Drake (The Powers That Be, Book 5) Page 5

  “Oh, yeah? Well, he has a tiny penis!” I announced then my eyes got big because I was shocked at what I’d said. I was also mentally high-fiving myself at my awesome retort.

  That stopped him in his tracks and a couple of the guys chuckled as they walked past him. He sauntered back to me making me back up against Betsy’s door.

  Leaning down, his eyes glittering as they held mine, he replied, “Honey, you ever find yourself lucky enough to take my nine inches, you’ll rave just like the others that my cock is a fucking masterpiece.”

  With that, he turned and casually strolled away getting in an older, like a 70s model, very cool, black car—Vic would’ve called it a muscle car—as I stood there staring after him like an idiot.

  Vic called from his bike on the other side of my truck, “You coming?”

  I could’ve made a crude comment right about then, but I restrained myself. “Uh huh,” I answered instead then followed him back to the house.

  Chapter 6

  Vic texted the next Tuesday to tell me that Drake’s dad had called letting him know the parts had come in and said I could bring Betsy in the next morning. I hoped it would be the last time I ever had to set foot in their garage and/or deal with Drake.

  Text Message—Tues, Feb 23, 6:22 p.m

  Me: This is the last time, promise

  Krys: Good. I can’t keep robbing banks for you. I saw my wanted poster in the post office the other day. They’re onto me…

  Me: Funny

  Krys: So what’re you promising now???

  Me: Ha don’t act like I always promise stuff!

  Krys: Hm…Oh, Krys, I promise I’ll save you a seat on the bus and you won’t have to sit by someone weird!

  Me: OMG That was in 6th grade! And Mrs. Price made everyone move to the back and double up!

  Krys: Well, YOU didn’t have to sit next to Tyler Weir(do) who used to chase us around the gym with his big old chapped lips with that weird habit of opening his mouth wide 30 billion times a day because he said it made them feel better

  Me: LMAO I can’t help it if you were late! And Tyler Weir was kinda cute

  Krys: CUTE? They’re all cute until they hold you down and try to smear their ChapStick on your mouth!

  Me: Aw! It was because he liked you!

  Krys: You’re so mean!

  Me: I’m dying hahahahaha

  Krys: I hate you

  Me: You love me ‘cause I make you awesome snacks

  Krys: Wellllll

  Me: Like the dirt cake I’m gonna make you tonight

  Krys: OMG OREOS

  Me: Yep!

  Krys: WHIPPED CREAM

  Me: GUMMY WORMS

  Krys: YUMMY! So what’s the dealio?

  Me: I need a ride in the morning from Powers to class then to work after PLEASEEEEE

  Krys: Psh that’s easy. And jsyk, I’d do just about anything for dirt pudding

  Me: That’s what I was hoping for. Thank you! You’re the best EVER!

  Krys: I know ;)

  Me: You are. I owe you!

  Krys: Nah. Just keep appeasing my sweet tooth & we’re even

  Me: Thank you so much, Krys, really

  Krys: No problem! See you in the morning. Oh, will Mr. 9-Incher be there?

  Me: Probably *eye roll*

  Krys: If he is, we’ll put his gorgeous ass on ignore

  Me: I can do that

  Krys: K see you tomorrow!

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Should be ready Friday,” Matt Powers said typing into the computer from behind the counter. He looked at the computer screen reading something.

  “Thanks,” I replied, looking cautiously around the shop for Drake. When I didn’t see him, I sighed in relief then had to silently berate myself for hoping he was in the garage trapped underneath a car.

  Matt went out to the garage, and I now sat in the service area alone waiting on Krystal who’d texted saying she was running late. I was flipping through a People magazine when I saw Drake’s black muscle car come pulling into the lot. Yippee.

  I set the magazine back on the table watching as he got out looking hotter than ever, dang it. His low-slung jeans and denim shirt over a white tank tee, hair still damp from his shower, and that damned cocky swagger he had as he walked toward the garage had me mesmerized. But when a white Porsche 911 came flying into the lot, stopping and a gorgeous blonde who looked like a model got out, the look-there’s-a-hot-guy-within-one-hundred-yards-of-you spell I’d been under was instantly broken. And when she began yelling at him I really snapped out of it. Whoa.

