Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[ (13 page)

Tristan stopped, slowly moving his face back just enough to look up. He was shocked when a pair of darkening green eyes, and a face filled with passion was gazing back at him. She was holding her bottom lip in between her teeth, and sat stone cold still.

“I’m sorry, baby. Ready to go?” Tristan held out his hand to help Peyton off the counter, but she refused it and shook her head. Then she did something that completely surprised him; she grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it up and off her body. She crooked her little finger at him a few times and gave him a sexy
come-hither
look that nearly melted him into a puddle on the floor. Still, he’d started something that both of them
wanted
, but Peyton would regret later. He needed to put the brakes on this, and fast.

“Peyton,” he said sternly, but with a smile on his face. “You have rules, and I’m trying to be good. If you keep looking at me like that, I might take your rule book and throw it out the fucking window.”

Peyton didn’t falter at all, just tipped her head to the side, and winked at him. “You don’t think we can handle fooling around? Does foreplay
always
lead to sex for you, Tristan?”

“The good kind….yes, and frankly, I don’t think there will be any other kind of foreplay with you than the good kind.”

Peyton leaned towards him and held his face in her hands. She softly kissed his lips, but quickly let go and moved back to her spot. “Well, I know I can handle myself, and I think I’ve proven that I can handle you, too. So…” Her words were drowned out when she ran her hands down her sides, over her thighs and back up her flat tummy. She slowed the speed of her ascent, and teased him as she used her hands to push her breasts up, moving even slower as she crested the peaks.

Tristan prided himself on having rock hard self-control and being able to quit while he was ahead. That faltered dramatically when he went through his manic episode, but he was quick to get it back. Standing here, watching his siren caress and hold her breasts in her hands, made every last inch of that restraint snap in two. He lunged forward, pushing Peyton’s hands out of the way, and lifted her sports bra up.

The sight of her bronzed skin, contrasted by her rosy red nipples was just about his undoing. Each of her nipples was indeed pierced, with small silver bar bells on either side. Tristan’d had his own nipples pierced since he was eighteen years old, so he was very familiar with the heightened sensation that came with them.

With sheer need honing his reflexes, Tristan latched on to Peyton’s left breast, wrapping his lips around the metal stud and gently pulling back. He was rewarded with a groan from deep inside her body, so he did it again, this time just a bit harder. She hissed for a second and grabbed the back of his head firmly in her hands, holding him to her. Tristan couldn’t help but smile against her flesh, loving the way that she directed him. He did love to be the one in control during sex, but to have his sweet and tender woman telling him exactly what she needed in this way, was fucking hot.

Tristan moved away from the overly-erect and glistening wet nipple and inched towards its lonely partner. He lavished the same attention on this one, using his teeth to slide the stud back and forth as he pulled the nub out.

“Oh, God, Tristan. That feels good. More.”

Tristan wrapped his hands around Peyton’s back and lifted her off the counter. She clung to him, as he nipped and licked every inch of her neck and then her face. He gave her a chaste kiss on the lips and let go of his hold on her. Peyton slid down his body and her hands fell to her sides. Tristan told her with a laugh, “Nope. No more for you, Fancy Pants.”

She put her lips out in a mock pout and smacked him in the arm. “Ah! There are other areas involved in foreplay, Tristan Hart! If I knew your middle name, I
soooo
would have used it there, buddy!”

Tristan pulled her tight up against him, and kissed her long and hard. When he let go, she was panting and she was looking up at him through her eyelashes. “My middle name is Blair, and when you’re ready for me to see all of your
areas
,” he gave her a jerk against his body for emphasis, “it will be when you are ready to scream my name a good half dozen times.” He gave her a kiss on the nose, and let go of her, leaving her standing there completely dazed.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go to the gym and work off some of this extra energy.”

Chapter Fourteen

W
ork outs completed for the day, Tristan and Peyton were cleaned up and headed to Gabriel’s Supper Club. As they pulled into the parking lot, Peyton belly laughed at what was sitting in front of the supper club. It was an older, hard body, green Jeep that had seen better days. There was a
for sale
sign fixed to the spare tire on the back end, and Tristan couldn’t help but join Peyton in her laughter.

“Told ya, baby. I have a few errands to run, so I’ll be back to pick you up in a bit. If the interview doesn’t go well, just call me and I’ll come back ASAP. Okay?”

Tristan nodded and then gave her a kiss, before hopping out of the car. Gabriel’s looked pretty well worn down from the outside and he wasn’t so sure about even going inside to
ask
about the job, let alone go in and
apply
for the job. But no sooner did he have second thoughts about the whole thing, than a dark skinned, muscular, middle aged man that looked a lot like Mr. Clean came to the door, carrying a box in his arms.

Holding the door open for him, Tristan was told by the man, “Don’t open until five. Come back then.”

The door slid out of Tristan’s fingers and slammed shut. He felt like he was standing at a crossroads right now. He had the perfect opportunity to get away without looking like a lame ass, and forget the whole thing. But, this was the first place that he even felt as if he had a shot at getting a job, even if it was more than likely going to be at a dive. At least it was work.

“I’m actually here about the bartending job.”

The man looked up from fumbling with the keys in his hand, and gave Tristan a once over. “Alright. Any experience, tending bar?”

Tristan shook his head, but still confidently said, “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

“Where do you work now?”

“I don’t.”

“College?”

“Nope.”

“Finish high school?”

“Nope.”

“Look, kid. I know my place isn’t much to look at, but we serve good food and it’s cheap. I have a fairly large clientele that comes every weekend, and they like to drink. I need someone that is prepared to work hard, can shoot the shit at the same time he mixes drinks, and keeps everything flowing nicely. I don’t have time to be picky about who I choose, but I at least gotta know that you will work your ass off when I ask of it.”

