by Cove, Vivian
Damien’s mouth dropped open as he scowled. “The fuck?”
“I don’t want any part of your Majestic Pink…” My eyes open wide. Oh shit, had I just said that out loud? “I mean you dick. Keep it to yourself.”
Damien shakes his head, chuckling. “That’s gonna be pretty hard to do when I have to listen to you beggin’ for it every single day.”
Now it was my turn to say, “Then fuck?!?”
He puts his arm above my head and leans in close. “I used to think it was so silly how you kept using these special names for all the tools we had lyin’ around. Then, when we were teens, you started only using those silly names with me. When your dad asked for a wrench, you always handed him a wrench. But you’d only do the same for me if it was a Majestic Pink Unicorn Wand. Now I know why.”
I gulped. “I don’t think you do.”
“Oh, I know. It’s ‘cause when you and me got to be around fifteen, you started to think about me and my big, thick, hard…” he smiles, “Majestic Pink Unicorn Wand.”
“Don’t pollute the Majestic PInk Unicorn Wand with your filthy mind! Now I’m never gonna be able to hand one to you without thinking about…about…”
“Without thinkin’ ‘bout what, Princess?”
He’s leaning in way too close. His eyes are looking at my lips like he’s thinking about doing something very, very, very bad. And just when I think he’s going to do that bad thing, which will undoubtable lead to many more bad things, he steps back.
I breathe heavily for a few seconds. Why the fuck is it so hot in here? Reaching for the exit, I glance back at Damien, who is strangely not looking at me.
“You need new shorts, and a new fuckin’ shirt.”
I frown. “What?”
“I can see your bra in that thing, and it’s fuckin’ pink.”
My nostril’s flare. I’m making the freaky, bug-eyed, vengeful demoness face again, but god damnit I am not just gonna take this! “What? You have a problem of pink? I wouldn’t know it from all the leftover pink thongs you have on your floor!”
His eyes go dark. “You wearin’ that shit ‘cause you’re thinkin’ ‘bout what it would look like on my floor?”
Did he just suggest what I thought he suggested? That I’d want to add something to his trashy thong collection? “EEEWWWW!!!!!”
The ambient noise in the shop disappears.
“What the fuck is goin’ on over there!” I recognize the outraged voice as Gnarles.
Damien shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “Nothin’ old man.”
“You better fuckin’ keep it that way. I hear her scream again, I’m commin’ over there and beatin’ yo ass.”
A slightly hysterical giggle escapes my lips as the men go back to work.
“You think this is all cute?” Damien asks, shaking his head.
“No. I mean, I don’t know.” I really had no idea what the fuck was going on anymore.
Damien gives me a once over. “I don’t need you anymore today. Go paint your nails or some shit, and put on some different clothes. Your dad’s gonna put someone in the ground if you don’t.”
Again with the clothes? “What the hell? Who the fuck would my dad put in the ground???”
Damien winces as he laughs, rubbing his jaw. “Who the fuck do you think, Princess? Now get out, and don’t fuckin’ make me slap your ass to get you movin’.”
Oh, the nerve of this man! “In your dreams, Damien,” I hiss, turning for the exit.
“More like in my nightmares,” he calls after me. Right as the door opens, letting in a flood of sunlight, I look back and see Damien staring at me again, eyes dark, tortured and hungry.
So he had been looking at me.
I shiver. Everywhere. Especially in the areas where he’d been looking. The boy definitely didn’t like me, but maybe, just maybe, Candy was right and he wanted me, at least a little bit.
Which meant that if I had the confidence, her plan might actually work.
Chapter 5
My heart hammers against my rib cage. Goosebumps flare over every inch of my skin. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Sure you can,” Candy whispers. “You look hot with the coat on, and with it off.”
I shut my eyes. I’d been so sure of myself a few hours ago. After Damien had literally run me out of the shop, I waltzed into my bedroom where Candy had been watching Evil Dead. Yeah, she watched shit like that at 9am.
