Author's Note: Hey, guys! First of all, I'd like to give the warning that none of my stuff is for the faint of heart. Second of all, this is about Mac from Red Canyon and a little firecracker that happens to move into Cainville, one he just can't resist. So it's bound to be full of cursing, smut, violence, and all that good stuff – like all my other stories. I'm always happy to address any of your questions, concerns, or comments. Just shoot me a message and I'll get to it just as SOON as I can. ALSO, the more reviews I get, the more likely I'll be to continue posting my stories. I have 4 chapters of this one done so far, 7 of one of my Walking Dead ones, and just a one-shot Walking Dead one posted on here. You're free to read as much or as little of them as you'd like. However, the more feedback I get from readers, the better idea I'll get of what you guys like and dislike. And the more detailed the reviews are, well… it just makes my life better. The more you can tell me, the more I'll know. As much as I'd love to, I can't read your minds. *laughs* And don't worry, there are Spanish translations at the bottom of the chapter. Anyway, I'm rambling. So on with it. Here's chapter 1.
Chapter 1: Welcome to the Luna Mesa
~*Libby*~
Elizabeth Rhodes gasped, sitting bolt upright and panting. Her chest heaved up and down as she struggled to regulate her harsh breathing and her heart slammed against her ribs. Sweat was soaking the sheets but her body was covered in goose bumps and a shudder raced down her spine. She shook her head hard, trying to rid the images from her head. She reached up with one hand to brush her damp bangs off of her forehead as she used her other hand to untangle the sheets from her legs and threw them off of her.
She headed to the bathroom and stripped her sweat-soaked navy colored cami over her head before tugging her gray sweats with a navy Aeropostale logo written from the hip to the knee on one side down her legs. She shed her panties and headed over to turn on the shower, waiting until the water was nearly scalding before she climbed in and set in on washing up. She scrubbed at her skin until it was a bright red, feeling disgusting and downright wretched after the latest of her series of nightmares. It seemed that the memories were hitting her harder the farther she tried to run from her past.
After she'd nearly rubbed her skin raw, she started lathering her hair up with her shampoo. It was good to wash away the sweat and, as she closed her eyes and tried to relax her mind, it was good to wash away her worries. At least for the time being. She knew they'd be back to haunt her eventually. But, for the moment, she enjoyed the scent of her coconut shampoo and cherry and pomegranate shower gel. She finished rinsing out her hair and climbed out of the shower to towel dry her hair. She brushed her hair out in front of the sink and flipped her head a couple times before teasing her hair a bit with her fingers.
She headed into her bedroom to look at her clock. 5:45. Great. She had woken up from her nap when she'd only been 45 minutes into it. She was supposed to have slept until 7:00 and been ready for work by 7:30 so that she could make it to the Luna Mesa for her 8:00 shift. She sighed and started flicking through the shirts she had hanging in her closet.
"Not you. Not you. DEFINITELY not you," she told the clothes as she looked through them.
Finally she found one she liked, a charcoal gray undershirt with a wicked looking skull and flames on it that had straps that looked like a belt that covered her shoulders and met together to form one strap in the back.
Libby grinned, announcing, "You're PERFECT for my first night as a bartender. Look out Luna Mesa, here I come. Now, I need to find a pair of jeans to go with you, a pair of socks, some panties, and a bra and I'll be ALL set. Oh! And my belt! How could I forget my belt?"
She walked over to lay the shirt out on her bed, glaring at the bed as if it had committed the greatest of crimes against her. The rumpled sheets were still yet another reminder of the traumatic events of the night that had changed her life forever.
She shook her head and carried on with searching for clothes, trying to distract herself again. She found a pair of skintight, dark denim jeans with distressed marks down the fronts and backs of the thighs and laid them out, along with a black, lace bra and a pair of black cotton panties with bright, neon-colored rainbow hearts and black lace trim around the waistband and legs, a cute little bow just below the waistband. About half of her ass hung out of them. She pulled a pair of black, ankle socks with the words "No Nonsense" written in white across the toes out of her dresser next and then left her towel tightly wrapped around herself as she headed out into the kitchen and fixed herself a pepperoni Totino's pizza for supper.
