Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend Read online

  Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend

  By S N Garza

  Copyright © MONTH/2014 by Stephanie Nicole Garza

  Cover design by Airicka’s Mystical Creations, http://www.facebook.com/pages/Airickas-Mystical-Creations/462373910480084

  Edited by April Howard

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1499697049

  ISBN-10: 149969704X

  ***for mature readers due to sexual content, graphic language, and some violence. Not for young adult readers***

  He will show her a world she never imagined.

  She will show him how to open his heart to love.

  Scarlet Castle always dreamed of being a performer on Broadway. But the small-town girl only got as far as Downtown Houston.

  Dax Dixon keeps the books at Saints & Sinners Lounge, a well-known cabaret in the heart of Houston. He’s only interested in the opposite sex for one reason.

  Until he meets her. Sparks ignite. Challenges are made. Will they put their hearts on the line for loved? Or ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to them?

  Titles by Stephanie Garza

  Bound Hearts Sweet series

  Bound My Sweet Temptation

  Writing as Stephanie Nicole Garza

  Pyro-Princess Design & Style series

  Love Came Back

  I would like to thank everyone who couldn’t wait to get their hands on this book. Dax’s character was a lot of fun to write. Hope y’all love this as much as I loved writing it. Take care & God Bless.

  Laters, Baby

  Oh, and there is an abbreviation, TB mentioned a few times, this mean titty-baby!

  Also, I don’t know much about coma’s, but remember it’s all fiction. “Miracles happen.”

  Prologue

  Scarlet

  Age 4

  Christmas Eve

  Mom knocked on the door. I have never been to this house before. On the other hand, any house before. There was a kaleidoscope of flowers around the wraparound porch. I fell instantly in love with it. I wished I could go up to them and smell them. I bet they smelled really pretty. I must have been leaning, trying to get a whiff when my hand was tugged hard and mom banged on the door harder.

  “I know you’re in there, mother. Your truck is parked in the driveway and I saw the curtains move.”

  Mother? Mom never mentioned we had family before.

  She pounded on the door one last time. Panting and huffing as if she was the big, bad wolf ready to huff, and puff, and blow this pretty house down.

  I heard a few clicks and the door swung open not too gently. A woman who did not look very old stood in front of mom with a look of apprehension. She had a few gray streaks lining her hair and she never took her eyes off my mom. She did not even look down at me or seem to notice me.

  “You ran away with that boy when you were seventeen. Don’t call, don’t write and you disappear for four years and when it finally suits you, you show up? Well, Marybeth, I am your mother. That palsy, little note saying ‘you found the love of your life and don’t wait up for me’? I waited up for you, missy. You’re my only daughter. Did you think I didn’t want more for you?”

  My mom released my hand and placed her hands on her hips in the way she did when she started to get aggravated. I stepped away, because I knew where that usually led. Being punished.

  “Get over it, ma. I’m here now.”

  The other woman still hadn’t even noticed me yet. She looked really sad. As if her heart was breaking right in front of me. Tears shined bright in her eyes, but I saw her jaw clinch as she tried not to. I didn’t want her to cry because of my mother, either. I cried enough as it was. My mother would probably hit this lady.

  So I said, “Don’t cwy, pwease.”

  That’s when her head whipped down and she gasped. Her eyes widened as they took me in. I was wearing my favorite clothes today. My ‘My Little Mermaid’ sweater (it was winter and my favorite Disney Princess) and my legging skort with my purple jelly sandals. Mom let me dress myself for as long as I can remember.

  “Marybeth, who is this?”

  “My daughter. Your granddaughter.”

  The older lady looked at me with wide eyes and she had placed her shaking hand up to her lips.

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. We just need a place to stay for the night before we move on.”

  “Yes, yes. Come in.”

  The lady, who I now figured out was my grandmother, couldn’t keep her eyes away from me and I could swear there was wonder and then some sadness in her eyes.

  “I never knew-

  But my mother brushed her way inside, which pushed her mother back a step. I wondered why mom was being so mean. This woman, my grandmother, seemed really nice. Mom dragged me into a sitting room where an old TV box sat with a VCR, and floral furniture surrounding it with a pretty wooden coffee table in the center.

  “I see nothing has changed. Just sit down there, Scarlet.”

  I let go and sat at the edge of one small couch as I waited for something to happen. Hopefully, nothing bad.

  Although mom just said nothing had changed, my view changed. I had never sat in a house before. The only places I could remember were motels, and if we were lucky, an apartment every now and again. The cheaper, the better, my mother always said. While my mother did whatever she did, she usually just kept me in the room by myself and told me to eat whatever we had left over. Which was pizza or Chinese food.

  Yuck.

  I hated Chinese food. For some reason the smell totally made me feel sick to my tummy. I don’t think my mother ever cooked or I don’t remember it. So a lot of times I didn’t eat.

  The older woman came down and sat next to me with a serene smile on her face and I felt instantly calm.

