Payce's Passions (7 page)

“Good point.” I laugh and take another drink. I’m squeezing the glass so hard I might break it, but can’t seem to release it.

“Well? Let me have it. Tell me what you think about the place, Payce?” He looks out over the lower floor then back to me. “Honestly.” He leans back in his chair, never breaking eye contact.

“Of course.” I stroke my goatee with my hand. “When I walked in, it sort of floored me. It was a bit overwhelming to take it all in. It’s definitely impressive. When I saw the sign with “Braxton’s” lit up, it made my heart fucking happy. After the initial smack of it all calmed, I had to laugh to myself wondering if you could possibly get that sign any bigger.” I burst out laughing. “The overall of everything, hmmm…I’m truly impressed at what you’ve become and created here for yourself, Brax, and I’m fucking proud of you. You’ve built something incredible and amazing here.”

The most beautiful smile in the world, the one that only belongs to him, spreads across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” I look down, a little embarrassed that I just thought that and got sappy telling him my thoughts on the place. I look back up. “You did well. I always knew you’d grow up and do great things in your life, Braxton.”

He nods his head slowly. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you, I mean it. Now answer this. Out of all the places in Houston to go, how did you happen to stumble through my doors?” He’s got his eyebrow arched in that daring and challenging way he used back in the day. It’s one of those cocky ‘don’t fuck with me’ looks. I’m busted, he knows I didn’t accidentally do anything.

I raise my glass trying to think of how I should answer this. I can’t exactly tell him I’m stalking his second in command manager, so I need to figure out something else. Sometimes the ‘almost’ truth works best. Thank goodness Sparky comes back over and Brax sends him after a drink for himself. I take a sip of mine and finally answer him.

“Honestly?”
Reverse tactic move.

“Always.” He folds his arms over his chest in a classic shut down and defense mode.
He’s ready to nail me if I lie and I know it
.

“I’m looking for Aaron. I heard that I might be able to find him around here.”

“Interesting.” Sparks puts a martini on the table in front of him and leaves. Not once did Brax break eye contact with me or move. He sits so still it’s scary and he looks angry. “Payce, the last time that I saw Aaron, was the day we were all at the warehouse together, the day before you got...you went away. I always figured that you and Aaron disappearing at the same time was by no accident.”

“Hmmm…that is interesting, very interesting, but I wouldn’t know anything about it.” I’m a little pissed at Aaron now for my own personal reasons. It means Aaron kept the money I gave him before being arrested and he never gave a thought about Brax. Guess I should have seen that one coming when I wasn’t around.

“What do you want with him, why you are looking for him now?” He takes a sip of his drink and leans back against the chair again.

“Same old, same old. You know Aaron, always in the middle of some goddamned drama.” I wrap my hand back around the glass.

“Your drama?” He locks his fingers together, resting his hands on the table
. My God, he’s intense and a lot cockier than he used to be, straight to the point and blunt.

“No, it’s for someone I know. A friend.” I rest my chin on top of my knuckles.

“Well, I suppose that’s a plus.” He reaches for my business card still lying on the table. “Yours?” He glances at it pretending to read, but he’s really not. “I’ll hang on to this, and if I happen to come across anything, I’ll give you a ring.” He tucks my card in his shirt pocket.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that.” I smirk. “Well, I suppose I’ve kept you from work long enough, I should be heading out.”

“I’ll walk down with you,” Braxton says.

We both stand, I toss a twenty on the table for Sparks, and Brax waves his arm in front of him, suggesting I lead the way. I do and he follows behind me, making sure I get outside of his place.

There’s a few seconds of awkward silence once we’re outside. He pulls out a pack of smokes, and lights one up. He offers me the pack, so I take one, and he passes me the lighter. I gag on the first drag like an idiot.

“You okay there, Payce?”

I smile at him, what else can I do? “Yeah, I gave up the things for years and only recently started again.”

“I can tell, how recent?” he says with a smirk, and he walks to the benches of the smoking area.

“About four hours ago.” I shrug my shoulders and follow.

Brax starts laughing. “I suppose you started up at about the same time that you knew you’d be coming here, huh?”

“Something like that, but it doesn’t seem to be going very well.” I take a long drag and put it out in the standing ashtray.

“This is one of the nasty habits I held on to, unfortunately, got rid of the rest. You never liked the damn things anyway, you just thought you looked cool smoking, Payce,” he laughs, taking another drag.

“True.” I grin. “Had an image to keep up and everything, you know?”

“Payce, even you took that image to extremes, geez. I’m glad to see that you’re okay. I never knew though, I tried to find out, but…never-mind, you still look great.”

“You look even sexier than I imagined.”
Fucking son of a bitch, where did this shit come from and why is it exploding from my mouth like this? So much for damn focusing and control, what the fuck, man!

“Ditto.” He grins, turning a little red after. “Try not to be such a stranger, Payce.”

“Sparky up there in the bar was trying to sell me on your appetizers here. Told him I might swing by tomorrow, if that’s okay. You going to be around?”

“It’s fine and I’m always around, I spend more damn time here than at home.” He puts his smoke out.

“Good, then maybe I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.” I turn and walk across the parking lot to my bike, and straddle across the seat, sticking my key in the ignition.

“Aw…asshole. You got one.” His mouth hangs open as he walks across the parking lot to me. “I never worked up the nerve to get a bike, guess I’m too practical now. Kind of surprised it’s not a Harley though. You always were the wild one who liked to live on the edge. You’ll have to give me a ride on it sometime, Payce.”

“The ‘Harley’ is in my garage under construction. And I never liked living on the edge, we just had to sometimes.” I grin. “You have my number now, anytime you’re ready for that ride...” I don’t finish the sentence, just start the bike and ride off.

