by Shandi Boyes
“No eye contact, don’t mention the word dog and only eat packaged food,” Kylie informed, her eyes finally lifting to look my mom directly in the eyes.
“Did you forget about the warning not to drink the water?” My mom questioned seriously, her voice sounding panicked.
Kylie’s eyes instantly darted back down to the table, triggering both my mom and I to laugh loudly. My sister and I use to always pull the same prank with our friends. Most of my friends growing up were convinced my mom was the worst cook in the world, which suited me just fine. That meant there were always plenty of cupcakes and cookies left over for me and Serena after they returned home.
My mom looks like a hard core bikey chick. She has nearly as many tattoo’s as I do. She wears fifty style dresses and her dirty blonde hair is always pulled up with a bandana. I call her a bikey chick, she calls herself a rockabilly housewife with attitude. The funny thing about my mom is that she looks hard-core, but her insides are as soft as they come. I always joke that Martha Stewart somehow got trapped in her body. She loves to bake, she is the best friend anyone could ever ask for and she is one kick ass mom. But imagine being in the sixth grade and your friend’s parents arrive to drop off their kids for a sleep over? We have had a few that left before they even walked in the front door. My mom said, tattoos were a perfect way to remove judgemental people from your life. The older I’ve become, the more her statement rings true.
My laughter only died down when Kylie grabbed one of the red velvet cupcakes off the table and shoved in harshly into my face. The white frosting smeared all over my cheek and some of it even lodged up my nose. My mouth opened wide in shock, my head turning to face her. She giggled softly, before she ran her index finger down the side of my face, popped it into her mouth and seductively sucked the frosting of her finger, causing my dick to instantly stand to attention.
“Yummy,” she whispered, quietly enough to ensure I was the only one that would hear it since my mom’s back was turned as she stirred dinner on the cooktop. I was about to pull Kylie’s sugary mouth towards mine when my dad strolled into the kitchen.
Now my dad is definitely the equivalent of a biker. He has dark short hair that is clipped close at the side and the top is longer in length. I joke that he has Elvis Presley hair. He hates when I say that, but my mom loves it. He wears a black leather jacket and jeans every day and rides a custom made chopper. He owns a tattoo parlour in town and every tattoo that adorns my body was placed there by my dad. He is a gifted artist who chooses to use people’s bodies as canvases instead of pieces of paper.
“Kylie, this is my dad Elvis, Elvis this is Kylie,” I introduced, removing the frosting from my face with a tea towel. My dad’s dark eyebrows shoot up high into his hairline as he moved towards the table.
“Ryder, nice to meet you Kylie,” Dad informed, offering his hand to Kylie to shake.
“Ryder, Elvis, same thing,” I replied casually, causing Kylie to giggle softly.
We spent the rest of the weekend with my parents’ and Kylie soon learnt that she could be herself around my mom and dad. They are the cruisest parents’ you could ever meet. My mom told Kylie the story of how they met. Dad was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks and mom was the preacher’s daughter. They met when my dad was doing forced community service at her family church. He was there to paint over the graffiti he placed on the side of the church walls a few weeks earlier. Most people expected him to paint it back to its original white coloring, but my dad ended up doing a whole mural of Noah’s ark. The church was that impressed with his painting that it still adorns the church’s wall today. My mom fell pregnant with me just shy of her eighteen birthday. She was shunned by her parents and the church she spent her whole life growing up in. My dad knew there was nobody else for him bar my mom so he stopped his rebellious ways and got a job. To start with he was hired as a cleaner at the local tattoo parlour, then as the months went on they soon discovered his artistic talent.
Now, his clientele base is huge with only select and elite members of the public having the privileged of being tattooed by him. I even have to make an appointment. So you could imagine my surprise when Kylie and I went to the bed that night and I discovered he had placed a tattoo on her perfect untouched skin. My parents had gone to bed a few hours before us and after our make out session on the couch started to get a little hot and heavy, I carried Kylie up to my childhood bedroom. Her small giggles echoed around the room when she noticed my hello kitty bedcover and lamp on my bedside table.
‘Thanks mom,” I yelled down the hallway.
“Your welcome honey,” she replied laughing. I don’t know how many times I would come home from high school and find some type of girly bedspread on my bed. My mom always used the excuse that she hadn’t done any washing, but I’m pretty sure she just did it for a laugh. She is who I get my shit stirring from.
I lowered Kylie down onto my pretty pink bedspread and when I gently laid down on top of her, her face grimaced in pain. I held my weight off her with my arms, my eyes slowly roaming over her face. When I looked into her pretty hazel eyes, she was unable to maintain my eye contact. I shifted my hips to rub my erection along the seam of her jeans, triggering her eyes to instantly dart to mine. Once I had her eye contact back, I raised my eyebrow into my hair, silently requesting for her to tell me why she grimaced.
“Don’t get angry,” she requested quietly. I don’t know what it is about that statement, but every time someone says it, I get angry. I rolled off her and leant on my hip, my jaw muscle quivered as I tried to hold in my anger.
