Three of Spades (2 page)

After going in to check on Mom one more time, she quietly made her way down the hall to her own room. Natalie quickly changed out of her jumper and tights into her long soft sleep shirt. She padded out to the bathroom, taking another quick peak at Gloria who was softly snoring. When Natalie returned to her room, she picked up her recent cowboy novel and started to read. Reading was not only one of the few gratifying pastimes for Natalie but it also helped her cope with the ongoing stress of Gloria’s diagnosis. Natalie enjoyed how she could transport from reality to the story. She imagined that she, herself, was the heroine. It was easy to relate to the heroine’s less than attractive looks and self-image. She was intrigued as she read how the heroine made a simple business proposition to a local rancher and how the turn of events and feelings made for a sensual story. Coming to the end of the chapter, Natalie decided to call it a night, clicked off the bed side lamp and nestled down under the blanket. After tossing and turning, she finally found sleep. However the small amount of sleep and dreams she did have, resulted in an uneventful dull echo of her own real life.

~TWO~

D
ylan Cross was pissed! One of his company’s contracting projects was behind schedule. He just arrived on site to find his foreman was nowhere to be found and to top it all off, he was testy from his unusual lack of physical gratification at the hand of a female physique.

Dylan grilled the crew and he learned this was not Jones’ first extended lunch on company time. Already looking forward to the chance to do to Jones what he should have done months ago, Dylan headed off toward the entrance to the site to wait for the opportunity to let out some of his pent up adrenaline.

Dylan parked his red Silverado HD right across the entrance to the job site, then sat on his downed tailgate and waited.

Randy Jones drove up forty-five minutes later. His black Dodge Ram was freshly spit shined and still had some small water beads around the door handles. Knowing he had been caught, Randy raised his Oakley glasses until they rested on top of his slicked back light brown hair. After checking his face in the rearview mirror and wiping the remnants of Sissy’s lipstick off his mouth, he opened the door and climbed down. His pace said that he was in no rush to make his way to Dylan.

Dylan’s dark brown eyes watched as Jones took his sweet ass time getting out of the truck. After giving his driver’s door a shove shut, Jones walked with all the arrogance of someone who would play hooky on company time and think he’d be rewarded for it. Dylan’s eyes never left Jones’ face and the bastard had a cock grin on his face as if this were funny.

“Hey D, how’s it going?” Jones asked, as if this were a social visit.

Dylan hopped down from his perch and gently closed the tailgate. Looking at the younger man, he said very clearly, “You want to tell me where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing? Or do you want to save us both the horseshit and just pick up your last paycheck and get the hell off my worksite?”

So
this
was
how
it
was
going
to
go?
Jones thought to himself, as he stood straight at his full height of 6
'
2
"
. He had a good couple of inches on Dylan Cross, but he knew that physical intimidation wasn’t worth a piss with Cross. So he just leaned back on his heels, crossed his arms and said, “Well, I guess I’ll go tell my crew the news and head out to pick up my money.” He started to walk past his now former boss, when Dylan moved with lightning fast speed and placed a firm hand on his left shoulder.

“Apparently you need to clean out your ears, because walking onto my site wasn’t one of the options I gave you,” Dylan said, enjoying his authority.

Looking down at Dylan’s hand, he was tempted to remove it but opted for pleasantry since he knew of Cross’s enjoyment and skilled reputation of old school physicality. Not that he was afraid. He just didn’t need the extra aggravation of law enforcement, given he was being fired. He’d bide his time and make sure everyone knew, especially Dylan fucking Cross, you don’t tell Randy Jones what he can and can’t do.

Putting a grin on his face, Jones slowly walked back a couple of steps and put his hands in the air as if in surrender. He saluted Cross as he climbed in his truck and peeled out onto Brewster Road.

Dylan watched as the black truck fishtailed from the sudden acceleration, causing the reflective mud flaps to wiggle as if the naked woman’s silhouette was moving.

Dylan was a bit disappointed. He had hoped Jones would put up a little resistance, which would have allowed Dylan to work off some of his ongoing internal aggression. Boy, did he need to find another outlet and fast.

