Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set

by Hildreth, Scott

  She chuckled. “No.”

  I grinned as if I’d made my point clear. “Good sex cures a bad mood.”

  “So why are you so happy if you don’t have a boyfriend? Do you have a fuck buddy?”

  The thought of it sickened me. “I couldn’t do that. No, I’m on a dry spell.”

  “Seeing somebody?”

  “Not really. Kind of. I don’t know.”

  She leaned forward. “Tell me about him.”

  “It’s really nothing. Yet.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Okay. Fine.” I let out a sigh as if I didn’t want to say anything, but I really did. “He’s one of the Filthy Fuckers. But. There’s nothing going on yet. I just kind of like him.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one you said you didn’t know.”

  She couldn’t hide her excitement. “What’s his name?”

  I considered saying Adam, but knew he preferred Cholo, so I stuck with his preference. “Cholo.”

  “Mexican guy?”

  “Half. He’s half Hispanic and half Irish.”

  “What color are his eyes?”

  “Blue.”

  “Tattoos?”

  I nodded. “From his knuckles to his shoulders.”

  “What about his hair?”

  “His head’s shaved.”

  “Tall? Skinny? Muscular?”

  “Tall. Really, really muscular. Built like a weightlifter.”

  “Oh God.” She breathed. “I bet he’s hot.”

  “He’s pretty easy on the eyes, that’s for sure.”

  “How’d you guys meet?”

  I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth. At least not the complete truth. “Some uhhm. Some guys were beating me up, and he stopped it. He saved me.”

  “What?” She gasped. “Guys were beating you up? Like hitting you?”

  I nodded. “I was being attacked.”

  Mrs. Kelly said it would feel good to talk about it, and she was right. Even though I wasn’t talking about it specifically, finally sharing the event – even partially – with someone out of the group was a huge relief.

  “Oh my God.” She covered her mouth. “And he saved you?”

  “Yeah.” I grinned. “He sure did.”

  “That’s awesome. Bikers are bad asses. I’ve always dated douchebags from the bars. An insurance salesman. A mechanic at the Chevy dealership. A guy that worked construction and was freaking married. And, there was another guy that was worked for the city’s landscape crew. He was a dick. Asshole had like five girlfriends.” She took a drink of beer, let out a sigh, and leaned on the edge of the table. “I wanna trade places with you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I do, too.”

  “Really, you don’t. I wasn’t popular in school. Me and my big mouth didn’t make many friends. The only people close to me were my two boyfriends, and instead of cheating on me, they slapped me around.”

  She crossed her forearms over her chest and scrunched her nose. “I can’t imagine getting hit.”

  “Yeah. It’s not fun,” I said. “The line that separates aggressive sex from abusive sex is razor thin, and finding someone that knows the difference isn’t easy.”

  “I’ve always had normal guys that I’ve just asked to pull my hair and slap my butt. They don’t get too mixed up,” she said with a light laugh.

  I chuckled. “Yeah. I think we’re in different leagues.”

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  The thought of having sex was so far out on the horizon for me that I wondered if when I got there I would even have the same sexual desires I’d had in the past. Whoever I ended up with was going to have to take the time to gain my trust, I that much I knew for sure.

  It wasn’t going to be easy.

  For either of us.

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Cholo

  Pee Bee, Smokey, and I stood in the entry of a home I’d recently obtained a construction contract on. In addition to remodeling the kitchen, I was hired to remove the carpet in the great room, and replace it with ceramic tile.

  I waved my hand toward the floor. “So. What do you think?”

  Smokey took a long pull on his vape, inhaled, and then crossed his arms in front of his chest. As he gazed around the room, he exhaled a huge cloud of smoke, and nodded his head. “I can do it.”

  “No fucking shit, Smoke. I know you can do it. How much?”

  At 6’- 4”, Smokey was considerably shorter than Pee Bee’s 6’-8”, but he looked taller due to his long, lean muscles. His neatly cut hair made him look more like a tattooed car salesman than a biker.