She sipped on a glass of sweet tea and watched the time as she ate. By the time she finished, it was only 6:30. So she went to go get dressed, spray on some shimmering, Be Enchanted body mist over her ample cleavage. She rubbed it over her chest, shoulders, neck, and behind her ears. She smirked to herself in the mirror after applying black mascara and eyeliner to make her cinnamon-colored eyes stand out. Then she applied some shimmering, gold eye shadow and some sparkly, light brown-colored lip gloss that was hot chocolate flavored. She puckered her lips at herself and checked the clock one last time. 7:00.
"Well fuck it," she decided aloud, "I'll just go early."
So she pulled into the parking lot in front of the Luna Mesa at 7:15 and climbed out of the car, thankful that she'd chosen to wear her brown Doc Martin shoes instead of her tennis shoes since the parking lot was gravel. She walked across the parking lot and up to the porch of the building, pulling the door open and starting over to the bar.
The man behind the bar was probably in his mid to late 50's, bearing a beard, mustache, and goatee to match his graying ponytail. He had hazel eyes and a grim expression on his face.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Libby said as he poured a customer a drink, "But I'm lookin' for a man named Walter."
"You found him," he replied, glancing up at her as he eased the bottle of Jack Daniels away from a man's shot glass.
"Hi," she said, throwing him a smile, "I'm Elizabeth Rhodes, the girl that talked ta you over the phone about tryin' ta get a job here."
The man on the bar stool just chuckled and she looked over at him, asking, "Is there somethin' funny about that?"
The man's brows rose and his hazel eyes grew wide as he shook his head, stating, "Nah. We just don't get too many newbies in here."
"Well we can give ya a shot," Walter informed her, "I'll train ya tonight and we'll see how ya do. But I don't think you're Luna Mesa material, chica."
"Well, no offense, Walter, but have you ever heard the expression 'Don't judge a book by its cover'? I might be tiny and I might have 36DDs and a nice ass but that doesn't mean that I can't hold my own or handle my own shit," she retorted.
His gray brows hiked up his forehead and she went on to say, "And I might not have any bartending experience but I'm a quick learner. You tell me what and how much goes into the drinks you serve here and I'll do my damnedest ta get it right."
He nodded to her and commented, "Well, I'll get the alcohol. I'll let you handle the sodas and carryin' the drinks and food over ta people's tables."
She nodded and said, "All right. Then there's not a whole lot I can fuck up, now is there?"
The man on the bar stool laughed and said, "I like this one, dad."
"If ya can't handle it tonight, on one of our milder nights, you're out," Walter announced.
"I'll accept that challenge," was her response.
"Well, let me get you a mini apron with a pad and pen and I'll start showin' ya where everything is," he told her.
She nodded and he motioned her to come around the bar as he left to go find her a "mini apron". When he returned, she looked down at it. She reached out and took it from him, tying it tight around her waist and then turning it around so that the knot was in the back and the apron part was in the front. She patted the pocket of the weird piece of cloth to find a pad and a pen in it, smiling to herself. She nodded to Walter and he started showing her around the place.
He showed her where the sodas were and told her that the orders for food or alcohol were to be turned into him and he'd pass the food orders on and fill the alcohol orders himself. She nodded and he continued on, showing her where the glasses were and where the ice chest was located. She heard the door open just after he had informed her that he would take all the orders from the customers that came to sit at the bar while she'd cover the ones at the tables out on the "floor" as he called it. Walter went over to serve the customer that came up to the bar before returning his attention to her. But she didn't miss the way the man stared at her with those fierce, blue-gray eyes. They were like steel, hard and piercing.
After she'd learned where everything was and was given a menu to use as reference if any non-regulars stumbled into the bar that night, she was turned loose. She headed over to a small group of college-age frat boys. She wasn't stupid. She knew their type just by looking at them. And, while she wasn't usually one to judge a person, she COULD read them by their body language and facial expressions. And the vibes she was getting from those three were that they were going to be a pain in her ass for the rest of the damn night.
