Page 23 of Thug

I gave him a nod and a prayer. “Have a safe trip.”

After he left, I cleaned the bar and wiped the tables, although I really didn’t need to. Upon returning to my position at the beer taps, I surveyed the empty establishment. The striking absence of any sound was depressing.

I worked hard to achieve my goal of being a bar owner. Now, by some strange twist of fate, my hard work was all for not. I wasn’t an emotional person. Hell, I couldn’t recall the last time I cried. I wondered if I forced myself to shed a tear if I’d feel better about the situation.

I balled my fists, clenched my jaw, and tried to force a tear from my eyes. Nothing came. Eventually, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The sound of my frustrations filled the room. The anger diminished. After the last breath of air escaped me, I laughed to myself. I had no idea screaming could be so therapeutic. While I relished in my newfound state of mind, the cowbell clanged.

I looked up. Recognizing Price’s silhouette brought a whirlwind of emotion. Joy. Sexual tension. Frustration. Regret.

Anger.

“Thanks for killing my business, asshole,” I snapped. “I changed my dollar draft night to suit you and your cronies. Oh, and I let you fuck me. Yeah. There’s that, too. What do I get in return? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.”

It was apparent the screaming didn’t rid me of all my anger.

One step inside the door, Price stood, motionless. His right hand was hidden behind his back and his left dangled at his side.

I took a step away from the bar and waited for the backlash.

He sauntered to the bar and sat down in front of me. Methodically, he opened his wallet, removed a plastic toothpick, and commenced to pick his teeth. Once satisfied, he placed the pick in his wallet and folded it closed.

He pushed it to the side and rested his forearms on the edge of the bar. “You didn’t ‘let me’ fuck you.” He looked me right in the eyes. “I ‘took’ that pussy.”

“Took it?” I laughed. “I was unwilling?”

His eyes thinned. “I didn’t say that.”

“Unprepared?” I leaned away. “Unknowing?” I forced out another laugh. “Keep telling yourself that, if it helps you convince yourself that you’re a man. Truth be known, I shamed you into fucking me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Shamed you.” I took a step toward the bar’s edge. “Tricked you. Duped you. Whatever you want to call it. I got what I wanted, that’s all that matters.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at me. “You’re saying you coerced me?”

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “That’s a good choice. Coerced. I like that one.”

His gaze dropped to the bar. After a short pause, he looked up. He swept his hair away from his face with both hands, looking at me the entire while.

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “No one has ever tricked me into doing anything.”

I expected my little episode to provoke his violent side. He was much more composed than I expected. While he sat there wearing a smug look, I realized the only thing keeping him from retaliating was his level of confidence.

He was so damned self-confident he felt no need argue.

With each tick of the second hand from the Budweiser clock on the wall behind me, he grew a little sexier.

I wanted to make him mad enough to teach me a lesson. To have him bend me over his knee and spank my ass. If he fucked me senseless it would be better. I doubted I could lure him into the same trap twice, but it was worth a try.

“No one’s ever tricked you into doing anything, huh?” I cocked my hip. “Well, I sure did.”

“Is that standard operating procedure for you?” He gave me a quick once-over. “Tricking guys into fucking you?”

It wasn’t, but I wanted him to think I got one over on him. “Just the easy ones,” I said. “I make the tough ones chase me.”

He gave me a side-eyed look. “I bet your daddy’s proud of you.”