by J. L. Perry
Whilst banging the blonde’s brains out, I hate to admit that her long, dark, silky hair, big green eyes and lips that I’m dying to taste crossed my mind more than it should have. It not only scared me, it pissed me the hell off.
What is it with her? I hate that she’s so easily drawing me in without even trying. I hate that I can’t seem to stay away. I hated it when that prick’s lips were on hers just now. I wished they were mine.
I should just drop her off at home. Better still let her get the damn bus. I can’t even tell you why I demanded she be in the car park this afternoon. Yes I can. I wanted to be near her. I also promised her dad I’d keep an eye on her.
That’s so fucked up. He thinks I’m protecting her from all these horny teenagers. When, in fact, I want her just as much, if not more than they do. If she’s got me this tied up in a matter of days, I hate to see what condition I’m going to be in when I leave here in a few months’ time.
The quicker I turn eighteen and get away from this place, the better.
We make our way towards my car. Neither of us speak. Maybe that’s a good thing. Christ, I hate this feeling I get when I’m around her. It’s foreign to me.
We’re not even out of the street before she opens her smart mouth. “What did you say to my father about Brad yesterday?” she snaps. Even though I can feel her eyes boring into the side of my head, I stay focused on the road ahead.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, kid,” I lie, trying hard to hold back a smile.
“Bullshit, Carter.” I don’t know why I like hearing my name coming out of her sexy mouth, but I do. I’d prefer it if she was saying it while I was buried balls deep inside her. Shit. I feel my dick twitch. Why did I let my mind go there? “I demand you tell me what you said.” Playing it cool, I shrug. “I mean it … so help me.” I chuckle at her words. What’s she going to fucking do?
“So help me what?” I say turning my head to look at her. Of course her eyes are saying everything without a single word leaving her mouth. It only makes me smile. Not the desired affect I’m sure.
“He’s forbidden me from seeing him. I want to know why,” she seethes.
“Your father’s a wise man. I’m sure he has his reasons,” I state calmly. Her hand is clenching the door handle so tight her knuckles have turned white. The anger is just rolling off her in waves. Seeing her like this makes my dick stir. She’s fucking hot when she’s mad. A real little spitfire.
“God you irritate me sometimes,” she retorts.
“Ditto, kid.”
“I’m not a damn kid. Pull the hell over,” she says through gritted teeth.
“What? Why?” I ask surprised.
“Because I’d rather walk than suffer one more minute in this car with you.” I laugh at her comment. Things don’t usually amuse me, but fuck me, she does.
“It’s not funny, arsehole. Why are you so hell bent on ruining my life?” That statement really gets under my skin for some reason.
“Ruining your life. Is that what you think I’m doing?” I snarl. When she folds her hands over her chest, pushing her perky little tits up, I turn my head and focus on the road again. I don’t need her tits distracting me.
“Yes,” she replies with way too much attitude. It makes my blood boil that she thinks I’m trying to ruin her life, when in fact I was only trying to help her.
“Why, because I told your father Brad was bragging to his mates that he was going to invite you to his house this weekend, to get into your pants?” I practically scream. What I say, and the way I say it, takes her by surprise. Her beautiful green eyes widen and the colour partially drains from her face.
“What?” she asks in a horrified, disbelieving tone.
“Yes. Just before he pulled you onto his lap yesterday, that’s exactly what he said.” I try to speak a little calmer this time. Even though she’s getting on my nerves with her attitude, I don’t want to scare her.
“He did not,” she barks.
“Believe what you want. You think I’d make that shit up?” I look in her direction as I speak. I can tell by the shocked look on her pretty face she believes me.
“He actually said that?” she whispers. I can clearly hear the sadness in her voice.
“Yep,” I answer. Her head turns towards the passenger side window. She doesn’t speak another word for the longest time. I kind of feel bad now, but she needed to know. That guy is a snake.
