Today was Bring Your Kid to Work day as evidenced by Pita taking her side in our most recent argument. Okay, so we weren’t exactly arguing, more like debating but getting a reaction out of her was so much fun, I refused to stop. Since Mercy and the kid started working at the club, I won’t lie, he’s grown on me.
Not only did Mercy hang the moon and the stars for him, but she kept his ass on the right path too. He was young, on his own with no family and I knew from experience the road you planned on isn’t always the one you end up on. That meant he belonged to me too. And so, I needed to earn his trust like she had.
Even though he wanted to side with me, he wasn’t going against his girl.
Not yet.
And that was okay.
We’d get there.
“I see the way you stare at me,” I wink at her. “You love me in a suit.”
“You rock a suit,” she smirks. “But wearing a suit in the streets is asking for it.”
“We’re at a fucking park so the kid can get his Thursday ass kicking. How does a suit factor in?”
“Maybe you should have a spare bag,” Pita offers as he stretches. “Who wants to fight in a suit?”
“I don’t intend to fight at all,” I remind him. “So, it shouldn’t matter what I have on.”
“Pita,” Mercy says hopping up to sit on the picnic table. “Practice what you learned last week on Dion.”
“Dion?” he gulps going pale.
“I know what to expect,” she shrugs. “Dion doesn’t.”
“Dion is also eight of you and six and a half of me, boss.”
“He’s also standing right here,” I add rolling up my sleeves. “Show me what you’ve got, kid.”
“But your suit –”
“He doesn’t care about his suit,” she waves it off. “So, neither should you.”
“How much did it cost?” he whispers.
“About seven fifty,” I shrug.
“If I land this move, you buy me a suit.”
“Is everything a negotiation with you?”
Unapologetically, he looks up smiles and says, “Yep. I’m young, I require rewards to stay motivated.”
“You land this move and I’ll buy you a suit.”
“That suit,” he points to my chest. “I want that suit, in my size.”
“Fine,” I agree. “This suit in your –” and then the little fucker spit in my face. “The fuck was that for –” and the distraction cost me. Not only did he spew Mountain Dew all over my God damn suit, he also managed to snag my wrist, applying enough pressure that I froze, giving him time to pin my arm behind my back.
“Now I haven’t been measured,” he says evenly from behind me. “But I’m assuming the tailor includes that in the cost.”
Impressed and irritated, I was opening my mouth to respond when a grimy piece of shit punk puts a gun in my face and demands, “Wallet, phone, now.”
“Are you serious?” I ask raising a brow.
“Oh fuck,” Pita says releasing me.
“This nine millimeter says I’m real fucking serious.”
“Dion,” Pita whispers nervously.
“Wallet, phone, now,” the fucker growls again.
Stepping quietly from the asshole’s right, Mercy puts her barrel flush to his temple and says, “Gun, forty-caliber.”
“Fuck,” the guy freezes.
“Wrong park, wrong mark,” she warns. “Hand him the gun or I drop you.”
Doing as she says, he hands it to me, looks around for an escape but wasn’t dumb enough to move. With her gun now pointed at his chest she checks on Pita, who was next to me, then searches my face. “I’m good, beautiful. Thanks for the save.”
Smiling huge at me, she turns to face the punk and advises he, “Run.”
Like the devil was on his ass, he did and when Pita says, “Guy’s fast, boss.”
And she says, “But I’m faster,” I stepped forward to protest only I was staring at her back as she sprinted off.
Rounding on the kid, I was about to give his ass what for when he was running to the car to grab his phone.
“You’re not filming this shit, Pita!”
“No?” he asks with a grin. “Guess you better catch me then, big man.”
Then that little fucker took off too.
God damn, I hated cardio.