CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  Graham Lauder 329 N 9th, Potwin, KS 67123

  I blinked my eyes and stared at the faded postmark date.

  18 JAN 1993

  Believing I must be misreading the date, I stood from the floor and walked to the lamp in the corner of the room. I blew on the surface of the envelope and wiped the date with the bottom of my tee shirt. I stared at the envelope. It was as if it was shipped from a ghost.

  18 JAN 1993

  Graham was killed on the 14th of January. I shipped out on the night of the 21st. I considered the date he was killed and tried to recall the day of the week. It was an extremely warm day in mid-January, and we decided to go for another ride because of the fabulous weather. The forecast had called for three sixty-five degree days back to back. We had worked eagerly to bring his bike to a condition where he could ride it, and waited anxiously to for the nice weather. The day he died was a Wednesday. No, it was a Thursday. Thursday the 14th.

  The letter postmarked the 18th clearly meant one thing and one thing only. Graham had mailed it to me before he died. If he would have mailed it from Potwin on the morning he died, the postmark would probably be correct. Mail was taken from Potwin to Wichita for a postmark, and then distributed from Wichita to the respective destination. The cycle, considering the weekend, could have been a week. My mother had probably simply dropped it into the chest and left it with the other mail I had sent home.

  Reluctantly, I walked to the chest and picked my knife up from the floor. As I cut the envelope open and removed the letter, I sighed. After slowly unfolding it, I began to read.

  Jak,

  I don’t know how to say it other than saying it, so here goes.

  I’m probably dead or in a coma. I told myself if I lived through this one I’d make it to your mailbox and get the letter out like I did last time. If you’re reading this, it ain’t gonna be good.

  I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I blinked my watering eyes and continued.

  When we go riding, I won’t be wearing my helmet this time. I won’t be going to basic training with you either. I got Shelley pregnant back in October last year, and she wants to get married. It’s tough to tell you she’s a bad person, because I’m just as bad. But she’s no good, Jak. She’s been fucking around on you for most of the time you two have been together. I been trying to think of a way to tell you, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I guess really I don’t know if I’m the father, but I can’t wait and see. I can’t go to the Navy with you and wait to see what happens, it’s a huge mess, Jak.

  My tears fell onto the letter as I read. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and lowered the letter. My entire life I took responsibility for what had happened to Graham. The feelings were so deeply placed in my soul, my mind eventually had to block them out to allow me to continue to live a healthy life.

  But I lived feeling responsible for what happened. I always wondered if we hadn’t been drinking if things may have gone differently. It wouldn’t have mattered. Graham was on his second suicide mission. I looked down at the letter. Slowly, I raised it to chest height and began to read again.

  I can’t live my life with an all day every day reminder of what a bad friend I was, and I ain’t looking to raise a kid with a whore (sorry, but it’s true). So I guess I’m going to go out with a bang. I’m sorry for what I did, and I’m sorry for what I’m going to do. I hope you understand.

  I just hurt really bad inside.

  I left mom and pop a letter telling them bye. I ain’t telling them about Shelley, and I hope you don’t either. After the kid’s born if he looks like me I’ll guess we’ll know.

  I love ya, Jak. And I’m really sorry.

  Graham

  I reread the entire letter. After folding it and placing it into the envelope, I gathered all of the mail and dropped it into the wooden box. I tossed the photo album on top and closed the lid to the chest. I pushed my knife into my pocket and clipped it in place. After a precursory look around the room, I carried the heavy chest to the top of the steps.

  The drive to Potwin seemed to take mere minutes. As close as I could recall, I was exactly where Graham had wrecked his bike. In lieu of going to his cemetery, I opted to drive to the crash site. For me, it seemed more reasonable and personal. After all, this was where he would have taken his last breath – and in my mind, he would always remain here. I pulled my truck partially into the ditch and parked.