I turned on the lights and she whipped around with a scream. I hadn’t expected you back yet!
I walked over to the remote and hit pause. Candy, I’m ready.
What?
He seems to like pink, I said with a slow smile, so let’s show him pink.
It had taken Candy only a few seconds to register what I meant. Hell yeah girl! It’s time. Let’s give him some pink he’ll never forget!
The rest of the day had passed like a montage from a teenage coming-of-age flick. Bubble baths. Giggling. Hair dryers. More giggling. Grabbing outfits from the closet and holding them up to ourselves in front of the mirror before discarding them on the floor. By the time we were done it looked like a natural disaster had torn through my room. We’d looked at the mess and giggled, because we weren’t thinking of how we were going to have to clean it up later, only of how much fun we were having.
Just like, when I’d made all those comments about how I was going to make Damien lick my pink-painted toes peeking through my stripper heels, I was only enjoying the fantasy, not thinking about how I was going to make that fantasy a reality.
Music throbs around me. I grasp for the necklace I always have around my neck for comfort and strength, but I’d taken it off, because that silly trinket I’d been given as a child during one of the worst times of my life didn’t go with the outfit I wore to night. At least, that’s what I told myself. Really, I didn’t want to tarnish the memory. So I cling to Candy’s hand as we move around the edge of the crowd. “Seriously, I don’t know what the fuck we were thinking. He’s not going to lick my pink toenails!”
Candy wiggles her eyebrows. “Maybe not, but he’s sure to lick something else on you that’s pink.”
“Gross!” I swat her arm.
“Oh, don’t even pretend like you don’t want it.”
But pretending is so much easier than admitting to myself that I do want it. Which I totally don’t. And…ugh!
I burrow into my ginormous wool overcoat. The lining is silk, but wool still scratches around my neck and wrists. I’d told Candy that this was fine since I wasn’t going to be wearing it for very long, but now I didn’t want to take it off.
Old Man Mills’ barn is unrecognizable. Hay still litters the ground, but other than that, everything has changed. Pool balls smash against each other like gunshots. Screams of ecstasy intertwine with metal guitar solos as bound women in the stables let any man who enters her stall take his turn. A gigantic bar winds around the center of the room in a horseshoe shape. It’s currently doubling as a catwalk. Guys stand on stools and demand more beer while appreciating the parade of practically naked sweet butts on display. I shiver, watching their perfect, tanned bodies drizzled with glitter lotion glisten under the strobe lights. Even from way back here I can smell their perfume—a hint of spring flowers tinting the smoky air.
Candy grips my wrist. “It’s time.”
“I can’t do this!”
“You can do it!” Candy whirls around me and puts her hands on my back.
“No!” I shriek. Behind us, men laugh.
“Time for you to fight back, girl!” She whispers near my ear. A shiver of terror rips through me, but I know that I must go on. This is my chance to show Damien who I really am. I knew, instinctively, that I won’t get this chance again. The asshole needed to stop seeing me as his prey. As Candy said, it was time to fight back.
“Okay,” I say, shutting my eyes.
“Atta girl!” Her cold hands slip over my warm neck as she grabs the edges of my coat.
>
Oh fuck. That little pep talk I gave myself had totally pumped me up…until I remembered what I was going to do to fight back!
I grab my coat as she tries to pull it off, then crossing my arms protectively over my chest. “Candy, my dad’s gonna kill me!”
“He’s not here.”
“But the boys will tell him!”
“No they won’t. If he knows you snuck out under their watch, and what you did, he’s gonna kill them.”
True. I was currently trying very hard not to look at a guy standing a few feet to my left while three girls French kissed each other on his cock while another took one of his balls in her mouth. That’s not the kind of thing my hard-ass biker father would want his daughter to see. Good thing my father was at the big meeting. The presidents and their inner circle were getting together to discuss territories, work, etc. This “party,” or whatever-the-fuck you call a bunch of drunk bikers and chicks fucking in a barn, was orchestrated to entertain the men while the real shit went down.
