by Mj Fields
He’s younger than Frank, but not as young as us. And he’s wearing what they call a cut. It even has patches. I mean, I don’t see Pres or anything, but there are definitely lots of patches.
Tall, as tall as Dad, and although his clothes aren’t tailored, I can tell his shoulders and chest are packed. He’s definitely built. The ink peeking out from under his long-sleeved, black tee, from what I can see, isn’t black and gray like everyone in my family’s; it’s colorful. I love color.
Regardless of how appealing all that is, it’s his ice-blue, twinkling eyes, his perfect smile, his strong jawline, and deep dimples on each cheek, lightly covered with facial hair. Manly, sexy, and exotic compared to what I’m used to seeing. Add to all that, his wavy mess of light brown hair with sun-bleached streaks of blond in a freaking manbun, and I’m all sorts of smitten.
I keep looking at his hands because, if there’s grease on them or, Lord willing, calluses, I swear to God, right now and here, I will be his old lady. Hell, I’ll be a club whore just to look at those eyes and that smile that contradict everything about his vibe.
“You a good biker or a bad biker?” Truth asks, sounding intimidated for the first time.
“Jesus, Truth,” I whisper because really?
He laughs, and I love the sound of that, too. His lower lip is pouty and full, but in a manly way, and his teeth … perfect.
“Depends on what you consider bad. I’ve been known to help little old ladies cross the street and don’t even steal their purses.” His eyes twinkle in mischievous amusement. “But I’ve also been known to crack a few skulls, you know.”
Gaw!
He continues, “How many are we up against at this party?”
I step out from behind Truth and answer with all the confidence in the world that, when he sees me, he will see me. “Four.”
His smile grows bigger as he asks, “Bitches or boys?”
I lift a shoulder. “Boys who Truth called bitches.”
He laughs and looks at Truth. “Is that so?”
“Technically, I told him I’d planned to make him my bitch but decided he already was one.”
“Laces …” The man Truth called Frank shakes his head. “You amused the hell out of me from day one, but you gotta remember to put your shit in check when you’re out-sized and outmanned.”
I want the other one to look at me again, so I announce proudly, “We have a Crew.”
He laughs. “Well, where the hell are they?”
“Sometimes we gotta have girl time, you know?” I crinkle my nose, hoping I look cute, even though what I said should have proven to him I’m a badass, flirting for possibly the first time in my life.
His smirk causes me to blush, but I can’t let him see me looking like a schoolgirl, even though I am one. So, I turn and look at Frank, who’s following Truth back toward the house. I guess we’re really doing this.
“Wait—How do you know Truth?”
Truth looks back at me. “He owns the shop where Kiki bought Brand’s rings.”
“She’s a tough negotiator, this one,” Frank says, obviously poking fun at her.
Truth squares her shoulders. “Glad you were there. I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with Shades.”
Shades? I wonder.
“Kid’s got a piss-poor attitude, but he’s gotta hustle to get by,” Frank says then takes a drag off his smoke.
Truth huffs. “Sure, but he could do it with some manners.”
Jax … manbun … the hottest guy I have ever seen laughs. “Says the girl who wanted to make a boy her bitch.”
She raises her nose in the air. “You’ll understand why when you meet his entitled ass.”
Frank chuckles. “Says the rich girl with a wad of hundies at my store.”
Oh, God, I wish she hadn’t said that. I don’t want them—well, him—to think I’m an entitled rich girl.
I look beside me, and he smirks down at me.
“We work.”
He nods, his smirk still in play.
“Like, this definitely isn’t our normal crowd either.”
“No?” he asks, smiling bigger.
“God, no. We’d rather be at, like, a club or something.” Not a complete lie. We go to clubs when one of Uncle X’s bands is playing sometimes.
“I prefer dive bars myself.” He winks.
Oh my God, he winked at me! I swear my head is spinning.
“Really, wherever there’s decent music works for me.”
“Music’s always a good thing.”
