14
Jess
I Got In A Gunfight
“Girrrrrrl…” Dolly stops in front of me and mistakes my red face for pent up sexual frustration rather than rage. She fans herself and pushes her boobs into the air. “Please, Lord, tell me he doesn’t actually have blue balls. You’re not neglecting that fine man, are you?”
And now I have a brand-new target for the rage simmering in my blood. Kane’s outside talking to criminals about criminal things, and that pisses me the fuck off. Big-Boobs-Dolly with the grabbable badonkadonk is about to cop the wrath I’d rather throw at the criminal watching my back and burning holes in my skin.
Sitting taller, I square my shoulders and step up – metaphorically – to a woman three times my size. “So it’s my job, because I’m a woman, to make sure a man’s been pleasured just because he looks good?” I lift my brow and glare at the poor woman earning less than minimum wage. She just wants to compliment the man messing with my head, but instead, she gets my shitty mood. “What the hell is the matter with you, lady? He smiles at you and suddenly he’s earned a blowjob and a lifetime of servitude? Are we just meat? No free will. No free thinking. Just a bag of bones and a warm hole for a man to sink into whenever he damn well pleases.”
She rolls her head with a dangerous tic and takes me back to all those WWE marathons we watched when I was younger. She makes me think of all the times Hulk Hogan climbed into the ring, picked up his opponent, and slammed him down over his knee.
She’s about to snap my spine like a dry old twig.
And I probably deserve it.
“You wanna bring your sass to me, Miss Fancy?” She slams her hand onto her broad hip and purses her lips. “I was only playing. He’s fine as shit, but no, young lady, his smile doesn’t earn him a blowjob. Nothing earns him a blowjob. But, girlfriend, the way he looks at you earns him a little less sass. We’re allowed to have our own thoughts. Hell, we’re even allowed to not wear an apron if we don’t wanna, but a man declares his love the way yours did today, then you should probably give him some sugar when he asks for it.” Snapping her hand towel from the band of her apron, I jump when she whips it onto the counter with a loud crack. “I was only trying to strike up a conversation with my sister wife, seeing as I kinda fell in love with your man today, but you’d rather blow attitude up my ass and pick at the food we prepared for you.”
I look down at the dish Kane ordered for me. Already cold, the maple syrup has long since soaked through, leaving the pancakes soggy on the bottom of the plate.
“My boys back there work hard in a shitty place to make fancy pancakes for the fancy girl, but did you eat ‘em? No! You’d rather be a brat and bitch at me.”
“I wasn’t–”
“You better tip us, young lady. You got fancy shoes, fancy nails, and a shitty attitude. I look forward to my Christmas bonus,” she steps to the left and grabs a glass jar filled one-tenth of the way with cash, “inthisjar. Don’t be stingy. And don’t ask your man to pay.”
“He’s not my man! I’m not his girl.”
“So he’s single and ready to mingle? Keep your cash, little girl. I’ll take him instead.”
“Blondie?”
I spin at the sound of Kane’s amused voice and find him with the cell still clutched in his hand, lips twitching and wide eyed. “What did you do?”
“She said you ain’t her man.”
“No, I–”
The loud, incessant cackling of someone with an annoying sense of humor and possible lung issues, rings through the phone. “I’m not your man?” Clutching his chest, he falls back a step and pushes his swollen lips into a pout. “You don’t love me back? You’d rather sell me to Dolly than tip?”
“It’s okay, baby.” Dolly pats her large chest. “Dolly will take care of you.”
He points over my shoulder. “You want me to snuggle up with her at night? You don’t want me?”
With a huff exactly how Dolly would expect – spoiled and bratty – I turn away from his dancing eyes and collect my small purse. Taking out a fifty, I slam it into her glass jar and stand. “I’m done eating. I want to go home.”
Kane moves forward and doesn’t stop until his chest touches my shoulder. He presses his lips to my temple and reduces Dolly to a swooning mess. “You didn’t eat yet. Sit down. Put some pancake in your mouth.”
“No. I’m rea–”
“Now.” He pushes me down and takes a short slice of bacon, holding it between his lips like he did ten minutes ago. “Now take my meat in your mouth.”
The cackling on the phone continues. Whoever his criminal friend is, he thinks his buddy ishilari-fricken-ous.“No.”
Kane’s lifted brow scares me more than Dolly ever did. He removes the bacon from between his lips, leaving behind glistening oil. “No?”
“No. I’m ready to leave. You brought me here, so now you need to take me home.” I sound exactly like the high-class jerk Dolly accused me of being. “Now.”