His Wicked Mouth

by Jessica Mills

  “No, Hawk, really, it’s fine,” Nadine said, trying to pull him away from me. It was no use. She was like a fly trying to direct an elephant.

  “You want to hit on my Nadine?” he said, his voice thundering around me.

  I tried to shake my head in a lie, but I was being rag-dolled so hard I didn’t think it mattered too much which way I tried to move my head. It was going to go whiplashing around anyway.

  “So what if I did?” I said finally and immediately regretted most of my decisions for the evening. I might have wanted to get into a tussle, but I hadn’t exactly planned on fighting a walking, talking oak tree with the most generic and yet badass name of all time.

  “So what if you—” he said and then elected not to finish the sentence. Instead, he punched me hard in the gut.

  “Shit,” Nadine said, throwing her arms in the air and running out of the bar. Something told me this wasn’t the first time this had happened to her.

  The punch was hard and took the wind out of me for a moment, but Montgomery boys were known for having strong stomachs and even stronger jaws. He was going to have to hit me a lot harder than that to get me to stay down.

  Hawk was already turning away from me when I got to my feet and reached up to put my hand on his shoulder. The slightest tug alerted him, and he spun, swinging hard. I ducked the blow and sent a right across his jaw that caved him in for a second. It was as if he’d never been hit before, or at least never hit hard. He stumbled for a second, moving his palm to his lip and spitting out a little blood.

  “Nobody makes me bleed my own blood,” he said, screaming in rage.

  I shouldn’t have laughed, but it was funny. But laughing only pissed him off. A lot. Suddenly, he was tackling me into the door, and we tumbled outside. I could sense a ton of other boots running around, surrounding us. They not only wanted to see the fight, but they also wanted to shield what was going on from any curious passersby, especially ones that tended to wear blue and had badges.

  I shared that sentiment.

  I tried to wiggle myself out of his grip, but his hands were like vises, and he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and lifted me in a throw. I soared through the air long enough to note how weird everything looked upside down before I crashed into a metal grate that housed propane tanks. I landed hard on my neck and shoulder on the gravel and tried to get to a seated position.

  “You want more?” he asked, thundering his question to me from just a few feet away.

  “Sure do,” I said, jumping to my feet.

  I swung hard, landing a couple of blows onto his thick stomach and ramming my head into his face. The punches seemed to have absolutely no effect at all, but the headbutt caught him off guard. An audible gasp from the crowd of bikers told me it was rare for Hawk to ever not be in complete control of a tussle, especially with someone smaller than he was.

  While he was stumbling, I ran after him, hoping to dive and take out one of his legs, but the whiskey had hit me harder than I expected, and I stumbled myself, tripping over my own feet and just barely getting fingers on his boot. I rolled to the right just in time to miss a heavy stomp, and I got to my knees. He was already on me and soccer kicked me in the ribs so hard that I was sure he broke them.

  I rolled a few times, trying to create space, but he was already there like a mastodon hunting me on an open field. He lifted me by the front of my shirt and held me up on my feet, reaching back one giant ham hock of an arm and bringing it around to make contact, fist to temple. My eyes rolled and I fought the loss of consciousness. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear Sarah inside, calling last call.

  It was last call, all right.

  Another punch, this one crunching over my left eye, sent me into complete darkness and I went limp.

  Chapter 6

  Annabelle

  I couldn’t believe I was actually in Las Vegas. It didn’t seem real. This was something I had been thinking about for years. Ever since Kaitlyn told us she was leaving Montana to pursue her dreams of being a backup dancer at one of the glamorous Vegas shows, I thought about what it would be like to visit a place like this.

  I definitely could never do what she did. Not only did I not have anywhere near the talent or coordination to be a professional dancer, but I just didn’t think I could make it in such a big city. I was born and raised in Montana. The first time I left the farm for any length of time was when I went to college. And even that was still not too far away from Green Valley.

  But as much as going off to college didn’t really take me out of my home environment so much, it did have the benefit of introducing me to so many different people. Bridget went to the same school, and together, we built up a friend group that was varied and far more exciting than anything I ever met on the farm.

  I learned a lot about other people and myself during those years of school, but there was never a question in my mind that I was going to end up back in Green Valley. It was my home. It was everything I ever knew, and I didn’t feel that urge to leave the way other people did.

  But that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice every now and then to get a little bit of a dose of the world outside Green Valley, somewhere more exciting. Moonlighting writing articles and short stories to bring in some extra cash gave my brain some of the entertainment and variation I craved. But it wasn’t always enough. Sometimes, I needed actual people and something totally different.

  Vegas definitely fit that bill.

  For as long as the group of girls had talked about coming out and visiting Kaitlyn, I tried to imagine what it would be like to be in such a huge city. I knew it would be a major change, but I was excited to experience it. I always held it up as an aspiration, a big dream of something I would do one day.

  And now I was finally there. A bit nervous. A little unsure. But there.

