“Me?” Ellen’s eyes widened. “I’m feeling great. I’m happy… giddy… and everything is happening in slow motion. I’m glad you’re still in the gang. If you had been kicked out, would you have had to leave immediately, or would you have been allowed to stay? And what about me? You’re the one who found me, would I have had to go, too?”
Ellen blew a puff of air from her mouth and began to laugh. “I could never stay on that motorcycle all the way back to Milwaukee. You’d have to bungee cord me to that bike for sure.”
Still laughing, Ellen looked up at the sky.
“What’s with her?” Mason asked Mad Dog.
“Our little teacher friend has never smoked weed, so I gave her a lesson in Pot Smoking 101. She’s a fast learner.”
Mad Dog patted Ellen’s knee. They both laughed. He held up the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels. “Our buddy Jack may have helped matters out some, too.”
Mason shook his head. The mellow effect of the moonshine turned sour. It was all he could do to stay seated and not jump across the fire pit and punch the shit out of Mad Dog. He should have been more responsible and not given Ellen pot and all that alcohol. Drunk, she was no longer capable of defending herself in this kind of crowd. She was now more vulnerable than she would have been if she had stayed at the road.
Dee came from the direction of the tents. “Well, what happened, Rambo?” she asked but didn’t let him answer as she rushed on. “If they voted to kick you out, I swear to God, I’ll never let that old man of mine live it down. I know things like this aren’t a woman’s business, but I helped him start this damn club and—’’
Mason got up and went to her, placing his hands on her small shoulders.
“Easy, Dee Dee. I’m still in.”
Mason looked down into her dark fierce eyes. She blinked, then unexpectedly hugged his waist. Taken off guard, Mason hugged her back. During his time as a Sons of Thunder member, he had come to truly respect this woman. Dee Dee’s small frame belied her inner strength. As unexpectedly as she embraced him, she let go.
“What the hell is going on here?” Spider called from the shadows. Swaying, he took a drink from the bottle in his hand.
“I just ran into your friend Jack. Some of the brothers asked him to be an impartial judge at the wet T-shirt contest. I hope he behaves himself.” Spider said, shaking the bottle at Mason.
“You don’t need to worry, I put one of the prospects on his tail for the rest of the night.” Mason assured Spider.
Ellen scrambled to her feet “I’m making s’mores, Mr. President, sir. Would you like one?”
Mad Dog grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down into the chair.
“What?” Ellen grumbled. “I’m just being polite. After all, the old curmudgeon didn’t kick Mason out and he let me stay here, so the least I can do is fix him a s’more.”
Ellen popped two marshmallows on a stick. Holding them over the flames, she turned to Spider. “Mr. President, how do you like your marshmallows? Burned crisp or a delicate golden brown?”
Taking a seat by Dee Dee, Spider watched Ellen curiously.
“What the hell did she call me?” Spider asked.
Dee Dee shook her head. “I don’t know. Ask her?”
“What the fuck did you call me, woman?” Spider leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees.
“Curmudgeon,” Ellen replied, never taking her eyes from the browning marshmallows.
“What the hell does that mean?” Spider stood up, hands on hips.
Mason volunteered. “I believe it means someone who is a… killjoy, disagreeable, or a wet blanket.”
Mason grinned, waiting for Spider’s reaction.
Ellen looked across the fire at Mason. The marshmallows sizzled. She pointed the burning clumps at him. “Mason Hackett, you’re a very smart boy.”
One of the marshmallows fell into the flames. “I give you an A plus.”
Ellen laughed, then noticing the dire condition of the surviving marshmallow, jerked the stick back. The luscious prize dropped into the fire and burst into a glorious flame. Ellen sighed.
“Looks like I’ll have to cook you a couple more, Mr. President. Mad Dog, hand me two more, and I’ll have another drink of whiskey.”
Spider slowly sat down. His eyes narrowed then a wide grin appeared under his handlebar mustache. “Mad Dog, what have you done to her?”
“I’m innocent of any wrong doing. She’s a consenting adult. You are over twenty-one aren’t you Ellen?” Mad Dog asked as handed her the whiskey.
