Filthy F*ckers: The Complete Series Box Set

by Hildreth, Scott

She straightened her stance, glanced over her right shoulder, and then shook her head. “I’m not easily embarrassed.”

  “Remember, you asked,” he said.

  She leaned over the edge of the counter, widened her eyes, and grinned.

  P-Nut leaned forward, rested his elbows on the edge of the glass display, and locked eyes with her. “You’re not married, but you’re in a relationship you’re not committed to. Sexually speaking, he doesn’t satisfy you. You want him to take possession of you in the bedroom, but you’re afraid to tell him. There’s a long list of things you want him to do, and he hasn’t so much as tried one. In fact, none of your boyfriends have. Not really. You go from relationship to relationship, not because you’re not committed, but because things just don’t work out. Each time, you become more sexually frustrated, and you tell yourself the next time will be different. But it’s not. Eventually the man breaks up with you because of some bullshit excuse, and you leave convinced it’s your fault. Well, Jennis, I’ve got news for you. It’s not your fault. You just need to find the right man.”

  He took a step back, folded his arms across his chest, and grinned. “How’d I do?”

  She didn’t have to respond, her face already had. P-Nut may not have hit the nail on the head, but he sure swung the hammer in the right direction.

  And, he was right in his initial statement.

  Her face and her hair were the same color.

  She fanned her face with her hand. “It just got really hot in here.”

  “Give me your panties,” P-Nut said flatly.

  She gasped. “Pardon...” She cleared her throat. “Pardon me?”

  “Your panties,” P-Nut whispered. “Give ‘em to me.”

  “I can’t--”

  “You damned sure can. Reach up in your skirt and peel them off that little wet pussy of yours, and hand em to me.”

  She sucked a breath. “I’ll be…I’d be fired.”

  “But you want to do it, don’t you?”

  She swallowed hard, and then nodded lightly.

  He tilted his head toward her crotch. “Give ‘em to me.”

  She looked flustered. After shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she looked at me. “Did you say you wanted the ring?”

  I looked at Nut and let out a sigh of frustration. “I do.”

  “It’s $6,900.”

  I shrugged. “That’s fine.”

  I handed her the ring and my credit card.

  She looked at Nut, held his gaze for a moment, and then walked away ever so gracefully.

  I turned toward him and shook my head. “I told you when we came in here to act civil.”

  “Did not.”

  “I did too.”

  “Did not.”

  “Damn it, Nut I said--”

  “You said act accordingly,” he said. “And, I am. According to the fact she’s a sexy red-headed bitch. Red-heads are freaks.”

  “Where do you come up with this shit? What the fuck, Nut? Give me your panties? Jesus H. Christ. You can’t tell the Tiffany’s clerk to give you her panties.”

  He crossed his arms and gave me a nod. “Damned sure can. I just did.”

  P-Nut was an odd individual. Uncommitted and promiscuous as hell, he went from woman to woman, never once settling down. He differed from me in the respect that he’d often have girlfriends, but he could never find anyone courageous enough to stick with him for very long.

  His sexual kinks proved to be too much for everyone he’d met to date.

  And, he’d met many.

  Coming from the far side of the store, Jennis sashayed past P-Nut, lightly brushing him as she walked past, and then handed me a bag. “The receipt’s in the bag, and here’s your card.”

  She handed me my credit card and then shook my hand. “It was a pleasure,” she said. “I hope that she enjoys the ring for a lifetime.”

  She turned toward P-Nut and gave a crisp nod. “Thank you, gentlemen, for stopping in.”

  He returned her nod and turned toward the door.

  Without another word, or any additional expressed interest on P-Nut’s part, we left. A few feet from the entrance, he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Gimme her panties,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Bet she put ‘em in the bag.”

  I glanced at the bag. Stuffed with light blue decorative tissue paper, it was impossible to see what was inside.

  I paused, lifted the tissues from the bag, and shook my head. Inside the slightly oversized bag was a small blue box tied with a white silk ribbon. Beside the box, a folded pair of maroon panties with black lace.

  “I’ll be damned,” I said.

  “They’re in there, ain’t they?”

  “Here.” I handed him the bag. “You can get ‘em out.”

  He pulled out the panties, shoved them in his front pocket, and then reached inside the bag again. He handed me the bag and held up a business card. “And, lookie what we have here. Wrote her phone number on it and everything.”

  “Fuckin’ weirdo,” I said.

  “Weirdo who’s gonna dislocate that skinny bitch’s hips.”

  “Let me know how that high maintenance bitch works out for you, Nut.”

  Her pulled the panties from his front pocket and admired them. “Will do, Smoke.”

  As we walked toward the parking garage, I expressed my genuine concerns. “Not looking forward to Eddie dating.”

  He shoved the panties inside his kutte. “Me neither. You doin’ the interviews, we doin’ em, or you just gonna let me screen the kids and tell you who qualifies?”

  I chuckled. “I’ll do it.”

  “Need any help?”

  “I sure hope not.”

  I had no idea how many people were going to want to take Eddie on dates, but I knew one thing: whoever wanted to was going to have to go through me first.

  And I wasn’t an easy man to impress.