“Where are we going?” she eventually asks when I turn onto the main road that heads towards town. I’m still getting used to navigating my way around this area, but thankfully Ross is good at giving directions.
“I told you. To get parts.”
“I thought you were making that up to piss Brad off,” she states.
“Why would I do that?” I ask reaching over to grab my cigarettes.
“Because you’re an arse.” Her comment makes me chuckle. “You do know Jennifer Darcy is the school slut, right?” she informs me. Who the fuck is Jennifer Darcy?
“Who?” I have no idea who she’s talking about.
“Jennifer Darcy,” she repeats.
“Never heard of her. Might need to look her up though,” I joke.
“She’s the girl who climbed through your window last night,” she says in a disgusted tone.
“Was that her name?” I ask smirking.
“You’re a pig.”
“You almost sound like your jealous,” I tease, because that’s exactly how it sounds, and that surprises me.
“Hardly,” she scoffs.
“You are, aren’t you? I bet you wished it was you sneaking through my window last night instead of her.”
“You’re delusional,” she says when I pull up at a red light. I look in her direction. My eyes lock with hers. I’m shocked by what I see. I was only messing with her, but by the way she’s looking at me makes me think there’s some truth to what I said. Surely she couldn’t wish that. She acts like she can’t stand me.
Something passes between us. I’m not sure what, but I almost want to reach out and touch her. Kiss her. Whatever it is, it’s quickly broken when the car behind me sounds his horn, alerting me the lights have now turned green. Suddenly, I don’t like where this is heading.
I should’ve let her catch the damn bus.
••••
We travel in silence for the next twenty minutes. When we reach our destination I pull into a parking spot. “You gonna stay in the car? Or do you want to come with me?” She shrugs before answering.
“I guess I’ll come,” she says removing her seatbelt.
Indi’s dad recommended this place to me. Apparently he’s been friends with the owner since high school. He deals in new and used parts, but specialises mainly in classics. Ross was going to call him today and let him know I was coming in. He said he’ll look after me.
Indi falls in behind me as we head towards the shop front. From the street you can see it’s attached to a large factory type building. That’s probably where they store all the parts.
The bell chimes above the shop door when we enter. A man in his mid-forties walks out from the back room. “Well if it isn’t little Indiana Montgomery,” he says as he makes his way around the counter. “Look how much you’ve grown.” She’s grown? How fucking small was she? She’s only pocket-size now.
“Hi, Mr. Gregory,” she says hugging him.
“Let me look at you.” He pulls back, studying her face. “You look just like your mum did at this age. God rest her soul.” What? Her mum’s dead? Looking at her face I see a fleeting moment of sorrow pass, but a smile quickly takes over. I’ll admit I did wonder why I hadn’t seen her mum around, but it never occurred to me she didn’t have one. That makes me feel sad for her. Growing up, I would’ve been lost without my mother. She’s all I have. Here I thought she had the perfect life. I guess I was wrong.
“My dad says that a lot,” she replies with a sad smile, and he gives her a sympathetic look.
“
You must be Carter,” he says, eventually turning his attention to me. “Ross told me you were dropping by.”
“Yes. I am,” I answer, grabbing hold of his extended hand.
“Warren. Warren Gregory,” he says.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”
“So you’re after parts for a ‘75 Monaro I believe?” he asks.
“That’s right.”
“You’re in luck. Come out the back and I’ll show you what I have,” he says, turning and heading towards the door over by the far wall. Indiana and I follow.
••••
I’m beaming by the time we leave. That place is like spare parts heaven. I got everything I needed, plus I was able to put a few of the larger, more expensive things aside until I can come up with some more cash. Fuck knows how I’m gonna do that. My cash fund has just about run dry. I may need to find a job.
“Wanna get something to eat while we’re here?” I ask as I load the last of the parts into the trunk.
“You want to eat something? With me?” she asks surprised. I guess I don’t blame her. I’ve been an arse. I’m not sure why I even asked. I guess I’m hungry.
