HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  I sat back, placed the lid onto the tube of glue, and admired my handiwork.

  He chuckled as he looked down at his knuckles. “A regular Florence fucking Nightingale.”

  “Yep. Now all I need is for you to get the syndrome or whatever,” I said as I handed him the tube.

  He shifted his gaze from his hand to me. “What syndrome?”

  “The Florence Nightingale syndrome,” I said as I stood.

  “Sit down,” he said.

  “What do you know about that?” he asked as if he were in shock I even knew who Florence Nightingale was.

  I sat lightly on the edge of the couch. “It’s where the caretaker develops a romantic interest for the…”

  “I know what it is,” he snapped.

  Well, if you’ve read all of those books in the back room, I’m sure you do.

  He studied his hand for a long moment and then glanced up and broke the silence. “I don’t like sleeping in my bed if I’m dirty.”

  I gazed his direction and attempted to keep my face free of expression, “Okay.”

  He continued to stare at his hand. “So we’re both going to need to shower. You’ll be staying here tonight.”

  Sweet Jesus.

  Thank you Lord.

  I looked down and began to pick at my cuticles. I had no intention of allowing him to see my face.

  “Okay.” The word barely escaped my dry lips.

  “So we can shower together or separate, but I’m exhausted,” he said as he stood.

  I glanced up and spoke almost apologetically. “Whatever makes you more comfortable.”

  “Look, don’t think for one minute you’re the first woman I’ve seen naked. People don’t make me uncomfortable. If you’re fine seeing my scars, come on,” he said as he turned away.

  I attempted to hide my excitement as I followed him to the bathroom. On this night I watched Axton beat a man half to death for attempting to claim me, learned he trusted me enough to allow me to tend to his wounds, came to his home for the first time, and now prepared to shower with him and stay all night.

  Progress.

  Axton and I were making progress.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  AVERY

  With my head on Axton’s chest, I waited quietly for him to fall asleep. As his breathing shifted to a soft effortless pattern, I relaxed and inhaled the scent of his soap on my skin. The first time I saw him naked was in the shower, and we didn’t even have sex. Seeing his naked body and not greedily attacking him was not an easy feat, but it was a necessary one. It was crucial that the relationship proceeded at Axton’s pace, not mine. Most women would be frustrated or disappointed with the return on their investment with Axton. I, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled with what I had received from him. Dressed in one of his wife beaters and a pair of his extra-large sweat pants, the only thing absent was the low, scratchy rumble of his voice to comfort me.

  I stared at the ceiling and attempted to count the times I had ridden on his motorcycle.

  When we rode to the park and he asked me if I spoke Spanish. To eat in Wichita at the noodle place. Pizza downtown. When he dropped me off at work and went to make a deal. The ride home later. The other time he took me to work, and waited while I worked a two-hour shift because Lori’s fat ass was sick. To eat noodles again. To the coffee place in Riverside the first time. Down to the spot by the bridge where the big tree is. Riverside coffee shop again.

  I started to fade in and out of sleep, and I wasn’t a third of the way done. I began counting again at the most recent, and started working backward. There were too many to count.

  To his house. To the barbeque. To get new shorts before the barbeque. The night we just went to relax. Graduation day back from Benton. To Benton. God, riding with all those bikes was so cool. When we rolled up to the restaurant at the airport, it sounded like a hurricane. Everyone turned and looked. It was so cool to be a part of that. When we walked into the bar, I was so proud to be with him.

  When we left with the other group of bikers, God it felt so powerful. More than twenty of us, side-by-side at eighty miles an hour, following the curves together, staying a foot or so apart. It looked like a work of art as we flowed down the highway.

  He said slim and not at all the day we met. Before long this summer will be over, and I’ll have been on his bike the entire time.

  Pretty God damned slim, and not at all.

  Ha.

  Progress.

  Axton might be a big, mean, complex person, but to me, he’s Axton. I wouldn’t change anything about him, even if I had the chance.