Candy and I fall into the line of women waiting to strut the catwalk. They glitter around me. Almost all of them have perfect blond or honey-highlighted hair. Some are uninked and unpierced, but others sport tasteful tattoos and piercings that accentuated their better parts. For example the woman beside me has a row of shooting stars pointing down at her…
Vajazzle.
I blink, but it isn’t enough to black out the image of the rhinestone encrusted rainbow shooting star dancing amidst a gigantic pink, sparkling rose framed by leaves. Nothing would ever be enough to black that out!
I back up into Candy. “This is not going to work! Damien is never going to notice me in a lineup with all these girls!”
“Oh shut it. I told you he wants you.”
“Okay, so maybe he does, but I’m gonna get lost in the crowd and he’s not even going to notice I’m here.”
“No fucking way. You’re hot girl, deal with it!”
“But my vajazzle…” I trail off. I’m too embarrassed to say how I really feel. How was anyone going to see it after that other woman went on stage? Mine was just a blue, black and silver butterfly. It didn’t even match my thong!
“Don’t you dare trash talk our secret weapon!” Candy yells. “He’d have to be Mr. Mugoo not to see your vajazzled Vagoo! It’s go time!”
She was right. We were next.
Candy grabs my coat again. “Let go!”
My stomach shoots up to my throat. “I don’t…oh god…”
“Don’t make me fucking tickle you!”
Shit! I preemptively shriek and moved my hands to shield myself. This gives Candy the opportunity she needed. She yanks off my coat and pushed me forward onto the catwalk.
And suddenly, when I’m out there in front of the gigantic crowd, I remember what outfit I’d finally chosen.
Painfully.
Vividly.
This one! I’d screamed, holding up a sheer pink number.
Are you sure, girl? That shit is hella trashy.
My hands shook. It was trashy. Little bows just waiting to be popped off decorated the edges. It barely covered anything. It was more there to make a man irritated that you weren’t already naked, the kind of thing meant to prompt him to rip it off caveman style.
Basically I gathered every single unfortunate purchase I’d made in the last four years, slapped them together and called it an outfit. And then we’d topped it off with pink fishnet, thigh-high stockings, pink stripper heels, and pink garters. Basically I gathered every single unfortunate purchase I’d made in the last four years, slapped them together and called it an outfit.
Yes. I’d called it an outfit. Candy had told me it might be a bit much, but I hadn’t listened to her! I’d told her it was my time to shine, and if I didn’t do something fast I’d start shining right now.
I’m not ready to shine; I’m ready to crawl into a black hole and never come back out, I think as I hunch over and cover my vajazzle with my hands.
The crowd goes wild. Apparently, not showing something is more tantalizing than bearing it all. Fuck.
A guy right next to my pink painted toes slams his beer into the table. “Whatcha got there, girlie!” he yodels.
Shit! I dash forward. It’s hella awkward because I’m still hunched over and covering my glittering sin, so I almost barrel into another dude’s booze.
“Hey, watch where yer goin’!” a grisly, forty-something biker with a red bandana and Duk Dynasty beard calls out.
Oh fuck! I wouldn’t make it if I kept hobbling across the catwalk like a hunchback…
“Move it!” a girl yells, hip hitting my butt as she passes me.
That’s right. I have to keep moving. There are tons of girls lined up to strut their stuff, and the only way for me to make it without toppling over everyone’s drinks (which was, in the middle of a biker rally, probably the worst thing you could do), was to stand up and fight back.
Which was exactly what I came here to do.
I push my shoulders back as I stand. I am confident, sexy Annie now. I have a renewed sense of purpose in the world. I am not going to let lame Damien ruin my fun anymore. In fact, I am going to make sure that I drive him crazy.
Smiling, I let myself shine.
The guy who’d previously been complaining opens his mouth like he’d just seen Jesus. “Fuck yeahs!” fill the room.