  I walked back to the bed of the truck and opened the chest. After lifting out the photo album, I carried it back to the cab of the truck. I opened the album and removed Graham’s picture from the translucent film which covered it. His appearance in the photo was exactly as I remembered him. I smiled and placed the photo on the dash. After resting the album on my lap, I turned the picture over and began to write on the back of it. This was important; I needed to let Graham go and move on with my life.

  Graham,

  I forgive you for what you did. I still and I will always consider you a friend. I’m going to spend a lifetime taking care of your daughter, but not because she’s your daughter. She’ll forever be in my life only because I love her and I can’t imagine living a life without her.

  To think somehow I happened onto her and we fell in love - and all of this isn’t tied together somehow would require me to be a very shallow man. We both know that is not the case. God put Karter in my life for me to love and cherish, and I intend to do so with great vigor. This will be the last time you and I will ever talk, so I’ll leave you with these words:

  The events in life we can’t accept are always the toughest.

  And the toughest events in life are always the ones we can’t accept.

  I think when we can find a way to heal from pieces of the very things which have torn us apart, we truly emerge a better person.

  So, I’m going to buy a bike. And I’m going to ride that son-of-a-bitch until the day I die.

  Your friend always,

  Jak

  I turned the photo over and placed it into the album. After a short pause, I opened the door to the truck and walked around to the rear bumper. I looked in the bed of the truck at the can of gasoline and grinned. Moving forward would be a blessing for us all. I tossed the album into the chest, lifted it from the bed, and carried it to the base of the old tree.

  As I sat on the bed of the truck and watched my memories burn, I realized there was not one person in charge of my destiny but me. The only thing which separated me from a life of greatness was me. I was a great Navy SEAL. I’ve always considered myself a great son. Now, it was time for me to become a great lover and a great husband.

  One more stop, and my past would truly be behind me.

  After a short ten-minute drive, I arrived at Shelley’s house. This time I pulled my truck into the driveway. After a deep breath, I walked to the porch and rang the doorbell. After no immediate answer, I knocked on the door and stepped to the side. As it opened, Shelley smiled.

  “Come on in, Jak,” she said softly as she waved her hand into the living room.

  “No, I just have a few things to say, and I’ll be gone,” I responded.

  “Why’d you do it, Shelley? Why’d you tell me Karter was mine when you knew she wasn’t?” I asked.

  “How do you know she’s not?”

  “I had a DNA test done,” I responded.

  Although part of me wanted to, I felt no good would come from her knowing Graham committed suicide. As far I knew, she received a letter no differently than I did. I guessed it was possible she lived a miserable existence for the last twenty years because of it. Additionally, I felt no need to tell her I knew who the father was; only that I knew for certain who the father was not.

  “Oh really? Well…” she paused and looked down at my feet.

  I nodded and waited in hope of her explaining herself.

  She looked up and narrowed her eyes, “Pete said he saw you guys in town, I saw him the morning you came over, actually. I saw him at the gas station and he said he
’d seen the both of you in Wichita at a fancy restaurant. He said it looked like you were together. Like together, Jak. It hurt me. And I wanted you to hurt. I was going to tell you when you were here, and then you asked. It just seemed right lying to you about it. Are you fucking her, Jak?”

  I stood and stared. After a long moment of studying her hateful eyes, I shook my head and turned toward my truck. As I walked to the truck, she began to scream.

  “I hate that little miserable bitch, Jak. I always have. She’s got a heart of stone and so do you. I wish they would have committed her the last time I turned her filthy little ass in to the court for being crazy. I hate you both and I hope you rot in hell,” she yelled.

  As I got into the truck, I continued to hear her scream.

  “I hate you, Jak Kennedy…”

  “Go to hell!”

  Hell? I’ve lived there for twenty-one years.

  I’m upgrading to heaven, bitch.

  Starting now.

  KARTER. “It’s the cable that goes between the battery and the starter. It’s got an eyelet on each end, one for the battery post and one for the bolt in the starter.”

  “What year?” he asked.

  Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve been over this already.