  What do I like about him the most?

  Let me think...

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  AXTON

  It had been almost twenty years since I had seen a woman wake up in my bed. I stood in the doorway sipping coffee as I watched Avery slowly migrate from sleeping soundly to waking up. She shifted in the bed, closed her eyes tightly as she realized the sun was up, and yanked the comforter over her head.

  “Are you going to wake up? It’s almost eight o’clock,” I said over the top of my cup of coffee.

  She pulled the comforter down to her chest and blinked her eyes a few times. “Was that you grinding coffee beans at like six thirty?”

  I nodded my head and took a sip of coffee. “Already worked out, showered, and made coffee. I’m ready to eat. What do you normally eat for breakfast?”

  “What time is it again?” she groaned.

  “It’s ten before eight. I was going to make a bagel and cream cheese. Maybe some bacon if you want it. I eat a light breakfast,” I explained.

  “I don’t eat pork. Uhhm, a bagel sounds good. A bagel and coffee,” she said as she sat up in bed.

  “Muslim?” I chuckled.

  She shook her head and grinned. “No, pork’s slippery and gross. I don’t eat bacon because it’s bouncy.”

  “Alright, no bacon coming right up. Well, I’ll get a bagel toasted for you. Coffee’s ready,” I said as I turned toward the living room.

  Avery was a very beautiful woman. Any fool could see it. What a man wasn’t capable of seeing made her even more attractive. There was no doubt she was extremely intelligent, but she was also very perceptive. I’ve never been one to explain to someone what I expect of them or what I would like to see them change in their life. People are who they are and it certainly wasn’t my place to be critical of them. I’ve always believed by the time we reach twenty-five years old, we are formed into the person we will live the rest of our lives as. Avery’s age and lack of experience in living life allowed her to continue to learn from being exposed to her surroundings and make adjustments as she saw fit.

  Her perceptive nature caused her to naturally pay attention to what my likes and dislikes were, and make modifications to how she acted and reacted in an effort to please me. The end result was her transformation into what I expected would be one of the best little Ol’ Ladies a man could ever ask for. Whether or not she was the woman I needed to spend my days with had yet to be decided.

  I dropped two bagels into the toaster, grabbed the cream cheese from the refrigerator, and two plates from the cabinet. As I was pouring Avery’s coffee, my phone beeped, indicating I had received a text message. Typically, I didn’t do a tremendous amount of texting or talking on the phone. To separate the text messages of the club from the text messages of customers, I had assigned different people different text tones. The tone of the chime on my phone was assigned to only one person.

  El Pelón.

  I sighed and reached for my phone.

  It’s one of your own. Meet me in an hour at Cortez. Come alone.

  My heart rose into my throat. I snapped the rubber band against my wrist a few times. Meeting at Cortez made me a little nervous. A joint known for violence, gang torture, and importation of illegal aliens, it wasn’t a place where I would ever be comfortable. Knowing I’d be the only non-Spanish speaking person there made me even more uncomfortab
le. I wondered if the entire thing was a set-up. He said it was one of my own. My mind began to race, wondering who it may be, and the amount of value I would place on the information El Pelón provided me. To think of one of my brothers betraying the club was impossible. As I snapped the rubber band again, I looked up at the sound of Avery’s footsteps.

  “So, no bacon?” Avery asked as she walked into the kitchen.

  I glanced up from my phone nervously, and held my index finger in the air, “I need to send a text.”

  Without speaking, she turned toward the living room, walked to the couch, and sat down. I pressed the keys on the screen, said what little I had to say, and pressed send.

  I’ll be there at 9:00 but I won’t be alone.

  If there were two people I knew I could always trust, they were Toad and Otis. For sheer intimidation purposes, Otis would be my best bet. I scrolled to Otis’ number and pressed call. After ten rings with no answer, I hung up. I scrolled to Toad’s number and pressed call. He answered on the third ring.

