”

“Good.”

Candy’s never sexier than when she focuses her bitchiness
on morons.

“Can I see you in my office?” I ask.

Candy shakes her head, but she’s fucking with me. I
walk to the back, and she follows. I hear the twins babbling about the
definition of Communist.

Candy shuts the door behind her “They get off early
on Wednesdays but didn’t want to go home and see their cousins.”

“Don’t’ care,” I say, wrapping her against me and
kissing her hard.

Somehow, her body fits perfectly with mine. I hate
how well we work together. She’s the kind of woman I could care about, and I’m
not in the mood to care about anyone. Being nice to Moot, Nightmare, and my dad
already takes too much good will.

Candy smiles up at me when my lips leave hers. “You
kiss good enough to last me hours.”

“Is this your way of saying you’re not putting out
today?”

“Oh, I was never going to do that anyway,” she
teases while her fingers play with my shirt buttons.

My arms remain wrapped around her. “I’m ignoring
your lies, but I want you to listen up.”

Candy blinks rapidly as if trying to focus. “Spill it.”

“I talked to your douche-in-law, and his pants
remained dry. I want you to understand how the next time there’s a problem, Mayer
is dead meat. It’s not about you or your sister or some magical potion to break
an age-old curse or whatever crazy shit you have in your pretty head. It’s
about me and my reputation. I didn’t scare the shit out of this town for nearly
two decades, so I could piss it away for a chick.”

Candy studies me. “Now you say you didn’t make him
piss himself, but he was scared, right? I mean, I didn’t want you playing nice
with him.”

“Did you hear me?”

“You know I did. The kids even heard you through
the door. You’re very loud, boss.”

Smiling, I kiss her quickly. My body wants more.
Fuck,
it does!
I want every inch of her. My dick is begging for me to tag it in,
but I remain in charge. Life is about more than physical relief. It’s about
power, respect, and making my enemies shit their pants. I refuse to allow
Candy, and my dick, to distract me.

T
he school principal asks to speak to me when I pick
up the twins. I assume Cricket’s temper got the best of her. If the blowout
happened during recess, Chipper would back her up, and they’d kick kids in the
balls.
It’s the only move I’ve ever taught them.

Arriving at school, I’m prepared to fake concern
about a schoolyard brawl. When I was growing up, kids fought all the time and
called each other names. No one cared. Acting like fools toughened us up. The
only thing considered bullying was when a douche stole a kid’s lunch money.
Enough of us ganged up on him, and he learned to keep his hands to himself.

These days, kids need to be sensitive and care
about others. Not even fake-caring either, but they’re actually expected to
worry about everyone’s every feeling. Children basically have to behave as no
adult has behaved ever.

Hayes didn’t get where he was in life by being nice
to anyone. He was an asshole, but he was the asshole in charge. Not the guy who
cared and hugged everyone. No, Hayes was the mean guy who took what he wanted.

I’ll be happy if the twins become as pushy as Hayes
without going fully scary mutherfucker like him. A mom needs to dream, and that
was mine.

The principal is a high maintenance lady with
perfect hair and flawless makeup. I don’t know how she keeps her shit in gear
after a day dealing with snot machines.

“I wanted to let you know that after discussing
placement with the district psychologist, we feel Cricket and Chipper should
share a class. We’ll move Cricket tomorrow into Mrs. Dover’s class unless you
have any qualms.”

“No, that sounds great.”

Principal Lady gives me a curt nod, giving away how
a discussion with a shrink didn’t change the twins’ placement. Instead, a big
scary man was the reason. Yeah, a big scary man who kisses great and whispers
louder than some people talk.

Hayes is the kids’ hero and not only because he
pulled strings for them to share a class. They know he also scared Douche, and
that’s why Aunt Honey and the cousins leave our house. While their
grandparents’ money bought access, the Eddisons couldn’t intimidate anyone the
way Hayes did.

As soon as their homework is finished, the twins
begin working on thank you cards. I sit at the kitchen table and watch them
meticulously draw pictures. Every inch of the papers is lovingly covered with
crayon and even glitter.

