Hemi

  Hemi

  Graffiti Street Bad Boys

  Brynn Hale

  Copyright © 2019 by Brynn Hale

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contact Brynn at brynnhaleauthor@gmail.com for more information.

  Acknowledgment

  Thank you to authors Tarin Lex, Mazzy King, Kali Hart, Kate Tilney, and Lana Dash for making Hemi and this adventure amazing and inspiring.
  Contents

  1. Cece

  2. Hemi

  3. Cece

  4. Hemi

  5. Cece

  6. Hemi

  7. Cece

  8. Cece

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Brynn Hale

  1

  Cece

  I spin the sign on the door to my clothing boutique, Cece’s Closet. It’s my dream come true to own my own business. My baby. Well, after my daughter… my real baby. Everything I do is for her, including leaving her father. I saved us both, but now I’m on my own and it’s scarier than I imagined. Not that I can’t do it on my own, but that’s why I’m back to my hometown. I need a little help. And that’s hard for me to say. My mom helps. So does my best friend, Ella Tremble, who’s outside banging on the front door right now.

  “Just a minute, bitch!” I yell with a smile on my face.

  She moves to the glass front, flips me off with both hands, and sticks out her tongue. Her attitude is as big as her heart. Maybe a little bigger. “Biotch, hurry up! I’m hangry. That Graffiti Street pizza is calling my name. El-la! El-la! El-la!”

  The sound reminds me to set the alarm system. I don’t let other people take what’s mine anymore. My dignity, my property, my life. It’s all mine.

  I jab the light switch off on the way out, smiling at what I’ve made of the place. With my purse over my shoulder, I turn my back to her to finish locking up. “I’m sorry but I—”

  “Nope. We’re going out tonight, Cece. Your mom has Skye for spring break. You need a this. You’re not going to skip out on me this time.” She grabs my hand and my four-inch, candy apple-red heels scratch down the concrete sidewalk.

  “One pizza. One beer. One hour.” That’s all I can commit to.

  “We’ll see. I’m ready to get laid. One man. One penis. One orgasm. That’s all I need.”

  I roll my eyes. She’s exactly the same Ella I left in this dead-end town, but now that I’m back, I’m seeing maybe it wasn’t quite as dead-end as I thought. When I left, I was looking for something that never existed. The excitement of moving away was nothing compared to the relief of coming back. This town is my nest, and I’m starting to think it’s the place I can count on to have my back.

  “How was your day at the firm?” I ask as we turn another corner.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my dick boss tried to show me his dick again.”

  “Ugh. You’d think a guy who takes other guys to court over sexual harassment would know better.”

  “That’s the thing. He knows just what to say to not get in trouble. He’s fucking subtle, but I know what he’s talking about.” She turns us to the right.

  I’ve heard of this place, and the fact that it’s a meat market—plenty of guys, few girls. That might interest some, but not my kind of place.

  My eyes widen as I examine the buildings that have become new businesses—barber, yogurt shop, handmade jewelry story and more. I’ve been so busy with the store opening and making sure my daughter Skye adjusts to being here, I’ve almost been oblivious to how the city I grew up in has changed and what’s new.

  But I’m hungry too, and it’s my best friend duty to be Ella’s wing-girl—or at least be amused to watch her do her best and her worst. She’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.

  The outside of the Graffiti Street bar is plastered in bright paint with graffiti letters on the brick announcing the bar’s name. I smile as I recall in high school a couple of the guys had some real talent for the street art scene.

  I take a deep breath of the city air, a mix of oil, dirty concrete, but the floral scent of the blooming cherry trees hits a high note, bringing back memories and stimulating a smile.

  “Hey, do you remember that guy who did art in school… Zale, I think?” I stop to take a closer look at the talented work.

  “He owns this place.”

  Really?

  “And is that why we’re going inside, Ms. Tremble? Is he the next Mr. Ella Tremble?”

  “Nah, I’m not in Zale’s social circle or his normal type. He dates those tiny things that have tiny dogs and tiny purses and tiny waists.” She smooths her leather jacket over curves that any man would be happy to have in his hands, but some days we all do the comparison, even if we don’t want to. I’ve been there, too.

  She continues, “Plus, we both know it takes a really special guy to be there for more than a night of fun when you have kids. I’m not going to put Rebel and Roxie through the hope and crushed dreams. They’re with Walker for the next five nights, so I’m going to have some fun. No strings attached. It’s time I stopped thinking about what should’ve been and start living what can be. You, too, my friend.” She’s talking the truth when it comes to kids, but when it comes to dating again… I just can’t do it.

  I slip an arm around my friend. Ella’s hurt runs as deep as mine. Maybe deeper. We both found love with the wrong guy. We can’t be faulted for being starry-eyed and trusting. Thankfully, her ex is still a good guy. But Walker isn’t from here. He’s a transplant and sometimes I wonder if that’s what I need. Someone who doesn’t know the past. Someone who won’t care about my crazy ex. Someone who doesn’t have any knowledge of how my fears and anxiety became my worst baggage. Probably why I’m not interested in looking for another guy. I’ve been burned enough to know that even looking at matches isn’t a smart idea. Single is firmly on my business card and I’ll stay that way.