  “What’s up?” his deep raspy tone was proof enough he was clearly still half asleep.

  “Need you to roll with me brother. We got to be in Wichita in one hour. Come to my place?” I asked.

  “Gimme twenty, Slice. Shit, I’m still in bed, Bro,” he responded.

  I heard Sloan’s voice in the background, asking him who he was speaking to. His response was what I would have expected.

  “Club business.”

  “I’ll be here,” I responded.

  I hung up and tossed the phone across the countertop. “Listen. I’m going to eat this and then I have to run. Club business. You can stay here if you like, I should be back in an hour and a half, maybe two.”

  I reached for the toaster, pulled the bagels, and dropped them onto the plates. Avery stood from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Although she looked cute, she seemed somewhat out of place in my sweats and wife beater. I fumbled with trying to spread the cream cheese on the bagel as I watched her walk into the kitchen.

  “You’re a cute little fucker,” I said as her gaze met mine.

  She grinned as she ran her hands through her hair. “Thank you. My hair’s probably a fucking mess. It was still wet when I fell asleep.”

  “Looks great,” I said as I slid the bagel across the counter.

  “You sure it’s okay if I stay here?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t. I trust you,” I responded as I bit into the bagel.

  “I uhhm. I noticed a lot of books in the spare bedroom. Can I read while you’re gone?” she asked as she stirred sugar into her coffee.

  “Knock yourself out, there’s plenty in there to read, that’s for fucking sure. You always wake up looking like that?” I asked as I tilted my bagel toward her.

  “Yeah, nice, huh?” she said in a sarcastic tone.

  She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and hesitated. Her hair was a sculpted mess, as if she’d purposely attempted to make it look as shitty as she possibly could. I didn’t have a mirror in my bedroom, and I didn’t think she’d been into the bathroom yet, so I doubted she knew exactly what she looked like. To me, seeing her wake up looking like she did was all the proof I needed to know she was far more beautiful than ninety-nine percent of all other women who were on this earth. I stood silently with the bagel dangling from my fingertips as I admired her beautiful face and perfectly proportioned body. I lifted the remaining portion of bagel to my mouth and bit into it as she stood and sipped her coffee.

  I gazed at her and snapped the rubber band repeatedly into my wrist as she nibbled around the circumference of the bagel. Standing across from me, unaware of my thoughts, feelings, or what I was about to go do, she looked innocent and beautiful as she gnawed at the toasted bread.

  You are a humble little bitch, aren’t you?

  “You look great, babe,” I responded as I swallowed the bagel.

  Babe?

  Where the fuck did that come from?

  Fuck, Slice, you’re softening up.

  “Thanks. You always look the same. Hot as fuck,” she said over her mouthful of bagel.

  God damn, I wish I didn’t have to leave.

  As she stood beside the kitchen counter eating, I walked past her and into the living room. I couldn’t stand to look at her any longer without making a move. I opened the small cabinet at the end of the sofa and pointed inside.

  “There’s a CD player in here, some CD’s, and an iPod with a playlist on it. It’s wireless to the speakers in the ceiling.”

  She glanced up from her bagel and gazed toward the ceiling. “Cool.”

  The sound of Toad’s bike pulling up reminded me of what I had to do. Getting the information about the robbery was high on my priority list, but the fact it included one of the club’s own men wasn’t what I had hoped for. Although I suppose I knew it was where the investigation was going to point, especially after talking to King, I had secretly hoped for another answer.

  I turned to face Avery, not really knowing what to say.

  “Go. I’ll be fine,” she said.