Sure enough, when she got out her pad and pen and offered them a bright smile, one of them greeted her with, "Well hello there, sexy."
She fought the urge to glare at him and replied, "Hi. My name's Libby and I'll be serving you tonight. What can I start you boys off with?"
"Well I think we could start with some beers," another one chimed in before requesting, "And would you happen to have a menu we could look over."
His eyes were raking over HER, slowly working their way down before roaming back up again. But she forced another smile and nodded her head.
"What kinda beer would you boys like?" she asked.
"You guys got Bud Light?" she heard the third one inquire.
She pulled out her mini-menu and flipped through it before giving another nod, answering, "Yes we do. 3 Bud Lights then?"
They all nodded and she said, "Okay. I'll be RIGHT back with those and I'll give you guys a menu to look through too."
She turned around to head back to the bar and felt a sharp SLAP applied to her left ass cheek. She froze, a scowl on her face, before quickly recomposing herself and starting for the bar again.
"Whassa matter? Frat boys not yer thing?" the blue-eyed customer practically taunted her, watching her every move like a hawk watched its prey.
She chose to simply ignore him, turning her attention to Walter instead.
"Hey, Walter," she greeted the bartender, "Could I get 3 Bud Lights please?"
He nodded and reached into the standing fridge, handing the bottles over to her. She grabbed a menu and returned to the table, passing the beers around to the guys.
She felt a hand start to slide up the back of her thigh and on up to grab her ass before she straightened and stepped away a bit, telling them, "Just let me know when you're ready for more beer or somethin' ta eat."
Libby headed over to another table to discover that the men there wanted another beer. So she took their empty bottles and returned to their table with a couple fresh ones for them, finding that both men were eyeing her as if she was a tasty treat.
She rolled her eyes as she headed over to another table.
The rest of the night went about the same way and Libby discovered that the men in the bar, whether they were regulars or newcomers, were a pretty handsy and eyeballing group. She'd been smacked, grabbed, pinched, practically groped, eye-fucked, and she'd even received the old "lip-licking stare". She'd pocketed plenty of tips and she was glad for her choice of clothing for the night. But that didn't mean that she wanted to be the center of every man in the bar's wet dreams tonight.
After the last customer she served grabbed her ass, she slipped up, having lost her patience a bit, and informed him, "That's NOT on the menu. But I'd be more than happy ta get you somethin' ta drink or eat."
She offered him a little glare, narrowing her cinnamon-colored eyes at him slightly, and he'd been quick to release her offended ass cheek.
When she headed up to the bar, a glare on her face, Walter looked up from filling another glass, and blinked.
"I swear ta GOD, Walter, your customers are a buncha damn grab-asses," she informed him.
Walter chuckled and reminded her, "We're in a bar, sweetheart."
"Whassa matter, sweet cheeks?" the blue-eyed man sneered from his seat, "Can't handle it?"
She sighed and looked at the clock, commenting, "One more hour and I get ta find out if all my patience has paid off."
Walter chuckled as she headed off with a couple orders of burgers and fries for a couple more college jocks.
Just as her hour was about up, with just 15 minutes left of her shift, she felt a sharp SMACK of a hand over her ass. By now she'd HAD it. She whirled around to glare daggers at the man that had so rudely laid his hand on her.
She leaned right down into his face and snarled loud enough for the whole bar to hear, "The NEXT fuckin' time you smack my ass, I'm gonna knock YOUR ass right outta your goddamn chair. Are we clear?"
The whole bar went silent and everyone's eyes turned to watch her.
The college prep just nodded to her and she gave him a sickly smile, purring, "GOOD. Now take your hand off my ass or I will. And believe me, if I hafta remove it myself, I'll make sure ta break it for ya."
