by Bijou Hunter
“I’m too weak,” I tell Justice when my fingers can’t find the fabric they’re searching for. “Help me.”
“How big can he be?” she mutters, grabbing the blanket and dropping it on my head.
“Don’t be jealous. Size doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with it that matters. Right, Jared?”
“Don’t involve me in this.”
“But you’re a man, and we need a man’s knowledge,” Justice says, torturing her father. “Size doesn’t matter, does it?”
“What she’s trying to ask is if it’s okay that Court has a cocktail weenie-sized penis?”
Giggling at Justice’s expression, I hide under the blanket. Soon, Louise joins me. Normally, the cat relaxes me, but today her kneading claws just get on my nerves.
“I’m not a toy,” I tell the cat.
“Is that what you told Emmett?” Justice asks from nearby. “He might have taken it easier on your vagina if he were aware you were, in fact, a human being rather than a blowup doll.”
“This is how you respond to her…” Jared asks before pausing long enough to think of a word that won’t make him vomit. “Situation? Where’s your woman’s sensitivity?”
“Hey, if you’re so concerned, feel free to baby her. She wasn’t at all sympathetic to my plight after I had my situation.”
“You weren’t nearly torn in half,” I point out from under my blanket.
“I was, but I hid my pain better.”
Hearing Jared laugh, I peek out from the blanket to find him shaking his head.
“Suffering in silence?” he asks his daughter. “When has that ever occurred?”
“You don’t know. I’m complicated.”
Jared’s gaze catches mine, and we roll our eyes at Justice’s irritation. Before anyone shares more information about their situations and quiet suffering, Mom returns to the room with a hot water bottle.
“I can’t find my heating pad.”
“Might want to check under Felix’s bed,” I snicker.
“How would that even work?”
“I don’t know. Ask Jared.”
“I’m not getting involved in this.”
Justice snorts. “You keep saying that and then you butt in.”
“Why is everyone cranky?” Mom asks.
“My vagina is on life support,” I explain. “I have no idea why they’re so bitchy.”
“Dad is taking Poppy’s side,” Justice whines.
“No, he isn’t,” Mom instantly replies.
“You weren’t here.”
“I know things. You’re fine,” Mom lies and then hugs a pouting Justice. “Why are you so whiny lately?”
“I don’t know. I blame Poppy.”
Mom nods. “That seems about right.”
The back door opens, and Journey soon leans down over me. “I’ve come to perform the last rites on your vagina.”
“About time.”
“Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”
“Yes and maybe. I mean, how much pain is normal?”
“How big is he and how small are you?”
“Huge and I think I’m huge now too.”
“Did you cry during sex?” Journey asks, fighting a smile.
“No.”
“Did he?”
“More like sobbed. I’m that good.”
A smiling Journey glances back at where Donovan enters with Ike on his hip. She and the hubby share a silent conversation. Whatever she tells him with her eyes makes him chuckle.
“I don’t approve,” I mutter.
“Aww, poor Poppy,” my sister coos. “Did the big man give you more than you could handle?”
“Don’t mock my vagina’s pain.”
“Look, you should take a few Tylenol and rest and then everything will be fine in the morning.”
“Was that your experience after surviving Donovan’s giant manmeat?”
Justice stomps her foot and cries, “How come he gets a big dick but Court has a little one?”
“Seems like a question for God,” I say, grinning at Journey.
“It’s fricking crap!” Justice cries, storming out of the room.
“She’s so moody,” I whisper.
“I think she’s pregnant. Shh, I want to see how long she takes to figure it out on her own.”
“Preggers? Talk about stretched vaginas.”
“Sassy talk coming from someone who’s dating a giant man,” Journey says, walking to Donovan. “I once heard Emmett claim he was an eleven-pound baby.”
“Devil woman,” I hiss at her. “How dare you frighten my already traumatized vagina that way?”
Donovan and Journey sit on the couch with Ike in between. The boy wants to practice walking and quickly squirms free of their grip. They help him off the couch and watch as he totters awkwardly around the room.