  As I walked toward the kitchen, she gazed down at her hand and continued to nibble at the small piece of remaining bagel. I reached for my phone, and hesitated; my eyes still fixed on her. With my right hand, I reached toward her face and lifted her chin slightly. As she glanced up, I leaned forward and kissed her lips lightly. As soon as our lips parted, I slid my hand to the back of her head and pulled her into me aggressively. I kissed her passionately, allowing our tongues to intertwine and my thoughts to rush places other than the potential violence which was before me. She dropped the remaining bagel onto the floor and gripped my ass firmly. After a long, impassioned kiss, I broke away, leaned back, and scanned her from head to toe.

  I shook my head in an effort to clear it. “You sure as fuck do. You look great, Avery.”

  “Where the fuck did that come from” she whispered.

  “That’s progress, Avery,” I said as I grabbed my phone and keys.

  She nodded her head and glanced down at the floor at her piece of bagel.

  “Five second rule, better hurry up,” I said.

  “I’ll make another?”

  “Go right ahead. Whatever’s here is all yours. I’ll be back in a few hours,” I said over my shoulder.

  Kissing her just seemed like the right thing to do at the time; and considering where I was going, I didn’t know if I was ever coming back.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  AVERY

  Axton’s kiss caught me completely off guard. I had no idea where he was going or what he had planned to do, but the fact he kissed me before he left led me to believe it wasn’t something he really wanted to do. I walked into the living room wondering if what he had to do might be related to the attempted robbery. Feeling like some music might ease my mind; I fumbled through the CD’s in the cabinet looking for something and not necessarily knowing what. After seeing nothing I recognized, I scrolled through the iPod. Again, nothing I had ever heard of.

  I scrolled up to the top of the list of tunes on the iPod.

  Allman Brothers.

  Never heard of them.

  What the fuck, if he likes it, I better learn to.

  I pressed play.

  A soft organ and mellow guitar started playing. It sounded similar to country, but it was a little more bluesy and upbeat. I closed my eyes and listened to the piano. Eventually, a deep, soft voice began to sing.

  I opened my eyes and pressed play again. After listening to the song a second time, I immediately pressed play one more time, and listened to it a third time. As the song played the third time, it made perfect sense. The song was a story of an outlaw on the run from the law; or whoever it was that was chasing him. Obviously he was on a motorcycle, because he was riding. A man living life one day at a time, running from place to place and from woman to woman; owning no more than what was on his back and in his pocket. In the song, however, he never stops running
. He never reaches a destination or gets away from the man chasing him. The only way he can stay free is to keep from hiding, to continue to run.

  Running is riding.

  In a sense, Axton was the Midnight Rider. Hell, all of the members of the club were. More accurately, most men who rode motorcycles were. Society, in a sense, is doing all of the chasing. To conform to society’s expectations is to be caught. Riding, for me at least, allows me to feel free. I have no doubts Axton feels the same way. Axton calling my car a cage began to make sense.

  I knew the rule, no colors in cages. It made a little more sense after listening to the song. The colors are a symbol of freedom. A cage is the opposite. It’s absolute confinement. They contradict one another.

  I found it strange how music has the ability to change our outlook on certain things. The song caused me to feel enlightened, more understanding, and considerably more appreciative of who Axton was and why he was so passionate about riding. I looked around the house, beginning to feel cramped and confined. I needed a ride, and I needed one soon. It had only been thirty minutes, and I was going stir crazy being locked up in the house.

  I flattened myself out on the couch, pulled a throw over my shoulders, and got lost in the memory of Axton kissing me. As I came to the realization Axton leaving and conducting club business was going to be common, I likened it to how a military wife must feel, knowing her husband was away, risking his life while she knew nothing of what he was doing or whether or not he was safe. A sacrifice, I suppose, to be in a relationship with a man who was unlike most other men.

  A sacrifice I was willing to make.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  AXTON

  We never know who we truly are until we have nothing. Losing everything and recovering from it causes a man to emerge from the tragedy a more understanding, humble, and appreciative soul. After having nothing, a man is appreciative of everything. For those who have everything, the fear of loss causes a select few to react in a manner contrary to what they - or anyone else - believed were their true moral beliefs.