I feel like I’ve been hit by a tornado, because shit is spinning all around inside of my head. Everything is so jumbled up that I can’t even focus clearly and that worries me. My brain to mouth filter is having a major malfunction, tossing out shit at random and I had no control what so ever.

God, it was embarrassing, but not enough to stop me from showing up again tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

I didn’t sleep worth a crap last night, tossed and turned the whole time, and had some fucked up dreams that kept waking me. I never rest well when I start thinking too hard about things. I should have expected it after yesterday, between my body malfunctions and seeing Brax, my mind was off in one too many different directions. I need to work on that. It really annoys me that he got in my head that easy. He didn’t just knock on my zone door, the bastard opened it, climbed right on in, and camped his ass in my spot on the couch. When he called me out about not accidentally walking in his place, it threw me for a minute, then it made me kind of proud. I’m the one who taught him that shit. Good to know he still keeps reading people as sharp as a tack. 

I grab another cup of coffee, and jump on the computer, because I didn’t even think to ask him what time Braxton’s opens up for business on Sunday’s. The tab opens to his site and there’s my answer.
Casual Sundays, noon to eight p.m.
Thank fuck that little side note is on there, or I would be showing up in the same clothes as yesterday, only the wrinkled version, and my boots because there is no way in hell I will ever put on shoes like that again.

I completely sympathize with women who bitch and whine about wearing dress shoes. Sing it sister because I can relate. Mine were “Fendi’s” and it was toe torture. My feet felt like they were in a freakified version of a BDSM scene, wearing hooker heels and being attacked by some creeper who's into kinky toe clamps. The whole thing was very traumatic and as for the Fendi man, he can keep his fucking fancy shoes. Give me my biker boots any day of the week.

After taking care of some work things on the computer, I head to the bathroom, trim up the goatee and get in the shower, relaxing with the warm water hitting my back. My eyes start getting heavy and I nod a couple times, just for a few minutes. When the water starts getting cool, I open my eyes and slide the shower door open to check the clock.
Dammit, I should already be gone.

With a towel tied at my hips, I bend over, shaking my hair like a dog, then dig around in my closet for something casual. My black jeans are nice, so they come off the hanger, now for a shirt. I flip through them, but fuck, I run a demo company, I own T-shirts and wife beaters, that’s my kind of casual. I’m thinking that our ideas probably differ on casual wear choices. Finally, I decide on a long-sleeved button down. It’s got a collar and Harley logo on the left side. Only thing left is some gel to the spikes and a few squirts of cologne.  I’m ready to roll out.

***

Texas is kick ass this time of year, at least in Houston it is. It’s March and most of the rain has gone, not to mention our insane bipolar season changes. As far as I know, Texas is the only place you can catch all four seasons in a day. Temps now are in the lower 70s and that’s perfect. It makes the ride to Braxton’s enjoyable.

For a Sunday, the lot is almost packed. I’m starting to believe his place is like this all the time, he’s definitely got some very loyal customers here.

As I walk in the entry, I notice framed awards, certificates and all kind of thank you letters from different associations. That’s pretty cool, didn’t notice them last night.

“Table for one sir?” a server asks, pulling out a menu.

“No, thank you, I’m headed upstairs. Has Braxton made it in yet?”

“Not yet, he’s running a little late, car trouble I think.” He puts the menu away.

“Been there many times. Appreciate it.” I walk toward the stairs.

At the bottom step, I glance up and there’s Sparky, leaning over the railing waving both hands at me like a freaking lunatic. The boy must do copious amount of speed to be this damn hyper all the time. I grin to myself. Not a clue in the world why, but I like him. The kid’s a trip and funny as fuck. Before my foot hit’s the top floor, he bounces in front of me.
Dude must have metal springs attached to his shoes.

“Yay, you did come back.” He starts to clap, all fucking giddy. “Come on, I saved your spot. Scotch on the rocks right?” He grins at me.

Well he didn’t lie, he saved the same table as last night. “You act surprised, told you I’d try to slip in. Does two days in a row make me a regular customer, with all the benefits?”

“You were a regular last night when I said you were, honey. Did that make me sound like a supervisor?” He laughs, putting both hands on his hips, tapping his foot ninety to nothing.

“Yes, you sounded like a boss, a flirty boss.” I wink at him with a grin. “I think I’m going to skip the drink for now, maybe just a coke instead. Do you think you can snatch me one of those menus just for ‘regulars’ too?”

“Absolutely, don’t you move, I’ll be right back.” He dashes off toward the stairs, stops and comes back. “I am a flirt, maybe it’ll grow on you.” And like lightning, there he goes again, practically sliding down the damn banister
.

All I can do is shake my head and laugh. For the right person, he’s got to be a little firecracker in the sack with that unlimited energy.
He needs to bottle that shit. 
He’s back in a flash, just as quick as he left, slapping the menu down in front of me.

“One coke, coming up.” He spins on one foot, kicking the other heel behind him, and he’s off again.

Oh lordy.
Sparky’s definitely got a superabundant and very plentiful stock supply of uppers stashed near him at all times. Being around him for any long period of time has to be fucking exhausting. Hell, he’s wearing me out and I’ve been here less than five minutes.
I’m still trying to figure out how he doesn’t kill himself in here?

“Here you go, Mr. um…you never told me your name. How rude.” He puts the coke down and bends his head back, waiting to see if I’ll tell him.

“My name can be anything you want, as long as it’s not ‘sir’. That makes me feel old.” I grin, and decide to tell him.” I’m Payce, and you never told me your name and you don’t wear a nametag. It left me no choice but to make up a nickname for you.”
When you need to slip a secret from someone, best to butter them first. Here goes nothing.