  This had not been some leisurely vacation. It was insane to think I woke up that Friday morning in Montana. Granted, it was barely in the morning. Even more barely in the morning than I was accustomed to getting up. The sky was still dark and sparkling with stars when I got out of bed and got dressed in the travel outfit I had laid out across the rocking chair in my room.

  My conversation with Bridget at brunch really got to me. I always thought about my father, what he needed, and my work on the farm. To the detriment of myself, it turned out. It wasn’t a bad thing, and I wasn’t starting a revolution that was going to change my lifestyle, but it did make sense that I deserved some time to myself and to have fun every now and again.

  With as hard as I worked and as much as I put into everything I did on a daily basis, taking some time to recharge and refresh occasionally was important to my health and well-being. I told myself after this three-day break I would come back even more energized and motivated and be able to take on even more tasks around the farm.

  That was when the excitement really started to settle in. I picked out my travel clothes, I packed my bags, and I waited for Friday. When Friday came, I climbed out of bed feeling like I had barely gotten into it. I stayed up late the night before making lists and preparing meals to stock the refrigerator.

  A local farmhand we’d brought in for some additional labor a few times would be stopping by to help with the farm and make sure everything was going smoothly while I was gone. Even though he was familiar with the farm, I still wrote down everything just to make sure.

  My father accused me of treating the man like a babysitter and I agreed to stop before making out a list of the contact information for everybody in my travel group as well as the hotel we were staying at. Dad had my cellphone number and an itinerary of where I would be. I convinced myself that would be enough and willed myself to sleep through the excitement.

  It was a good thing I got what rest I did because we hit the ground running. As soon as Bridget picked me up, we were in bachelorette-party mode and we hadn’t slowed down yet. The flight to Vegas on its own was a blast and geared me up for the weekend. Now after the long day of traveling, meeting
up with the rest of the girls, and settling into the hotel, we were finally getting ready for our first night out on the town.

  “All right, girls,” Bridget said, setting one of the three bags she brought with her on one of the beds in Vivian’s suite. “Are we ready to get this bachelorette party started?”

  “What do you have in there?” Vivian asked, eyeing the bag.

  Bridget pressed her hand to it like she was trying to keep the contents a secret and waggled her eyebrows. “Supplies.”

  “Why does that sound so terrifying coming from you?” Molly, one of the other bridesmaids, asked from across the room where she was buckling a pair of complicated strappy silver shoes.

  We were all wearing silver, Vivian’s favorite color. Admittedly, none of us were wearing too much of it, but we were in Vegas. We were far away from home and anyone who knew us, other than Kaitlyn and each other. If this wasn’t the opportunity to wear stretching mini-dresses that showed off our cleavage and sky-high heels, what was?

  Bridget laughed and unzipped the bag. She reached in and pulled out a shiny satin sash. In silver glitter script across the front, it proclaimed “Bride.” She handed it to Vivian, who grinned and put it on before turning to look in the mirror so she could adjust it. Out of the bag then came sashes for each one of us. Coordinating silver glitter announced we were with the bride, as if that was going to be a question.

  “These are fantastic,” I said. “It makes it official.”

  “Have you decided where we’re going tonight?” Brianna, the last of the group, asked.

  Vivian gave a mischievous smile and grabbed her phone off the top of the vanity. She carried it over to the bed and dropped down to lie on her side and swiped the screen. Just like the rest of us, her social media feed had been blowing up since we checked into the hotel.

  As soon as we told Kaitlyn we were actually going to make the trip out to Vegas and we were coming to celebrate Vivian’s bachelorette party, she promised us a good time. And she had more than come through for us.

  She had landed a position as a backup dancer for one of the hottest shows in the city. Add that to the fact that Kaitlyn was tall, gorgeous, and had a dynamic, irresistible personality, and the result was people falling over themselves to do things for her. She took full advantage of that pull to make sure we were going to get the absolute peak Las Vegas bachelorette experience.

  That started with arriving at the hotel and finding welcome baskets in each of our rooms. Tucked among the chocolate, fruit, and sparkling wine were exclusive VIP passes that granted us incredible access to the nightclubs and bars of the city, along with various other perks.

  That would have already been pretty incredible, but it definitely didn’t stop there. She had clued in some of her high-powered friends and admirers about our arrival, and they were rolling out the red carpet for us. As soon as we checked into the hotel on social media, the invitations and offers started rolling in.

  It seemed like the owners and managers of every bar and nightclub up and down the Strip were sending invitations for us to come and party with them. Every one of them mentioned our names were already on the list and came with promises of complimentary drinks.

  “Let’s just check some of the options,” Vivian said. She scrolled through her feed for a few seconds, naming off the different clubs that had reached out to us. “I’ve heard of a few of these. I know the last time I talked to Kaitlyn about her favorite, she said she always had fun at Revely.”

  “What about Plum?” Molly asked. “That’s supposed to be one of the hottest new spots.”

  “I want something loud and rowdy,” Vivian announced.

  “Then loud and rowdy it is,” Bridget said. “But I think before any of us can fully embark on the experience that is a loud and rowdy Vegas bachelorette party, we need to take care of those drinks the bar sent up to us.”