My angry was soon replaced with lust when Kylie stood from the bed and shimmied out of her blue jeans. Her eyes stayed firmly planted on mine when she pulled her shirt over her head. My eyes appreciatively roamed over her tight little body, causing my dick to stiffen in my jeans. It was only when I spotted a blue gauze poking out of the waist band of her lace panties did my dick soften. I instantly recognised the gauze that was covering her skin. My curious eyes instantly flicked up to hers. Kylie had perfect skin so why would she want to mark it?
When I asked her that, she smiled brightly as she lowered down the waist band of her panties, instantly triggering my dick to stiffen again. She carefully pulled back the gauze and my heart plunged into my stomach when I saw my name in thick black ink. Most guys would be happy that their girl gets their name inked on their skin, but she broke the ultimate tattoo rule. You never get another person’s name tattooed on you, EVER! I learnt that the hard way. It took my dad a lot of work to cover Nikki’s name on my wrist.
I dove off my bed, ready to cause physical harm to my dad. Kylie jumped in front of me before I had the chance to get to my bedroom door.
“I begged him to do it,” she informed, her eyes flicking between mine.
“I don’t fucking care, he knows what I think about this,” I replied, my angry voice echoing around my small room. I had only left Kylie with dad for an hour that afternoon when I went and helped my mom to get some groceries from the store and that was what he fucking did.
I side stepped Kylie and just as I was about to open my bedroom door her voice, that was barely a whisper, stated, “I’ll go and get Tommy to cover it up.”
I instantly halted my hasty exit. Tommy was my dad’s rival in the tattooing industry. He is also one of the most sleaziest guys you could ever meet. The amount of woman he had slept with would even put Nick to shame. There was no way in hell I would ever let a guy like Tommy anywhere near Kylie’s skin, let alone skin that is hidden inside her panties and she knew that. I slowly turned around to face her and noticed a small gathering of tears in her eyes. That was the first time I had ever seen Kylie upset and I didn’t fucking like it.
“When it heals you’re getting it covered,” I instructed firmly, closing my door and moving back towards her. “By my dad,” I continued. She smiled brightly and softly nodded her head.
Obviously she never ended up getting it covered. And I don’t know why,
but I get an immense amount of satisfaction in knowing it’s still there.
Chapter 14
Kylie
When I turn around the corner of the hallway my room is located in, I’m startled by an extremely loud pitch scream. Once my heart leaps back into my chest, I lift my gaze from the hotel room key I’ve just collected from the front desk and spot Melanie standing at the end of the hall. I return her excited squeal before running towards her. This time I am the one that throws myself at her that we both end up toppling over into the hallway.
“It’s only been a week,” she giggles, returning my embrace. “Have you been a naughty girl?” she questions cheekily, her eyebrows cocking up high on her face. Just as I am about to answer, a pair of black boots moves into my vision. Lifting my eyes, I spot the smiling face of Slater looking down at us.
“I should have guessed it was you,” he chuckles, offering me his hand to help me off the ground. “When I heard high pitch screaming, I knew it was either you or Jenni,” he continues, making me smile softly.
“Hello again,” Melanie greets excitedly, lifting herself off the floor. Her blue eyes stare up at Slater with her hands clasped behind her back. She appears to be trying to look innocent, which is a look nearly impossible for Melanie to pull off.
“Hi,” Slater replies casually, making me realize I have never properly introduced them.
“Slater this is my best friend Melanie. Melanie this is Slater,” I introduce.
After they awkwardly shake hands, Slater gently removes the hotel key room from my hand and slides it into the door we crashed next to. He walks into the hotel room with Melanie and I following closely behind. Melanie’s eyes bug out of her head and my mouth drops open wide in shock. This is not a hotel room. This is a house. There is a large black marble kitchen hidden behind a wall on our left, a sunken living area in the middle and a dining table that looks like it seats at least ten people. There is even a small black baby piano next to one of the three black leather sofas. Just the living area alone is bigger than the whole apartment Melanie and I use to live in.
“I think our keys got mixed up,” I inform Slater, walking over towards him and removing the key from his hand. The key doesn’t help lessen my confusion as it has no specific markings on it to indicate which room it belongs to. Slater runs his hand along the stubble of his chin before a small smirk forms on his face.
“Is this your room?” I question. His smile gets even larger, before he slowly shakes his head.
He walks over to the far right hand side of the room and opens a door. “That’s my room,” he advises pointing to the room that is attached to mine, forcing my confused eyes to flick up to his.
“You got us interconnecting rooms?” I question confused, the pulsing of my heart causes my voice to come out as a quiver. Half of me is excited whilst the other half is petrified. I’ll never be able to avoid the rotating door of groupies coming in and out of his room now.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I inform, wiping the smile right off his face.
“I…ummm,” I mumble, trying to think of some excuse as to why this isn’t a good idea without informing him that I don’t want to witness his new man whore lifestyle firsthand.
The stomping of his black boots is easily heard within the silence of the room. He walks over and stands directly in front of me. My defences weaken when his brown eyes flick between mine.
“I don’t bring groupies into my room,” he informs, his voice sounding rugged.
