“You know the drill, missy. You ramble while I get my hands busy. And when we’re done, we will sit down, have a drink, and discuss it. Now, let me get my knife while you fire up that sexy mouth of yours,” Sona says and shoots me a grin.
I start to pace and think about where I should start but Sona draws my attention by pointing the knife in the direction of my socks. “Oh, fluffy bacon socks for comfort. This tells me your issues are catastrophic. Okay, let’s have it.”
She knows me all too well, probably the only person alive who does, since I share more secrets with her than with anyone else in my life.
I clench my hands into fists. “You don’t even know the half of it. Mr. Asshole got me benched and even wrote a full report about me being incapable and a liability. Me!” I seethe.
Sona is scooping out the pink flesh of the watermelon and softly asks, “I’m guessing this is the same asshole you grabbed to be a human shield in an effort to protect the baby you were saving?”
“Yes. This whole case went to shit the second those SEALs from Cole Security Forces interfered with—”
The knife is pointed in my direction again. “Didn’t you tell me they weren’t SEALs?”
“Former SEALs, but those guys never stop being what they are; skilled and trained to handle any situation. These guys work for Cole Security Forces, but the asshole I’m talking about—who is questioning my capabilities—isn’t working for them. He’s CIA. His daddy owns half of Cole Security Forces. Freaking hypocrite. Maybe I should write a report about him myself to blabber about moonlighting right next to his CI-freaking-A job.”
The knife clatters against the counter and Sona keeps staring at me. I never hold back with her. Like I said, she’s my best friend and knows me better than anyone. The first time we met we were stuck in the elevator. After spending over an hour talking, I was tired of waiting for help and I got the both of us out of there.
I had to explain why I knew and could do things. I spilled some and asked her not to mention it to anyone. Obviously, she didn’t and over the years I started trusting her more since she’s the type of person who locks secrets away deep in her soul and treasures our friendship.
She’s my one in a million bestie, that’s for sure. And I always return the favor. I’m her person and she’s mine. But this also means we keep it real and won’t ever lie or shy away from telling each other the truth right to their face.
“What’s going to happen now?” she questions.
I grab a barstool and shove it slightly back before I plant my ass on it. “I’m benched for the next few weeks for sure. And this might just guarantee my father won’t let me take another high-profile case ever again with the freaking CIA pointing me out in a freaking report. I’m the reason all legal eyes are locked on Broken Deeds MC. I guess now is the time to get drunk and not think for a few hours because I have a headache building and it won’t do me any good thinking about any of it. And really…what else can I do?”
“Get drunk?” Sona snorts and hits the button to turn on the mixer. She turns it off and pours the liquid inside the empty melon. “You mean stop after three drinks instead of two?”
“You’d do best to grab another melon from your apartment because this one is mine, Sona. I mean it. Even if you put the whole bottle of vodka in there, I’m going to sit here and drink until I’m too drunk to grab another glass.”
She shoots me a grin and shoves two glasses along with the melon my way and points at the plastic tap. “You’re in charge of pouring the drinks while I go grab the other melon and clear my schedule, because you and I are gonna be at it alllll night long.”
Right. All night long for sure. I’ll give it an hour before I’m passed out drunk, ‘cause like I said, I never drink more than two, maybe three. But I’m absolutely not keeping count now.
——————
The groan ripping from my mouth instantly dies when I realize I’m making too much noise for my pounding headache. Why oh-freaking-why did I have to drink so much? I rub my eyes and temples and turn slightly, becoming aware someone is lying right next to me.
Red curls. Sona. The corner of my mouth twitches to see her lying next to me. Either she was too drunk to go to her own apartment next door or didn’t think it was safe to leave me on my own. Then I notice she’s holding Rat and I reach out to snag it away from her. The woman is dead to the world and isn’t aware of anything that just happened and keeps snoring peacefully.
I glance down at my one eared stuffed rat and safely place it underneath my pillow. It’s the one thing I can’t sleep without. My dad gave it to me when I was five years old and I’ve had it ever since. Even if it’s all ragged and missing an ear since my annoying brother ripped it off.
I stretch and roll my shoulders. Glancing at the clock I notice it’s almost noon, and normally I would be awake before dawn to start my morning routine. Yet, the way my head is pounding, there’s no way I’m hitting the floor for some pushups followed by a run through the park and hitting the gym later in the afternoon. Instead I slowly make my way toward the bathroom and take a long hot shower.
While I’m getting dressed, I think about what I’m going to do today. Other than maybe hitting the gym tonight. The need to punch something is high, and there’s only one way for me to get rid of all the anger still flowing through my body; a long workout followed by some sparring in the ring.
I glance at my arms and the thought of a new tattoo hits me. Even if I have little space left since most of my body is covered with either lines or geometric tattoos. My mother used to be a tattoo artist. She still inks from time to time, but only for friends and family. She used to pierce too. Needless to say, she’s the one who pierced my belly button, tongue, and did all of my ink.
I don’t like to cover my body with flashy colors. Every line on my body is black and I don’t do make-up or a dress and heels. Well, I do have exceptions when it comes to dressing like a lady when it’s needed to get a job done, but that’s really not by choice.
The only things bright, shiny, and colorful are my piercings. They are all white gold along with shiny rubies. I mentioned the belly button and the tongue piercing, but I also have a vertical clit hood piercing. I had to go out of state to get the clit hood piercing. Needless to say, it’s not the kind of piercing you let your mom do.
I also have to add the fact I haven’t had sex since I got it. But getting that piercing is the best decision I ever made. Talk about sensitive and extra stimulation. If my life wasn’t so insane, I would get out, find myself a suitable guy and go for a test run. Come to think of it, I have all the time in the world now. Maybe I should go find one to get my rocks off, another fine way to get rid of some of the tension flowing through my body.
I brush my long hair and pull it back into a tight braid. I might have long, dirty blonde hair but it’s always up in a braid or a ponytail. I debate putting on my fluffy socks underneath my black ripped jeans but decide against it. I’m not one to keep soaking in misery.
The aspirin I took before hitting the shower is slowly doing its job. Getting some new ink will have to wait since I don’t feel like talking to my mom. Hell, I’m not up to facing any of them. I want to sulk, and yet what I really want to do is dive into a case where I need to put my brain through hell. It’s how I function best, what I’m used to, and what I crave the most.