HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  I realized he didn’t know the entire truth about his father’s heart. I forced a smile, and wondered if he could tell the difference. “That’d be nice.”

  We sat there for a moment in awkward silence, and I reached for my drink. After taking a sip of the sweet concoction, I met his blank stare.

  “My father left when I was young. I think being around yours makes me wonder what things would have been like, if, you know. If he hadn’t left.”

  I hadn’t planned on saying it, but somehow it just slipped out. Typically, I didn’t talk about such things, especially with people I really didn’t know or trust. For whatever reason, though, it happened.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Lot of the fellas only have one parent, and I’ve always been kind of glad I’ve got two. Couldn’t imagine it any other way.”

  I smiled and nodded, feeling curiously more empty than before. “Your mother’s nice, too. I met her over the weekend. I know now why he needs someone to care for him seven day a week. She’s pretty fragile.”

  “Yeah, tough for her to move him from the recliner to the wheelchair.” He took a sip of his drink. “So, you got a pen?”

  I watched him rake his fingers through his beard as I fumbled blindly for the pen, and wondered what he’d look like without it. At the instant I found it, he kicked his feet onto the chair beside him, locked his hands behind his head, and flexed his biceps.

  Dear. God.

  With my hand still out of his line of sight, I released the pen and dropped it back into my purse.

  “I thought I did, but I don’t. When we’re done, I’ll go inside and ask if they’ve got one I can use.”

  “So, is this your only gig? Watching my pop?”

  “Seven days a week’s pretty much all of them. I’d work more if I could, believe me.”

  He pointed to my purse. “How much you giving me today?”

  I had planned on paying him $1,000, but after taxes were taken out of my first check, I barely had $1,000 left. His having already spent the money to repair the motorcycle made me feel ill.

  “$760. It’s all I can afford right now,” I said. “When I get caught up on a few other things, I might be able to pay a little more.”

  He tilted his head toward the parking lot. “Ever ridden on a bike?”

  I loved riding, and that would never change. Hiding my excitement was impossible. “My old boyfriend had one,” I blurted. “We rode all the time.”

  It came out much easier than I expected. I hoped he didn’t try and pry more from me about the boyfriend, or the relationship.

  “Crotch rocket?”

  “No. It was an old Harley Springer.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  “What happened to him?”

  And, just like that, there I was. Forced with the decision to lie, tell the truth, or change the subject.

  “He moved to Pelican Bay.”

  “To Crescent City, you mean? Where the joint is?”

  “No,” I said. “Pelican bay. He’s an inmate there.”

  His eyes went wide. “He’s in Pelican Bay?”

  “Until he dies.”

  “God dayummmm. Didn’t figure you for being around people like that. What’d he do?”

  “That’s between him and God,” I said. “He’s gone, it’s over. Next subject.”

  His face went sullen. After a moment, he grinned a very shallow grin. “You go for a ride with me?”

  I was surprised he asked. As much as I enjoyed riding on motorcycles, I knew I shouldn’t – and probably wouldn’t – agree to do so with him.

  I looked at my drink. It was empty. I glanced up. “Why?”

  “Just for fun.”

  “A fun ride? They’re like unicorns. They don’t exist. Remember, I used to date a biker. He wasn’t in a club, but he was hard core. No butt, no putt. Ever heard that one?”

  He grinned. “Maybe.”

  “Gas, grass, or ass. Nobody rides for free?”

  He rubbed his beard. “Might have heard that one, too.”

  I glanced at the trash can that was sitting beside the front door, and then at him. I took another sip through the straw and got nothing. I stood. “I’m not sucking your dick.”

  “God damn. Where’d that come from?”

  “You’re not giving me a ride for any other reason than you think it’ll help you get in my pants. But. I can tell you now, that’s not going to happen. Nobody’s losing their pants, pal.”

  I walked to the trash can, tossed in the cup, and returned to the table. “Maybe it’d be best if I just got a pen, and we called it a night. It’s going to be dark soon, anyway.”

  He tossed his head toward the parking lot. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  “I almost forgot. A fun ride.” I knew myself all too well. I shook my head. “Bad idea.”

  “You go for a ride, and I’ll only make you pay two grand for the bike repairs.”

  My eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Seriously? Why?”

  “I’m getting a deal on the repairs. One of my club brothers is saving me a little money.”

  “$1,500 isn’t a little money,” I said. “You’re serious? Only $2,000?”

  He nodded. “You go for a ride, you’ll only owe me two grand.”

  It seemed too good to be true. A no strings attached ride on a Harley, and I saved $1,500. NSA Harley rides were infrequent, if they were at all. But, there was the paperwork. Still looking for an out, but not looking hard, I gave my last excuse. “I’ll have to change the paperwork.”

  He shrugged. “Change the fuckin’ paperwork, then. Pay me tomorrow.”

  “You understand you’re getting nothing from me? I mean it. You think I was the B-word on the porch that day? You try anything, and I mean anything, and I’ll make you wish you got attacked by a spider monkey.”

  He smiled a dangerous tooth-revealing smile. “It’s just a ride.”

  His teeth were stark white, and I liked that. I tried not to smile. “Got another helmet?”