  She grabbed one of the drinks off the tray and went back to her bag, her back to us. She rummaged in the back for a few seconds, then turned around with a bright purple straw shaped like a penis in the drink. We all squealed with delight and she handed out straws to the rest of us. We all had different colors, with the bride getting a special version in silver metallic plastic.

  The vibrant pink of mine was definitely fetching, but the deeper we got into the evening, the more my anxiety was creeping in. I spent the day trying to push all of it out of my mind and reminding myself this was what I needed to be doing. But recognizing I needed a break and to have some fun and actually being able to fully lean into that when I was worried were two completely different things.

  “Does this make them official cocktails?” Brianna asked.

  The girls laughed and Bridget reached into the bag again. She spun around with her hands full of plastic necklaces. They all flashed multiple colors of light, accentuating the very large plastic penises hanging from the front like pendants. She handed them out to us and we put them on, completing our official bachelorette party outfits.

  “Don’t think I forgot about you,” Bridget said. She reached into the bag and turned around with a sparkling tiara for our bride.

  Vivian grinned and made an excited sound. Bridget placed the tiara on Vivian’s head, and they hugged.

  “All right,” Molly said. “Let’s get going before we get all mushy.”

  “Give me just a second,” I said. I got out my phone and sent a quick text to my father. I reassured him I was having a good time and I hoped he was enjoying having the house to himself. Immediately after sending that message, I sent another warning him that he better not be putting salt on everything he could get his hands on while I was gone.

  I wasn’t expecting him to respond, considering how late it was, but just seconds after I sent the message, I got one in return. He told me not to worry about him and just to have fun. He couldn’t wait to hear all about it when I got home.

  Those messages put me more at ease and I gave myself over to having fun and enjoying my break. I turned the phone off, put it away, and linked arms with Bridget. Picking up my drink, I looked at her.

  “Let’s have a good night,” I said, as much to myself as to her.

  We all walked outside, piled into the amazing limo waiting for us, and set off on our adventure into debauchery.

  Chapter 7

  Garrett

  One of the things I learned soon after getting to Las Vegas was that just about everything existed there. If you could think of it, no matter how twisted or strange, you could probably find it. There were people of every type and inclination, and so much oversaturation of the outlandish and bizarre it just became commonplace.

  That was why it was particularly troublesome to realize you weren’t only standing out among the crowds but freaking people out. That was the place I found myself around two in the morning after my unceremonious removal from the bar. I went out onto the Strip and was stumbling around, trying to figure out where to go next.

  Two o’clock was far too early to call it a night and head back to the hotel. There had to be something else I could do, even with a busted-up face. Somewhere else to go and work off the anger and frustration built up inside me. At that point, I was still drunk enough to make my steps unsteady and slur my words. Even still, I could stand for another drink. My brain was clearing too much. Everything was getting too real again.

  Which included the way everybody out on the sidewalk was reacting to me. I highly doubted it was the drunk swagger that had them giving me a wide berth and girls grabbing onto each other as they hurried past. More likely, it was the blood on my shirt and my roughed-up face. I could feel that I was far from looking my best. Of course, it had been a long time since I looked or felt my best, so at least it wasn’t that far to fall.

  The perfect example of there being a little bit of everybody in Las Vegas was bachelorette parties. There were actually a lot of these kinds of people roaming around the Strip every night. Of all the people who came to party and see the lights, the bachelorettes and thei
r entourages were probably the most intense. Loud, unpredictable, and wild, they screamed out of limos, wandered out into traffic, and caused a scene essentially everywhere they ventured.

  They were simultaneously some of my least favorite and favorite people to encounter, for obvious reasons. That night, I didn’t feel like dealing with the looks of horror and disgust that crossed the faces of a group coming my way. All dressed in silver with an alcohol-inspired teeter to the steps they took on towering, sharp heels, they suddenly closed ranks around the woman in the middle.

  Even if she wasn’t wearing the cheap party novelty sash proclaiming her as such, the ridiculous tiara perched on her head and air of superiority around her tipped her right off as being the bride. The rest of the women clung to her like they were protecting her from the fearsome local.

  I didn’t bother to say anything to them but just continued right on down the sidewalk. I had no idea where I was going. It would come to me when I found it.

  “Garrett?”

  I was nothing short of shocked when I heard my name called down the sidewalk. No one around there knew me. When it came to bringing women home, I stuck to tourists—eager for the Vegas experience and with a presence that had an expiration date. That was the perfect relationship in my mind.

  I turned around to look back toward the sound of the voice. One of the bachelorette women dressed in silver had separated herself from the rest of the group and seemed to be the one who had called my name. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk with a strand of flashing beads around her neck and a sash over her shoulder that read, “I’m with the bride.”

  Taking a step closer to her, I noticed what appeared to be a plastic penis hanging from the end of her necklace. The quintessential bachelorette party detail. That was one of those things that never really made a whole lot of sense to me, but it wasn’t important enough to me to delve too far into the sociological implications of it all. Bachelorette parties appeared to be the celebration of the dick.