“When Goose wrecked into Ghost on the four-wheeler, it took him what? Six weeks to heal?”
“That’s what they said.” He pulled the chair away from his desk. “Four to six.”
“Guess I’ll have six weeks of peace.”
“God damn it.” He glared at me. “His fucking jaw is broken, Cash.”
“That’s what you said a minute ago. I heard you, Bake. His jaw’s broken. Fractured is what you said. Two places. Six weeks to heal. Nose broken. Yep. heard it all.”
“You stubborn prick.” He sat down. “You don’t regret it at all, do you?”
“Nope. I’d bust him in the jaw again if he did the same shit.”
“Because he was sniffing around the blowjob queen’s house?”
“Because he doesn’t know when to keep his fucking mouth shut. He was talking shit about how he needed to be the muscle for the club. Little cock sucker said the position should go to the toughest man in the club, and that you gave the job to the wrong man. He was showing off for the ladies.” I rubbed the knuckles of my right hand. “So, I shut him down.”
“Goose said you were pissed off because--”
“I don’t give a fuck what Goose said,” I snapped back. “This has been brewing for a long time, and you know it.”
“This wasn’t about who’s the toughest, and we both know it.” His eyes shifted to the far side of the room. A few seconds later, he met my gaze. “You need to forget that little twat. We were in high school, Cash.”
“Right’s right, and wrong’s wrong. I don’t give a fuck how old we were. He was wrong, and he’s never admitted it.”
“She was a whore.”
“It doesn’t matter if she offered him the pussy on a silver platter,” I growled.
“There’s no rule against--”
“You might not post rules up on the clubhouse walls, but we all know what we can and can’t do. We don’t fuck with a gal that one of the other fellas is fucking with. Everyone knows it.” I leaned forward and locked eyes with him. “This is the second time. Next time, I might just cut his throat.”
He shook his head. “Goose said he wasn’t even fucking with your girl. He was dicking with the chick across the--”
“She isn’t my girl, Bake. She’s some chick that sucked my cock. Add her to the list of two hundred other motherfuckers that’ve had my cock in their mouth. It ain’t about that.”
“Well, it sure as fuck wasn’t about which one of you two is the toughest.”
My eyes thinned. “Why do you say that? You think that little prick’s tougher than me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I didn’t say you said it.” I hardened my stare. “I asked you a fuckin’ question.”
“We’ve all got our strengths, Cash.”
“Yep. His is hacking into computers, and mine is kicking motherfucker’s asses.” I arched an eyebrow. “Who’s the toughest?”
“I’d say the two most capable fist-fighters in the club are you and Tito,” he responded. “No doubt.”
“Okay.” I relaxed into my chair and crossed my arms. “Which one’s tougher?”
He rolled his eyes and then looked right at me. “You.”
“Are you saying that because you think I am, or because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
I stood. “Good. Then you can repeat that statement in front of that broken-jawed motherfucker in Wednesday’s meeting. You know, when he brings in the beer for losing that race.”
“I wasn’t done,” he hissed. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“You might not be done.” I said over my shoulder. “But I am. I’m going for a ride.”
Baker was still babbling when I walked through the door, but I didn’t hear a word he was saying.
My mind was on other things.
Things I hadn’t thought about since high school.
FIFTEEN - Kimberly
I had mixed emotions about what happened between Cash and Tito. I didn’t know for certain what drove Cash to do what he did, but I had my doubts that his actions were a direct result of Tito simply showing up at my house.
On the surface, Cash’s reaction seemed extreme. Then, when I considered that he wasn’t overly angry before he hit Tito, and that he acted indifferent about it afterward, it left me to wonder what drove him to act so violently.
Jennifer’s pounding at my door brought me out of my state of deep thought and thrust me back into reality. With reluctance, I set my glass of wine aside and rose to my feet.
The pounding continued.
I cleared my throat. “I’m coming.”
“I’m outta wine,” she shouted. “Open up!”
I pulled the door open. Jennifer was leaning against the side of the house. Her hair looked like a rat’s nest, her feet were bare, and she wasn’t wearing a bra.
She looked at me and then belched. “Got any wine?”
I looked her up and down. “You look like you’ve had enough.”
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
She pushed her way past me and stumbled into the house.
Quite possibly depressed about her cancelled date, and obviously drunk, she looked like baked shit. I gestured toward her bare feet. “Where are your shoes?”