Smiling, I look ahead as Truth asks Frank, “You sure you wanna do this?”
“We’re heading in the same direction, Laces. And the boy already offered our services, free of charge.”
Truth looks back at us. “Wait—you are like paid security, too?”
“Only for assholes. Little old ladies and wannabe badass chicks who get themselves into shit bigger than they are, we do quid pro quo.”
Yep, definitely feeling love vibes.
Truth nods. “Thanks. Just two houses up.”
Frank chuckles. “Yeah?”
Truth shakes her head. “Don’t let the place fool you. They’re silver-spoon-fed assholes. The biggest one being the owner.”
In the background, I hear a bunch of motorcycle engines, just like Jax Teller’s and Uncle Cyrus’s.
“You expecting company?” Truth asks.
He nods. “We’ll get you girls squared away; no worries.”
“Thought it was your dad, too?” I ask Truth, partially because I did think it may be him until I heard more than one, and partially because I want him to know we’re not wannabe badasses. We are kind of badass.
“He wouldn’t drive his in the rain, or the cold.”
“Smart man,” my future love tells her.
“This is the place.” She hurries ahead of everyone. “Just hang back. I don’t wanna start a fight if I don’t have to.”
“A girl who doesn’t like fights obviously hasn’t seen enough of them,” the father of my future children jokes as I hurry to stand beside her, proving I can hang.
She knocks on the door. Hard, too. When they don’t answer, she bangs on it some more.
“Those assholes.”
Frank asks, “You try the door handle?”
“That would be rude,” Truth whispers.
Way to go proving we’re badass, Truth.
“Gotcha.” He again pokes fun at her.
She opens the unlocked door and looks around. The song “Remember The Name” by Fort Minor is playing loudly in the background, and I really hope to get his name soon.
Truth whispers loudly, “Brisa, you find the keys. I’ll go grab my phone off the charger. You guys, just wait here.”
“You’re a bossy little shit.” Frank crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb.
“But I’m cute,” she tells him then hurries toward the bedroom door. I’m right behind her.
When she goes to knock, I grab her hand, and she looks back at me. “Really? Now you’re going to worry about knocking? Just get in there before they come back.”
“Oh my God, fine. Get the keys,” she whispers, turning the knob then walking in.
I hurry to the couch to look for the keys, tossing blankets and pillows when I hear, “Fuck yes, right there, Tobias. Harder, dammit.”
“You like me wrecking your pussy, don’t you, Dee?”
My eyes dart to the door and I see my future baby’s daddy scrubbing a hand over his face, trying to dim a smile, but even that doesn’t dull that shine.
From the bedroom, I hear, “Yes, yes! Oh, God, yes!”
My eyes bulge out, and he tosses his head back in silent laughter as he hurries out the door, laughing out loud now.
When the music stops, I heard a thud.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I hear the head horseman—Tobias—roar.
“She’s a little late for a threesome.”
“The fuck do you not get about leave?
” he yells, and I hurry toward the bedroom door, not worried anymore about getting our asses kicked, but worried about Truth.
I see Tobias butt-ass naked, and his girlfriend or whatever she is naked, too, as Truth snaps at him, “My phone!”
“Let her get her phone, Tobias, and find me a damn towel so I can grab my clothes,” the naked blonde says without a care in the world that Truth is in the room or that I am in the doorway.
Apparently, Truth hasn’t noticed he’s naked until she turns around, giving him a disgusted look, “Jesus Christ.”
“Impressive, right?” the girl asks her.
“That,” Truth huffs. “It’s a lowercase D, at best.”
I can’t help but laugh. Also, there is nothing lower case about that. Maybe she needs glasses.
She jumps up on his bed, runs across the mattress, and then hops down, yelling, “Come on, Brisa.”
A lump forms in my throat and tears begin to fall, because I failed to do what I was asked, because I was too distracted by sexy noises, D’s, and … him.
“I can’t find the keys!”