Sighing, I mumble, “I miss being little and innocent.”
“That was a long fricking time ago,” Journey says while hanging over the back of the couch to watch Ike. “Does everyone want to order dinner in?”
I watch my sister from a slit in the blanket. Donovan is watching her too. They’re so in love in a quiet, non-gross way. Sure, I occasionally catch them dry-humping when they think no one is looking. I wonder if I ought to aim to have such a classy relationship. Probably not since I doubt Emmett is capable of low-key. His idea of sneaking around is talking a bit quieter and pretending he’s whispering.
Smiling, I think of the big silly sexy dumbass. He’s sweeter than sugar sometimes. I hadn’t expected such tenderness from the hulking hunk, but he’s capable of a lot more than I’d even dreamed.
24 Train Wrecks - Emmett
I don’t want to work or watch the game at the bar. All I want is to spend every waking moment with Poppy. My wants don’t matter, though, so I join the younger guys on a job.
There’s something fucked-up in the air this summer. Every other dealer and pimp needs a reminder about what they owe the club. Today’s idiot can’t even climb off his dirty couch and make a run for it. No telling how the lazy fuck intimidates johns if he’s essentially a shut-in.
The pimp doesn’t need much intimidating. He claims his girl made a mistake in how much she handed over. Just a calculating error from a prostitute who didn’t finish high school, he claims.
“Have someone else do the calculating from now on,” Donovan says.
The pimp nods, looking thoroughly terrified. I’m disappointed not to hurt anyone. Pimps always piss me off. Selling drugs to people looking for a high makes sense. Selling women to assholes looking to get laid doesn’t. In this case, I don’t know why his girls don’t smother his fat face while he sleeps and take over the business. It’s not like he’s protecting them from anyone from the comfort of his couch.
“You’re grinding your teeth,” Court tells me as we walk to our Harleys.
“We should kill that guy and take over.”
“I know, but Joe doesn’t want us doing anything big right now.”
I roll my eyes because Joe is president in name only. Court is the guy everyone fears these days, and he’s the man I consider my president.
“What’s this then?” I hear from behind us.
Court glances at the approaching men and then at me. “Deacon assholes,” he says in a quiet tone.
Unlike my president in Charleston, Court is a quiet man. He doesn’t threaten people or make big speeches. If he wants you dead, he won’t come in guns blazing, but show up when you’re sleeping and make sure you never wake up. He’s got an assassin’s way about him rather than the bravado I expect in a leader.
Despite his quiet demeanor, he kills without blinking an eye. I remember how startled I was the first time he cracked open a guy’s head. One second, the dealer was lying about how much money he made. The next second, Court took the guy’s life without warning. I’d admittedly underestimated the man’s killer instincts before that day. Now I’m sure if he ever wants me dead that I’ll never see it coming.
&n
bsp; These Deacon Rollers guys are like the ones I knew back in Charleston. Brash is what my ma calls them. They walk into a room and claim it with mocking threats. Growing up, I’d wanted to be that kind of man. My father is the same sort of asshole. He scares people with his big mouth and fast temper. Those qualities also make him an easy target.
These days, I see the point in playing things a bit closer to the vest like Court. As a big guy, I’ll never be stealth, but that doesn’t mean I need to broadcast my plans to the entire fucking world.
“Will today end in bloodshed?” asks the Deacon guy, eyeballing his former brother, Floyd.
Court frowns. “Who are you?”
“Stephen. You remember me, don’t ya?”
“How was prison?”
“Fun shit.”
“You were gone a while and just got back. I can imagine how confusing territorial issues must seem to you.”
“This is our territory. Nothing confusing about that.”
“Your club didn’t tend to this area, so Rawkfist took over. It’s ours now. You’re free to take that up with our president. Maybe he’ll let you work for us.”
“I’m a Deacon Roller for life, man.”
“The Deacon Rollers are extinct or did you miss that fact while you were in prison? We tried warning you about the cops coming, but your leader wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.”