  But, he was a Filthy Fucker through and through. He raised the device to his mouth, took another long drag, and looked at me. “Thirteen grand.”

  The home was in La Jolla, a small coastal town thirty miles south of Oceanside. The majority of the homes were priced in the tens of millions, and it wasn’t a place I’d normally look for – or obtain – work.

  The homeowner called me on a recommendation from a former customer of mine, and upon meeting him, we hit it off. I could have overpriced the job and still obtained the work, but I didn’t.

  I kept the price as competitive as I could, and I was going to make sure Smokey did the same.

  I nodded toward Smokey’s vape and then shot him a shitty glare. “What’s in that thing, weed?”

  He coughed a laugh, and exhaled, filling the room with a thick film of smoke. “Smokin’ lemon cake pop today.”

  “Lemon cake pop and fucking weed. You’re high as fuck if you’re thinking thirteen, Brother.” I said. “Are we looking at the same house?”

  “Thirteen grand is a good deal,” he said.

  “Yeah, if it’s 1,300 square feet. It’s not. It’s 1,000. It ought to be ten grand.”

  “Carpet’s got to come up,” he said.

  “That’ll take two guys six hours, max. That ain’t three grand.”

  “You pull the carpet, I’ll do it for twelve.”

  “I’ll pull the carpet and give you ten. Not a fucking dime more.”

  He raised the vape to his lips, paused, and looked at me. “Eleven.”

  I shook my head. “You must be high. Crip asks why I don’t give the fellas work, and you come here and try to rob me. That’s why. Ten a square foot is standard. I’ll pay the standard, and not a dime more. Ten or you and your little smoke box can kick rocks.”

  He took another hit off the device and then nodded. “I’ll do it for ten.”

  Pee Bee laughed. “He’s trying to stick ya, Cholo.”

  Smokey exhaled his smoke in my face, enveloping me in a thick cloud of the sweet-smelling vapor.

  “God damn it, Smoke. What did I tell you about that shit? That fucker’s gonna kill you. I don’t want it to kill me.”

  “Better’n smokin’,” he said.

  “According to who?”

  “Me.”

  “I heard they give you popcorn lung.”

  “What the fuck’s popcorn lung?” Pee Bee asked.

  “Comes from diacetyl,” Smokey said. “It’s a chemical used in butter flavoring for popcorn. Bunch of fuckers at a popcorn plant years ago got puss pockets in their lungs from ingesting it, and they called it popcorn lung. Haters started saying this will cause it.”

  “Fuck, dude,” Pee Bee said. “Why would you smoke it?”

  “The juice I smoke doesn’t have diacetyl in it. Chinese shit does, American shit doesn’t.”

  Pee Bee stepped toward the door. “How the fuck you know where it comes from?”

  “My smoke shop makes it. They’ve got to report to the feds now, they govern the shit. Like everything else.”

  “Keep that fucker away from me,” Pee bee warned. “Blow it in my face, I’ll knock your ass out.”

  “It’s water vapor.”

  “Keep your water vapor to yourself, Smoke.”

  “Ditto,” I said.

  “Pussies,” Smokey said with a l
augh.

  “So, you’ll do it for ten?” I asked.

  He slipped the smoke box into his pocket. “Yep.”

  “Plan on starting next week.”

  “Don’t you have to give this guy a price?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Already did.”

  “And you’ve already got a contract?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’d you bid the flooring at?”

  I grinned. “Thirteen.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Man’s got to make money,” I said. “I charged him low retail, and I pay you wholesale.”

  “Asshole,” he hissed.

  I patted my hand against my wallet. “Asshole that’s saving money.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Pee bee said. “Being in this big son-of-a-bitch makes me nervous.”

  We followed Pee Bee outside. I locked the front door and set the alarm. Standing on the massive porch overlooking the courtyard, the three of us stared in awe at the incredibly beautiful landscape of the yard and courtyard.

  “Who the fuck owns this mansion, anyway?”