  I slapped my hands onto the edge of the counter. I glanced over my shoulder. Jak was wandering the showroom floor looking at the various bikes on display. I bit my lip and tried to keep from making a fool of myself by screaming at the eighteen-year-old incompetent parts salesman. I looked down at his Harley-Davidson logo tattoo on his forearm and his well-manicured fingernails. No doubt he’d never worked on his own Harley, if he even had a Harley.

  “1991. Softail. Evo. 1340 cc. Battery cable from the battery to the starter,” I sighed.

  He looked at the computer screen and tapped aimlessly at the keys on the keyboard. After a few moments, and without speaking, he turned and walked to the door which led to the warehouse. I stared down at my left hand and contemplated getting knuckle tattoos as I waited for him to return. As I admired my ring in the bright lighting of the store, he returned with a plastic baggy. As he tossed it on the counter, I looked down at the clear plastic wrapper. My initial relief was quickly overcome by anger as I noticed the twelve-inch-long black cable.

  “What the fuck is that?” I asked as I nodded toward the baggie, “Someone else’s shit?”

  “Battery cable,” he said flatly.

  “Battery cable for what?” I asked as I raised the baggie in the air for him to see.

  “1991 Softail Evo,” he responded.

  You fucking idiot.

  “Positive or negative?” I asked.

  “Positive.”

  I took a deep breath. As much as I didn’t want to make a scene, my voice quickly elevated as I began to speak, “What fucking color is positive? On a car, boat, bike, or even a fucking snowmobile?”

  He shrugged, “Red?”

  I shook my head, “That’s fucking right. Red. Now dumbass, what color is this?”

  I raised the baggie in the air for him to see the black cable inside. Clearly it was the negative cable, and it was at least a foot too short to reach my starter.

  “Black?”

  I nodded my head, “It sure as fuck is. It’s black. Did you even look at this motherfucker before you tossed it in front of me?”

  “Hey, you don’t have to talk to me like this,” he whined.

  I pressed my hands into my back pockets, “You know what, you’re right. In fact, I don’t have to talk to you at all. Go get Kelli. I want to talk to her.”

  He rolled his eyes and picked up the baggie.

  “I’m serious. Get Kelli,” I demanded.

  He turned toward the door leading into the warehouse. As he began to walk away, I tilted my head back and looked up at the structure of the ceiling.

  “Kelli!” My voice echoed through the showroom as I screamed.

  As I stood at the parts counter waiting, I turned toward the showroom floor. Jak stood talking to one of the sales staff beside a new Harley bagger. As our eyes met he smiled, undoubtedly about my having screamed. By now he had to know I was a very vocal person. In turning back toward the counter, I heard Kelli’s very familiar voice.

  “Karter!” I heard her screech as she stepped out of her office and into the customer area.

  “You’re always in here. What are you doing?” she asked as she leaned into me and hugged me lightly.

  One thing about owning a Harley is the fact they always need worked on. Sooner or later, they’ll break down and need repairs. Harley aficionados know the value in using Harley-Davidson parts on their Harley’s. And the only place to go get original Harley parts is at the Harley dealer. Wichita had only one Harley dealer, and although it used to be run by a bunch of shit-heads, Kelli’s father bought the dealer and gave it to her and her husband. After they took over, things changed drastically. The dealer was now run by bikers who rode, knew Harley’s in and out, and were all around good people. Kelli was the president and owner. She and I got along from the day we first met.

  “I’m always in here because my shit’s always broke down,” I smiled and paused, “who’s this dumb fuck parts kid? What is he, sixteen?”

  Kelli shook her head, “He’s Derek’s nephew.”

  “The Bone?” I asked.

  Kelli nodded her head.

  “Well he’s a good solid guy, but his nephew’s a fucking idiot. I need a starter cable and he brought me a negative ground cable. Where’s Teddy or Jake?” I asked.

  She looked down at her watch, “Teddy should be back in like ten minutes.”

  “I don’t know where the dumb fuck kid went. I’ll just wait for my man Teddy,” I grinned.