“I’m hungry,” I say with a shrug. I don’t want her to think this is a date, because it isn’t.
“Okay.” We make our way towards the burger joint a few doors down. I’m already regretting asking her. What the hell am I gonna talk to her about? I don’t do shit like this. I don’t go out much. I’m definitely not what you’d call sociable.
We sit in silence as we both scan the menu. “The burgers are great,” she says. “My dad brings me here sometimes.” I make eye contact with her over the top of my menu. A burger sounds good.
“Are you guys ready to order?” the waitress asks when she approaches our table.
“Can I get a burger, fries and a chocolate shake?” I answer before looking in Indi’s direction.
“I’ll get the same,” she says closing her menu. I’m impressed. I thought girls like her ate lettuce or tofu, shit like that. I’ll be interested to see if she actually eats it.
When the waitress leaves, silence falls over us again. I watch her as she looks around the restaurant, anywhere but me. She looks nervous and a little uncomfortable. Makes two of us. I’m not a fan of small talk.
“So, tell me about your mum,” I ask out of the blue. Fuck me. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? When her eyes meet mine I see sadness. It tugs at me for some reason. She doesn’t say anything at first. Now I feel like a dick.
“Oh, you heard Mr Gregory did you? Not much to tell,” she eventually says. Her hands are twisting nervously in front of her. I can only gather how hard this subject is for her to talk about. “She died when I was six. She had a brain tumour. I don’t remember much. My dad tried to shield me from it. She was in a lot of pain and spent most of her time in bed. My dad struggled with her death. Still does. It couldn’t have been easy for him. He had a full-time job, a sick wife and a small child to contend with.” I see sorrow cross her face. It’s fleeting, but I definitely saw it. I guess that’s understandable.
“I’m sorry,” is all I say. Lame response I know, but it’s the best I’ve got.
“What about you? Do you still see your father?” Her question instantly gets my back up. See this is why I hate small talk. Fuck, me and my big mouth. I should’ve kept quiet. Talking about my father, or lack thereof, is something I never do.
“I don’t have one,” I snap.
“Everyone has a father,” she responds. Not everyone. I don’t. Maybe she just assumes my parents are divorced.
“Well I don’t. Can we just drop it?” When I glare at her, she gets the message because she changes the subject.
“How long have you had your car?” she asks. Fuck she’s nosy.
“I bought it a few years ago. It needs a lot of work to get it to where I want it, but it’s all I could afford at the time.”
“Did you have a job before moving here?” she asks.
“Yeah. Kind of.”
“What do you mean kind of? You either did or you didn’t. Did you buy the car yourself?” I wish she’d stop with all the questions. I hate talking about my personal life.
“Yes I did,” I snap. “Not everyone has a privileged life like you, Princess.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks defensively. I ignore her. It means just that. My mum struggled to put food on the table most days. Any luxuries I wanted I had to buy myself. When I was twelve, I started to do odd jobs for the people who lived in our apartment building. It all progressed from there.
“How did you get money to buy the car then?” she probes further.
“I have ways,” I say, smirking when I see her processing my answer.
“What ways?”
I shake my head and scoff, “Fuck you’re nosy.” I stare her down hoping she’ll get the message to quit it. I’m not comfortable talking about this subject with her. With anyone for that matter.
“What kind of job? I can’t imagine how someone your age could afford a car like that.” Fuck. Obviously my intimidation didn’t work.
“Can we change the subject?” I plead, exhaling.
“No. What’s the big secret? What, were you a drug dealer or something?”
“Hell no,” I chuckle.
“Well what then?” I may as well tell her the truth. She’s not going to let up until I do. At the very least it will shut her up.
I lay my hands on the table between us and lean into her. She mirrors my stance before I whisper, “Sexual favours.” Her beautiful green eyes widen with shock.
She puts the distance between us as she leans back. “Bullshit.”