  “I just want a chance! It’s not fair!” the woman screeched, stomping her stilettoed foot in the tight jeans she wore along with a shimmery peach-colored blouse under what I figured was a real white mink coat.

  Crap. I realized I was watching a lover’s quarrel play out right before my very voyeuristic eyes but found I couldn’t not watch. Ergh.

  I heard Drake reply, but unable to make out what he said, my nosy self leaned forward, and I turned my head slightly to the side to help me hear better. Then watching as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and glared at her, I felt kind of bad for the chick because I’d been on the receiving end of that look from him before and it hadn’t been fun.

  “It wasn’t enough!” she shrieked with another foot stomp.

  I sat back in my seat now rolling my eyes because I guessed nine-inch lover boy had failed to leave her raving about his masterpiece the night before. Whatever.

  When he suddenly turned and headed toward the door, my body gave a surprised jolt and I grabbed the magazine again, holding it in front of my face acting as if I hadn’t been watching them. Shit. The door opened making the sound of the chick peeling out of the lot loud and I heard him snort.

  Don’t see me. Don’t see me. Don’t see me, I silently prayed scooting down in the chair and trying to become invisible.

  “Get a good show?” Drake asked.

  I looked up innocently from the magazine. “Huh? Oh, I was just reading about Ryan Reynolds being the sexiest dad alive.”

  With narrowed eyes, he walked over to where I sat then taking the magazine out of my hands, flipped it right side up and handed it back.

  I felt my face get hot as I chewed the inside of my lip watching him walk behind the counter. “Whoops.”

  “Yeah. Whoops,” he mumbled as he started typing on the keyboard. Then he glanced up at me. “Why the scrubs?”

  I looked down at the maroon scrubs I wore and in the process of opening my mouth to explain saw Krystal pull up. “My ride’s here! Gotta go!” I declared, standing and grabbing my bag, making my way the heck out of there pronto.

  “Sorry I was late!” Krystal said when I got in her car.

  “It’s okay. You got here just in time to keep me from making a bigger fool of myself,” I answered, proceeding to tell her about the magazine debacle.

  She cracked up. “Oh, On, you are just the cutest!”

  “Adorable,” I muttered.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Vic picked me up then dropped me off at home after I’d gotten off work that evening before he headed to work himself. An hour later, Krystal came over so she could eat some of her dirt cake.

  “And Mrs. Johnson called me an idiot today because ‘Robert’ apparently hasn’t been taking any of my calls,” I relayed to her about how work had gone. I opened the fridge door and grabbed the cake, but when I put it on the counter and took off the cover, I was pissed. “Son of a bitch!”

  “What?” she asked coming over to see what the problem was.

  “I’m gonna kill my brother,” I hissed seeing that he’d eaten half the cake, which I’d told him not to touch.

  Krystal laughed. “It’s okay. And my hips thank him.”

  I prepared both of us a plate and we sat in the living room while a mindless reality TV show played in the background.

  “So I have another date tomorrow night,” she shared. I raised my eyebrows. “This guy is the son of one of Mom
’s friends.”

  “Oh, boy. So they both have you already married, huh? And when it doesn’t work out, their friendship will be ripped apart when they each blame the other’s kid for it not working,” I declared.

  “Wow, how very optimistic of you.”

  I laughed. “Sorry. That was pretty crappy of me to say.”

  “Nah. You’re probably not far off.” She giggled. “Remember me telling you about Tim from the vacation our families took together right before senior year in high school? I told you I was pretty sure he was gay.”

  “Wait. Is this the guy you said kept critiquing your lipstick?”

  “Yes! I had on Trendy Mauve one day and he told me that Posh Pink would look better with my skin tone.” She laughed.

  “Well, if he’s not gay, at least he’ll keep you looking good,” I said with a chuckle. As she took a bite of her cake, I questioned, “Why do you keep going out with these guys?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s better than not having anything to do. Plus, like I told you before, it’s kinda fun meeting new people.”