  “In the saddlebag.”

  I picked up the papers, put them in the envelope, and dropped them in my purse. There was no in between with bikers. My choice to go for a ride was either going to be a really good decision or a really bad one.

  The only way I was going to find out was to get on the bike.

  So, that’s what I did.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Pee Bee

  I stood with my arms folded in front of my chest and glanced around the shop. The fellas were all in attendance and everyone’s eyes were on Crip. I shifted my eyes to the back of Lefty’s kutte and drifted off to thoughts of Tegan’s soft tits against my back.

  Initially, all I wanted to do was cause her to go through the same pain I went through. In my mind, butt-fucking her was the answer. Now, she had me intrigued. Or something.

  She was very forthright about what she thought and how she felt, but on the other hand, was secretive and brief in some of her responses. The missing bits and pieces of information was enough to keep me wondering about who she truly was – and about her past.

  It was the first time I could think of that I wanted to know more about a woman. There was no denying that I wanted to fuck her, but there was more to it than that. For one, her biker ex-boyfriend doing life in Pelican Bay had me intrigued.

  “You fall asleep, Peeb?” Crip asked. The tone of his voice as he said my name brought me out of my daze.

  I rubbed my index finger across my eye and looked up. “Huh?”

  “Having a fucking meeting here, and it looked like you faded off on us. You need a nap? Want a blanket? I think there’s some animal crackers in the cupboard above the grinder. You can go lay down in the wash bay if you want to and nibble your fuckin’ snacks.”

  Everyone laughed. Well, everyone except me.

  Asshole.

  I shook my head. “I’m good.”

  “You find this boring?”

  “Nope.”

&nb
sp; He glared at me. “Think you could pay fucking attention? Is that too much to fucking ask?”

  “I’m paying fuckin’ attention.”

  “To Lefty’s ass, maybe. See if you can stay awake.”

  “Wide awake, Boss.”

  He crossed his arms. “What was I talking about?”

  I waved my hand in his direction. “I’m listening.”

  His glare continued. “What was I talking about?”

  Crip and I were best friends, but often, and especially in front of the entire club, he put me on the spot. Every time he did it, it pissed me off.

  “The Goblins bar fight.”

  “Gremlins,” he said. “And then what?”

  Half of the fellas glanced over their shoulders and looked at me. I felt like I was in kindergarten again, and Crip was Mrs. Kutler.

  I clenched my jaw and locked eyes with him. “You said we should keep an eye out for any of those fuckers wearing new kuttes.”

  “And then what?”

  I shrugged. As far as I could remember, that was it. “That was it. At the first, you talked about the run up to Palm Springs. Before that was finances, and that bores everybody, Boss.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Pay fucking attention. I’ll back up.”

  He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, the Savages aren’t threatening us, but they are a threat. If you bump into more than two Savages on the road, and you’re alone, keep your head on a swivel. Beat feet to Pete’s bar or back here, they won’t bother following you into either of those places.”

  “After that, Peeb, I said I was going to look over Pete’s surveillance videos and see if there are any good images of those dipshits that were in there the other night. If there is, I’ll print them and bring ‘em in. I’ll post ‘em up on the poker run board. One of ‘em kicked over the Sporty Peeb was riding, so if you recognize any of ‘em, speak up. Next was…”

  He locked eyes with me. I returned a bug-eyed stare.

  “The club needs to grow. We’ll never open our books to prospects, but if you know someone who’d make a good prospect, invite ‘em to a poker run, or to a barbeque. Let ‘em hang around and see how they react. If it looks like they’d make us a good Fucker, and only if they’d live up to our standards, vouch for ‘em. We need size. I want to keep this club as tight knit as it is now, don’t get me wrong. But, I want the southern half of this state to become an FFMC territory.” He looked at each of the men. “One that makes the asshole of any other patch-wearing club member pucker when he rides through here.”

  Half the men raised their clenched fists in agreement. The rest either shouted or hoisted their bottles of beer.

  I wasn’t impressed.

  I liked the club just the way it was. Along with size, came uncertainty. With uncertainty, came risk.

  I didn’t like taking risks.

  “That’s all I’ve got, fellas. Any questions?”

  “Got a cousin in Palm Springs,” Lefty said. “Like to stay up there for a few days. If I ride up and don’t ride back, we still good?”

  “We are now,” Crip said with a nod. “No sense in you riding back here, and then heading right back up there to see your cousin.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Remember any of them Gremlins fuckers names?” Stretch asked.

  “Funny thing. The front of their kuttes didn’t have region, road name, rank, in memory of, nothing. My guess is they were a bunch of wannabes, and that’ll be the last we hear of ‘em.”

  Stretch nodded. “Just wondering.”

  “Anyone else?”

  No one said a word.

  “Meeting adjourned,” Crip said. “Help yourself to a beer, courtesy of Shocker. Peeb, come here for a minute.”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  It wasn’t enough that he’d embarrassed me in front of the men, now he was going to chew me out in private. At times it felt like he thought he was raising me. I had one asshole father, I didn’t need two.

  I stepped to his side. “What?”

  “Lose the attitude, asshole.”