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four

  Sandy

  I pointed at the corner of the freezer. “Give me two scoops of the cookie dough with a waffle cone, please.”

  The clerk, who resembled a clean-cut college football player, gave a grin. “Yes ma’am.”

  I glanced at Craig. “He wants me to meet his daughter. Good idea?”

  Without looking up from the various tubs of ice cream in the case, he responded. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to.”

  “Wait!” I shouted as he was taking the second scoop of ice cream. “One cookie dough and one bubble gum.”

  He looked up. “Are you sure?”

  I sighed. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Are you pregnant and sure?”

  I shrugged. “For now.”

  He tossed the scoop aside, got a new one and finished my cone. As he handed it to me, he looked at Craig. “What can I get you?”

  “Single scoop, waffle cone, butter pecan, please.”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “I should have got butter pecan.”

  The clerk looked at me and then at Craig. “She’s going to be fun to be around, huh?”

  “Oh, it’s not mine,” Craig said. “We’re just friends.”

  “Oh.”

  I paid for the ice cream, and we sat down at a high-top table. “I’m nervous.”

  He took a bite of his ice cream. “About the daughter?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Just be yourself,” he said. “If you’re you, she’ll love you.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  He took another bite. “So, are you ready for the move in?”

  I shrugged. “I think so. I don’t know. I mean, not really, but kind of.”

  “Indecisive much?”

  I looked up from my cone. “What do you mean?”

  “Yes, no, maybe.” He held his cone to the side and shook his head. “Make a decision, Sandy. Life works much better when you commit yourself. When you don’t, your heart’s not in
it. And, when your heart’s not in it, you’ll fail. Every time.”

  “Oh. So, if I tell myself I’m ready to do this, it’ll work out just fine?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

  “No. You can’t just tell yourself. You’ve got to commit.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Believe? I think that’s the first step. Believing it’s what you want.” He took a bite of his cone and then looked at me. “I’m moving in with Mr. Biker, and I’m so ready for this. Whatever it takes to make this work, I’m prepared to do. I will not accept failure. You say that, and you mean it.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  He munched about one-third of his cone, and then nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “I do want it to work, I just have my doubts that it will.”

  He took a few more bites of the cone and then shook his head. “With an attitude like that, it won’t.”

  “Won’t what?”

  He poked the end of the cone in his mouth, chewed it, then swallowed. “Work out. If you’re sitting here doubting it, you’re setting yourself up for a failure. You’re destined to fail before you ever start.”

  Ice cream ran down the cone and onto my hand. I grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

  “Just because every other guy you’ve been with is a douche, it doesn’t mean this guy is.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin, and then turned to the side. “Good?”

  I nodded.

  He looked the other direction.

  I nodded. “You’re good.”

  “Give him a chance,” he said. “Since he asked you to move in, has he done anything stupid?”

  “No.”

  He wadded up the napkin and placed it in the center of the table. “He’s probably committed himself to this.”

  “You think?”

  “I hope so.”

  “But you don’t know?”

  He let out a sigh. “Assume he has until he does or says something to convince you otherwise. If he is committed, I’m sure you’ll see subtle differences in how he acts. Little signs. He may become possessive of you. If he does, it’s a good sign.”

  I nodded slowly as I thought about what he said. “Are you ready?”

  “You’re not going to eat your cone?” he asked.

  I scrunched my nose. “It’s gross.”

  He scooped the trash from the table, stood, and then reached for my cone. “Commit yourself, and assume he’s done the same. You’ll know pretty soon if he’s committed.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s an alpha. Guys like him are possessive. He’ll show you in no time if he’s committed.”

  I’d never had a guy be possessive of me, and wondered just how I’d react if Smokey ended up being so. As Craig threw away the cone, I decided I’d just have to wait and see what the future held.

  “I hope when he does that I can see it,” I said.

  “He’s a tattooed biker that rides with who? The Filthy Fuckers?” He chuckled. “You’ll see it.”

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five

  Smokey

  The last few days had been a whirlwind of happenings. With my mind elsewhere, Eddie’s birthday crept up on me like a sickness. We had our typical small gathering to celebrate the event, and my stomach was in knots the entire time. As she opened her gifts, my mind filled with visions of installing a revolving door for the boys who were going to come ask permission to take her on out on dates.

  Wearing a silver and pink cardboard cone birthday hat he brought himself, P-Nut pushed a neatly-wrapped present across the table. “Do this one first.”

  She looked at his hat, rolled her eyes, and accepted the gift. After a good shake, she looked at him again. “Why this one?”

  “Don’t shake the motherfucker, Eddie!” His eyes widened comically as he adjusted his hat. “You’ll kill it.”

  She looked at Nut and cocked her eyebrow. “Do we cuss in the house, P-Nut?”

  He lowered his head, feigning shame. “Sorry, Ed. I got excited.”

  She shook the box lightly. “It’s alive?”

  His eyebrows slowly raised. “It was when I brought it through the door. Doubt it still is, though. Not after all that. Their little bones are brittle.”

  She lifted the small box repeatedly, as if trying to guess the weight. “What is it?”

  “Reptile,” he said flatly.