He was quick to jerk his slap-happy hand away from her and she smirked at him, praising, "GOOD boy. Now you drink your beer and keep those hands to yourself and we won't have any more problems, all right? 'Cuz BELIEVE me when I say this: I can be as sweet as an angel or I can be worse than the devil himself. Capeesh?"
He gave a jerky nod and she smirked, turning to walk back over to the bar. Blue-eyes was watching her yet again. She was getting sick and tired of him already, with his ever-present stare and his smartass remarks.
She saw Walter watching her with wide eyes and she threw her hands up in the air, explaining, "Walter, I swear I fuckin' tried. But you try gettin' YOUR ass smacked by a buncha damn slap-happy, horny drunks and havin' your body be eye-fucked all goddamn night and you tell me how YOU like it."
Walter opened his mouth to speak and she took off her apron, telling him, "I know! I'm out. I didn't get the job. I get it."
"I was GONNA say that you're hired," Walter said, surprising her, "But if you don't want the job-,"
"I'll take it!" she cried, grinning at him.
"Then it's yours, chica," Walter informed her with a smile.
"Gracias, senor," she replied.
"De nada, senorita pequena," he told her, making her smile stretch wider, "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."
"Un poco," she stated, holding her thumb and index finger up a few centimeters apart, making him chuckle, "I took 3 years but barely learned shit 'cuz we had 9 different teachers in that time frame. So I learned the bare-minimum basics."
That made him laugh harder but he nodded to her and she took a seat at the bar, passing him her apron with the pad and pen in it, asking, "Could I get a… Shit I can't drink it unless it's sweet. Whatcha got ta offer me, Walter?"
Walter laughed and replied, "Well if it's sweet you want, we've got Mike's Hard Lemonade or Fruit Punch, Seagram's Wine Coolers in Wild Berry or Strawberry Daiquiri, or Bacardi Silver Strawberry or Peach. That's about it. We don't get a lot of people in here that drink the sweet stuff so we don't keep much in stock."
"That's 'cuz those drinks are fer pussies," the blue-eyed man said.
Again, Libby chose to ignore him.
"You had me a Daiquiri," Libby informed Walter, her grin stretching from ear to ear.
He chuckled and went to fetch it for her. When he returned, she was fishing her wallet out of one of the front pockets of her jeans and digging into it for some money.
"It's on the house, chica," he said, his tone slightly firm to let her know that he wasn't up for negotiating it.
She put her hands up and nodded, telling him, "All right. But just this time. And THAT'S not negotiable."
"You drive a hard bargain," Walter's son commented, smirking at her from his place at the bar.
She'd come to learn the little shit's name was Devon. And he thought he was awful smooth. But his pretty-boy looks did nothing for her. He was almost more annoying that Mr. Blue-Eyes with his uninvited comments and awkward stares.
"Well, Devon, if a woman doesn't stand up for herself, no one else will," Libby stated simply.
"What makes you so sure of that?" he questioned.
"Experience," was her response as she tipped her bottle towards Walter in thanks and then tipped it back to take a long pull from it, letting her cinnamon colored eyes drift shut as she slowly swallowed the drink down.
She'd always been a slow drinker, one to sip on something throughout the night instead of drink it right away. She enjoyed it, savored it. And, due to her method of drinking, she'd never even been buzzed before, let alone drunk.
"Ya don't have the right kinds of friends then," Devon spoke up, drawing her out of her relaxing drink.
She opened her eyes and looked over at him, asking, "When all of my friends have stabbed me in the back, why would I want new ones? If you get close to someone, it only allows them to hurt you. And it'd be my own stupidity if I let someone else in again. After the man I dated off and on for 4 ½ years proposed to me, broke up with me 2 weeks later, and then I discovered a month after that that he'd been cheating, I've kind of been avoiding men too."
"You've just got all KINDS of issues, don't ya?" Devon inquired in a teasing tone.
She looked over at him, the bottle halfway up to her lips, and gave a single little snort of feminine laughter before answering, "Oh you have NO idea."
