3. Ryanne “Shorty” Larwick

3

RYANNE "SHORTY" LARWICK

"I've been meaning to ask you." Sylvie stood by me at the pickup counter. "That man from the other night—was that your man?"

I shook my head and turned to walk away. She never talked to me unless she wanted something, or she was about to make my life hell.

The scar on her chin came from me getting fed up with her bullshit.

She grabbed my arm and I swung on her catching her against the side of her head.

"What did I say about touching me?" I demanded.

"You hit me!"

"Is that any more or less bad than the stab?"

Her lips trembled as she began backing away from me. Frowning, I let her go and picked up my latest order.

Greg had been staying away from me since his counter with Khadri. As a matter of fact, I could ask for anything, and he'd give it to me.

But I was just happy he wasn't trying to grab my ass anymore.

"Here you go." I found a smile for the little girl at the table. "One banana split. I talked them into adding extra blueberries. You mommy said you liked them."

She giggled.

"Thank you." The mother told me.

I winked at her and turned back to one of my other tables. The family there left a mess but since the tip was nice I wasn't too mad about it.

Grabbing a basket, I packed all the plates and cups into it then wiped all the food off before disinfecting the surface.

Once it was cleaned, I checked on my last few tables, and brought all the used plates to the counter to be taken into the back.

All the while, I tried keeping my mind off Khadri Weston.

He wasn't the typical pretty boy.

But even then, I couldn't think of a sexier man.

I didn't mind the scars—it gave him character and a beauty no one else would have.

The body he had under his clothes was tone and hard.

I remembered the feel of it when he caught me, when he held me in his arms. But I had to remind myself he hadn't done it because he wanted to.

It was to keep me from smashing open my skull on the edge of the table or on the floor.

Still, I couldn't remember ever knowing what I wanted in a man.

I knew I wanted him to be kind and good. But other than that, I didn't know what turned me on.

I didn't know what it felt like to be?—

"Order up!" Greg yelled, then began coughing.

The snarl was followed by the dingo f a bell.

Finishing up my night, I washed off the stink of fast food as best I could in the bathroom sink. I released my hair, used my fingers to scoop it back together then tied it up in a short ponytail at the base of my neck.

I'd been wearing my hair natural for the past few years—salons were expensive and buying relaxers and the like just so I could take my chances with the chemicals seemed like a waste of money.

I didn't have the money to spare.

Digging into my purse, I found an almost bottle of body mist.

There was so little in it, the pump didn't work.

Frowning, I opened the bottle, stuck my finger inside and tilted it so the little liquid would dampen the tip of my finger.

I then used the finger to dab both sides of my neck before holding the bottle up to the light.

It was almost empty.

Packing my purse again, I checked my phone to see it only had two bars. If I didn't use it for anything, the juice should last until I got home—or at the very least to the front of the building.

I checked the time and almost freaked out—I was late to catch the last bus.

Sighing in frustration, I strung the bag over my shoulder, strutted by Sylvie and stepped outside into the humid heat.

I was sure to slam the door extra hard, then took great pleasure in listening to Greg swear.

"Ms. Larwick."

Tilting my head to the side, Khadri stood to his full height with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"How about a ride?"

I blushed.

"I'm too heavy for that thing. We'd both die."

"For a Harley?"

He walked toward me, dressed in all black looking too dangerous for his own good.

"Come on." He took my hand.

Weak, I allowed him to walk me toward the cycle.

"And besides, I smell like food." I protested. "I couldn't have a shower before?—"

"Ryanne?"

He faced me.

"I'm going to need you to stop worrying." He placed a helmet on my head and latched it under my chin. "Breathe."

He climbed onto the cycle and took my hand. He instructed me on how to get on. Bracing my free hand on his shoulder, I sat behind him then realized I wasn't sure what to do next.

"Hang on." He told me while fixing his helmet in place.

"Um—" I set my purse between our bodies and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my palms to his thighs.

He took both my hands up and pressed them to his abs and the fire that heat my face threatened to consume me.

The moment the motorcycle moved, my shyness vanished, and I held him tighter, pressed my cheek to his back and closed my eyes.

Taking the bus would have taken me close to forty-five minutes to get to my place. It was just how public transit was. It was as if I blinked and I was home, the cycle rolling to a stop and my arms were fused around him.

Khadri turned to look at me over a muscular shoulder as he removed his helmet to smile at me.

"You okay?" He wanted to know.

"Um—I'm not sure? Ask me again when my knees stop shaking."

He chuckled. "You're in one piece, Short."

"Shorty?" I gasped dramatically. "I'm not short. Just—vertically challenged."

Khadri nodded.

"I'll remember that." He mused. "Do you work tomorrow?"

"I'm not on the schedule for the next two days." I admitted. "But if someone calls in sick, I could use the money."

"The hustle doesn't stop." He stated. "I can respect that."

I managed to unglue my arms from around him, and with his help, I climbed off the ride. But it took me a little time of clinging to his shoulder to stop my knees to stop shaking.

