IOU

by Kristy Marie

At this point, though, you’re probably wondering why I’m screaming, ‘Fuck you!’ instead of grabbing some water and helping Tucker pull the curtain rod down. It’s simple. I hate Tucker and hope his dick catches fire.

He doesn’t move—only stares at me like he can somehow extract the truth with his eyes. “I’ll be fine, big guy.” I encourage when his buddies start loading up. He sighs. “I’m at Station 764 if you need anything.”

In the morning, things will be different. In the morning, I’ll go back to Lawrence. In the morning, it’ll be a new beginning.

Sebastian is Havemeyer’s celebrity. He’s semi-talented with a guitar, but he’s mostly known for his outlandish reality clips. Basically, he’s all show. Nothing in his life is real. It’s all an act—all for the fake fame and publicity.

Most days, I can’t remember who the real Maverick is anymore. Does he even like poker? Or was poker a matter of survival at the time? I’ll never know because, at this point, I can never give it up. It’s who I am now.

Everything can be bought. Even the most moral soul can be sold for a price. Life is a contract. Friendships. Marriages. Employment. It’s all there in black and white. Once time has been served, or the contract hasn’t been fulfilled to their standards, it’s over. I will never not have a contract.

My life is messy and complicated. And I’m not sure how to fucking fix it.

If there is one thing I’ve learned about Bostic in a short amount of time is that he does not walk. For a big guy, he freaking hustles.

I’m not going to cry. I can handle this. Think of it like when you had a Father’s Day event at school and no father to have doughnuts with you. The initial pain hurts, but you get used to it. Eventually, you won’t even care.

I sure as shit have more I would like to say to them, but I won’t. Not now. Because whatever I did to deserve Bostic’s help at this moment, I’d like to keep it. And him, because he’s just amazing.

Where I exchange unsavory favors, Sebastian fucks people over for likes. We’re a vicious pair.

The dipshit waiter we were saddled with steps in my eye line, blocking my view of the door behind the bar where I assume the girls disappeared into.

He was frighteningly beautiful, the slight twitch of his lips luring you in as his next breath destroyed you. And I fell epically for his bait.

“Fine,” I say after a minute. “But I want to slide down the fire pole before bed.”

Women should never lose sight of their hopes and dreams. They should be individuals that are amplified by their mates

He drops one of his massive arms and rubs a spot just above—ah damn, his nipple is pierced. Not to mention the whole right side of his ribs are covered in a massive tribal tattoo. Even on his left, a smaller tattoo wraps from his back and ends on his stomach, teasing me to gaze longingly at the ridiculous set of six-pack abs between them.

I’m basking in the snuggliest sofa ever—eyes closed and everything—when a low growling type noise has me popping one eye open. “Oh. My bad.” Seriously, I got lost for a second.

She seems so normal. Sure, she’s gorgeous, most of the crazy ones are too, but Ainsley has this genuine quality to her. Like what you see is what you get.

I take the marker and scrawl the letters IOU, taking my sweet ass time. I want her to know I’m the one in charge here. No pouty mouth and tight body is going to make me forget who I am.

This is a bad idea—a terrible idea, Maverick. The worst you’ve ever had.

“I mean, I would like to, but there aren’t many openings around here, and I refuse to be a stripper, not that I’m judging the women who are. I just don’t have that kind of confidence in my body.” Good Lord. I take it back. She has eight hours and then she’s out of here.

I throw on a shirt and head out into the hall, where the whimpering becomes more apparent. She’s not just sniffling now. She’s holding back some massive sobs. This isn’t my thing. I don’t do crying women.

“Press the button! Remember what he did!” What the fuck? Is she giving herself a pep talk? And what button is so damn important that she needs to press it? Dammit. Now I have to know. Call it fucking curiosity. Maybe she really is crazy and just hides it well. Sebastian always says the prettiest ones have the craziest personalities.

Her words are harsh and biting. My dick twitches.

I almost smile. Nothing will protect this girl from me now.

I’m the shark, and she’s the unsuspecting sea lion floating lazily in the ocean.

I like this spunk from her. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. No one gives me this much backtalk or stands up to me anymore. But this girl . . . This girl flips switches I didn’t know I had.

