Jake Melnick's Corner Tap Photos Novels & Stories

Jake, you fucking degenerate! Jake was smiling as he approached the center where Tales was slumped on the floor. Jake crouched beside him, microphone in hand, his sharp suit and confident smirk making him look every bit the master of ceremonies. He scanned the crowd, his voice dripping with mockery as he began. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Jake drawled, “tonight, you’re in for a more delicious treat. Meet Tales.” He gestured grandly at Tales, his grin widening. “He’s not just strong and defiant—oh no, that’s only the surface. This one? He’s a masterpiece of pleasure and pain. A fighter by day, and...” Jake leaned slightly toward the microphone, his voice dropping suggestively, “a dream in bed at

He brought out his hand, offering it to me for a handshake. We shook hands with a smile on our faces. He took me in. I made catwalks into the place. Cars were packed in here but it was very big, like that of a warehouse. Jake was sitting on a broad table, wearing a brown T-shirt and beige colored khakis. On his feet was a pair of classic sneakers and his hair combed backwards and into a bun. He was discussing with some guys that were flanked around him and they were laughing. They were all drinking liquor from their tumblers while Anna was busy munching her bowl of rotini.

At times, Rhychard doubted the apprentice was even an elf. Embers was busier than normal. A couple and a lone man sat chatting with Jake Meyers behind the bar as ESPN spewed football highlights. A few men sat in the opposite corner, drinks in one hand, cigars in the other laughing about something that had just been shared while ignoring CNN on the television mounted on the wall. A couple took up the couch in the adjacent corner. Rhychard waved a greeting to Jake as he led Famallumi into the walk-in humidor, which sat parallel to the bar. He glanced out the glass door that led to the wooden deck overlooking the river and noticed only a few people enjoying the departing day. That suited Rhycha

Naomi smiles sweetly and takes her phone before departing. I stand beside the window and watch as she drives away in her red Chevy. Before not long, Jake enters my room with three duffle bags. I'm glued to my spot at the window, having a hard time believing that someone played me so well. I hear the click of the camera and twist my head to see Jake taking a picture of me while grinning like an idiot. Jake holds his phone like a mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the gloomy face of the legend Denzel Flynn, the first time when someone fooled him.”

My pulse dropped at the revelation, but I tried to be unbothered. “That picture?” I inquired. “Oh, yeah, Jake Slogan, he’s a bartender, I am sending you his complete details, That man is in deep deep trouble…” Dave spoke energetically. “He surely is…” I agreed with him. A visit to Jake Slogan is a must now. *** “I am already here,” I told Dave and he groaned unhappily. “I’m gonna need a few more minutes to reach there…” “Fine, I’ll go alone then…” I raised my foot, determined.

Craved more. Across the room, Jake leaned against a pillar, drink in his hand. He wore a dark jacket but no tie, collar unbuttoned, looking like he’d walked in from somewhere hotter and less controlled. Their eyes caught once, and Mitchell felt it hit her low and sharp — the kind of heat that didn’t care about chandeliers or guest lists.

Jake Just before dawn, Jake walked out of the room and toward the front of the clubhouse. He was surprised to see a few people awake, and he sat down at the bar. Weasel placed a cup and the coffee pot in front of him and smiled. “You went through five sweet butts,” Weasel said, and Jake smiled. “One for every year in prison,” he said, and poured himself a cup from the pot. “Michelle left this for you,” Weasel said, and produced his bank card and house keys.

Then Clancy began.... All the while, Jake was watching the whole case from head to toe using his laptop. One of his men had a sound video recorder with high audio signal pick-up on. It was small and couldn't be easily seen. He attached it to his T-shirt pocket and one would think it was a button. Jason, The mega Island god of War too was watching and listening. He was with Jake in his hideout orchestrating his plans to strike at Sterling city defense again.

I tear the brown-wrapped package and my heart sits in my throat when I see the content. Panic flare wide. It's photos. Some blurry. Just a few are clear. At first, it's empty pictures of a parking lot. I recognize it. Tamara's workplace. I'd be there a couple of times. But then it's not it that has my nerves pulsing. It's a very clear photo of Jacob in a discreet corner, and a camera in hand. From the next photo, it shows the camera stationed in one of his eyes, ready and about to take a picture.

"Yeah, I'll just have a Corona lite, and Jake, what do you want?" "I'll have a Cherry Coke with a large serving of Guac and Chips," He said from behind his menu, he may look the part of an innocent-looking young adult, but I knew better than to think that of him. We'd done so many jobs together, I've seen him at his best and worst, he was a man who would listen to the sounds of a rapist being tortured to sleep; Yet he was also the kind of man who would cry, if I even thought about being mean to Jameson, he's a hellhound and yet Jakey acts as if a couple mean words and a thwack on the head would be enough to kill the poor thing.