Hey, this isn’t so bad, I think as I wiggle my hips back and forth. I mean, hell, these guys were so drunk that none of them would probably even remember what I looked like in the morning!
As I did a little dance, the strobe light hit one of my vajazzle beads. A beam of light flashes across the center of the room, hitting a young man sitting with a group of other young men.
The man shields his eyes for a moment while his companions glance over. Looks of appreciation and hunger take over their faces. They stand to get a better view, cat calling and slapping each other on the shoulders.
I stop dancing as three of the guys I’d grown up with—the three young guys in our MC who I would personally consider brothers, Gracie, Ryder, and Rev—meet my gaze. Immediately, they all look like they’re gonna puke.
The man with his eyes shielded steps forward, no doubt to see what had gotten his brothers so wild. Those brothers, wisely, try to grab him and stop him, but it’s too late. The guy brings his hand down and looks straight at me.
Heat fills his eyes as they take me in, slowing over my lush curves and tattooed skin as if he can’t wait to make new marks on it. His marks.
I shiver, wrapping my arms around my torso although he’s already seen me, feeling naked in my “outfit.” I want, more than anything, to turn back time. To just go sulk in my room after he embarrassed me at the shop instead of deciding to fight back. Because, you see, the problem with fighting back is that sometimes it makes the other party want to assert their dominance over you even more.
Which is exactly what happens.
His face darkens. Not with lust, though that’s there too…but even his desire must submit to his rage.
I’ve seen Damien mad over the years. A lot. Over things I’ve worn, over guys I’ve kissed. Until this moment, I thought I’d seen everything. Now, I realize I haven’t even see the surface of it. He’s held back a part of himself—an essential part of himself—and seeing it chills me to the core. I realize I’ve never really known him. I’ve never really seen him. Tonight is not just the night Damien will see what I’m capable of…it’s the night I’ll learn who Damien really is.
For a second, every muscle in his body goes still, like the calm before a storm.
And then, the storm starts to move.
Right towards me.
Damien races forward, pushing past everyone in his way like they’re twigs instead of bikers, ignoring their yells. His brother’s get behind him, trying to stop him or at least reason with him, but I know they will fail. There is one mission in his eyes, one dark promise. He’ll be unstoppable until he gets hold of what
ever it is that has him so pissed, and then he’ll probably…
Oh fuck.
That ‘whatever it is’ that has him so pissed is me.
He grabs hold of the front of the bar. “Annie. Here. Now.”
He never used my real name. He always calls me “Princess.” This can’t be good! I stumble back, still hugging my chest.
He gives me a grin like he’s never given me in his entire life. It slices through whatever shreds of confidence I have left like a knife. “Don’t make me fuckin’ come up there and get you. You’re not gonna like what I’ll do.”
Uh, if he thinks I’m not going to like it, why does it look so much like he’ll like it?!?!?!?
His grip on the bar tightens. He’s about to launch himself onto the bar.
Fuck!
There are only two options in a situation like this.
#1: Surrender completely to my arch nemesis’ vengeance. Beg for mercy. Tell him he really doesn’t stink like you told him he did back when the two of you were seven. Make a note to get him a really, really, really nice birthday present. Promise that the next time you bake cookies, you’ll give him lots and lots and do not, under any circumstance, torment him by eating them in front of him without sharing like you love to do.
#2: Run like hell.
So guess which choice I make?
Hint: it was the wrong choice.
Chapter 6
I turn and leap into the air, over the heads of bikers who ooh and awe like my vajazzles are heralding the second coming. For a second I soar, my lower region shimmering like angel wings beneath the strobe lights, until my belly smashes into some poor dude’s head.
I shriek as he grabs onto my hips, I guess to steady me so I don’t barrel over, face-first, into the mosh pit behind him.
“Sorry!” I yell, kicking. I’ve gotta get off and then get out of here. The door is only about thirty feet away. I could make it…in my heels…in the middle of a crowd…