  We sit at a loveseat and chair combo that smells faintly of spilled beer and AXE body spray. It’s a very down-to-earth kind of place. No pretenses here. If you don’t like it, leave, is what it says to me and I don’t hate it. I feel welcome and at ease.

  Ella fills out the form for pizza. Half and half—all the meats for her and all the veggies for me. While she’s delivering the slip to the kitchen, I scan the room and my gaze lands on three guys sitting at the bar. I can’t make them out in the shadowy light, but the way they’re laughing, they have some close bond.

  After hitting the bathroom, Ella stops to talk to them, and they all turn to me.

  Shit.

  Multiple sets of eyes hold to me. I’m frozen in my seat.

  But one of the guy’s lips twitch and my gaze is instantly drawn to those pouty red pillows surrounded by a closely trimmed goatee. I know that smirk.

  Dane Drake. I don’t need a Jerk #2 in my life.

  2

  Hemi

  “That’s Celeste Rollins?” I ask Ella. If there’s a Thursday that Ella hasn’t been here in the last two months, I’d be surprised.

  “Yeah.” She grabs my arm as I start to climb down from my stool. “Just a minute.” She leans into the counter, her breasts lying right on the bar counter top and Zale’s eyes widen. “Can I have two Deep Seas, please, Zale?”

  “Sure thing, Ella.” He winks and his chest flexes while Ella bats her long blonde lashes.

  Her gaze returns to mine. “Yes, it is. She moved back about four months ago. Her ex did a number on her, so don’t even think about it,
Hemi.”

  I lift my beer and spin my stool. “I’ll just go over and say a proper welcome back to the city.”

  Ella pokes my chest with a nail that’s like a dagger. “I mean it. She’s been shit on. I’m not going to stand for any shenanigans and we both know how you liked those in high school, back when we all called you Dane and not this moniker you and the graffiti boys have created. Remember? I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten. I know you’ve changed, but she doesn’t.”

  So I used to steal cars. Used to are the operative words there. It’s not something I’m proud of. But it’s not like I wanted to hurt anyone. I was just having a little fun. Test driving. Making sure the suspension could withstand a curb at seventy miles per hour. It couldn’t.

  Zale slips the drinks onto the counter. “On the house. Tell Celeste I say hello.”

  I follow Ella. She hands Celeste one of Zale’s concoctions that could put an elephant into a coma.

  “I said, a beer, Ella.” Her voice is exactly as I remember it from high school—sweet but sharp. She took no shit and gave no shits. I liked that. Back then I had an attitude as deep as the ocean. Still might. But now there’s almost a timid quality to her. Something is missing. A spark of the old Celeste. I know time changes people, I’m a closed case in support of that fact. But she doesn’t seem changed, she seems… detached. Not the fireball of a woman I remember.

  “Someone wanted to come say hello.” Ella turns to me. “Be nice.”

  “I am nice, Tremble.” I slide around the coffee table to sit on the sofa next to Celeste.

  Her jaw tightens and she inhales a deep breath, raising her bountiful breasts up and catching my gaze. I try not to stare, but the woman hasn’t only gotten more beautiful since high school, she’s gotten more voluptuous. Curves like a Formula 1 race—sharp and quick and I’d like to ride them all night long.

  “I’m gonna go talk to the guys.” Ella nods to her left. “You’ll be okay?”

  She nods briefly. “Hello, Dane.” She spits my name like it’s acid in her mouth.

  “Hey, glad to hear you’re back. Hopefully for good. And I go by Hemi now.”

  Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Like the engine?”

  “Same one.” I lift my beer and chug half. “How’ve you been, Celeste?”

  “And actually, I go by Cece now.”

  I like the name. It’s sassy and shows me that a little of the person I used to know is still in there. “Okay, how’ve you been, Cece?”

  Seems we’ve both changed a little… and maybe a lot. Maybe we needed to be redefined, and not that our names can alter our futures, but maybe they can help give us a new path that feels right.

  “I’m fine.”

  I chuckle. “I agree. You’re looking very fine. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.”

  Her head tilts adorably with pursed lips. “Same asshole as always, I see.”

  “Hey, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em. And I like what I… CeCe.” I emphasize her name in jest, but inside I’m rolling horrible visions in my head to keep my cock from rising to the occasion of putting her feisty attitude in check.

  “Dane or Hemi or whatever, I’m not in the mood to be messed with.” She lifts her martini glass and sputters through a deep drink. “What the hell is in this?”

  “I’m not messing with you, Cece. I watched you walk in, like every warm-blooded man in here, but unlike those fools, I can’t keep my eyes off you.” I hand her a napkin to dab at the drips of martini spotting her dress. “And it’s called a Deep Seas—one of Zale’s custom concoctions. I’m pretty sure it’s mandarin vodka, Blue Curaçao, and a splash of lime.”

  “And maybe lighter fluid. It’s deadly.” Her green eyes glow neon in the beer signs above our heads. She uncrosses her legs and the shapely gams make me cuss under my breath.

