12- Remy
1177 Words
“Oh, oh, f**k, who cooked this s**t?!”
I ignored the yells coming from the common room as I put back on my visor and picked up my wrench. The food was f*****g fine. Just some ghost peppers and they were acting all silly.
Still, I wasn’t mad because of how relaxing this was.
I yanked out the tire of the bike, ignoring how my bones felt like they were going to cave in. I could hear light giggling behind me but I didn’t turn. The club girls. I was sure of it. And the gang weren’t here because I wanted space to think.
They weren’t giving me space to f*****g think.
The sound of something clashing to the floor had my head whipping to the side. A client that came to fix his car grabbed one of the other mechanics in the garage by the shirt and yelled, “What the f**k are you talking about?! It didn’t have that problem when I brought it.”
Carl chuckled but he didn’t look scared. “You’re crazy doing this here of all places.”
“Yeah? We had a deal for f***s sake—”
I set my wrench down and faced the man. “What’s the problem with your car?”
He eyed me for a bit but answered anyway. “The alternator. He says it’s fried and needs an extra seven hundred. I don’t have that money. And it wasn’t fried before!”
I nodded. “Pop the hood—”
“Hey, prospect?” Carl’s voice popped in. “You better sit this one out. It’s none of your f*****g business. I can get this fixed. Go back to your pretty little bike,”
I stared at him. He was new. Not a prospect like me so a rookie. But he knew who I was. Still, I couldn’t lose my s**t. Not right now. “Look, I can help. I know a lot about cars—”
Carl suddenly pushed the man away and faced me. He was taller than me, wider too, with that smug look rookies got when they thought they'd finally found someone they could push around. “You think because your daddy's the president, you can just waltz in here and tell me how to do my job? I've been turning wrenches since you were in diapers, princess.”
The club girls giggling got louder.
Breathe, Remy. Breathe.
“Yeah, I'm not saying you don’t know s**t about it,” Why the f**k did I let go of that wrench? “I just wanna help. As a prospect—”
“Look here,” He got closer. I could smell the cigarette on him. “The only difference between you and those whores there is your last name,” Then he looked down. “And the t**s,”
Smash your head on his. He’ll bleed. You’ll say he walked into you. Everyone trips.
“Okay,” I chuckled and raised my hands. “I’m gonna take a step back. And leave you to your s**t, okay?”
I turned around, ignoring the whispers behind me, bending down to pick the wrench on the floor before I heard him say, “Ignore the b***h. Her druggie mother must have f****d something in her head.”
I froze.
A memory flashed through my head. My mother pulled me into her arms, begging me to forgive her. She sounded tired. And sad. So very sad.
“I’m so sorry, Lou. How will you ever forgive me?”
But I couldn’t move.
The wrench felt heavy in my hands but I couldn’t turn. It was like I was back there, unable to do anything as she shot the last drug into her hands.
Then I smelled it.
Something sweet in the air as he placed a suit jacket over my shoulder and whispered, “Seems like I came right in time, hatchling,”
Blake Benson.
He helped me up, a smile on his face though he still stared at me. “I don’t know the rules here in Iron Clad King but as her fiancé, I’m sure we can come to a compromise of some sorts,”
“You.” Carl picked up a screwdriver and walked up to us. “Who the f**k are you?”
Blake stared at it. I saw it— it was only for a moment but something dark flashed through them before he faced me, “Didn’t he hear me?”
I stared at him. “What the f**k are you doing here?”
“I heard they were having a meeting on what to do with the car and me so I came to run away with you while they were preoccupied,” He flashed a smile at me. “But it seems I can’t do it without causing a scene.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
He smiled brighter. “So I should kill him?”
What the f**k was wrong with him?
I shrugged his suit off and shuddered as I turned, “I’m not f*****g doing this with you. I have work to do.”
“What the f**k? I’m talking to—”
His hand suddenly wrapped around my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I stopped, noticing the gun he’s pointed at Carl’s head.
Blake’s eyes are staring at me with a feral look in them. “You can’t seriously expect me to let that slide, can you? Or are the people in Iron Clad Kings really that weak? Do you want me to accept that as the definition even if I’ve heard it a million times?”
He’s f*****g insane.
I looked at the gun at Carl’s head and then back at Blake. “Let me go.”
“Say something else that’s more fun.”
This motherfucker… he was going to cause a scene. I knew that. There was only one way to play this game while keeping everything as minimal as possible.
“I’m gonna race him.” I looked at Carl. “You’re up for that, aren’t you? We’re gonna race, and if I win, you’re gonna be my bitch.”
Carl’s gaze shifted from me to the madman wielding the gun. “Yeah? What’s in it for me?”
“You get to make me your b***h,” I shrugged. “And I can promise you, no one’s ever made me do that. You’re gonna enjoy the privilege. Or what? You’re too chickenshit to find out if this princess can win you in a race? And drop the f*****g gun,”
Blake did as he was told.
A look of relief flashed across Carl’s face as he took in air before facing me again, “You’re a girl. Why the f**k would I—?”
“And I’m driving my Aston Martin, and if you’re late, I’ll take it that I won and you lost.” I cut in, walking away. “Don’t be late, future bitch.”
- Writer