  “It better not be a snake,” I said. “I mean it.”

  There was one thing in earth I feared, and a snake was it. It didn’t matter if they were six inches long or six feet long, in my mind they were equally threatening. I’d rather be tortured to death than have a snake within ten feet of me.

  The mere thought of coming in contact with one gave me hives.

  “You shouldn’t be afraid of them,” Eddie said. “Snakes are cool. Mr. Freeman has one in class. I get to feed it goldfish.”

  A shiver ran the length of my spine. The thought of her getting close to a snake made me feel ill.

  “Snakes are…” I shook my head. “They’re the most vile creatures on earth. If there’s one thing that shouldn’t exist, a snake is it. I fucking hate ‘em.”

  She looked right at me and raised her eyebrows. “If it’s a gift, I have to keep it.”

  I tilted my head toward the door. “Outside, maybe.” I lifted my weight from the seat and nodded toward the box. “Open it.”

  With me prepared to take off running, she cautiously unwrapped it, revealing a box that had been taped shut with an insane amount of clear packing tape. Several round holes were poked through every side of the box that I could see.

  I looked at Nut. His tattoo-covered arms didn’t mesh well with his pink birthday hat. I shook my head. “I meant what I said. If that’s a snake, you freaking weirdo--”

  “I hope it is,” Eddie chimed. “Face your fears, isn’t that what you tell me?” She held out her hand. “Give me your knife, please.”

  She was right. I did tell her that, and did so often. I handed her my knife. Before I had a chance to speak, she beat me to it.

  “Be careful,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “It’s sharp.”

  She carefully cut around the top of the box, set the knife aside, and then tilted the top back and peered inside.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Her eyes slowly widened.

  I pushed myself away from the table. “What is it?”

  With reluctance, she reached inside with her index finger and thumb. After what appeared to be a slight struggle, she pulled a snake from the box and flipped it across the table.

  I jumped from my seat and screamed. “God damn it!” With a racing heart, I took several quick steps toward the living room and shot P-Nut a glare. “You crazy prick.”

  While they shared a hearty laugh, I took a glance at the table. The snake was sedentary. Sickeningly so.

  I studied it.

  Rubber.

  “It’s fake?” I asked hopefully. “Rubber?”

  P-Nut struggled to catch his breath. “Yeah.” He glanced at Ed, chuckled, and then looked at me. “You don’t think I’d bring a real snake in this house, do you?”

  My heart was still in my throat. I inhaled a long breath, exhaled, and took another look at the rubber snake. “Hard to say, Nut.”

  He pointed to the box. “Something else in there. In the bottom.”

  Eddie peered into the box. She reached in, pulled out a photo, and studied it. “What’s this?”

  “What the fu--” He cocked an eyebrow and nodded toward what she held. “What’s it look like?”

  “Volkswagen.”

  “Beetle,” P-Nut said. “Or Bug. They call ‘em both.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What’s it for?”

  “Pin it up on your wall.” He shrugged. “Or take it to school and show your friends, hell, I don’t know.”

  I reached for the picture. “What is it? A picture of a Volkswagen?”

>   She handed me the picture. It was a photo of an old-school Volkswagen Beetle in remarkable condition. The picture was taken beside his beloved Old-School Harley, obviously taken in P-Nut’s driveway.

  I wrinkled my nose and looked at Nut.

  “Engine’s locked up, but other than that, it’s perfect. Old lady in Encinitas had it. Took me four hours and half a pot of coffee talk her into selling it. Figured by the time you were old enough to drive it, you and your dad could pull the motor and rebuild it. Fits your personality.”

  She gasped. “It’s mine? Like, that’s my car?”

  P-Nut nodded.

  She jumped from her chair and opened her arms. “I love you, P-Nut. Thank you.”

  He stood and gave her a hug. “Love you too, Ed.”

  I shook my head and swallowed pridefully. P-Nut was a great friend to me, and somewhat of an uncle to Eddie, but he was also her friend.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “You bought her a car?”

  He nodded. “Volkswagen.”

  “I saw the picture,” I said. “She can’t drive for another year.”

  He shrugged. “We can get it towed over here, and you’ll have a year to get the motor fixed.” He motioned toward the box. “There’s a Best Buy gift card in there, too. Go pick out a stereo for it. Got to have tunes if you’re going to roll in style.”

  Eddie hugged P-Nut again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Did you wear that little hat?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “When you went to talk to the old lady. Did you wear that goofy little hat?”

  He reached for the hat. “No, I got this fucker at the Wal Mart on my way here. You know, that place is full of a bunch of fucking weirdos, but when a 1%er walks in, he gets all the stares.”

  “They’re not staring at you as a 1%er, Nut. They’re staring at you because you’re weird.”

  “Nobody can tell if I’m weird or normal by lookin’ at me.”

  “You’ve got a tattoo of Goofy on one arm, and Mickey Mouse on the other. It’s pretty clear.”

  He looked at his forearm. “It’s Pluto. Pluto. Pluto. How many times I told you that?”

  “Pluto. Goofy. What’s the difference?”

  “Pluto’s a dog with a collar. Goofy wears boots and clothes and shit. Big difference.”