  “Young kid,” I said. “He’s like 24 or 25 or something.”

  Pee Bee went bug-eyed. “No shit? Place has got to be worth what? Twenty million?”

  “Thirty-five,” I said. “He said he inherited it.”

  “What’s he do for a living?”

  “Invests money. That’s it,” I said. “This kid had no family, bumped into the previous owner by chance, and they ended up hitting it off. Then, the guy left it to him in his will. Kid said the owner was one cool dude, though.”

  “Gave him this place? No shit?”

  “My hand to God. Cars, furniture, bank account, everything. Even his security guard. Kid said the guy just left everything to him.”

  “Damn.” He shook his head. “Hey, speaking of kids, how’s that girl from the dope house? Your old neighbor’s daughter?”

  “She’s good. I was gonna ask you about her anyway. You got time when we get back to the clubhouse to talk for a bit?”

  “Sure.”

  “What? We’re not brothers now?” Smokey asked, stepping off the porch as he spoke. He turned toward us. “Can’t say anything around me?”

  “I’m not looking to have you try and shove your opinion down my throat, Smoke. Your about as open-minded as communist dictator.”

  “What the fuck’s that mean?” he asked.

  “Means you and that fucker in North Korea have a lot in common.”

  “Fuck you,” he hissed.

  “It’s true. It’s your way, or no way at all,” I said. “You aren’t open to change.”

  “What the fuck you lookin’ to change?”

  “I don’t want to change anything. I was just looking to talk.”

  “Talk, then,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Let’s get.”

  “Talk, motherfucker. We’re brothers. Fuckers Forever.” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Forever Fuckers,” I said, finishing our motto.

  “So, talk,” he said.

  I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Alright. But this shit stays here.”

  Pee Bee nodded. “No problem.”

  I looked at Smokey.

  “I’m staying out of it,” he said.

  “Stays here,” I growled. “Every word.”

  “Sure thing, Cholo.”

  “So, what’s up? Pee Bee asked.

  “Well, you know about the neighbor, right?”

  “Yeah. Her mom? Your old high school squeeze.”

  “Not my squeeze,” I said. “She was just some chick I crushed on hard.”

  “So, you never fucked with her?”

  “Nope.”

  He looked confused. “No hand-jobs? Nothing?”

  “Not even a fucking hug.”

  “Wasn’t much of a girlfriend, then,” Smokey said.

  I glared at him.

  His hands shot in the air. “I’ll stay out of it.”

  “She lived across the street, and I gawked at her for six or eight years. Then, they moved away. Her daughter, who I thought all along was her little sister, gets nabbed, and after getting nowhere with the cops, she goes to our old house, which is still my mother’s place. She gets my sister, and my sister tells her to come to the place I was remodeling,” I explained, setting the stage, so to speak.

  “Why’s she think you can help? I mean, you can, and you did, but why does she think so?” Pee Bee asked.

  “The guys that took her were Mexicans, and I used to be in a gang when I was a kid.”

  He nodded. “Gotcha. She thinks you’ve still got roots.”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “Where you headed with this deal?” Pee Bee asked, his face covered with a guilty grin. “You gonna do the mother-daughter deal? Make one of ‘em lick your butt while the other sucks your cock?”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Smokey chimed. “A fucking blowjob sandwich.”

  I shot Smoke a shitty glare.

  His hands shot in the air. “I’ll just listen.”

  I turned toward Pee Bee. “Nothing like that, Brother. Just listen. I go over there the other night to check on the daughter. You know, to see if she’s okay. When I get there, mom’s there, but the daughter’s gone. I sit on the couch, and the mom starts feeling my leg, inching her hand a little closer to my cock every few minutes. Now, remember, I’ve never done shit with this bitch, nor have I told her how I felt when I was a kid. I mean, shit. I was 14 when she was 24. I was 21 or 22 when she left, and she was 32.”

  “Damn, she lived with her folks all that time?”