When I hear him say, “Little Bit, don’t cry,” I look up with a soft smile.
Little Bit.
“What the hell is going on in my fucking house?” Tobias booms.
Truth looks up at him. “Trust me; we don’t want to be here, but we need our shit, and then we’ll be out of your hair, button.”
“Button?” Frank laughs.
“The fuck are you doing here, man?” Tobias asks him.
“The girls needed an escort to get their belongings,” he tells him.
“I can’t find the keys.” I sniff back tears.
“Don’t cry over lost keys, Brisa. I’m sure Dad has a spare set.”
“You can’t call him! He’ll flip!”
“Steel, your cousins are at my place.” I hear Tobias say and look up. Thankfully, he is now wearing ball shorts. “Lost their keys. Come get them, or I’m calling the cops.”
Shit, shit, shit, who is he talking to? Please God, let it be Patrick.
Tobias continues, “I’ve got shit to do tonight, and you know it.”
“We can get the girls home,” hottie who called me Little Bit says.
Tobias looks over at the door, looking a bit shook up, and then looks at Frank. “You bring Ranger to my house before a fight?”
Ranger. His name is Ranger.
Fuck … keys, I remind myself and start digging around the cushions for them.
Frantic now, pushing my hand between cushions, I hear Frank tell him, “Girls said they were having—”
“You bring him to my fucking door, Frank!”
Thank you, God, I think as I feel them and pull them out. “I found them!”
Truth grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door.
As we pass Ranger, I smile. “See you around?”
He grins. Yes, grins. “Only gonna take ten minutes, ladies. Stick around.”
We haul ass down the sidewalk then up the hill, both of us laughing.
Almost to the vehicle, Truth holds out her hand. “Keys.”
“Um, fuck no. You’ve been drinking.” I hurry to the driver’s side of her Rover.
“I’m pretty damn sober now!” she yells.
“Tell that to a breathalyzer!” I yell back as I hit the unlock on the key fob, slide into the driver’s seat, and attempt to catch my breath.
As Truth slides in, I start the vehicle. “Call Patrick and warn him not—”
“Right.” She touches the phone screen. “Why the hell do I need WIFI to make a call?”
“Oh, shit, it’s on airplane mode.”
“Lord God in heaven, please let my father not be freaking the fuck out,” she grumbles, scrolling and tapping away.
Chimes and notifications sound, and she growls.
My phone blows up with messages from Dad and notifications from the stupid app.
When Patrick answers, I hit hands-free.
“No need to come get us,” Truth sighs.
“Good fucking thing. I’m fucked up, and Savannah here doesn’t wanna drive my Jeep.”
Savannah? I wonder.
Pulling out onto the street, I tell him, “Text us your address, and we’ll come get you.”
“Sweet,” Patrick says then asks someone, “What’s the address here?” That’s the last thing we hear before the call disconnects. Drunk ass.
“Brisa, are you insane? What if we get pulled over?” Truth says, and I ease off the gas as we near a stop sign, my heart still racing.
I grin. “Then I’m Katherine Steel.” Our cousin.
“That will never work.”
I hit the gas. “It has before.”
“You’re so bad.” She flops back.
Her phone rings again, and I hit the hands-free when I see Dad on the dash display.
“Hey, Uncle Cyrus.” I wink at Truth.
“Brisa, where’s my daughter?”
“Right here, driving.” I grin and wag my eyebrows at her. “Which is why she hasn’t answered the phone.”
“You know I love you, Brisa, but I call bullshit. Her phone was on airplane mode.”
“Dad, it was dying. We put it on airplane mode because it charges faster and forgot.”
“You good, Truth? For real?” he asks.
“Of course, Dad. I—”
“You picking Patrick up?”
Shocked, she asks, “How the heck do you know that?”
“He shot me a text to let me know.”
She groans. “Dad, how many times did you call him tonight?”
“If you were better with your phone, maybe took your charging case, we wouldn’t have this issue.”