Stephen sneers. “He ain’t no one’s bitch.”
“Dead means he ain’t no one’s anything these days. So if the Deacon Rollers are back, who is running the club?”
“We’re figuring that out.”
“Yeah. Well, until you do, there’s no club for our club to recognize. If you ever get shit figured out, let us know, and we’ll send a gift basket. Now fuck off.”
“Who in the fuck are you to tell me shit?” Stephen says, moving aggressively toward Court.
I forget all about my cool cucumber routine and grab the asshole by the back of the neck. I don’t know shit about height, but I do know I’m big, and he’s not. I lift his scrawny ass off the ground like a mama cat picking up a kitten. Then I shake him wildly like a pissed mama cat wanting to kill her kitten.
Court remains steely while I furiously jiggle Stephen. Donovan, though, starts laughing and can’t seem to stop. Floyd makes a noise that I think is laughter but could also be gas.
“I suspect he gets the point,” Court finally tells me, and I put down a wobbly Stephen.
The asshole looks up at me and then back at his two fellow scrawny turds. I underestimate them. A lesson I learn real quick once the bald bastard pitches a brick at my head. The fucker must have played baseball in high school because he nails me straight in the left ear.
I wish I were able to take the hit like a fucking champ, but it fucking hurts, and I holler cuss words people likely hear in the next county.
Grabbing Stephen by the back of his neck again, I use him as a shield as I rush toward the other guys. The next minutes are a blur while I toss one guy at another and pounce on the brick-pitching bald fucker.
My head throbs, and I can’t think straight. I don’t need to be Einstein to fuck up this guy. My knee holds down his chest, keeping him trapped while I pound on his stupid fucking face.
My guys struggle to pull me off the fucker. The brick seems to have broken loose a part of my temper I’m no longer in control of. I won’t relent until one of my brothers pinches my nipple.
“What the fuck?” I ask, turning on them.
Donovan’s laughing again or maybe he never stopped. The asshole doesn’t appear terrified for his life, so I assume he didn’t give my nipple a pinch. Floyd’s been scared of me since we met, so no way did he cop a frisky feel.
“Really, Court?” I ask, making a move at him.
Smiling, the bastard gives me a casual shrug. “That move gets my attention when Justice does it,” he says, refusing to back down when I stare him down. “Wait, did you want to kill him in the light of day for everyone to see? I just assumed you were looking to stay out of prison long enough for Poppy to get bored of you.”
Hearing my girl’s name shorts out my temper. I see her shining smile, glossy blonde hair, and devious blue eyes. Managing to be innocent and a temptress in the same breath, Poppy deserves more than me ending up in prison for killing this turd.
“Thanks, man. Copping a feel couldn’t have been easy knowing how possessive your woman is.”
“Yeah, let’s keep this between us.”
“I promise I’ll only tell Poppy, but I’m sure she won’t share the info. She isn’t much of a gossip.”
Court exhales slowly, already hearing Justice’s teasing. I use the spigot on the pimp’s house to wash the blood from my hands. My head still pounds, and I busted a knuckle on the asshole’s tooth.
By the time I return to where I left the guy, he’s run off with his buddies. Court is waiting on his Harley while Donovan and Floyd rode off while I cleaned up. I don’t know what I look like, but Poppy likely won’t be happy. A bouquet of flowers will no doubt soothe her anger.
Yeah, I’ve got the boyfriend thing in the bag.
25 Train Wrecks - Poppy
There’s no dressing up the fact that the Rock-a-bye Motel is a dump. Despite the green carpet and stained ceiling, this place holds a special place in my heart. On that lumpy bed, I lost my virginity. In that dingy bathroom, I conned my battered vagina into having sex again. On that rusty stovetop, Emmett cooked SpaghettiOs to help me keep up my energy. This garbage heap is my version of a tropical paradise where dreams come true.