  Teddy was as big as Jak plus thirty pounds. He had a full beard, arms as big as my legs, and a massive chest. He was built like an old school pro wrestler and was as nice as anyone I’d ever met. He had a gravelly voice and talked in almost a southern slang. Seeing him was always a pleasure of mine when I came in and he helped me. Having him assist me instead of the incompetent piece of shit who was trying would possibly make my day a little more enjoyable. Teddy always had at least one story to tell, and they were always funny.

  “Okay. Well, it was nice seeing you, Karter,” Kelli smiled.

  “Same to ya,” I grinned.

  Kelli was beautiful and had jet black hair. She was tiny and very quiet. She married another member of the club who everyone said used to be a doctor. He didn’t look like a doctor, he looked like a biker. I’d seen him around, and at a few poker runs, as their club had a tremendous presence at all of the local poker runs. He seemed nice, and he was good to Kelli, but I didn’t personally trust him. Something about him just seemed off. My guess was that he was mean in private and nice in public. I guessed as long as Kelli was happy with him that was all that mattered. I turned from the counter and walked toward where Jak stood.

  “Karter, I want you to meet Steve. His dad was a SEAL. He died about the time I went into the Navy,” Jak said as soon as I approached.

  “Steve, this is my fiancé, Karter,” Jak smiled as he pointed to the salesman.

  “Nice to meet you. Sorry about your father,” I nodded.

  The salesman nodded in return and shook my hand, “I’ve seen you around a few times. I’m not here much, only in shitty weather and in the winter. You’re hard to miss with all the tats.”

  “Yeah, the tats and the ‘tude,” I laughed.

  “You found Kelli?” he asked.

  I nodded, “I’m waiting on Teddy to get back from lunch.”

  I turned from the salesman to Jak, “You mind waiting for another fifteen minutes?”

  Jak shook his head, “No. as a matter of fact, I was thinking about riding this bike.”

  “Say again?” I chuckled.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Before he had a chance to respond, I excitedly blurted out another question, “Why?”

  The thought of being able to ride with Jak
was beyond exciting to me. I had purchased the motorcycle from my mother when I was fifteen. It had been in her garage as long as I could remember. She had told me she got a really good deal on it when I was a kid, and had kept it in hopes of someday having a boy. She never had another child, and when I turned fifteen I bought it for five hundred bucks. I studied on the internet, read repair manuals, and repaired it myself. Two summers later, I had the awful green paint job repainted to black. I’d never ridden with anyone else, but always wanted to. The thought of being able to share something I held as sacred as riding excited me to no end. Hell, I’d even teach him to ride.

  “Well, I thought we could ride together,” he shrugged.

  “Fuck yeah we can,” I squealed.

  I glanced back and forth between the salesman and Jak. It was so exciting to think of Jak on a bike. I wanted him to hop on it, ride it, and buy it. I leaned between Jak and the salesman and wrapped my arms around Jak. As he hugged me, I raised my mouth to his ear.

  “I thought you hated bikes. Do you know how to ride?” I whispered.

  He nodded his head, “I used to ride. I always loved it,” he whispered in return.

  You cocksucker, I can’t believe you kept this from me.

  “Seriously?” I said softly.

  He nodded his head and kissed me lightly.

  “I’ll be right back, I’m going to grab the keys,” Steve said.

  “Alright,” Jak responded as he released me.

  “You fucker. You ride?” I gasped.

  “I used to. I had a friend who was killed on one, so I stopped. I just came to the realization it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his. He’d been drinking and he was speeding,” he said softly.

  “I’m sorry about your friend, but you’re right. Alcohol and bikes,” I paused and shook my head, “that’s a bad mix.”

  “Sure is,” he responded.

  “So, seriously, you’re going to ride it?”

  He nodded his head eagerly.

  Holy fuck. Jak on a bike.

  I looked at the black Street Glide. It was gorgeous. Thinking of riding together began to excite me greatly. Riding on the back of Jak’s bagger would be a blast. The thought of holding on to him with the wind in our faces and Jak wearing a wife beater and his boots…