Tristan didn’t hesitate, “Sounds good. I’m no stranger to hard work.”

“Really, kid? Have you ever even held down a job?”

The words left Tristan’s mouth before he realized what he was doing, “Sure. I worked for J-View Plastics for a handful of years.”

Saying that you worked for J-View Plastics was going to get you one of three things: a pat on the back with anything complimentary you wanted, a swift punch in the gut, or a ride downtown. This guy didn’t look like he was real happy right now, so Tristan was bracing for a punch in the gut.

“But you don’t work there anymore?”

Tristan was relieved that he wasn’t doubled over, clutching his stomach, but still leery of the old guy.

“No. Got a problem with them?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. The fucker that runs that place will rot in hell one day, I know that for a fact.”

Tristan did everything he could to steel his features so that he wouldn’t seem shocked by the words. It was very rare to hear anyone talk badly about J-View Plastics, let alone his Uncle Morgan. It didn’t bother him in the least, in fact, it was the truth. There were so many shady business deals, strange union rules, unexplained employee injuries and deaths, as well as more than enough pollution concerns to shut the entire place down, but yet it still stood and made Morgan a very rich man.

“Yeah, you got that right. Morgan’s my uncle, but I gotta get out from underneath the bastard or, I’ll end up going nowhere even faster than I already am.”

The man stood there, holding his box in one hand and the keys to the front door in the other. It seemed like he was contemplating something, and felt it necessary to stare Tristan down as he did it. Whatever he was thinking, the tight frown lines on his face were softening with every moment that passed.

“Any addiction problems? Drugs? Alcohol?”

Tristan shook his head and added, “Never. I enjoy a beer every now and then, but my kidneys work hard enough as it is. I only drink when there is a solid purpose for it.”

“Okay, fine. Medical condition that I need to be aware of?”

Tristan was ready to dismiss the question when his conscience stopped him dead. The old man didn’t ask the question with malice, and he didn’t want to start off working for the guy with a big lie hanging between them. If he was going to work here, even if just for a few months, someone was bound to see him that knew his history, and then it would feel like his omission was a flat out lie. If he didn’t want him working there, it was better to get it out now before he got excited about the possibilities.

“Physically…no. Mentally…yes. I was treated recently for a severe manic episode; I’m bi-polar.”

The audible gasp that came out of the man’s mouth was disturbing, but he quickly closed his mouth and looked away. Long minutes passed before he finally spoke to Tristan again. “That isn’t something to fuck around with, kid.”

“I know,” Tristan answered. “Christ, I know,” he added sullenly.

The man set the box down on the retaining wall for the flower bed surrounding the building, and held his hand out to Tristan. “Name’s Gabriel. You can start this Friday at five on the nose. We’ll just throw you in and see if you sink or float. Got it?”

Tristan smirked as he said, “Yes, sir.” Gabriel might be ornery, but he was honest and obviously knew the meaning of hard work. There was something about the way that he didn’t look at him with pity when he found out that he was bi-polar, and didn’t hold it against him. It was also nice to know that he would be working somewhere that didn’t have a standard operating procedure for how to inflict the most damage on a person with the least amount of force.

“Okay, then. We’ll see you on Friday. We’re pretty informal, there are no uniforms. Just make sure that you wear good solid shoes. You’ll be on your feet all night.”

Tristan nodded, and looked over his shoulder at the Jeep that was sitting in the parking lot. It was pretty rough around the edges, sporting rust throughout the body, but it seemed to be solid.

“How much do you want for the Jeep?”

Gabriel looked over at the aged beast, and answered, “Hey, if you’re gonna work for me, you can have it and I’ll take a few dollars out of your paycheck. Deal?”

Tristan piqued one of his eyebrows at Gabriel, and laughed at the offer. “Nah, man. I can pay for it. You can’t want more than a grand for it as it stands.”

Gabriel laughed a great big belly laugh, and started messing with the keys on his key ring. “You would be doing me a favor by taking it off my hands, kid.” He handed him a key that he’d separated from his others and added, “Some drunk fuck left it here this spring, and it was considered abandoned. The title is actually in the glove box,” he laughed. “I was hoping that somebody would steal the piece of shit, but no such luck.”

Tristan reluctantly took the key from Gabriel and slipped it into his pocket. Then he held out his right hand and said, “Thanks, Gabriel. I got this. Friday at five. And thank you.” They shook hands, and Gabriel even gripped their joined hands with his free hand.

“No, thank you, kid. See ya Friday.”

Gabriel left him standing there, and Tristan could have sworn that the old guy sniffled a few times as he got into his muscle car parked in front of the building.
That was a strange interview
, he thought as he made his way over to his new ride.

Tristan was always into fancy cars, and had never driven anything that didn’t still have a new car smell. Granted he didn’t start driving until he was almost eighteen, but he was always serious about what he drove. There was another part of himself that Tristan decided in a flash he needed to let go of; driving a car that cost more than some people made in a year was pointless. It was flashy and fun, but ultimately it was like throwing away a grand every month just for a pimped out ride that only could get you from point A to point B.

He was surprised to find that the Jeep wasn’t locked, and he took a few minutes to examine everything inside. The flooring was covered with what appeared to be carpet; and a lot of dirt. The fiberglass top on the back half was in good condition, but had a hair line crack on the roof. His experience from working at the plastic’s plant told him it would easy enough to repair it. There was a roll bar in the back behind the driver and passenger seat, plus there was a bench seat for two other people. The green paint job was decent, but there was a lot of body work that needed to be done because of the rust. All in all, it wasn’t a bad ride, once he got it all cleaned up.