You would think his words would give me comfort, but they don’t. Just because he doesn’t bring groupies into his room, doesn’t mean he won’t find other places to accommodate them, such as stage curtains at an arena. When he notices that I am unable to maintain his eye contact, he breathes harshly out of his nose before making his way back to the interconnecting door. Upon entering, his gaze returns to mine.
“This will also ensure you don’t do anything stupid again like you did last night,” he says angrily, before walking into his room and closing the door harshly.
Now it all makes sense. He didn’t get us interconnecting rooms as he wanted me closer to him, he got us interconnecting rooms so he can keep an eye on me. He wants to ensure the stern warning he gave Sonny and the rest of the road crew stays firmly enforced. I let out a frustrated growl before I angrily walk towards the door. My angry strides only halt when Melanie steps in front of me.
“Let’s think about this first,” she suggests, her eyes staring firmly into mine. The longer I stare into her eyes the more they get a mischievous sparkle. I groan again before making my way to the ridiculously oversized living room.
“I told you he still has feelings for you,” Melanie emphasizes with her perfectly waxed eyebrows waggling in excitement.
“He doesn’t have feelings for me, he just doesn’t want anyone else to have feelings for me,” I respond, flopping dramatically onto a black leather sofa.
Melanie rolls her eyes and huffs before she comes and sits down next to me, her eyes slowly taking in the impressive surroundings. When she turns to face me, one of her eyebrows is cocked high into her hairline.
“Shut up,” I request to her sarcastic face. The suite is pretty darn impressive and I’m sure it is costing Slater a fortune for me to stay here, so maybe there is a little bit more to his generosity than just jealously.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I question, since it suddenly dawns on me that she has just turned up out of the blue.
Melanie’s parents’ house is around an hour from San Francisco so I guess it wouldn’t be too extravagant for her to do a pop in visit. Maybe she has been missing me as much as I’ve missed her? We did live together twenty-four-seven the past two years, so it has been a huge adjustment not having her attached to my hip.
She bites down on her bottom lip, her mischievous eyes turning up to look at me. “Slater brought me here,” she informs seriously, her voice sounding more mature than her twenty- three years.
“He thought I would be a good influence on you,” she continues, trying her hardest not to laugh. My eyebrows scrunch up tightly and my confused eyes lift to stare directly into hers, effectively breaking her cool calm composure.
“He picked the wrong friend!” she declares loudly between giggles. Melanie’s laugh is so infectious that I soon lose the ability to hold in my own laugher. We both chuckle so loud I am certain Slater will be able to hear it in his room next door.
If Slater thought bringing Melanie here was going to help settle me down, he has greatly underestimated Melanie. She is hell on wheels and creates havoc everywhere she goes, and she has no qualms about it either. Melanie jumps up onto the leather sofa like Tom Cruise did during his Oprah interview. Her arms thrown well above her head as she loudly declares, “Let’s show these fuckers how to really party!”
She jumps off the sofa and heads straight to the bar that is located at the side of the living room. The glass shelves are full to the brim with all different types of alcoholic beverages. I rush towards her when she opens one of the bottles, not even bothering to check how much it cost.
“You can’t just drink anything you want, a mini bar bottle costs a fortune, imagine how much a whole bottle cost,” I inform, attempting to snatch the bottle from her grasp.
She pulls the bottle out of my reach, her eyes rolling dramatically before she sashays her way to the door that interconnects my room with Slater’s. After three brisk knocks, Slater opens the door and his half angry eyes dart between Melanie and I.
“Can we drink this?” she questions, harshly shoving the bottle in front of his face.
His eyes turn from looking at the bottle to face me. “You can drink anything you want,” he instructs kindly. “As long as you do it in this hotel room,” he continues sternly, triggering me to roll my eyes.
“Thank you,” Melanie replies, before pushing Slater back into his room and slamming the door in his face.
Chapter 15
Slater
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br /> I think I picked the wrong friend when the sound of blaring music and smashing glass comes from next door for the third night in a row. I only went and tracked down Kylie’s friend after collecting my bike from Sonny. He has made it pretty fucking obvious that he has no intention on backing down on his pursuit of Kylie and there is no chance in hell I will ever allow her to end up with a douchebag like him. People think drummers are bad, but we are nothing compared to the scum of the roadie’s crew. Sonny is lucky that he is still employed after the stunt he pulled Sunday night. If only our tour wasn’t plagued with useless crew members previously then I would have had no hesitation in firing him. But as much as it sucks to admit it, he is good at his job. He just needs to learn to back the fuck off when instructed.
Jenni was able to supply me with all of Melanie’s contact details as she had added both her and Kylie as friends on her Facebook account. I didn’t miss the curious sparkle in her eyes when she handed me all of her personal information. When I first called Melanie, she thought I was pranking her. It was only when I recited the entire playlist from our current CD did she finally believe that it was me. That girl has a mouth like a sailor. I have heard soft curse words come out of girls mouths many times before. But they are soft, as in shit, ass, crap etc. But some of the words that came out of Melanie’s mouth when I asked her to come and stay with Kylie while we are on tour, nearly made me blush. I guess that should have been my first hint that I had picked the wrong friend to keep Kylie in line.
