Page 20 of That Emerald Vow

“Yes, but—” I start, but she interrupts me, making my jaw tick.

She waves her fingers at me. “Uh-uh-uh. You can’t have it both ways. You told me to get you a good lawyer—one of my colleagues specifically—and to stay out of it. I have.”

“Al—”

She continues, “It’s not my fault you have ignored every single phone call from that man since your mother was convicted.” She takes another step towards me and takes my hand.

Even though a pulsing vein ticks in my forehead, I’m forcing myself not to flick her off like a bug. She was supposed to have taken care of this problem for me.

I sigh deeply. “Fuck,” I whisper. Alex is right. It’s not her fault . . . It’s mine. I should have picked up Mr. Nigel’s calls. But I didn’t want to deal withher. My mother was supposed to be in prison for the rest of her miserable life. “I’m sorry.”

“If you want my help, Damon, all you have to do is ask.” She lets go of my hand and stands there looking at me—leaving the ball in my court.

I chew the inside of my cheek before finally saying, “I need your help again, Alex . . . Please.”

“That’s my boy,” she says as she turns on her heel to leave the room. I cringe at the statement. I am notheranything. “Go get cleaned up and come upstairs. Miranda already called Nigel, and he’s on his way.”

The taste of iron fills my mouth as I continue to chew my inner cheek. This fucking bitch could have saved this whole song and dance and just told me that. But I know Alex is the lesser of two evils between her and my mother.

“Thank you, Alex. I’ll be right there.”

HONK!A car horn blares as the driver speeds around me. I don’t blame them, I’m driving down the highway at a dangerously slow speed. No amount of honking, Bryce Savage blasting telling me I’m a dark, sadistic badass, or my own positive affirmations are helping the giant anxiety elephant sitting on my chest, making it hard to breathe. With each new trauma it grows and grows, rotting me from the inside. Maybe that’s why I take a sharp turn off the exit to find a bar in a nearby town. I’m slow-crawling my way to hell, and I need some liquid courage, but not the kind that most people may think when I say that.

I left my house with hours to spare, knowing this would happen: I’d drive like a grandma because I don’t want to go meet my makers, and I’d need to make a pit stop. There was nothing I could do to get out of dinner. With my mother, I just say yes or things just get harder on me. There’s no one who fuels my anxiety like my mother.

Thankfully, I did get out of having to stay longer than necessary. I told her I was forced to pick up a shift at work and had to leave as soon as dinner was over. She was not happy about it and she said, “I guess that’s fine that you care more about dying strangers than your own father. At least you’ll be there for dinner.” She clearly had no respect for my chosen profession of wanting to help people. She couldn’t very well say she was proud of me for being empathetic and having a work/life balance. Theextra shift is a lie, of course. I just refuse to be there longer than I have to. Being in the same four walls ashimand my mother long-termis not something I want to explore. I even made sure I had no shifts the next two days to recover from the emotional fuckery that tonight will bring.

Parking my car in front of the dive bar, I grab my wallet and head to the front door. A smile draws at my lips at the idea of this helping ease my anxiety and feel a bit more in control. Walking into the bar, the smell of stale cigarettes and cheap cleaning products hits my nose. Since it’s still early afternoon, there’s not a soul in sight except the bartender scrubbing the bar with a dirty rag.

“What can I get for a beautiful girl like you?” he asks as I take a seat on a wooden stool in front of him. He must be in his late thirties and is decent looking. His dark hair looks like he just got out of bed and couldn’t be bothered, but it kinda works for him. His smirk tells me he thinks he’s the hottest shit in town. I snort internally. Men are so predictable.

“Do you have Blue Moon?” I ask with a beaming smile, making sure to lean over the sticky bar so he can get a clear shot of my cleavage. I’m wearing a basic, low-cut T-shirt and tight skinny jeans that I picked out to be comfortable on the long drive.

“For you? Of course, darling,” he responds, winking at me with his blue eyes—maybe the only nice thing about him. “Tap or bottle?”

I lick my bottom lip slowly, I say “Surprise me?” knowing I have him hooked when his Adam’s apple bobs as he carefully looks at my lips and back down to my breasts. “What’s your name, sugar?”

He takes a pint glass and starts to pour my drink, only taking his eyes off me to make sure the glass is under the spigot. “Cleetus,” he says as he places the glass in front of me. “Cleetus Beuford.”

I take a sip of the beer, which feels nice and cool. “Well, Cleetus, I can’t lie. I came in here with an ulterior motive,” I say, placing down the glass and stroking the condensation on the side of it slowly—ensuringto maintain eye contact with him. I stick out my lower lip as I continue, “I’ve had a lousy morning, and I need a little pick-me-up.” Choosing to take the dumb blonde route, which works every time. “I got so turned around trying to get back to campus. Thought to myself that it might be a good idea to get a nice cold beer and maybe some . . .” Taking in my lower lip as I giggle, I pretend to look around the room, even though we both know nobody else is here, and whisper, “Release.”

His eyes light up at that last part as he leans forward with a smug expression. “That can definitely be arranged.”

“I’m starting to feel a lot better, babes,” I say, pacing Cleetus’s bathroom floor while on the phone with Lily.

She chuckles on the other end, but I know she’s worried about me. “That’s why we have our files. Just promise you’ll call me to check in after?”

“Yup, that’s why I came prepared. And I promise.” I check my reflection in the mirror. Not a hair out of place. I smooth down the bartender’s shirt, which fits me like a dress. I didn’t want to dirty my own clothes. “Now let me get back to this man. Talk later. Love you.”

“Love you. Give ‘em hell . . .” She sighs. “Allof them.”

I scoff as my heart sinks a bit, knowing I’ll never get justice for the true evil in my life. That is just something I am not ready to face. I’m not even sure I ever will be. “I’ll try . . .”

Checking my reflection again, I walk back down the hall to Cleetus’s bedroom where he’s tied up in nothing but his boxers. It didn’t take a lot of convincing to let me tie him up. Nothing more sexy to men thana kinky little blonde. I smirk at him as I ask, “You ready, sugar?”

He looks like he just won the lottery.Little does he know.“Oh, I’m ready for you, baby.”

I sway my hips in tandem to each step as I prowl towards him. “I don’t think you are.” My heart is slowly increasing pace as I get more and more excited by my coming release. I kneel on top of him with each leg on either side of his hips. He greedily gyrates upwards so his crotch is flush with my center. I hear the strain of the wood as he pulls on the ties, not wanting to wait. “What’s the rush? You want this?” I push down on his cock with my pussy and swipe up. We’re both still in our underwear, but there is no denying how hard he is for me and the anticipatory heat pooling between my legs. Although, the heat is not from the asshole under me, but what I’ll get to do to him soon.

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