-=Mac=-
Mac had been watching the new girl since he came into the bar at 8:00, desperately needing a drink after the shitty day he'd had. He usually didn't show up to the bar so early. But he'd shown up just as soon as he'd gotten done with the latest batch to sell to the customers Walter had said would be in town next week and he'd stay until the damn place closed. At first, when he'd seen the new girl listening to Walter as he pointed this and that out to her, he hadn't figured she'd last the night, let alone a fucking hour. But she'd made it the whole damn night. And Walter had even commented to Devon about how high of a tolerance level she had, how patient she was with the handsy customers and being eyed up by all the men. Mac had watched as she'd freeze when a man slapped her ass and he knew that she was biting her tongue, fighting the urge to slap them. And there had been PLENTY of grab-assing going around that night. But, when she'd told that one off there at the end of her shift, Mac had known that she had a breaking point, that, try as hard as she might've, she'd reached her limit and she'd made sure to let the whole damn bar know it. He doubted any more of the regulars would try pulling any more of their shit with her. But Mac LOVED a woman with some fight in her. And he'd teased and taunted her all night, just to push her a little closer to that edge, trying to find out when she'd reach the breaking point and snap.
He'd raked his eyes up and down her body time and time again that night from his perch on his usual bar stool, taking in every ONE of her features. He hadn't missed the fact that she had large, full tits – probably a 36DD if he was right, which he was pretty sure he was. He wanted to press his face between those big titties and shake it from side to side or nip at her nipples. Her ass was ample but well-rounded, large enough that it would've easily filled both of his big hands and had a little left over to spill between his fingers. And it looked DAMN good in those skintight jeans she was wearing. Hell it looked good enough that he'd wanted to lean right out and bite it a couple times. He was surprised to find that a woman with such nice curves and hips that had a sexy flare to them, just MADE for holding onto, was single.
Her waist was slender and her legs were fairly long but they weren't the kind of legs that were slender and went on for miles. Instead, they were slightly-stocky, toned with muscle. But she had a pretty face to go with those killer curves. Her eyes were the color of cinnamon and, when she got real close, he could see green flecks in them closer to the whites of her eyes. She had long, dark, thick lashes to frame those unique eyes and full, slightly-pouty lips to go with that cute nose. Her nose had a light sprinkling of faint freckles splashed over the bridge of it and a little of her cheeks too. And her hair was brown in color and naturally-wavy, falling clear down to the small of her back in the middle and having been cut into a v-shaped style. But, in certain lighting, it looked light brown, almost blonde, or even auburn so he was sure she had different shades of natural highlighting in her hair. He liked the shoes she wore too, brown Doc Martins. Not too many women wore those. They were more tomboyish and they sure beat the hell out of heels. And he loved the undershirt she was wearing, especially the skull surrounded by flames. Of course it showcased those big tits too, which he DEFINITELY approved of.
Mac couldn't help but entertain thoughts of this tiny little thing spread out underneath him, naked and pinned to the bed as she whined and begged. Because he'd make her beg. He didn't think he'd kill this one right away though. He'd have plenty of fun with her first. She was one he'd take his time on. Hell he might even keep her for a whole damn week! Scratch that. If she was as good of a fuck as she looked like she'd be, he might just want to keep her as his little plaything. Now that idea made a slow, sure smirk curl at his lips.
But when she'd given her answer to Devon's question about her having "issues", Mac had known she was going to be his next victim.
She pressed that bottle to her lips again, letting her eyes drift shut as she drank deeply from it and slowly swallowed a little down at a time to savor it, he clamped his jaw shut tight to fight back a groan. He shifted on his bar stool a bit, looking for some extra space in his old faded, holey jeans since his groin was tightening and his dick was starting to twitch and perk up a bit. DAMN her! Now all he could think about was fisting all that long hair in his hand as she bobbed her head up and down, working her warm, wet mouth on his dick.
