Preston
After the crew Dewayne had working on the condo going up on the east beach left, I went through and made sure things were unplugged and expensive shit was locked up. It was Dewayne’s night off from doing this.
When he brought me on a couple of months ago, I had agreed to take over some of his responsibilities so he could get home to his family. Soon I would be taking off for a week for my honeymoon, so I owed him extra time this week. He didn’t demand it, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. He’d hired me as soon as he could give me a job that paid what my bouncer job had paid.
I hated working nights, and he knew it. This had fixed my problem. I had a fiancée at home I wanted to be snuggled up to na**d in my bed. And f**king. Lots and lots of f**king. Grinning, I picked up the trash that had been left behind, then headed down to the Dumpster. These guys were pigs. They left empty Coke bottles and chip bags all over the place. What was the big deal with cleaning that shit up?
Headlights lit up the empty parking lot, followed by a second set of headlights and then a third. What the hell? Was there a parking lot party about to go down that I had to put a stop to? I just wanted to get home to Manda.
Stupid teenagers.
Closing the lid of the Dumpster, I turned and started walking toward the headlights when a car door slammed and I heard Marcus yell my name. Confused, I stopped in my tracks.
“You motherfucker, I’m going to KILL YOU,” Marcus roared, and I realized something was seriously wrong. Marcus was my best friend and would be my brother-in-law in a couple of days. Was this a joke?
“Preston, back the hell up! Marcus, stop and ask him first before you commit a murder.” Rock’s voice came out of the darkness.
“He’s right, Marcus. Let him talk first. If he’s f**king around, we’ll all beat him to hell,” Dewayne called out.
I heard a scuffle and Marcus yelling as Rock demanded he calm down.
Moving out of the headlights that were blinding me, I walked toward them. Once I had the lights out of my eyes, I could see my three best friends in what looked like a argument. Marcus was swinging his arms and yelling about killing me, and Rock and Dewayne were holding him back.
“Can I ask why the hell you want to kill me?” I asked, trying to figure out what had brought this level of anger out in normally levelheaded Marcus.
“Are you f**king around on Amanda?” Dewayne asked with a snarl.
What the f**k? “No! Fuck NO! Why would you even think that? Is that why he’s lost his mind? He thinks I f**ked around on Manda? My Manda, who I adore more than my own life? Are you shitting me?”
“I told you he didn’t do it. There’s an explanation, Marcus. Calm down, dammit, and let him talk,” Rock said, jerking Marcus’s arms back as Marcus glared at me. Some of his rage had cooled as he studied me.
“Let me go. I’ll let him talk first. But he better have f**king proof! Do you understand me? FUCKING PROOF!”
Dewayne eased up on him. But Rock didn’t let go.
“Promise you’ll let him talk. Amanda is gonna want him alive if he didn’t do anything wrong,” Rock said.
“I swear. Let go,” Marcus snapped, jerking free of Rock’s loosened hold on him.
Then he started toward me, and Rock was back on him.
“I just want to ask him!” Marcus roared.
“Then do it with several feet between you,” Rock replied calmly.
“Fine,” he yelled, jerking free again, his eyes so full of pain and fury that it wasn’t even Marcus. I’d never seen him like this. Not even the time he had found out I was seeing Amanda.
“You left your phone in Amanda’s car today. You got a text from Greg,” Marcus said in disgust. “But Greg doesn’t have a pu**y that you can get wet. So Amanda was confused about that and found out that the Greg you used to work with is in your phone but with another number.”
“Wait . . . what?” He was talking about wet pussies and Greg from work. None of this made sense.
“Do you have a woman’s number that you’re disguising as Greg’s in your phone because you’re f**king her behind Amanda’s back?” Dewayne asked.
“HELL NO!” I yelled, furious that they would even think this.
“I knew he wasn’t cheating on her,” Dewayne said, throwing up his hands like he was always right. This time he was. Very f**king right.
“You’ve got some serious explaining to do, then, because I just got a text from Willow. She called that number on your phone, and a girl named Jill Vick answered. She was at Live Bay. Willow could hear Jackdown playing in the background. When she asked her how she knew Preston Drake, the girl hung up on her,” Marcus said, not sounding as angry, but more like he needed proof.