  “You didn’t have to fuck with me in front of the fellas, Crip,” I complained. “Seems like you just like doing it sometimes.”

  “How long you been in the club, princess?”

  I glared at him. “See? That was un-fucking-necessary.”

  “How long?” he growled.

  He knew the answer. It seemed foolish to respond, but Crip wasn’t one to argue with.

  “Since the beginning.”

  “Tonight the first time I fucked with you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Won’t be the last, either,” he said. “You notice that there’s a pattern?”

  “The fuck you talking about?”

  “You do dumb shit, I call you on the spot. You do dumb shit, I call you on the spot. That’s what’s commonly referred to as a pattern. You notice the continuation of said pattern tonight?”

  “Wasn’t doing anything tonight, motherfucker. That night I wandered off in the bar after the big-titted chick while you was talking? Sure. And on the poker run a few months back, when I kept talking to Cholo while you was giving that speech on get-back whips? Yeah. Tonight?” I shook my head. “Sorry. Nope. Don’t see it.”

  “You fell asleep.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You had no idea what I was talking about.”

  He was obviously right. But I wasn’t asleep. “I got distracted.”

  “As hard as it may be to believe, the men look up to you, Peeb. If they see you dicking off, they’ll think whatever I’m talking about isn’t worth fucking listening to. If you’re paying attention, they’ll pay attention. Make sense?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah.”

  “You disagree?”

  “No, but it doesn’t mean I want to be talked to like I’m some punk kid. I was fucking thinking about some shit.”

  “Something I need to know about?”

  I didn’t dare tell him I was thinking about a bitch while he was talking. He’d have my ass, for sure.

  “Just my pop. Worried about him, that’s all.”

  “Understandable.” He patted me on the shoulder. “How’s he doing?”

  “Good. Just worried about him.”

  “How’s your bike-wrecking nurse? She doing a good job with him?”

  “She’s alright.”

  He nodded, and then looked away.

  “Wanna hear something crazy?” I asked.

  He glanced around the shop, and then looked at me and grinned. “I can’t wait.”

  “Her ex was a biker. He’s doing life at Pelican Bay.”

  “You’re shittin’ me? Pelican fucking Bay? God damn, that’s a shitty fucking joint. What the fuck did he do?”

  I shrugged. “She wouldn’t say. Said it was between him and God, and it was none of my business.”

  “Tight-lipped bitch, huh?”

  “About some things. She’s kind of like you about others.”

  He scowled at me. “What the fuck’s that mean?”

  “She tight-lipped about some shit, and then she’s real mouthy about other stuff. She talks shit to me half the time, just like you.”

  “If her ex old man’s in Pelican Bay doing life, my guess is you’re not going to be able to bullshit her, Brother. She’ll see right through it. She probably talks shit when you start fucking with her, huh?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Maybe don’t be such a prick around her, and she’ll tell ya.”

  He had a good point. Her mouthy comments and snide attitude were always a result of me acting like a dick. I wondered what she might act like if I wasn’t a dick, and how much different things would be.

  Now, even more so than I had before, I wondered about her ex, and why he was in a place reserved for the worst of the state’s most notorious criminals.

  “Was he patched with any club?” Crip asked.

  “Sai
d he was an independent.”

  “She from here?”

  “Not sure. I think so.”

  “Wonder who that fucker is?” he said. “Or was.”

  “Hard saying.”

  “If you find out, let me know.” He slapped my bicep with his open hand, and then squeezed it. “And tell your pop I sent my well wishes.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Tegan

  I swallowed my food and wiped my mouth. “I don’t know if I like this game.”

  Bradley looked at me and laughed. “It’s not a game, it’s called being human. Abstract thinking and our ability to communicate are a few of the things that separate us from animals. Answer the question.”

  “But this stuff’s personal.”

  He pushed his plate to the side. “Personal?” He let out a long laugh. “Excluding my mother, you’re the only person who’s wiped my ass. Except for me, of course. And, you and one other woman have seen my cock. That’s it. So, we’re connected on a weird personal level. Answer the question.”

  I thought what he said was adorable. Adorable, but unbelievable. “Only two?”

  “My cock?”

  “Yeah. That.”

  He leaned forward. “Back when I was a kid, we didn’t have cell phones. We didn’t take fuckin’ selfies or post shit on Facebook. There wasn’t a Twitter and we couldn’t find new recipes on Pinterest. Hell, we didn’t even have computers. Needless to say, we didn’t text people pictures of our dicks, tits, or whatever we were fuckin’ eating for lunch. I met Deann, and I fell in love. There wasn’t much need – or opportunity – to show anyone else my cock.”

  I started laughing.

  He looked at me and grinned. “You going to tell me you’ve never received a picture of someone’s dick on your phone? Remember, I raised the circus clown.”

  I caught my breath and shook my head. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

  “Good looking girl like you? Hell, you’ve probably seen more dicks unwillingly than Marilyn Monroe saw on purpose.”

  I laughed again. “Probably.”

  “Imagine what it’d be like if you’d only seen one,” he said. “Or none. Or if the first one you saw was the guy you married.”

  “Kind of cool thinking about it, really.”