“It’s true,” I tell her. That’s exactly how I got the money.
I watch her eyes dart around to make sure no one is able to hear her. “Like a prostitute? Oh. My. God. You’re a prostitute? You make those girls that jump through your window, pay you?” she shrieks.
“Fuck no. That’s for pleasure,” I say frustrated as I look around the restaurant. “Look, it’s a long story. Just drop it okay.” All these questions are starting to give me a headache.
My eyes snap back to hers as she slaps her hand over mine and leans forward. “Like hell I’m going to drop it.”
I stare at the top of her hand while she squeezes mine. “It was one person. That’s it. When I lived in the apartment building with my mum, the landlady would pay me to scratch her itch you could say. It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. That’s disgusting.” Her judgemental tone is starting to piss me off and I pull my hand out from under hers. Who in the fuck does she think she is?
“Whatever,” I snap. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’ve always had everything handed to you on a silver platter. So, until you’ve walked a day in my shoes, don’t fucking judge me, okay, Princess?”
Crossing her arms under her chest, she lets me know she’s not happy with my comment. “That goes two ways. Don’t judge me either. You have no idea what kind of life I’ve had,” she says with a hurt look on her face. I feel like a prick now.
“Okay. I was out of line.” Even though I’m pretty sure her life’s been a hell of a lot better than mine. This isn’t a competition about who’s had the shittier life. We all have struggles that we handle differently, I guess.
“Do you still do it? Like, get paid to have sex I mean?” she asks. I roll my eyes, because I thought this conversation was over. Obviously not.
“No. It stopped the day I moved here.” Why do the answers keep coming out of my mouth when I don’t want them to? I’ve always been a private person. It’s like my brain and mouth aren’t even a part of me today. I wish I’d shut the fuck up.
“How old were you when it started?” Jesus, what’s with all these damn questions? I should’ve known she wouldn’t understand. “How old Carter?”
“Fifteen, I guess,” I answer, rubbing my hands over my face in frustration.
“Fifteen? How old was
your landlady?”
I squeeze my eyes tight before taking a deep breath. “Fuck, I don’t know, in her early thirties.”
“What? You were just a kid. What a sick, twisted bitch,” she snaps. “That’s child abuse.”
“Keep it down! It wasn’t fucking child abuse. Jesus. It wasn’t like that,” I angrily whisper, glancing around as I run my hand through my hair silently willing her to drop it. I look around for the waitress. Where is our damn food?
“Like hell it isn’t. The legal age for consensual sex in this country is sixteen. You were a minor and she was an adult. She should’ve known better. Does your mother know?” Her probing has me exhaling an exasperated breath.
“Fuck no,” I answer. Now it’s my turn to speak a little too loudly. “She’d have a fit if she knew.”
“Of course she would, because what that woman did was wrong on so many levels. How dare she do that to you?” she says in a disgusted tone.
“It was more like me doing her,” I chuckle. I watch her shake her head.
“This isn’t a joke, Carter.”
My eyes lock with hers. I expect to see judgement, but I don’t. She looks upset. I sigh. I have no idea why I even told her. I’ve never confessed that to anyone. It’s not something I’m ashamed of, but I’m not proud of it either. I did what I had to do.
It started not long after my fifteenth birthday. I was mowing the lawns for the landlady. Prior to that day, I did things like the lawns, putting out the bins on trash night, changing light bulbs, weeding gardens, painting fences. Shit like that. It was hard work, but she paid me well.
That particular day was hot. When I was done cutting the grass, I removed my shirt and wiped the sweat from my brow. I’m well built, so even at fifteen I looked older than my actual age. That’s when I noticed the landlady, Simone, watching me through the window.
She was a lot older than me, but still a total babe. I was a teenage kid with raging hormones. Of course I’d noticed her. Who wouldn’t? She had long blonde hair, huge fake tits, and a killer body. She was always wearing skimpy, revealing clothes. A young boy’s wet dream you could say.
