Buying Beth

“Yeah. I got that feeling things are going to get squirrelly quick if we don’t have everyone here.”

Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. The biggest change to my appearance is my hair being cut short and died a rusty brown. My eyes have gone to a dark brown as well. But there are subtle changes too. The beard has been trimmed in slightly, still shaped long, but now with a kept look to it. Long gone is the look I’ve carried for so long, and in its place is a man I don’t know.

Missy worked wonders on my face, and when I put my contacts in, she said I had a fading resemblance of the real Johnathan, but she could only tell it was me if she looked hard enough.

I suppose it’s good I’ve never tattooed my hands because the neck and body ones are covered easily with how I’m dressed. Slipping on my father’s Harvard class ring, I chuckle. Jesus, he would be laughing his ass off now if he could see me.

My old man was one of the rich boy, Harvard elites back when he was young dumb and full of cum. One of those guys from the old-school of business. He and my mom couldn’t have been from more different paths of life. She was the daughter of a mechanic and waitress. Teaching in some edge of the city poverty ridden school. They met at some fundraiser where she was pleading for more school supplies, and soon enough, they found that instant-love thing.

I never understood that shit. Instant fairy tale love.

What crap.

“You ready to get moving?” Andrew’s voice comes over the earpiece.

“Yeah, give me a second.”

Adjusting my tie one last time, I head out of the house and straight to the brand new Lexus. Opening the car door, I get hit by the smell of new leather. Fuck, this thing must have come off the lot as soon as they got it there.

Starting up the engine, I look down at the odometer and see it has less than one fucking mile on it. Holy shit, this is a hot fucking car. I love my bike like it’s my significant other, but she’s not the warmest of women in the dead of winter.

Just feeling this baby start up so quiet and smooth gets me hard.

Pulling out of the driveway, I look up at my two-story house. It’s in the middle of nowhere suburbia. This is the place I rarely, if ever, come to. I don’t have a lot of use for a house. The small apartment over the bar suits me more. This is just a shell for me. A mask that Lucifer likes his guys to have to keep up a sense of normalcy for the men.

Especially since Lilith came around.

He likes us to have the family look about us. I think most of us being single guys, who work the darker side of life, don’t have much in the family way. I don’t. Almost all of the inner circle doesn’t either.

Shit, Andrew and Lucifer are the exceptions so far, and all of us have seen how that’s been going.

Andrew and his wife are all modern family kind of shit. He’s got kids and a wife who fucking adores the shit out of him.

He’s been neutered.

Dude’s got a ball and chain now on him.

Doesn’t go out drinking, only goes to the strip clubs when it’s for work. Shit, man, he doesn’t do anything fun anymore.

Fucking women and the grip they get on men. I don’t know how they stand for it, but they do.

And now I can’t quit thinking about Beth. The image of those hazel eyes closing as she leaned in for my kiss.

The way the tequila mixed with something else that tasted dark and sexy, like she was my own piece of dark, dangerous candy.

Her intoxicating scent as we mashed our lips together. Her tongue hesitant at first, perhaps out of practice, but what she lacked in practice she made up for in almost reckless abandon as she pushed her firm breasts into my chest.

Holding herself to me.

Shit and fuck.

She has no right putting herself in my thoughts like that.

They’re not the kind I want floating around when I’m getting ready to walk into the fucking lion’s den.

Especially since I can’t fucking stand the thought of not being the one who buys her.

Not going to lie, at least not to myself. The thought of buying her gives my cock a little jerk, like he’s looking up to me and saying, that’s right, big guy, we’re about to buy ourselves a fucking little goddess of sexual perfection.

“Comms check, go for one,” I mutter as I bend over, pretending to tie my dress shoe.

“Go for two,” James says.

The rest of our crew check in as I stand up, looking around the place.