Dylan walked back to the site and told the crew of Jones’ now unemployed status. He gave instructions of what needed to be done and the fact that Dylan would now be the onsite foreman. After heading over to the company trailer, Dylan went through Jones’ pathetic filing system and searched for the materials log, shipment invoices, and payroll information. Knowing he would need help, he phoned Josie, the company administrator, and asked her to arrive at Cranston Housing Development at 8am tomorrow. Dylan locked up the trailer and headed back to his truck. He climbed in and headed out, following Jones’ previous departure route.

Dylan arrived at his home later that evening. He pulled his truck into the expansive garage, fitted with custom sized doors, a car lift, as well as a wall full of industrial cabinetry for all of his automotive tools. As he turned off the ignition, he climbed down and looked at his current restoration project on the far end of the garage. The 1971 Plymouth Barracuda sat calling to Dylan; this was the car he had wanted for as long as he could remember. Of all the classic muscle cars, this was the King of that forgotten generation. Dylan liked anything that was loud, fast, and powerful. This car, once finished, would be all of that and more. He had come upon it completely by accident.

Dylan was delivering a completely restored pristine 1950 Buick Roadmaster to his buyer, when the older man asked Dylan if he would have any interest in some Plymouth shell that he heard was available. Knowing that he would be looking for a new project, Dylan inquired and was directed to where the deteriorated car was located. When Dylan got there, his tongue almost fell out of his mouth. Instantaneously, he knew it was the Cuda. The older widow, who had found it in her long deceased husband’s barn, said Dylan could just take it. Knowing that a lot of people would take advantage of the older woman’s naivety, Dylan insisted on paying her for it. In a way, he wished he could have seen her face when he sent her the check; he was sure it had a lot more zeros in it than she was used to.

Not being able to resist, he walked over, leaned in the open driver’s window and just looked at the interior that would soon be gleaming. He could already envision the black vinyl that would cover the front bucket seats as well as the back bench seat. He already had it on order, along with authentic interior carpeting. The chrome skull with glowing red eyes gearshift, he was enthralled about using for the floor shifter, would be in soon. He found himself coming down here in the middle of the night just to tinker around with it because he could not contain his excitement. Knowing that if he didn’t head inside now he’d be out here for a couple of hours, he lightly tapped the window frame. He turned his back on his passion and headed into his quiet house.

Walking into the dark main living area, Dylan turned on the light and was surprised to find he was not alone. Over on his built in oak bar was a very naked woman. Scratch that, she wasn’t completely naked, she did have on a pair of sky high cherry red stiletto heels.

“Babs, what are you doing here?” Dylan asked, as he walked slowly but with purpose across the open living room to where she lay across the six seat custom made bar.

Babette Rousseau was used to getting everything she wanted and she wanted Dylan Cross. They had enjoyed a mutual on and off again relationship that was focused purely on the physical, Babette wanted that to change. She came here, with clear purpose, to bring Dylan around to her way of thinking. She knew Dylan could not pass up a good toss in the hay. The spicier and more carnal, the more Dylan got off.

Dylan stopped a few feet away from where the dark haired beauty was sprawled. He could not help but notice that her long slim muscular legs were bent in a way that showed off her obsession with the gym. The red stilettos were just an added punch to Dylan’s libido and Babette knew that. Dylan could not pass up a good pair of fuck-me-shoes. In fact, these very shoes were purchased by him, for a specific fantasy of Dylan’s that she had been more than willing to fulfill.

After the initial once over, Dylan made sure his dark eyes remained set on her hazel gaze. Feeling quite pissed off that she would break into his home and pull such a stunt, Dylan just crossed his arms over his chest. He raised his left eyebrow waiting for her to answer his original question.

Well
this
wasn’t
going
at
all
as
she
planned,
Babette
thought.
She knew she had to change course, so she moved her left hand from where it rested against her naked hip and extended it out then motioned with her index finger for him to come closer. The way her vivid red nails shined from the minimal light made her glad she had chosen the color.

“I’m waiting, Babs,” Dylan said, as his aggravation grew while his feet remained firmly planted.