  “Yeah. But at the time, I didn’t know how old she was. I knew she was older, but not that much older. And, I thought the daughter was her little sister, remember that. The family kind of led all the neighbors to believe that.”

  Pee bee nodded. “Okay.”

  “So, mom’s rubbing my leg, and the daughter shows up. Now, I can’t control my fucking Johnson, so it’s hard as fuck when the daughter gets there. Anyway, so the mom and me leave to get some more wine, and when we do--”

  “Wait,” Pee Bee said. “You’re sitting around drinking wine with them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. You left that part out.”

  “I took a bottle of fucking wine with me trying to be polite.”

  “Motherfucker,” Smokey said. “You took a bottle of wine hoping to tap both their asses. I know you, remember?”

  “God damn it, Smoke!”

  “I’ll just listen,” he said.

  I shook my head at Smoke’s comment, and then shifted my attention to Pee Bee. “Alright. We go to get more wine, and mom’s all hanging on me and shit--”

  “Was she drunk?” Pee Bee asked.

  “Kind of.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “Well, I get back to the house, and pretty soon, mom’s drunker’n a fucking monkey. She goes to bed, and I’m sitting there staring at the daughter. She’s staring back at me all smiling and shit. I flip out and tell her I gotta go, and then leave. Then, the other night I went over there and we ended up making tacos and I stayed eight fucking hours afterward watching Californication on Netflix.”

  “With the mom or the daughter?” Pee Bee asked.

  “Daughter.”

  “Hank Moody ain’t on Netflix,” Smokey said.

  “Well, it was on something, and we watched it.”

  “Good show, ain’t it?”

  “Pretty good,” I said, half irritated that he was intervening in the conversation.

  Smokey took a pull off his vape, exhaled into the air, and nodded. “Hank pulls some serious ass. That guy fucks some puss for sure. Girl asked you to watch that, she was trying to get in your pants, Brother.”

  I acted like I didn’t hear him, and stayed focused on pee Bee. “What I was wondering was would it be weird if I ask the daughter out?”

  “Ask her out?” He arched an e
yebrow. “Like ask her out? On a date?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  He blurted out a laugh, and when he noticed the only one laughing with him was Smokey, he stopped.

  After he caught his breath, he looked at me in disbelief. “Since when do you ask anybody out? You just fuck bitches.”

  “Same as you, asshole,” I snapped back.

  He chuckled. “I met someone and settled down.”

  “Well. That’s what I’m asking. Would it be weird if--”

  “Weird how?” Smokey asked.

  “Just weird,” I responded. I alternated glances between them, waiting on an answer.

  “Hank Moody fucked a 16-year-old. You see that episode?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I saw it. She’s 21, not 16. And, I’m not Hank fucking Moody.”

  Smokey took another pull on his deal, and exhaled a plume of smoke. “You just trying to stick this chick full of dick and hope the mom don’t find out?”

  “No.”

  “What are you trying to do,” Pee Bee asked.

  “That’s just it. I ain’t sure.”

  He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at me. “What the fuck are you asking me?”

  “I want to invite Alexandra, the daughter, over for dinner.”

  “What’s your question?”

  “Would it be weird?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it would.”

  I was afraid that’s what he’d say. “How?” I asked.

  “I’ve known you for what? Seven, eight years?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “All you’ve ever done is fuck bitches and kick ‘em aside. So would it be weird for you to ask one on a date? Yeah, it’d be weird. Why? ‘Cause you don’t ask bitches on dates.”

  “Okay,” I said with a nod. “Is that the only reason?”

  “Yeah. What else would there be?”

  I shrugged. “Age difference. Her mom. That kind of stuff. And just, the whole deal with, you know, what happened.”

  “She’s what? You said 21, right?”

  I nodded.

  He shook his head. “She’s 21, you’re 30. Who fucking cares.”

  “31.”

  “Like I said. Who fucking cares. Then, the mom? You don’t owe that bitch nothing. You looking to hook up with her, too?”

  “Nope.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am now.”