Dirty Bastard (Wet Dicks MC Book 1)

by Echo Slater

  “What’s with your hair?” asks my bestie.

  While casually messing with her faulty extensions, the woman says to me, “I guess you think you’re hot shit, huh?”

  “Sometimes, yeah. What’s your problem?”

  “Is it your hair?” Hagan asks, really zeroing in on the woman’s terrible extensions.

  The woman rests her hands on her hips and glares at us. Though probably in her twenties, she looks older with all the makeup on her average face. Though she isn’t particularly attractive, she’s definitely sexy. Her boobs nearly pop out of her top, and she’s wearing the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen without also catching a glimpse of bajingo.

  “You’re nothing special,” she tells me while snapping her gum. “Do you think Mad Dog stopped getting his dick wet with women just because he got a taste of your baby pussy?”

  “You must be extraordinary at sex talk,” Hagan says and then slurps loudly. “I didn’t catch your point.”

  “I’m not talking to you.”

  “But I’m her agent. You need to go through me to speak to my client.”

  Leaning closer until I smell her cigarette breath, she mutters, “Let me spell it out, dumbass. Last night, I fucked your friend’s so-called man.”

  “Wait, is he the one who fucked up your extensions?” Hagan asks.

  “I’m this close,” she says, measuring out a few centimeters with her fingers, “to punching your stupid face.”

  “Why are you telling me about Mad Dog and you?” I ask, wondering how she even knew I was with him.

  “I can’t stand you uppity bitches thinking your pussy addicts men. You ain’t special, bitch.”

  “You’re not great at insults,” Hagan says, slurping next to me. “You use the same words too many times. Try inserting more variety.”

  “I’m going to slap the both of you.”

  “Are you lying?” I ask the woman. “Like, just to mess with me, or did he actually insert his clean dick into your likely unclean lady parts?”

  Leaning closer again, the woman sneers. “He nailed every hole. Was probably not even going to wash up before he jammed his cock in your likely unclean lady parts.”

  Flushed red with panic, I look to Hagan. “Is she lying?”

  “Men are known to cheat,” says my bestie before glancing at the woman. “But why would Mad Dog slum it with her gangrene-oozing holes when he has access to your hot body?”

  “Because I know what I’m doing, you stupid cunt!” the woman screams before shoving the nearby trash can at us.

  “Highly doubtful!” Hagan yells back and throws her ICEE at the woman’s feet. “I’m freeing those trashy extensions from your garbage head!”

  Ducking, I back away. Meanwhile, Hagan windmill-attacks the slutty woman who goes slap-happy. I’m so devastated by the thought of my sweet biker being an actual dirty bastard that I forget to help Hagan.

  But Cheap-Ass Extensions has a friend. Sporting giant 1980s bangs, a scrawny woman comes barreling at us while swinging a huge purse. My broken heart will have to wait.

  I throw my ICEE at Big Purse, who freaks out when the cold liquid splashes against her leopard-printed tennis shoes. For a second, I wonder if she’ll melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. Nope. She’s still coming!

  The four of us slip on all the ICEE and miss most of our no doubt awesome punches and kicks. Hagan nearly falls. Big Purse ends up on her ass. Cheap-Ass Extensions sorta tugs at my hair while I graze her leg with my shoe. We’re all so close to kicking each other’s asses!

  “Go away!” hollers the clerk, appearing from inside. “I don’t want to call the police.”

  “You heard her!” Hagan yells as she slides in the direction of Big Purse, now crawling away since her shoes are covered in slush.

  Cheap-Ass Extensions realizes maybe the cops are coming, and she doesn’t want to go to jail when she didn’t even get to kick my ass. But, bravo to her for stomping on my heart!

  “Do you think she’s lying?” I ask Hagan once we scrape the shit off our shoes next to my car.

  “I don’t know. Why would she? Did Mad Dog ever mention having a psycho ex?”

  “He acted like he never seriously dated anyone,” I say as we climb into my car, and I begin to shake. “He said I was special.”

  “Maybe he’s not full of shit. Just because he didn’t care about her doesn’t mean she wasn’t super into him.”