Her room is light and airy with a lot of blues and yellows. And sea lions. I need to ask her about that. Who still has stuffed animals on their bed?

It’s like he’s the most hateful, considerate host ever. I don’t want him to think I’m a mess of a person.

My fire-savior is my very own Thor—protector of my Universe. I’m legit living a Disney movie. I have a genie and an Avenger.

I told you he was an angel, and people just talk shit about him.

“I want plain cheese.” That gets a better reaction out of him. “Just cheese? What kind of person are you?” I cock my own damn eyebrow. “A plain one.” He chuckles, getting out of the car. “There’s nothing about you that’s plain.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, following behind him as he pauses to lock the car. “Are you saying I’m complicated?”

“Are you making fun of me?” Seriously. Is that a smile on his face? I think it is! “I’m not.” “You are. You’re laughing.” “I’m not laughing.” Yes, he is, and it’s cute. Really, really cute.

“I’m just saying,” I continue, slapping another piece of pizza on my plate. “I’m not one of those girls who won’t eat in front of a man. I honestly don’t care what men think of me anymore.”

“Anyway, that’s what I want to work on. Me. Who I am and what I enjoy. I don’t know where the old Ainsley went, but I’m going to set out to find her. This time, I’m doing me.”

But the air has shifted. Ainsley James realizes that I’m not as scary as the rumors make me out to be. Which. Is. A. Fucking. Problem. I need those rumors. I need fear. My life depends on them.

Seriously, Ainsley? The least she can do is adequately cover her tracks by stowing her walruses or sea lions—whatever—in her room if she wants to keep pretending she sleeps in there every night.

I stride back down the hallway, the warm breeze from the balcony invigorating me with excitement. Nah. It’s not the breeze. It’s fucking with Ainsley.

Squatting, I lean over for a closer look and see that it’s the three IOUs I slid under the door, each one with the letters FU written in what looks to be lipstick. And . . . my dick is getting hard. Why must her fight turn me on?

Finally, the door slams, and I look up to see Ainsley standing in a bikini—a very tiny bikini. “Where the hell are you going?” She puts a hand on her hip, cocking it out just enough to draw my eyes lower than they need to go. “Since you’re banning me from your little sleepover, I’m going to hang out by the pool.” The hell she is.

“Dude, did you know there’s a chick floating in our beer pool?” I sigh, closing my laptop, and rub my temples. I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone. When I came out of the shower, she was gone. I assumed she heeded my warning. Evidently, not. “Where?” He doesn’t look at me. “On the sidewalk. Her feet are propped up on the hood of your car, and I’m pretty sure she’s chugging wine from a box.” I’m going to kill her.

“Maybe you should wait a minute, push the game back an hour or so?” “What the fuck for? Just because you lose money, doesn’t mean the rest of us want to delay our payday.” Sebastian turns his head, speaking to someone outside before facing me. “Because we all want to enjoy the show a little longer.” We all?

You’ve got to be shitting me. I walk the few steps to my balcony and look out. Half of the terraces are occupied with men staring down, directly in front of my parking space.

“Look closely. Do you see two shits or a fuck anywhere in my eyes?”

I can’t very well leave her out here drunk and in a bikini. God only knows what would happen. College guys are creatures of convenience. A pretty girl, wet and crying? Yeah, she’s like a bloody heart tossed into a den of wolves.

“Fine. Will you at least fix my bathing suit? I don’t want your friends seeing my butt cheeks.” That’s one thing we agree on. I nod, clearing my throat. “Fine.”

It’s cute the way he acts like he doesn’t give a shit, but yet, he’s checking on me. Of course, his voice strains, like he had to force the words out, but the point is, the big bad wolf cares, even if he would love for me to believe he doesn’t.

Here comes the “cold” Maverick. Not the one who lives here. My theory is the real Maverick Lexington is buried somewhere beneath all the lies and rumors but coaxing him out will take the right hand and one amazing bluff.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t tell if I’m so mad that I’m turned on or if his crazy speaks to my crazy, and I want to fuck him out of my system. Is this what losing it feels like?

“Some people are meant to burn, and others are meant to rise from their ashes.”