  “Hi, sweet girl. I’m your grandma. You can call me Nana. I hope we get to be real good friends.”

  My mother stomped her way (which was normal for her) and huffed, “I don’t plan on staying here. We just need some sleep if you don’t mind.” Then she turned and clomped her way up the stairs.

  ⟡

  My mom stayed up in her room for the rest of the night. She didn’t even come down for dinner except to grab a plate of spaghetti and went back to her room. Nana told her to stay in the kitchen and eat, but mother didn’t listen.

  Nana had been talking to me most of the evening about her favorite things. How much she loved her husband, my grandpa Alan. How he was a real man’s man (whatever that meant). How even though they didn’t have much, he still went out of his way to get little things for her, to show her how much he loved her. Then she started on how she loved old-timey movies. Like the ones with Fred Astaire, Marilyn Monroe, Frank Sinatra, and Judy Garland. All the great singers and dancers of their time.

  I sat there glued to the seat fascinated to listen to her talk about it. She showed me her small collection of movies and I just looked in the entire magnificent splendor. I’ve never seen anything so grand in my little life. I hope mom wanted to stay here.

  Nana asked me if I wanted to watch one and I ‘yayeed’
up and down with excitement and she just laughed and told me to get comfortable on the sofa. She pushed in a movie called ‘Guys and Dolls’ and as she sat next to me, she pulled me close to her side. When she did, I leaned in and snuggled up to her. For the first time, I fell asleep with a comfort I’ve never known before.

  ⟡

  When I woke up, I knew something was wrong. The comforter was snuggled around me and I burrowed deeper into the warmth. I wished we would never leave here. I scooted myself out of the bed and went in search for mom. She wasn’t in the room she said was hers, so I thought maybe she was in the kitchen. I started walking down the stairs when I heard a clanking and shuffling coming from that direction.

  I walked into the kitchen sleepily and said, “Mom, it’s so early. What time is it?”

  “Baby-girl. It’s your Nana.”

  I finally opened my eyes good enough to see it was Nana.

  “Where’s mom? She’s not in her bedroom.”

  Nana walked up to me and led me to the floral sofa we sat on last night.

  “Scarlet, my sweet girl, your mother left.”

  Left?

  “Left? Did she go to the store? Do I need to start packing?”

  She took my small hands into hers and I saw a tear stream down her face.

  “No, baby, you don’t need to pack.”

  “Don’t cry, Nana. She’ll be right back. She always comes back.”

  “No, baby-girl. She isn’t coming back.”

  1

  Eighteen years later…

  Dax

  Fuck. About time this chick came. I was getting tired of pounding my dick into her. This bitch had been clingy all night at the club and I finally said fuck it and drove her back to her place. It didn’t take her long before she was taking off her clothes and fingering her pussy, trying to egg me on.

  Somehow, that wasn’t doing anything for me. Usually, I didn’t mind seeing a woman beg for my dick, but this was just getting old.

  She fell asleep after I put it to her, I got up, and went to the restroom to get rid of the double condom I wore. Damn right, double condom. I didn’t know this bitch from Eve. I was making sure nothing seeped into her cunt. I know that’s crass, but that’s how I am. Been raised by a man who owned a strip club and a woman who took over when he kicked the bucket. I learned not care what people thought about me and heard a lot of bullshit from the Jack’s that occupied the lounge.

  I cleaned my dick, then walked back out into the bedroom. She was still out to the world so I located my clothes, donned them, and picked up my wallet and phone. (Made sure my green was inside, yeah, some chicks thought they’d get the slip on me, but I learned that shit real quick and at an early age, ‘never trust a dame you just took to bed’.)

  Yup, everything was right and I shoved them into my front pockets and left.

  I hadn’t had a new girl in a while. A few weeks at least. I didn’t keep them long though, just a few months maybe. Most of them didn’t like how commanding I was. I told them up front what I liked and how I liked it. I liked testing their limits. The room I had at The Club, a sex club in the heart of Downtown Houston, had a trunk full of different sex toys. What can I say? I loved kink.

  Right now, I didn’t want to have to deal with breaking in a new girl. Just a quick bang and beat it.

  I was young and didn’t plan on marrying anyone anytime soon. No bitch was gonna hold me down. The way I grew up, with men leering at the strippers and being around nothing but women in a gentlemen’s lounge, made me figure out what I didn’t want. At least half of those women were like the chicks I had just now. Clingy, needy, and desperate for a sugar daddy. I was no one’s sugar daddy.

  During the day, I ran the books at Saints and Sinner’s Lounge, a Cabaret in Downtown Houston. My father, Mike, had it as a gentlemen’s club, where the women stripped and danced. It was a member’s only strip joint and they paid a hefty sum for a membership. Now that Danny, yeah, she preferred it if I called her Danny instead of mother-go figure-took over after he died, she wanted it to be more than just a strip club; she liked to entertain and loved the old school cabaret of women singing and dancing. She paid a shit ton of money to add another level, so memberships still paid for the more exotic type shit on the top level where the girls who wanted to strip, stripped. The top floor also held the personal lap dances and shit. The bottom level was the bar and cabaret, where the girls danced and put on a good show.