“Hell, yes,” Ellen answered with too much enthusiasm, taking a drink.
“See?” Mad Dog said, his eyebrows raised in innocence.
Ellen swung around to give Mad Dog back the whiskey and nearly took out his eye with the stick. He grabbed it. “You’d better let me have that.”
“But I really want a s’more.” Ellen slumped down in the chair. Mason couldn’t help but smile. She looked like a spoiled child, sulking because Daddy had taken away her toy. About to offer his services, Mad Dog beat him to it.
“Allow me,” Mad Dog said as he speared two marshmallows and then held them over the coals.
“I don’t like them burnt.” Ellen pouted.
“I won’t burn them. I’ve got three kids. I think I know how to roast a marshmallow by now, Mrs. Abrams.”
“That reminds me.” Ellen’s sullenness disappeared. “You both promised I could use the phone to call JD tomorrow at nine o’clock.” Ellen sobered a little, looking at Spider. “My son will go crazy if I don’t call him on time. He has autism.”
Dee spoke up. “Of course you can call your son. I’ll take you up to Granddad’s myself. You certainly have your hands full, don’t you Ellen? A single mom and a son with autism.”
“How about a single dad with three kids to raise?” Mad Dog mumbled.
Dee Dee eyed the two of them. She took a drag off her cigarette. “Mad Dog, Ellen lost her husband in a car accident.”
“I’m sorry, Ellen. How long has your husband been gone?”
“It was seven years on June twenty-fourth.” Ellen gazed into the flames, her thoughts turning inward.
Mason shifted, rested his elbows on his knees, and studied the two. Ellen looked up at him. Firelight flickered in her somber dark eyes.
Mad Dog carefully peeled the marshmallows from the stick with the edge of a graham cracker, but it broke in half and the precious treat fell in the dirt. “Shit!”
Ellen looked down, staring at the melted concoction as if it were a small dead animal.
“They were perfect,” she sighed, then picked them up and tossed them into the fire.
Mad Dog snapped the stick in two, dropped it into the flames and then took a long drink from the whiskey bottle.
Feeling uneasy, Mason rose and stood behind Desi, absently rubbing her shoulders. He watched Ellen and Mad Dog, trying to imagine what it must be like to suddenly lose someone you shared so much with. He wondered whether they would ever completely recover.
Shrugging off her melancholy, Ellen looked up at Mason. Like heat seeking missiles, his brilliant eyes took her by surprise, exploding dormant desire. Her whole body tingled with the aftershock. The firelight dancing in his hair; his sensual mouth, partly hidden by his bread, slipped into a sexy grin. Breathless, she closed her eyes, imagining his warm breath on her neck, the taste of his mouth, his tongue probing, her body responding…. She opened her eyes. He stared, making her feel exposed. Ellen pulled the blanket around her.
“You know, the two of you make quite a good looking couple,” she commented, attempting to divert Mason’s attention. “That lap dance was amazing, Desi. I mean, it made me hot. I can only imagine what it did for you Mason.”
Mad Dog laughed, wrapping his arm around Ellen’s shoulder. They looked at one another and smiled. Relieved by Mad Dog’s recovery, Ellen took the bottle from his hand. She took a swig, trying to prove her stamina, but then choked. Mad Dog patted her back. “You’ve ha
d enough, Mrs. Abrams. I’m cutting you off.”
“But didn’t you think, Mad Dog, Desi was amazing up there on that stage?”
“Yes, I did. But I’m not going to make much of it. Rambo is likely to shoot my balls off if I do.”
Mad Dog smirked. Mason flipped him off.
Giggling, Ellen flopped her head on Mad Dog’s shoulder. She needed to get her mind off of Mason. Ellen turned to Spider.
“I have a question for you, Spider. Why does everyone call you that? When I think of a spider, I think of someone with black hair, like Mason. But you have red hair; so how come it’s not Red or Rusty or something?”
Light-headed, Ellen rolled her head to the side.
“Oh, no! Now you’ve done it!” Mad Dog hooted, making Ellen jump.
Mason shook his head. “Don’t ever ask Spider that question because he’s going to show you the answer.”