  “But what if she’s telling the truth? Could he already be bored of me and fucking other girls? Or is this my punishment for not being available twenty-four-seven?”

  “If that’s a real concern, then, um, I would double-up on the condoms next time you get penetrated by his throttle. That chick definitely has some shit that’ll never wash off.”

  When my hands won’t stop shaking, Hagan and I switch seats so she can drive.

  “Why would she come up to me if it wasn’t true?” I ask as we head home.

  “Because bitches be farting drama. You can’t understand them.”

  “What if I’m not wild enough in bed, and he’s bored?”

  “Don’t cry, Cam,” Hagan says as we sit at a red light. “If he cheated, you’ll kick him in the balls a lot and never forgive him. Or maybe you torture him a little before forgiving him. Or maybe he didn’t cheat, and that loser just randomly tracked you down to publicly embarrass you.”

  Sinking into self-pity, I sob the rest of the way home. “I love him, but I don’t think he ever said he loved me.”

  “Why exactly do you love him?” she asks, turning to me after parking. “Is it his smile or his ass?”

  “It’s everything. I even like the dumb stuff he does.”

  “Like cheat on you?” When I frown at her, Hagan shrugs. “I’ll shift to the more supportive role when we get inside the house, and your parents take on the ‘kick him to the curb’ position.”

  “Let’s not tell them,” I mumble and wipe my eyes. “I don’t know what’ll happen with Mad Dog. What if they decide he’s a bad guy and won’t give him another chance?”

  “But what if he is a bad guy?”

  “I can’t believe that.”

  “You nearly got beat up because of him.”

  Shaking again, I mumble, “That’s true, but maybe he’s innocent.”

  “He still triggered that situation to happen. Even if he never fucked her or they hooked up long ago, her behavior only happened because of him.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t hide anything from your parents, anyway. When they see you’ve been crying, they’ll console you. That’s going to break your resolve.”

  “I wanted them to go to the Ranch and see how normal the Wet Dicks can be. Then, they’ll let me sleep over.”

  “You might want to stop talking as if you’re still a kid. Assuming you ever want Arlene and Phil to be okay with a forty-year-old man plowing their princess.”

  “I am their kid, even if I’m not a kid.”

  Hagan opens her mouth to say something and then shrugs. “Just tell them some chick who knows Mad Dog hassled you, and that’s why you cried. Keep the cheater stuff as a maybe until you know.”

  “How do I find out?”

  “Ask him.”

  “But if he’s a cheater, he’s already a liar. All week, he’s been texting and calling to say how much he missed me. If he fucked her, he wasn’t really missing me. So, if I ask if he cheated, he’ll just say, ‘No, baby, only your pussy makes me feel just right.’”

  “Well, when you do your impression of him, I can clearly understand why you fell in love so fast. He’s simply a poet.”

  Scowling, I bark, “Shut up.”

  “You shut up,” she growls back.

  “I got cheated on.”

  “So did I.”

  “By who?”

  “Whom.”

  Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “You know I don’t know if that’s right or not.”

  “You cheated on me with Mad Dog.”

 
“But you and I aren’t dating.”

  “We could be. I could turn you into a lesbian.”

  “And who would turn you into a lesbian?”

  “Men,” she says, throwing her hands up. “Men with their terrible pickup lines and smelly jockstraps. Just the whole lot of them is turning me into a lesbian.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. I suspect you like Stoney.”

  “The name doesn’t ring any bells,” she says and gets out of the car.

  Inside, I plan to clean up and pretend to be calm. That way, my parents will only get the sanitized version of what happened.

  But Arlene comes around the side of the house and sees us walking weird on account of our wet, sticky shoes. All she has to do is ask what happened, and I start crying.

  “Mad Dog might have cheated on me,” I blurt out, needing her consoling. “Some gross lady yelled at me and almost hit me at the store.”

  “Wait, what happened?”

  As we enter the house and go upstairs to change, Hagan gives the play-by-play. Of course, in her version, the women are way uglier, and we’re ninja badasses who intimidated them away. Arlene filters through the bullshit to the truth.