  I so wanted her and Vic to get back together and just as I opened my mouth to say something, she stopped me. “Don’t, On.” Dang, she knew me so well. “Look, if it’s meant to be, it will be. If not, then so be it. In the meantime, he can keep banging every skank this side of the Mississippi and I’ll keep going out on bad dates.”

  Well, all right then.

  “I know. I just…” I began, but getting a hair flip and then seeing her face, I conceded. “Shutting up now.”

  We finished eating our cake not talking about anything too serious, laughing and rolling our eyes at the family on TV that was having yet another “crisis” over something ridiculous.

  “Pick you up in the morning,” she said, giving me a hug before leaving.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  I almost stayed home from school again Friday not wanting to bother for rides, but Jeremiah had called the night before and when I’d mentioned skipping, he’d offered to take me to school and then work, so I went with it, telling him I’d pay for his gas so I didn’t feel as if I owed him anything. After picking me up for class, he’d stopped to fill up on gas, gladly letting me pay the almost fifty bucks for his full tank, which I knew was way too much for just two rides, but whatever. After work, Victor was there and took me to get Betsy.

  When we pulled up, Betsy was sitting outside and through the service area window, I saw Drake behind the counter. When he heard Vic’s bike, he turned and gave my brother a chin raise at which Vic nodded and I rolled my eyes at their cool-guy hello.

  “You don’t need me to go in and hold your hand again, do ya?” Vic asked with a snort as I handed him my helmet.

  I frowned. “No.”

  “Good ‘cause I really need to get to work,” he said, raising his brow making sure I’d be okay.

  “I’m fine. Go. Hopefully, this’ll be the last time I have to come here.”

  “Yeah. Okay, see ya tomorrow.”

  “Love you!” I hollered just as he roared off then blowing out a breath, I turned to go inside. Drake, of course, was his usual warm and fuzzy self, giving me an indifferent look. “I’m here to pick up my truck.”

  I thought I heard him mumble, “No shit,” but I let it go. This would be the last time I had to see him anyway so no need to get into it with him and threaten to call the Better Business Bureau.

  “Three-nineteen-fifty,” he said after tapping on the keyboard. I handed him my debit card and our fingers accidentally brushed when he took it causing him to scowl at me.

  Good grief.

  Of course, not listening to my inner voice that was chanting, “Ignore! Ignore!” I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.

  “What’s your problem with me, anyway?” I snapped.

  His callous eyes hit mine. “Wasn’t aware that I had a problem.”

  I shook my head in disbelief but kept quiet, just wanting to leave. After signing the receipt, I snatched up my keys that he’d placed on the counter.

  “Thanks,” I said walking to the door. “See ya never,” I mumbled as I went out and got in my truck.

  The engine started right away and as I backed out, this time when Drake turned to look at me, I temporarily lost any class I had and gave him the bird and saw the side of his mouth twitch. Ass.

  “Goodbye and good riddance,” I said just as I pulled up to exit the lot.

  Annnnd just as I got to the road to turn and leave, Betsy died.

  “No!” I yelled, trying to start her again…and again…and yet again. When she didn’t fire up, I screamed, “Oh, my God!” throwing my head back against the headrest.

  I was what Vic called an angry crier meaning, when I got frustrated or mad, I sometimes lost it because normally, I wasn’t a huge crier. And right then, I was having to seriously hold my shit together because I was beyond pissed. So after a moment of deep breathing where I tried to find my Zen, I got out—slamming the door—and stomped back to the shop. Pulling on the door, I found it was locked, so banging on it with my fist I watched as Drake came out of the garage, an annoyed frown on his face as he came to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open for me.

  “What now?” he asked, clearly agitated.

  And here came the tears, damn it.

  “What now? What now is my truck died again! I’m so sick of this! I can’t keep having people give me rides all the time! I need her fixed now!” I shared—none too gracefully—through my tears.