“Who knows,” she murmured. “All I know is that Dolla Bill is a thief.”
She shuffled to the living room and picked up my glass of wine.
“Don’t drink that one, I’ll get you--”
Before I finished speaking, she’d downed the half-full glass of wine and flopped onto the couch.
I lifted the empty glass of wine from her limp grasp and set it on the coffee table. “Why did you say that? About Cash?”
“Because. It’s eight o’clock.”
I waited some time for her to continue, but she didn’t. “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.
“If it wasn’t for him,” she muttered. “I’d be riding Tito’s dick right now. Dolla Bill stole my dick. He’s a thief.”
I sat down across from her. “You don’t know that you’d be riding anything.”
She gazed blankly at me. Inch by inch, her body leaned to the side until she was flat on her back. She gazed up at the ceiling. “You can’t prove that I wouldn’t be.”
I studied her. Her dress was covered in orange handprints. “Your dress is filthy,” I said. “What have you been doing?”
She lifted her head and looked herself over. “Drinking wine.” Upon seeing the neon-colored filth, she brushed her hand against her dress a few times. “And eating Cheetos.”
“You’re covered in orange dust,” I said with a laugh.
She stared to the ceiling. “I ate the whole bag. I was too sad to get a napkin.”
“I’m sure he’s still going to be interested in you when the swelling goes down,” I said reassuringly. “You’ll probably be out with him tomorrow. This weekend for sure.”
She titled her head to the side and gave me a glassy-eyed look. “It’s broken.”
“What’s broken?”
“His jaw.”
“Tito’s?” I gasped. “It’s broken?”
She shifted her focus to the ceiling. “In two places.”
“Oh. Wow. Don’t they have to wire it shut or something?”
“They already did. They’re checking it in two weeks, but it sounds like it’ll be six before they unwire it. He’s on a liquid diet. And, he’s got to carry wire cutters in his pocket just in case he needs to vomit.”
I wrinkled my nose at the thought. “Why would he need to vomit?”
“If he’s as sad as I am, he’ll probably vomit tonight. I’m sure I will sooner or later. I’m devastated. I’m sure he is, too.”
“That really sucks. Cash must have hit him pretty hard.”
She tilted her head to the side. Her eyes caught up with her a few seconds later. “You were standing there. Y
ou saw it,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm. “He knocked him all the way across the driveway.”
“Yeah, he kind of did.”
“Have you heard from Dolla Bill?” she asked.
“Not since they left.”
She obviously had Tito’s phone number, or she couldn’t have found out everything she knew about his condition. I, on the other hand, didn’t have Cash’s number. I found it odd that we hadn’t exchanged numbers, but I didn’t want to overstep boundaries and ask him to do something that made him uncomfortable, either.
She pinched the hem of her dress between her thumb and forefinger and lifted it off her thighs. “I don’t have on any panties.”
I coughed out a laugh. “That’s kind of random.”
She wafted the hem up and down. “I was going to wear this tonight.”
“You were going to wear that? On the motorcycle?”
“If I got my way, we would have never left the house. I was going to lure him inside with the cleavage. We were going to fuck until he was hungry, and then I was going to feed him a pussy sandwich.”
I scrunched my nose. “A pussy sandwich?”
She glared back at me. “You know what I mean.”
“Sounds like you had it all planned out.”
She forced a sigh. “I did until Dolla Bill fucked it up.”
I was reluctant to try having a meaningful conversation with someone who was inebriated, but the drunken woman sitting across from me that was covered in Cheeto dust was my only option.
“Why do you think Cash hit him, anyway?” I asked.
She gave me a crazy-eyed look. “Because he was pissed.”
“I know, but I’m wondering what about?”
“I’m sure it has something to do with drugs or whores. It always does,” she said flatly.
The more I heard her talk of such things, the more I felt that her books were filled with nothing but fabricated lies meant to satisfy the desires of the hordes of women who read them.
“I’m sure it was something other than that.”
“What else could it be?”
I realized reasoning with her was going to be impossible. Becoming increasingly frustrated that she was drunk and impossible to talk to, I gazed blankly at her. The contrast of tan flesh against the side of her black dress caught my attention.
I gestured in her direction. “You’re kind of falling out.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She forced a long, exhaustive sigh. “Nothing matters.”
The sound of a motorcycle’s exhaust caused my heart to rise into my throat. I tried to hide my excitement as I rose to my feet.