  And God bless her, my mom doesn’t say, “I told you so,” or something equally condescending. She just gets us clean clothes while I shower in my bathroom, and Hagan uses the hall one.

  Then, she tells us a story about her first boyfriend in junior high.

  “We dated for two days. It was nothing, but I was so excited. Then, I found him kissing another girl in front of the school for the whole world to see. I was so embarrassed.”

  “Did you kick his ass?” Hagan asks immediately.

  “No, I acted like I didn’t care.”

  Frowning, I take her hand. “Did that work?”

  “I guess. Like, he seemed a little disappointed I wasn’t crying and freaking out. But, you know, I still felt really bad for a week.”

  “Just a week.”

  Arlene shrugs. “He wasn’t that hot, to be honest.”

  Grinning now, I hug my mom tightly. People think I’m too close to my parents and I need to grow up. But I feel lucky to have them. If my birth mom hadn’t ditched me, my life would likely suck and not in an “I got ICEE all over my new shoes” way.

  If Mad Dog did cheat, my family will help me with my broken heart. And if he didn’t stray, Phil and Arlene will pretend to be okay with us staying together. Though they no doubt wish I’d date someone normal or safe, they can’t deprive me of what I really want.

  And despite what Cheap-Ass Extensions did today, I still really want Mad Dog to be mine.

  MAD DOG—GIVE YOU HELL

  Bishop and I race around town, checking on a few suppliers who are likely to ditz out on an average day. Their fried brains are why I never dip even my pinkie toe into the harder drugs. Pot and booze make a party. Ecstasy is okay on special occasions. LSD on very special occasions. But I avoid meth, coke, heroin, or anything addictive enough to make me willingly rot my brain.

  I’m planning to be the sharpest old-timer in the club. Or at least, smarter than Horse, which shouldn’t be too much trouble as long as I avoid getting hit in the head repeatedly.

  As evening approaches, we stop at a 24-hour mart to grab cold drinks. Bishop and I don’t react to the arrival of two former Wet Dicks.

  Bronze and Killjoy ride up to where our Harleys sit quiet. Standing nearby, I lean against the brick wall and watch them idle in front of us.

  “Nothing personal, Mad Dog,” Bronze tells me, flashing his impeccable smile. “You know the routine. You boys fucked with Vivi, and Hoot says all the Wet Dicks’ girls need to get the business.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask while Bishop makes eyes at Killjoy as if they’re speaking telepathically.

  “Aren’t you dating a cute high schooler?” Bronze asks.

  Kicking off the wall, I walk to him as if I’m hard of hearing, and that’s why he doesn’t make any sense.

  “What are you saying about my girl?”

  “Cameo is her name, ain’t it?”

  “Why are you talking about her?” I growl, losing all my fond feelings for these men.

  “She’s getting the business. Figured we’d let you know. For old times’ sake.”

  “I said to let you stew,” Killjoy mutters before flipping off Bishop, who chuckles. “You boys started shit. Serves you right.”

  “Yeah, he ain’t wrong,” Bronze says and gets ready to ride. “But that girl ain’t at fault for falling for one of the Dicks.”

  “Stay away from my girl and go choke on a cock.”

  “There’s the charm,” Bronze says as his blue eyes sparkle with girlish glee.

  “You’re a twat, and I ought to shove this bottle and my fist down your throat.”

  “Or,” Bishop says, sidling up next to me, “you can track down Miss Cameo and see what business they gave her.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  “Then, do it,” Killjoy grumbles.

  “One day, you’ll have a woman, and I’ll give her the business. Then, what?”

  “I’m not a moron, so I’ll warn her ahead of time. She’ll give zero fucks about your business,” Killjoy spits out at me since he breathes bad attitude.

  “Chill,” Bishop says, patting Killjoy’s shoulder. “You hold a lot of tension in your body. Not healthy. You don’t want to have back problems when you hit Medicare age, now do you, Grumpy Dwarf?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Bishop snorts at Killjoy’s irritation and then struts to his Harley, where he throws over his leg and gets comfy.