"It'll stop soon."

I laughed. "The adrenaline crash, is it?"

"You'll get used to it. I'm getting the information I've been asking for tomorrow. You should come by."

"Oh—um, where?"

"Do you know Musk on Ellington?" Khadri wanted to know.

I nodded.

"Come by there at about one."

Nodding, I gathered myself, wished him a good night and headed toward the building.

"Hey!" He called.

I paused.

"If you need a ride?—"

"I'm good!"

Khadri laughed.

The sound of his engine didn't start again until I was inside the building.

I only turned on the light in the kitchen. After washing the plates I'd left from lunch before my shift, I stripped down and showered before sitting in front of my computer trying to find perfume.

The prices were too much—I couldn't justify any of that.

Groaning, I showered, made myself some instant noodles and slurped away while flipping through basic cable to find something that wouldn't kill the last two braincells I had left.

When I closed my eyes that night, the images were all of Khadri.

It wasn't like I could control them.

I had his body against mine, my arms around him as the vibration rubbed him against me until my nipples were hard.

I woke myself to use the bathroom, get a drink of water then spent the rest of the night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if I could attract a man like Khadri.

You're an idiot, Ryanne.

I realized then I didn't have a middle name.

My parents hadn't given me one—they stayed alive long enough to have me, stress about my status when I was born. Once I was breathing, my mother was discharged, leaving me behind to get my vitals up.

My parents never returned, and I was labeled a jinx.

You're in one piece, Shorty.

I trembled and rolled over to see the time.

It was barely after five and I didn't have to meet with Khadri for another few hours. Trying to fall asleep again didn't work. I was no worried about what he could have found, and I spent anther hour freaking out about that.

Eventually, I climbed out of bed, dressed and wandered to the small Asian plaza not far from my place. I roamed the small shops until I found a bottle of perfume. It wasn't a designer name, but I found I loved the smell of cherry blossoms.

Spritzing some from the tester on my wrists, I rubbed my wrists together then sniffed.

I then waved my arms away from my face and sniffed again.

I didn't try any other—this one was cheap enough and would do—I just couldn't get my morning coffee out for the next few days to make up the shortage in my budget.

I paid for it, and proudly walked out of the store, the small black bag hanging off my left wrist. In order to be on time, I rushed home, showered quickly then took great care in getting dressed. I swapped out my tattered work purse for one I kept for special occasions—I didn't use it much.

It was a deep red, with silver fittings.

Dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a black shirt with a V neck, I slipped my feet into a simple pair of flats, and used a little of my gel to ensure my hair was presentable.

I took the bus to the bar and found the lot was empty. Still, I approached the front door and thankfully there was a doorbell.

When someone answered, it wasn't Khadri, but I did recognize the man as Boswell Teller. He was more breath-taking in real life.

I offered him a small smile.

"Hi—I know you're closed but Khadri is expecting me."

"Ms. Larwick—please, come in." He offered me a slight bow of his head.

Glancing over my shoulder, I hesitated.

"Wait here." He told me and disappeared up a set of steps.

A few seconds later, Khadri stuck his head out and motioned for me to come up.

Clutching my purse to my side, I walked up the steps, gripping the rail just in case my knees gave out. As I stood in front of him, he tilted his head.

"Boss isn't dangerous." Khadri told me. "Well, at least not to the good guys, anyway."

I chuckled. "Sorry—I'm not used to being alone with?—"

"I understand. Have you eaten?"

He led me through the silent bar, but I was barely paying attention to what he was saying. Even though the bar was close enough to my place, I'd never been.

One, I had no friends.

Two, I probably wouldn't get in because of my fashion and low brow looks.

Three, without even checking, I knew I wouldn't be able to afford the admission fee.

But everything about the décor told me the place was a man's world.

All the colours were rich, browns and blacks. The expensive liquor wall surprised me, and the immaculate floors were new. The few times I went to a bar were times when I wanted to treat myself to a beer outside of my apartment.

Those times were rare.

"Shorty?"

"Mm?"

"Are you hungry?" He questioned.

He faced me at a booth where Boswell was biting into a burger.

"Um—I can eat later."

"You're my guest." Khadri reminded me.

Sighing, I nodded.

"Okay."

"Tell me what you'd like." He motioned for me to sit. "We have?—"

"A burger is fine. Just no tomatoes."

"Fries, onion rings—a salad on the side?"

"Fries, please." I sat.

Khadri nodded and wandered off. I watched, holding my breath as he disappeared into the back before setting my purse on the seat beside me.

"Shorty?" Boswell asked.

"It's a thing with him." I flushed. "Sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to?—"

"In today's society, it's a kneejerk reaction." Boswell wiped his mouth. "I get it. I can tell you weren't expecting me to be here. Moros thought you'd feel uncomfortable being here alone with him."

"Oh." I sighed my surprised. "I—I wouldn't have been."

"That's good to hear."

Khadri returned and sat beside me.

The warmth his body sent my heart racing as he pulled out his laptop and opened it so I could see the screen.