  We were a legit place and I meant to keep it that way. Mike had let shit slide sometimes and a few douche’s got out of hand one too many times with a few girls. I.E.-Cops came, the club was fined, and the place lost some business. I didn’t necessarily want to work in this place, but what could I say? I was kind of a momma’s boy in some respect. She didn’t ask me much for shit, but when she did, I didn’t have a problem with it. I just did it. One of them being the financial guru of SnS.

  Some of the girls at the lounge would get there sometimes super early with the excuse of ‘extra routine practice’, but come on. Gimme a mother fuckin’ break. These chicks knew I wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole.

  I hated doing the books in the office, so I often took the ledger into the main room and took care of business. I hated offices. Stuffy closed-in spaces. Danny’s office was big, but she did a lot of sewing shit in there. Her and her bisexual seamstress Sebastian. Most times, all I heard was their jabbering. Every now and then they’ve tried to ask my opinion, but I honestly didn’t care about dancing girls. They were a dime a dozen in places like this. Stating the obvious much?

  Yeah.

  Whenever I did sit out there, some of the dancers talked loudly, trying to get my attention. Talking about girl shit and their bodies. Like if they tried enough, I’d give in. Ha. Bitches be crazy. Every once in a while one would get brave, saunter up me, swaying her skinny ass hips, bouncing her big, fake-ass titties, lean down so said fake ones would almost be brushing up against my face before trying a lame come-on line. Trust me, I shot that shit down quicker than quicksand.

  One thing about me, I fucking hate aggressive and pushy women. They got ideas on how they think they’re gonna tame a man into some metro-sexual guy, who will carry their purses, end up driving a Prius, get manicures, waxed, and have creamy, lotiony hands, eat sushi, and shit.

  Fuck, someone please take my balls. I don’t need them. That day comes, when any of that happens to me? Take my fucking man card, I’m in line to get neutered and be feminized. I don’t want a lapdog but some women want to be the pants wearer in the relationship. That just don’t sit right with me. Maybe that’s why I go for the submissives from the club I’m a member at, The Club. It’s a lifestyle club; a BDSM culture that circulates the darker and sexually sensual. Women there knew what they were getting into and I never had a problem.

  Until lately.

  Something just felt different. The women I’ve had all seem the same. Their faces blend with each other and I couldn’t seem to figure out what the hell was wrong.

  I was a healthy man of twenty-seven. Barely in my prime. I was fit and toned from working out seven days a week. Stamina and endurance wasn’t the problem, for sure. But lately, it’s like I was going through the same shit, just on a different day. Over and over. It’s not like I was having a midlife crisis.

  I pray I live to be an old man, and twenty-seven was not the middle of my life. It was just starting. So why did I feel so fucking peculiar?

  Every chick felt the same, looked the same, and sounded the same. Like my life was a broken record.

  I loved my life and the way I lived it, but I needed a change…obviously. This shit just wasn’t right.

  Leaving no-name’s apartment, I made it down to my truck. Yeah. I owned a big, black, jacked-up truck on 35’s. I was a tall man, six foot six inches, I needed a vehicle to accommodate that. I also have my sports car, a black Chevy Camaro, but I only drove that on special occasions. When my father died, he willed me both the Harley Davidson’s he had. I ro
de them every so often to just keep them going. His 1991 Dyna Glide Sturgis and 1996 Sportster 883. Beautiful bikes, even if they were from a man I didn’t care for. His way of life wasn’t what I wanted for myself, but I did respect those bikes and kept them in perfect running condition. His way of life?

  The Sons of Dixon Motorcycle Club. Where my paternal grandfather was president. I couldn’t prove shit, but I knew he was also a criminal. A plus about my father was he taught me how to respect the bike and its position in life.

  But, enough of that shit, it was time to get out of this bitches place before she woke up and expected something more from me.

  I got in my truck, cranked it and Buckcherry blasted through the speakers. It was still early just around ten.

  I was tired, but not really ready to head home just yet. I didn’t want to go back to The Club. I was not in the mood to get harassed by anymore needy-ass women.

  I lived over in Pasadena, in a huge ass house in Baywen Oaks Village. I liked the city life of Houston, but I needed to be away from all that shit sometimes. My house was far enough away from Danny, too.

  She wanted me to ‘get settled’. Even tried to get me to go out on dates-going as far as the girls at the lounge. I always turned them down. The ones that were my age or older, were either married and/or had kids. The ones in their early twenties were man-eating sugar babies. I know Danny had to have known that, but she’s convinced herself I needed to stop sowing my oats and fill up that empty house. I rolled my eyes every time she mentioned that one.

  It was a Friday night and I was on my way towards Pasadena when I passed by Chili’s Bar and Grill.