Hell Fires (Age-Gap Romance)

I tucked the curtain of my hair behind my ear and looked up at him.

“Like what do I imagine they look like?” I swallowed hard.

“Yes. And what do you imagine they’re doing. What do you think it would feel like?”

“I guess I never thought about doing that myself. But if I had to, I’d imagine a sweet time in my life, something special that felt really good. And I’d close my eyes, and just feel the music. I’d pretend I was seducing someone I cared about, taking my clothes off just for him and no one else.” I closed my eyes and licked my lips. The song was almost over and I was the one who’d gotten turned on. I’d imagined dancing for him, right here in the DJ box.

“I came up here to let you go. This job is too dangerous. Why don’t you tell me how old you really are.”

“I only lied by a couple of years. It’s just that I’m so small and no one takes me seriously. They’re like, Oh a blind DJ, right and she’s twelve. I’m twenty-one. I swear on my parents’ gravestone. I don’t have much else besides this, Maverick. This is my one shot at some stability, I’ve got to get my degree, make a life for myself.”

I wasn’t sure how much I should grovel. The song was winding down and I quickly rummaged through my bin and pulled another slow jam out. It was hitting midnight already and I needed to call last call like Tommy had instructed.

I sat down in the chair, flicked on the mic and leaned into it.

“Hey Tight Ends, last chance to get a drink. Last Call, last call for alcohol.” I flicked the master switch and plunged the room into black and then pulled the lights back up again. I’d memorized where all the buttons and dials were by running my hands over the master control board in the dark in between songs. I’d also snapped a picture and had Brody describe where every necessary lever was. He’d been a DJ in his day and was happy to mentor me. Not many people bought records anymore—we both knew it was a fading art form.

“How do you get home?” Maverick asked me.

I searched my mind for what I thought he would think was a good answer. I needed this guy off my back no matter how much my inclination was to curl into him.

“Express train? Platform nine and three quarters,” I told him.

He gave a little snort and approached me in my chair. This time he squatted down so he was close to my face. My hair strategically covered my damaged eye and he reached out and tucked it behind my ear. Once again, he did not seem fazed by my one feature that made most people gasp and stare. He was close enough that I could smell the smoke of whiskey on his breath.

“I’m going to take you home tonight, Sophie and we’ll discuss your future and you’re employment here.”

“Okay,” I told him. It wasn’t like I had a choice.

“Do you live alone?”

“No,” I said. “I live with Shakespeare.”

“So, you’re passionate about literature too?”

“I like reading as much as the next girl,” I said. “But I’m legally blind, so I do Audible, you know, like books on tape. And Shakespeare’s my dog; he’s a rescue.”

He huffed again and smiled at me.

“I’ll be back up here in twenty minutes and I’ll help you bring your stuff down.”

I gave him a salute and turned back to my turntables.

Chapter 3

MAVERICK

What I wanted was another drink. What I needed was a cold glass of water, preferably poured down my pants to douse my raging erection for the tiny spitfire in the DJ booth. I went behind the counter and started counting a register to help the bartender out. I needed to busy my hands, keep myself occupied so I wouldn’t rage out of control and go caveman on the girl.

Sophie, with her bright red hair, pale milky skin, constellations of freckles that seemed to cover her entire body. And those eyes, I’d never seen a face so tragically beautiful in all my days on this earth. The blueish white eye, the unseeing one, was startling, it was as unsettling as it was captivating.

I threw down hundreds like a madman and then marked the number in a book. We’d be switching to a new system soon, unanimously across all the businesses and this pencil and paper work would be obsolete, but right now, I found it calming to count and annotate figures.

“I’m out, Mav!” Texas slammed an open palm on the bar behind me. “Should we ride out together?”

“I’ve got plans, Tex. I’ll see you later,” I told him. Texas didn’t like to mess around, he was always eager to get back to his old lady.