“You know Dylan, you are a smart man, I’m sure you can deduce why I’m here,” Babette purred, as she remained still.

He knew exactly why she was there. Dylan was very specific on how any of his relationships went. It had to be mutual and gratifying for both but it was
always
on their turf. Never had any of Dylan’s women been in his home; it made it seem too permanent and Dylan Cross didn’t do permanent.

Dylan loved woman. He loved how different one could be from the next. He saw beauty in all female forms. In his opinion, there was nothing better than the softness that only a woman could offer. Little else was above the respect and enjoyment he received from each woman he bedded and he made sure none of them had any complaints about him as a lover.

Now Babette was probably the one that Dylan should have stayed clear of. Yeah, they had some great chemistry. There was nothing the woman would not do sexually but she just stood out from the others and not in a good way. In addition to being a beautiful sexy woman, Bab’s was also very intelligent. A cutthroat attorney who didn’t back down from anyone, especially when she could proudly display a man’s balls within her manicured feminine grasp.

Becoming quite annoyed herself that he didn’t seem approving of her display or her presence, Babette decided to spell it out for him. She slowly moved to a sitting position, being sure to move her legs in a way that showed him her freshly waxed bikini area. When that didn’t get him to move a muscle, she slid down so she was standing. She leaned against the bar with both arms stretched out along the smooth oak surface, knowing that the position showed off her firm artificial breasts.

“So let me just get this straight, you don’t want me here? Because Dylan you should really ask your cock if he agrees.” Babette licked her lush red lips.

“How’d you even get in here, Babs?” Dylan asked between clenched teeth.

“I made a copy of your key the last time you were at my place, while you slept. Remember that sleep Dylan? You were completely exhausted after our marathon sex weekend. Remember what we did that weekend? Remember what my mouth did that weekend?” Babette said, as she walked slowly towards him, being sure to sashay her flared hips until she was chest to chest with him. She leaned in and kissed his scarred jaw.

Stepping back from her to where a blanket lay folded along his couch, he took the lush throw and draped it over her bare shoulders until she was completely covered. And in that moment Dylan saw her hazel eyes turn to red.

“You are really telling me you don’t want this?” Babette hissed at him, as he walked behind the bar and poured a pilsner from the built in tap.

“Goodbye, Babs. I’m sure you can find your way out and be sure to leave that key,” Dylan said, as he sipped the frothy gold liquid.

She dropped the cover and turned to him, once she made her way over to him, she removed the tall cold glass from his hand and guided him down to her wet center. Forcefully pushing his finger into her, she raised her eyebrow in challenge and said, “You’ll never get anyone like me again. Think long and hard about the choice you are making because it will not be offered to you again, unless of course, you come begging on your hands and knees.” She let go of his hand. He quickly withdrew it from her and wiped it off on a nearby towel.

“Leave the key, Babs,” Dylan spat out as he waited for her to leave and was finally rewarded with her strutting off to the open kitchen. She pulled her trench coat on, tied the belt, and withdrew a gold key from the pocket. She threw it so it landed with a series of clinks as it skipped across the hardwood floor.

Dylan picked up his beer to drink as he watched Babs walk out his front door and slam it behind her. As the cold liquid glided down his throat, he thought to himself, not only did he now need to change all the locks but he needed to make sure his balls stay firmly where they were. Babette Rousseau, he was quite sure, had a glass case specifically in mind for their display.

~THREE~

T
he next three weeks went by in a whirl for Natalie. From the news that Gloria’s tumor had grown and the decision of halting all treatment, to the juggling of work and care for her mother, Natalie was just left utterly exhausted. Her brothers had been as insistent as ever that now was the time to change their mother’s living arrangements. Both Reggie and Sam tried to make their mother understand that Natalie just wasn’t capable of caring for her in her current state of health. They argued that it would be a harder, more difficult road ahead than it had been thus far and they were just thinking of both Gloria and Natalie’s best interests. When one evening the never-ending discussion resulted in a very upset Gloria, both men quickly turned to Natalie to get everything back under control. Ultimately expecting her to get their mother to see that their opinion and solution was the best. Regardless of the fact that Natalie didn’t agree nor could get a word in edgewise.