  “Smile more, frown less,” he tells a still glaring Killjoy.

  “Why the fuck are you upset, anyway?” I ask my former club brother. “I’m the one whose woman is getting the business.”

  When I focus on Bronze and try to intimidate him with my size, the blond bitch only smiles wider.

  “Are you flirting?” he asks, winking. “If so, I can see why Necklace fell for you.”

  “Cameo, fucker.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Tell me what you did to her.”

  “I didn’t do dick. You know I’m a shy guy with no ill will in his big heart.”

  “Sure, shithead.”

  I walk to my Harley and check my phone to see if Cameo texted any problems. Finding none, I ask if she’s cool.

  “Know her worth!!!!!!!!!!!!” is her texted answer.

  Assuming Hagan is in charge of the phone, I reply, “Hey, bestie, is Cameo okay?”

  “Gorging herself on ice cream is the healthiest she’s ever been, you ape!”

  Realizing they’re at home, I know I won’t get any straight answers from Hagan. I rev my engine to get Bronze and Killjoy to move out of my fucking way. They smile in response and speed out of the parking lot.

  “I’m headed to Cameo’s,” I tell Bishop. “See you at home.”

  Bishop nods, seeming in no hurry to do much of anything. I leave him behind and race to Cameo’s house.

  Phil answers the door, wearing his pissed-off dad look. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why? Did my former club brothers start trouble?”

  “No, your girlfriend did.”

  Flashing my most charming smile, I say, “My girlfriend is inside your house, eating ice cream.”

  “That’s not what Cameo heard. There was even a fight,” Phil mutters before shrugging. “Sorta.”

  “Who hurt her?” I growl, and Papa Sutton instantly flinches.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” I ask as my rage fizzles out. “Be angry? Defend my woman?”

  “Your woman is my daughter.”

  “It’s not a competition. If it was, we’d both be right.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Can I speak with Cameo, please?” I ask, flashing my best smile again.

  Phil’s gotten a little over his head here and doesn’t know how to get
rid of me. “I’ll see what she says.”

  I step back and text Cameo to explain, “Roosters messed with you. I’m awesome. You’re awesome. Now get your sweet ass out here so we can be awesome together.”

  “Cheater!” Hagan yells from the now open window above me.

  I look up to find her and Cameo. The window lacks a screen, allowing them to lean way out. Cameo’s clearly been crying, which means I need to punch a few Roosters in their big fat heads.

  “Your girlfriend told me you did her last night,” Cameo says, hiccupping.

  “It’s a prank the Roosters play on the Dicks’ women.”

  “No.”

  “Cameo, Hagan,” Phil says, stepping outside and looking up at them, “don’t hang out of the window like that.”

  “Phil,” Hagan says, wearing a devious expression, “maybe you should go inside, where it’ll be drier.”

  Cameo’s father opens his mouth to ask a question, realizes what’s about to happen, and flees into the house. I catch a sympathetic shrug before he shuts the door.

  “We wasted ICEEs because of you!” Hagan yells before disappearing inside.

  Cameo wears a pout. “Did you cheat on me?”

  “No, baby.”

  “I want to believe you.”

  “You know me.”

  “Every cheater says the same thing.”

  “But I’m Mad Dog, not every cheater. I’m your man. You know how we are. Why would I mess with anyone else when I have you?”

  “I couldn’t see you for a few days, and I can’t sleep over.”

  “Those are dumb reasons to cheat. Am I dumb?”

  Cameo’s pout twists up before she disappears back into the house. I assume she’ll come downstairs.

  Instead, Cameo reappears with Hagan at her side. “I believe you didn’t cheat,” she says before glancing at her grinning friend. When her gaze returns to me, Cameo loses her pout and smirks. “But your biker stuff still caused me trouble. You must be punished.”

  Hagan gives me a devious grin and adds, “A particularly wet one.”

  Cameo offers me a beautiful smile as she drops the blue object from her spot above. Like a fucking dummy, I don’t get what’s about to happen until the balloon splashes open on my head. Hagan nails me with a red one. I try to hide under the small porch, but they hang far enough out to hit me.