Ellen looked at him. Confused by their reaction, she turned to Dee Dee for an answer, but Dee stared at the ground. Ellen thought she saw a trace of a smile.
“I’m going to bed. I’ve seen this before.” Desi said humorlessly and quickly got up. “Are you coming, Rambo?”
“In a minute. I want to finish my drink.”
Desi kissed him and then left the small circle without a word. Mason sat back down, seemingly undisturbed by Desi’s sudden retreat.
Spider sat with his elbows on his knees, holding a beer in one hand. His eyes looked down into the grass. “Do you really want to know why they call me Spider?”
He looked up at Ellen with laughing eyes.
“Yes. I want to know why they call you Spider.”
“Okay, little lady, you are about to find out.”
Spider stood up and handed his beer to Dee. Frowning, she shook her head. Spider walked up to Ellen. His hand went to his belt buckle. He pulled back the leather strap, and then unzipped his pants. Ellen squirmed. Her pulse quickened. Before she could stop him, Spider jerked down his boxers, exposing his cock. She slapped a hand over her mouth. Horrified, her eyes widened. There it was! A black spider tattooed on the head of his penis!
He stroked himself, moving closer. “You want to touch it?”
Ellen gasped. Heat crept up her neck and face. She blinked and glanced over at Mad Dog and then Mason. They’re eyes laughed at her. She took a deep breath and then looked up into Spider’s bemused face.
“I hope you had a woman tattoo artist do that, or my image of bikers will never be the same.” Ellen grinned.
Mason whapped his knee as laughter thundered from his chest. Mad Dog spit his whiskey into the fire, and Spider hung his head, shaking it from side to side.
“I’ve been bested by a woman,” he moaned affably, zipping the spider back into his jeans.
Dee came to his rescue, taking his hand. “Come on, ole man. I’ll pet the spider.”
“You two are back on security at seven. Don’t forget.” Spider wrapped his arm around Dee as he looked at his watch. “It’s three now.”
“Good night, Mad Dog. Good night, Ellen.” Dee Dee said as she went to Mason, inspecting his wound. “I gave Desi the first aid kit in case your cheek starts bleeding again.”
“Thanks, Dee.”
Dee Dee leaned in closer.
“Be careful, Rambo,” she whispered into Mason’s ear. “Ellen isn’t one of us.”
Dee Dee went to Spider, took his hand, and they walked over to their tent.
“Things are pretty quiet around here now.” Mad Dog turned, surveying the rows of tents. Some people still partied, but the majority had gone to bed. “We probably should get some shut eye, Rambo.”
Mason nodded. “What about her? Where’s she going to sleep?”
Mad Dog stood up and stretched. “So, Ellen, how about you spend the night at my place? I promise I don’t have any spiders in my tent.”
“I don’t know. You might not have any spiders, but there might be something a lot bigger in there.”
Mad Dog chuckled. “You are funny, Mrs. Abrams. You’re real funny for a half-English teacher/half-principal.”
Mad Dog offered Ellen his hand, pulling her up from the chair.
“Do you know how long it has been since I’ve spent the night with a man?”
“I have no idea.” Mad Dog smiled.
“A long time…. A very long time.” Ellen hesitated. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Heaven only knows what I’m capable of.”
“Oh, baby, I can’t wait to find out.” Mad Dog led her through the circle of chairs. He winked at Mason. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
“Fuck you, Mad Dog!” Mason growled.
“Good night, Mason.” Ellen smiled, pausing in front of him. “And thank you for coming to my rescue tonight.”
Their eyes connected. A strong, mysterious current shot through Mason. Ellen had to have felt it, he thought. His eyes searched her face for the smallest trace, but Ellen turned away to follow Mad Dog.
Mason’s eyes followed after them until they ducked into Mad Dog’s tent. He stood up. Kicking a discarded beer can into the fire, Mason watched it burn black. When Mason looked up, he saw Muck Eye approaching. A woman hung her arm around Muck Eye’s shoulders. They staggered into the campsite.
“Rambo, where is everybody?” Muck Eye asked, surveying the empty lawn chairs.
“They’ve all turned in for the night. Where the hell is Jack?” Mason asked.