To fancy up the hotel room, I bring a plug-in air freshener along with a colorful tablecloth, but I’m not fooling anyone into thinking this place is a home. Visiting Emmett at the motel depresses me, but I don’t think Mom and Jared would be okay with me bringing him home. Despite my bragging about putting Stache in his place, I doubt he’d go to the corner so easily.
Of course, I can probably sneak Emmett into the house and…
Before I devise my plan to smuggle Emmett into my bedroom, I hear his Harley pulling up to the motel. I don’t rush to the door, but instead keep an eye on the boneless chops cooking on the tiny stove.
A nearly silent Emmett enters the room and shuts the door. I want to look at him, but his silence rubs off on me. How long can we keep our big mouths shut? If it’s a contest, can I possibly win?
“Smells good. Whatcha making?” Emmett asks, clearly not getting the memo about our silence contest.
“Pork chop Texas garlic bread sandwiches.”
“Sounds weird.”
“It’s a fricking sandwich, Em. Stop your fussing.”
“You look so beautiful cooking for me. My woman is making me a meal. For dessert, you can go spread-eagle.”
I turn to smile at Emmett and notice something off about his left ear. My fingers immediately reach for the swollen flesh even when he attempts to distract me with flowers.
“What the hell happened?” I cry in horror. “Who did this?”
“Why? Are you gonna hunt them down?”
“Sure. Let’s go. I have my gun and pepper spray.”
Emmett sighs and gives me a brilliant smile. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Someone fucked you up,” I mutter, fighting the pain in my chest at seeing him suffer.
“And what do you think I did to him?”
“Some loser’s suffering means crap to me. I only know he hurt you.”
“Don’t cry,” he says, hugging my body to his. “This is part of the life you’ll need to get used to.”
“Fuck that. I’ll never be okay with anyone hurting you. I don’t even want you to stub your damn toe, let alone have someone hurt you so bad.”
“It only looks bad. It feels okay.”
“Liar.”
Emmett sighs again and wraps me tighter. “He was gonna nail me in the nuts. I blocked that, so this face thing is pretty much nothing.”
“At least with your nuts, I wouldn’t see what h
e did.”
“Aren’t you planning on seeing me naked tonight? Or would you have closed your eyes and felt your way around my body to avoid looking at it?”
I grudgingly smile. “Maybe.”
“Could be dangerous to take your eyes off my cock if it’s hard and we both know it will be.”
“Yeah, I might end up with a concussion if it slaps me upside the head.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, wiping my cheeks.
“I want you to be boring and work a lame job where there’s no violence.”
“I know, but that’s not who I am.”
“Changing isn’t an option, huh?”
“Can you imagine me working some nine-to-five job like a chump?”
“I work a nine-to-five job.”
“Yeah, but you’re a girl.”
Faking anger, I mutter, “Sexist queef much?”
“Do you want to join the club?”
“Of course not. Why would I want to hang around a bunch of stinky boys?”
“What about the dweebs?”
“They had surprisingly stellar hygiene and a wonderful lack of back hair.”
“Stop complimenting men.”
“You have decent hygiene, and I’m a fan of your smooth back.”
“My dad is a hairy bastard. You should prepare to spend our golden years waxing my back.”
Throwing my head back, I laugh away the fears I felt at seeing his battered ear. Not only do I love the idea of me shaving this bastard’s back, but I’m relieved he imagines us together years from now.
“I’d do it too.”
Emmett wraps an arm around my waist and slides us to the bed. “I’m gonna be more careful. I can’t go straight and be an average guy doing an average job, but I’ll watch out for assholes and make sure they don’t get the drop on me again.”
“And I’ll toughen up about what you do in the club. Like how Justice pretends Court is in charge of scheduling bike runs or some crap. She doesn’t want to know what that life is about. I don’t want to know either, so I guess I’ll toughen up while getting better at lying to myself. It works for my mom and sisters. It’ll work for me too.”
Emmett kisses my neck terribly soft as if afraid to hurt me. “I’m a good man underneath all of the stupid, rude, asshole stuff. I’ll never forget to show you the good-man side. That’s a promise.”