He saw the way she let the bottle rest between those irresistible lips, her tongue pressed along the underneath side of the bottle's lip as she drank. He watched her throat bob as she swallowed and it had him practically squirming on his stool. She had a look of pure relaxation and bliss on her face. And for once in his miserable life, Mac wanted to make a woman scream from pleasure, not pain. HE wanted to be the reason she made that face. By damn if she could do it for a bottle of booze, she could do it for him.
Mac was well-known among the whores there at the bar for his skill with the women. He was just about as experienced as they came. He knew his way around a woman's body and he knew JUST how to please them. Granted, he was rough and greedy and demanding, loving to dominate and control the women he fucked. And sure, he got a little harsh when they didn't want to submit to him or do what he told them to. But that didn't mean that he couldn't make a woman moan and beg, make her writhe and whine. Hell he'd even made a woman squirt for him, on MORE than one occasion!
"Welcome ta the Luna Mesa," Mac told her, drawing her attention from the bottle.
She cracked her eyes open and looked over at him, giving him a little smile.
"Well look who's finally decided ta play nice," she joked, "And here I thought I'd hafta kick your ass."
He chuckled. Oh he'd like to see her try. If she only knew the things he did, the things Walter would only call HIM to do since he couldn't trust anyone else to do it. If only she knew how many of Walter's and Devon's messes he'd cleaned up, and happily so. He enjoyed the hunt, the kill, the thrill. He got off on it. He just wished he could get up the guts to kill Walter. And his stupid fucking golden boy, the sicko. Devon was no better than Mac but he sure as hell liked to think he was, liked to let on to everyone like Mac was just plain white trash while he was a fucking saint. But Mac knew that he had always wanted his little half-sister, Regina. He knew that Devon kept her locked up in Walter's house as some sort of little plaything to fuck around with whenever he wanted to. Oh Devon was no saint.
But Mac pushed those thoughts out of his head before he could dwell on them too much. Because that would only piss him off.
"We don't get new help around here very often," he informed the little brunette, "None of the bitches can put up with all the shit the men dish out. They all quit before they're even hired."
She just smirked at him and replied, "Well ya see, that's where I'm different. I'm not A bitch. I'm THE BITCH. And it'd BEST be in all capitals."
He chuckled at that. He liked this bitch. She had a sense of humor AND she could put up with all the shit the customers gave her there at the bar. And she didn't seem to be too enthused about Devon either. The fucking prick had been trying to get in good with her all night. She'd returned his comments, but she hadn't flirted with him like he knew Devon had been hoping she would. And Mac had done nothing but taunt her that night, up until after she'd put that college boy in his place.
"I hope ya keep this one around, dad," Devon told Walter.
"I hope she sticks around too, son," Walter commented, passing a pointed glare over at Mac.
Mac just returned the glare. Oh Mac didn't plan on doing away with this one, not soon anyway. He wanted to see what she was made of first.
By the time she'd finished her drink, the rest of the customers were gone. Hell even Devon had headed out, leaving just Walter, Mac, and the tiny brunette.
"Well…" she sighed, "Thanks, Walter. I'll be back tomorrow night. And, since ya put up with a tiny dose of my shit tonight, I'll bring some kinda treats in tomorrow ta bribe ya ta put up with more of my shit tomorrow. I'll try ta slowly wean ya into it. But know this, eventually the men in this bar WILL learn that I'm not gonna stand them smackin' and grabbin'. And if a bitch opens her mouth ta me, she'll get put in her place. I don't like toleratin' that shit but I will if I have to in order ta keep the job. But that DOESN'T mean I'll be happy about it."
Walter just laughed and said, "You can put 'em in their place, chica. We're the only bar here in town and most of the people that come in here are regulars. So they'll learn quickly. Then you'll just hafta break in the college kids."
She smirked at that and nodded before commenting, "I'll tell ya this right now though, anyone ever lays a fuckin' mean hand on me and the shit's gonna hit the fan. I WON'T put up with that shit. And if you don't break it up, I fuckin' will."
She pointed at him to get her point across and Mac didn't miss the fire dancing in her eyes.