“He’s down by the river,” Muck Eye replied. “I’m headed over to our tent. I just came by to tell you, Jack was watching when you took care of that guy with the knife. It made a big impression on him. Jack could definitely use someone like you. I think you’ll be hearing from him in the morning.”
Muck Eye patted Mason on the shoulder.
“Way to go, man. I’ll see you in the mornin’,” Muck Eye said, smiling. He and the woman ambled through the quiet campsites and then disappeared from view.
Mason drank the last of his whiskey. It had been a very long day, but the prospect of being hired by Jack had made it all worthwhile. A lot of doors would soon be opening for Mason Hackett, aka Rambo.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mason crept quietly into his tent, pulled off his boots, and laid down on his sleeping bag. The throbbing in his cheek, the tenderness in his abdomen and the soreness in his backside where Mad Dog had kicked him to the ground, made him restless. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the small vent at the top of the tent. The cool night air touched his face. Strung out from the events of the night, he closed his eyes.
Desi sighed.
“What’s up babe?” Mason didn’t want to talk, but felt obligated.
She turned, resting her arm across his chest. Her green eyes searched his face in the darkness. “I don’t know. What is up Rambo?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’ve been acting weird tonight.”
“Me? How have I been acting weird?”
“Weird… like you’d rather be somewhere else. Ever since that woman showed up, you and Mad Dog have been tripping over each other to be near her. I got the vibe you didn’t want me around.” She propped herself up on her elbow, her delicate face resting in the palm of her hand. “So who is she?”
“I told you. Her car broke down. She’s all alone and way out here. I suppose we feel responsible for her, that’s all. If you were ever in the same situation, I would hope someone would look out for you. You’re making a big deal out of nothing”
“Am I? I saw the way you were looking at her. When you brought her over to the fire, you had your arm around her. What was that? Being protective?” Desi’s voice gained volume and emotion. “I might not be as educated as some fucking school teacher, but I’m not stupid. You said you’d always be honest with me. Are you being honest now?”
“Honest about what? For Christ’s sake, Desi, I just met the woman tonight. You’ve been ragging on me all day about us, and now you’re going off on me about Ellen. I ne
ver made any promises to you. I’ve never been anything but honest.”
“That’s the point. You haven’t made any promises, and we’ve been together for almost a year. Do you realize, Rambo, you’ve never once said to me, ‘I love you’? Now I’m asking you, are you ever?”
Desi rose to her knees. Mason thought she looked even more beautiful angry with her lifted chin and eyes flashing.
He sat up and began to stroke her long tresses.
“This afternoon,” Mason said, “you told me you weren’t going to do this anymore. You said if you had to force me into saying something about us having a future together, it wouldn’t be real. Well, I got news for you darlin’; I don’t have a crystal ball; I can’t see past today. So how in the hell am I supposed to tell you we’ll always be together? Shit happens…people change!”
Desi closed her eyes. Her face contorted in pain.
“Rambo,” she whispered. “You already have.”
Desi’s eyes opened and tears streamed down her face.
Mason reached up to brush them away, but Desi slapped his hand down. Her chest heaved. Mason swallowed. The pain in her eyes made him realize how much he had hurt her. He hadn’t meant to. Mason thought Desi knew he never had any intentions of making a commitment, and getting angry over Ellen was ludicrous--she was a curiosity.
Desi wrung her hands. “I love you, Rambo. I don’t understand why you don’t feel the same.”
“I care about you, Desi.” He hated to be the cause of her suffering, but he couldn’t lie.
“I want more than that.” She bit her bottom lip.
Mason took her hand. “I know you do, but why can’t we keep things like they are? You make me happy. I make you happy. Why do we have to change things?”
Desi squeezed his hand. “You just said, ‘things change, shit happens’ and when it does Rambo, I want to know you’ll be there.”
Mason closed his eyes and shook his head. His words stung him. Desi slipped her hand from his, laid down, and covered herself with the sleeping bag, facing the canvas wall. The tent filled with silence. Mason exhaled, raking his fingers through his hair, than laid beside her and pulled her close.
The Word of a Liar Page 7