The next morning when I drop them off at school,
they make me swear I’ll give Hayes their cards. I smile all the way to the
office. My kids are happier than they’ve been since we moved to White Horse,
and much of their joy is thanks to my sexy boss.

I hurry into the office and find Hayes sitting at
his desk. He looks at me as if I’m a stranger. I’m accustomed to his morning
grumpy reaction.

“You called the school and got Cricket moved,” I
say, taking in the sight of his handsome features.

“I know.”

“That was sweet.”

“It wasn’t personal. I just don’t like public
schools. Mine was awful. I didn’t learn shit there. My mom’s the one who taught
me everything.”

“You’re so damn adorable when you go mama’s boy,” I
say, stepping closer.

“What’s in your hand? I don’t want more work.”

“The kids made you thank you cards,” I say, handing
him the papers.

Hayes looks at the drawings the twins put so much
effort into and then frowns at me. “What the hell am I supposed to do with
these?”

“Hang them on your fridge with all the other thank
you cards you get,” I mutter, losing my smile.

Hayes gives me a dirty look. “Don’t be so
sensitive.”

“You did something nice. My kids think you’re
awesome. They worked hard on their cards. Don’t be such an asshole.”

“They’re not here so what does it matter? I’ll act
really impressed by their crayon crap where they’re around.”

“Fine,” I say and stomp to my desk.

A hard, pained sensation grows in my gut that I
can’t shake. My kids own my heart. Imagining their happy faces when they talked
about sharing a class, I admired Hayes for fixing a problem I couldn’t. When I
watched them create their cards, I let myself dream of a future that included
the asshole.

Now I realize he has his tender moments, but
they’re fleeting. Hayes doesn’t need to be sweet to anyone. He lives separate
from the rest of us. Hayes has no need for friends, girlfriends, and even his
father. He is perfectly happy living in his Hayes world where only his needs
matter.

My bad mood worsens as I accept I want something
from Hayes I’ll never have. We normally kiss off and on during the day. Each
time feels more comfortable yet hotter. I know his touch. I wait for it all
day. Now I don’t want him touching me. His reaction to the cards is a wake-up
call I shouldn’t need. I’m smarter than this heartbroken dipshit I see in the
mirror.

“Let’s meet a moron for lunch,” Hayes says, walking
out of his office.

I follow him without speaking. I’m hoping if I
remain silent for long enough that he’ll never know I’m upset. We climb into
his truck, and he frowns at me. I’m too quiet, and I usually talk a lot. Before
he can push for an explanation, I turn on the radio and find a song I can hum
along with.

Hayes isn’t fooled but focuses his anger at the
moron we’re meeting.

“The asshole picks Arby’s out of all the places in
town to meet,” he grumbles while we wait at a red light. “It won’t take long
for him to whine about his bullshit and for me to tell him to fuck off.”

My voice will betray me, so I only nod at his
comments. Hayes frowns for the rest of the drive, remaining silent until we
arrive at Arby’s. He blocks my way before we go inside.

“What’s your deal?”

“What are we doing here?” I ask, hoping to change
the subject.

“You act like you’ve got a stick’s rammed up your
ass. Why?”

“I’m on my period,” I say, afraid to look at him
and give away how my feelings have changed.

“You were on your period last week. I remember
because you used it as an excuse to order two desserts during lunch.”

“I’m just moody. Why do I need a reason?”

Hayes studies me. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“I am looking at you.”

Hayes frowns. “Not like before.”

Forcing my gaze to meet his, I mumble, “You get to
be in a bad mood all the time. Why can’t I have an off day?”

“So nothing’s wrong?”

“No.”

Hayes calls my bluff when his lips meet mine. I
can’t enjoy our kiss. I don’t push him away, but I can’t give him what he
wants. Hayes nips at my bottom lip, showing his anger at how unresponsive I am.

I stare into his eyes, and he studies me hard.
Hayes is a smart guy, but he doesn’t get why I don’t want him. I could end the
suspense and explain why he and I can’t work. I don’t though.

The words are too difficult, and I’m too weak to
face reality yet. I wanted something amazing to happen between Hayes and me.
Now I realize it never will.