Walter just nodded and Mac made a mental note of it. He wondered what she meant by "she'd break it up". The image of her beating the shit out of a blonde whore brought a smirk to his face. That'd be pretty fucking hot, watching her smash another bitch's face in.
"Well you'd better get on home, Elizabeth," Walter prodded gently.
She just nodded and said, "Yeah. As much as I hate ta admit it, my ass is wiped out. I'm not even gonna bother with a shower 'til after I wake up. I'm just gonna go home and pass the fuck out."
"Didn't adjust well to the time difference?" he asked her.
"Time difference isn't the bitch," she answered, "My sleeping pattern is. I've always been a shitty sleeper. Hell I wake up anywhere between 5 and 8 times on an average night and it's not like I get up ta piss or anything. I just roll over and try ta get back ta sleep. And I'm a light sleeper. So I wake up at any fuckin' noise. It's a bitch."
Walter nodded and Mac made a mental note of that as well.
"Well, you've landed yourself a job now so maybe that'll help ya sleep easier," he told her, his voice hopeful.
"I doubt it. What I need is some fuckin' rain. I sleep like a damn rock then. But I doubt we'll get much around here," she joked.
"You just be back here by 8:00 tomorrow. You'll work Mondays through Fridays and you'll get Saturdays and Sundays off," he commented.
She nodded and hopped off of her stool, replying, "Thanks a million, Walter. I owe ya one."
"No. I owe YOU," he teased lightly, "Mac wasn't kiddin' when he said we don't get new workers in here often."
The little brunette looked over at Mac and the corner of his lips curled up into a crooked little grin.
"Well, I'll be seein' ya around, Mac. Have a good one and get home safe," she said, gently patting his shoulder, "Tomorrow, I'm gonna give you just as much shit as you dish out ta me."
Mac flinched at the touch but, if she noticed, she pretended not to. He watched her as she walked for the door.
"You too," he called after her, "And I'll be ready."
He wasn't going to tell her that he was going to follow her home to make sure that she got back to her place safely. And he wasn't going to tell her that he'd be ready for her in more than one way either.
Walter pointed a finger at Mac after the brunette had walked out of the bar and told him, "Don't you EVEN think about it, Mac. You fuck this up for me and I'll fuck YOU up."
Mac sneered at him, the alcohol giving him a bit of extra courage, and climbed off his bar stool, snapping, "Contrary ta what ya think, old man, I'm not the one that always fucks everything up for ya."
Walter glared daggers at him with those mean, gray eyes and pointed at him, growling, "Keep talkin' like that and you're gonna push your luck, boy!"
Mac just smirked and stated, "See ya tomorrow, Walter."
He knew Walter knew that smirk. It was his "I'm about to go and do something you'll disapprove of" smirk.
"What are you gonna do, Mac?! Don't you do anything stupid now!" Walter shouted after him, walking around the bar as Mac headed for the door.
"I'm gonna make sure your new little waitress gets home safe!" Mac hollered back as he pushed the door open and headed out into the cold, night air.
"You touch her and I'll kill you, Mac!" he heard the old man snarl after him.
"Yeah, yeah," Mac said as he climbed into his beat up, old, red Chevy.
He put the truck in reverse and pulled out of the lot, following the taillights that were up the road ahead of him.
He didn't follow her too closely. He didn't want her to know he was following her. But he slowed down to a creep as he watched her open her car door and head up to the small house she lived in, pulling her keys out and unlocking the door. When she'd closed the door behind her, he picked up speed again, driving to his own place with a big smile on his face.
Mac had found himself a new victim. And she was a pretty little brunette named Elizabeth Rhodes.
Spanish Translations:
chica – girl
chica – girl
Gracias, senor – Thank you, sir
De nada, senorita pequena – You're welcome, little miss
Un poco – a little
chica – girl
chica – girl
Well, if you made it this far, congratulations. Now it's my favorite time. Reviews! You have NO idea how much I'd appreciate being able to get inside your head and hear what you're thinking. So spill it! *laughs* I really would LOVE to hear what you think. Please and thank you! :D
Libby