  I lean back and cross my arms behind my head. “So again, what’s the class valedictorian and homecoming queen been up to?”

  “Nothing you’d be interested in.” She throws the napkin on the coffee table. “Let’s just cut to the chase, Hemi, I remember what you did and I’m not in the mood to rehash things that have made me upset in the past. I’ve done too much of that lately.”

  “That’s great. I’m good with letting bygones be bygones, too.” I stand. “Glad we’re on the same page. Then I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow evening for a date.” I pull out a card. “Here’s my phone number. I’ll expect a text with your address by six-thirty.”

  Our fingers brush as she reaches for the card without hesitation. Her mouth opens like she’ll say something, but it just hangs there, and I can’t help but imagine how amazing it would look wrapped around my hard cock while my mouth is making her pussy quake.

  Sixty-nine is not just a number, my friends.

  She waves my card back at me. “No. I’m not going out with you.”

  “Yeah. You are.”

  And without another word, I walk out the door.

  3

  Cece

  I sit here stunned for longer than I’ll admit. I gulp a long drink of the martini, coughing through the alcohol’s afterburn. It’s been years since I drank more than a glass of wine or beer with a meal.

  Ella sits down with her second—maybe third—drink. I’ll definitely drive her home tonight. My car’s parked in a lot only a couple blocks away, so I push the martini glass of dragon’s fire away.

  “Can you believe him?” I ask.

  Ella smirks. “I can. He’s always been a cocky S.O.B. What I can’t believe is that you liked it.”

  I drop my mouth open dramatically and then realize I’ve just outted myself. My panties are soaked from his words. 100%. My heart beat fast as our fingers brushed when he handed me his business card. And having him so close to smell the oil and grease mixed with his manly pheromones and spicy cologne made my head spin.

  He stole my car when we were seniors in high school and now he thinks he can just walk up and take me out? Steal my heart? That’s not going to happen. Ever. He’s a part of my past. He’s not someone I could ever consider for the future.

  “Which of those guys is it, Ella?” I try to direct back to her, my discomfort settling in like a fog over a warm river.

  “None. They’re not interested in me.” She sighs and sucks back the last of her drink as the server delivers the bubbling pizza.

  My gaze darts to the bar. The guy standing behind it making drinks stares at Ella, undressing her with his baby-blue eyes. Exactly how I felt with Hemi’s smoky brown eyes skimming over my body. But interested and taking action are two different things. I definitely know that.

  My phone buzzes on the table and I ignore the call. Jerk #1 can wait. I need to be here for Ella like she always is for me.

  “Then it’s just you and me, my friend.” I wrap an arm around her, and she leans into me.

  “You’re not my type.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe our type doesn’t exist, so I say we stop looking.”

  But how I glance to the door, hoping he’ll strut back in—now that’s something I’ve never imagined would exist.

  I’m running on time the next morning. Something that’s a miracle but…

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I turn the key again and the tick-tick-tick of the starter tells me the car is moving juice from the battery, but probably not gas to the carburetor. Having issues is the story of my life lately, but I didn’t expect my ’69 Chevy Nova not to have my back. Cherry has always been there for me, but even cars have bad days. I dropped Ella off last night at home, but she’s already texted that she walked to get her car this morning.

  I pull out my phone.

  Cece: Can you come get me and take me to the shop? My car isn’t starting.

  Ella: I’m so sorry, hun. Walker called, Rebel’s having a bad morning and he needs help. Can you take a Lyft?

  I open the app store to see about how to do that. I haven’t downloaded it yet but knew there would come a time when I’l
l have to use one. Better to start now when I have a little extra time.

  Ella: Or you could call Hemi…

  I look at my phone. 8:17 a.m. I need to be to the shop by nine to meet an electrician.

  Cece: I’ll just Lyft.

  Ella: He lives really close to you.

  He does?

  I chose this area because of the great schools and proximity to the shop. If I had the time, I could walk. I can’t imagine why a single guy needs to live around here.

  I run the scenarios in my mind and the only thing that comes to the forefront is that my divorce settlement barely covered the down payment on the two-bedroom house and the startup on the store. And now, I’m tapped out and I don’t know how I’ll even pay to fix my car.

  I tug the card from my purse and type his info into my phone, taking my time to create the contact. I can’t believe I’m even considering this. But then again, maybe this will be a great way to let him off the hook for tonight. And me, too.

  The screen lights up before I can type into the message box.

  Hemi: I’m on my way.

  “Ella!” I scream into the car, throwing my head back.

  Ella: I heard that.

  I burst out laughing. The woman is part sorceress and part the best thing that’s ever happened to me. How I lived so far away from her for so long through so much hell, I can’t imagine. She’s a pain in my ass some days, but as my stomach drops anticipating his arrival, I can’t be mad. I’d love to say I haven’t thought of Hemi all night, but I don’t lie. Not anymore at least. I lied enough about and for the last man in my life. I won’t do that again.

  I stand outside of my car, butt pressing into the front driver’s side fender. He drives up in a lifted truck and all I can think is, How the hell am I going to get into that thing? He isn’t going to lift me, that doesn’t sound reasonable. And I don’t see any running boards.