“I will next time, Dad, I promise.”
“Love you, kid. Don’t let him drag you all over Jersey.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she mock-huffs.
Uncle Cyrus sighs. “I trust you, Truth. It’s the rest of the world I don’t.”
“I know, Dad. Love you, too. Tell Mom—”
“She’s in bed, but she knows.”
I laugh. “No kids in the house, your wife’s in bed, and you’re on the phone? Uncle Cyrus, this should be adult playtime.”
“Christ, Brisa,” he groans.
“Well, tell me I’m wrong.”
“What I will tell you is I’m sorry your father got dropped on his head one too many times as a kid.”
As soon as the call ends, Truth looks at The Sound notifications. We’ve been going to school at the illustrious Seashore Academy for months, and Truth and Katherine, aka Kiki, have been the target of bullies who run the unofficial app. I have somehow managed to stay off their radar. Well, until tonight when the four assholes, or as Truth calls them, the Four Horsemen, showed up at the party at Tobias’s house that some of the drama kids rented for that night.
Now, according to the app, we are apparently being invited to our first event.
It takes some convincing or conniving on my part to get Truth to go along with it, but she does. And since Patrick will be with us, I know we will be just fine.
The event isn’t even a party. It’s an illegal underground fight. And the fighters? Tobias Easton, who is called The Experience, and Ranger the Wrecker.
It is exhilarating.
And it’s scary.
And it ends just as I scream Ranger’s name and he looks over at me and smiles … right before Tobias knocks him down.
I feel like shit.
Then all hell breaks loose, and Truth literally jumps into the ring. When I go after her, though, Patrick grabs me in a football hold to keep me safe as he moves us toward where he sees Truth being carried out of the ring by Tobias.
He drops me outside the door and tells me to wait. I do … while looking down the corridor, waiting to see if Ranger is coming this way, my fingers crossed.
The whole fingers crossed thing works as I watch Ranger storm toward me. My heart beating fast, already due to the adrenaline from the crow
d, increases as he hurries to me, asking, “You okay?”
“Are you?” I ask in return, grabbing his bloodied, callused hands.
“No big deal.” He smiles. And, God, how I love his smile.
When a crowd pushes through, he grabs me. “I’ve got the Little Bit,” he tells someone behind him.
My back to his chest, he holds me against him as the crowd all rushes through. Once the majority has passed, I turn and reach up, using my sleeve to wipe the blood from his lower lip.
“Does it hurt?”
He cocks his head to the side, looking a bit confused.
I rephrase. “I know it hurts, but was it worse when I touched it?”
He licks his lips and shakes his head.
I reach up and wipe the blood from his brow then his cheek, making sure to be careful.
He closes his eyes and releases what seems to be a held breath, pressing his cheek against my hand. He then grabs my wrist and swipes my thumb across his lip, asking, “How old are you, Little Bit?”
I swallow hard then lie. “Nineteen.”
“That’s young,” he says as I rub my thumb gently over his lower lip.
“I’m old enough to know what I want.”
Eyes narrowed, he asks, “And what’s that?”
“I wanna kiss you.”
So I do …
Lying in bed that night, I rub my lips a million times, like I did his. Eyes closed tight, I’m picturing his stunning blue eyes when a message pops up.
Sweet dreams, Little Bit.
Little Bit.
Present
I’m not that girl anymore.
Not That This Time
Ranger
Instinctively, I step around her to open the door that fuckwad allowed to shut in her face and decide that’s not a good idea as she turns around, slamming the side of her head against my chest. She steps back unsteadily, and I grab her shoulders to balance her. Another bad idea, because the way she looks at me from over her shoulder is a lot like I remember her looking at me years ago—all doe-eyed and full lips slightly parted. I shake my head as I let go.
Before I can warn her off, she pokes me in the chest. “I’m not that girl. I—”
I start to step around her, and she moves to the side, blocking me.