  The way he looked, panicked at my crying, was almost comical, and I would’ve laughed had I not been so upset. But I was upset, so at that moment there was nothing funny about it at all. He promptly grabbed a flashlight then yanking his jacket from a hook on the wall, pulled it on as he walked out into the parking lot with me following behind.

  He was all business now, no smartassed comments or telling me what to do as he took charge—which would’ve been sexy had I noticed. He popped the hood with the lever from inside my truck then went to the front and pushed it up. I watched as he looked around the engine moving the light and checking things with his hands, producing a wrench from his jacket pocket and loosening what I thought was the battery cables. He inspected the ends then put them back on. He next got inside my truck and tried starting it. When nothing happened, he got back out, moving to the engine again to take another look.

  “Goddamn it,” he muttered, jerking on something to where part of his combed-back hair fell onto his forehead which would’ve been hot, but, yeah, again, I was too upset to pay attention. “Fucking Titus,” he bit out as he stood then glanced down at me, actually seeming remorseful. “I think the fuel pump ground wire might’ve come loose.”

  Well, that explained it. Riiiiight.

  Gazing at me for a moment, he asked, “Can you steer it if I push your truck to the garage?” I nodded and went to get in the cab. “Put it in neutral,” he called. I did as I was told, then he moved to the front and closing the hood, started pushing Betsy back into the lot. “Turn her!” he yelled, which I did, turning the steering wheel so I was now facing the shop. He next walked to the back of the truck and again pushed so that I was then headed for one of the garage bays. “Brake!” he shouted as we got close to one of the doors that was down, which, duh, I’d already put my foot on the brake to stop.

  I got out and asked hopefully, “Can you fix it now?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll have to look at it.” At my disappointed expression, he apologized. “Sorry.”

  Huh. The great Drake Powers was actually being nice. Would wonders never cease.

  “It’s okay,” I mumbled since it seemed he’d done everything he could.

  “You need a ride?” he questioned as we walked to the service area door.

  “No, I’ll call my boyfriend to pick me up,” I blurted pulling out my phone.

  Okay, that just came out. I’d meant to say my best friend, but now I had to go with it. Crap.

  Mentioning Jeremiah wa
s kind of a dick move on my part because—

  A. I didn’t think of him as my boyfriend.

  B. Maybe I’d said it because I didn’t want Drake to think I was as pathetic as I appeared after crying about having to get rides.

  And C. I kind of wanted to see his reaction.

  And he did react. An expression—other than the usual irritation or cockiness he always exhibited when it came to me—appeared on his face. Surprise, maybe?

  “What?” I inquired, frowning yet again. Jeez. I frowned so much around this guy I was going to have premature wrinkles.

  He shrugged as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, lighting one then holding the pack out to me, which I waved off before taking a few steps away and turning my back to him where I called Krystal first, who hadn’t answered, damn it, so I got Jeremiah who said he’d be there in five minutes.

  After hanging up, I walked back to Drake who smirked as he took a few more puffs of his cigarette then opened and held the door for me to go inside.

  It was at that moment my brain decided to catch up, and his reaction to my boyfriend comment became clear making me frown, of course. “You think I can’t get a boyfriend,” I declared haughtily.

  He tipped his head back and barked out a laugh, which would’ve been damned attractive had he not been such a prick. Then flicking his cigarette out into the parking lot, he swept the same hand faux-gallantly toward the inside of the shop for me to go in.

  “You’re such a jerk,” I hissed, passing him as I went in to wait for Jeremiah.

  Sooner than I knew what was going on, Drake grabbed me by the upper arm, spinning me to face him, bending to get right in my face. “I think you’re fucking beautiful.” His eyes burned into mine—which were now huge at his shocking declaration. “And you haven’t even told me your fucking name,” he rumbled letting my arm go.

  My hair was in a messy bun and I still had on the well-worn UDub hoodie and old faded jeans I’d put on that morning, so no way was I looking beautiful, and I stood in confusion staring as he walked behind the desk. Leaning down he started typing, probably making out a work order for Betsy, and I could tell he was agitated by the way his fingers pounded the keys.