Jennifer remained horizontal, seeming impervious to the familiar sound.
“I’m sure it’s Dolla Bill,” she said flatly. “I’ve reached a point I’m about to give up. It’s not worth it.”
I glanced out the window, and then at her. “What’s not worth it?”
She tried to sit up, but only made it part of the way. Resting on one elbow and looking back at me with drunken eyes, she blinked a few times. Then, she shook her head. “Huh?”
The house began to shake. I turned toward the window. The sun had already set, but it wasn’t dark enough to hide the outline of Cash’s face as he pulled into the driveway.
I had questions I wanted answered. Getting rid of Jennifer, however, was going to require a stretcher or a wheelbarrow. Feeling slightly frustrated, I opened the front door just in time to see him lift his long leg over the seat.
He hung his helmet on the handlebars, looked at me, and grinned. “Good Evening.”
The front of his black tee shirt said, Zombies Eat Brains, Don’t Worry, You’re Safe. I laughed to myself and waved at him like he was a passing float in a parade, and then felt foolish for doing so.
I swallowed a lump of nervous energy and grinned. “Hi.”
“Dolla Bill! You’re a thief!” Jennifer screeched.
Oh, Lord.
“Jennifer’s here, and she’s drunk,” I whispered.
His jaw was covered in a five o’ clock shadow. Looking sexy as hell in a pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places, he sauntered up the walk. “What’s she yelling about?”
I sighed. “She’s drunk.”
He stepped onto the porch and looked me over. “You look cute.”
I was wearing an old pair of loose-fitting pants that were printed with polka dots, and an old concert tee I’d cherished since my early years. My hair was pulled into a ponytail and held together with a scrunchy I should have tossed out before Cash was old enough to buy beer.
In short, I looked like shit.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile.
“Fucking thief,” Jennifer muttered.
He peered over my shoulder. “Sounded like she said I was a thief.”
“She might have.”
He chuckled. “Unless she’s got overwhelming evidence, I’ll deny it.”
“She’s got nothing.”
“I heard that. The proof’s between my legs,” she hissed.
He stepped into the house and looked at her. She remained half sitting, half laying, and her left boob was hanging out of the armhole of her dress.
Embarrassed, and embarrassed for her, I tried to decide how to handle the situation.
Cash sat down in the loveseat across from her and acted like he didn’t even notice. “What proof?”
“My unappreciated twat,” Jennifer spat. “If you wouldn’t have punched Tito, I’d be riding his dick right now. You stole my dick.”
He chuckled a dry laugh. “If anyone stole your dick, it was Tito.”
Jennifer sat up. After resituating what portions of her were exposed, she looked at Cash. Her face was smeared with confusion. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“He got what he had coming,” Cash said.
Jennifer tried to stand, but barely lifted her butt off the cushion before giving up. “We want to know why you hit him.”
“I’m a problem solver,” Cash said matter-of-factly. “I hit him because he needed hit.”
“Why?” Jennifer asked. “Why’d he need to be hit?”
I sat across from him on the loveseat, hoping that he would respond truthfully, but doubted my wish would be granted.
Cash glanced at me and then at Jennifer. He crossed his arms. Then, he crossed his ankles. He raked his fingers through his hair.
“You know that feeling you get when you like someone and you’re not quite sure if they like you back?” he asked. “You want to know, but you’re afraid to ask. You know what I’m talking about?”
Jennifer responded “yes” audibly, at the same time I responded “yes” silently.
“Well, I was a sophomore in high school, and that’s how I felt. I’d been crushing on this girl for a long time. She’d come over to my house at night and sneak in my bedroom window. We’d stay up all night talking about things that we didn’t share with anyone else – or so I thought, anyway. At the time I was young and stupid, but I’d lay in bed after she left and think all of that ‘what if’ shit. You know, ‘what if she liked me?’ ‘What if she let me kiss her?’ ‘What if this, what if that.’ Everyone knew how I felt about her. Hell, I talked about this girl day and night. Then, one night, she snuck in my window and started telling me a story about this guy she started fucking and how she was feeling guilty about it. I felt like someone smashed my heart with a fuckin’ sledgehammer. Hell, I couldn’t even breathe. But, I faked it, and acted like it didn’t hurt. I told her not to feel guilty. Of course, I was feeling a little jealous. So, I asked her who it was. After a I gave my word that I wouldn’t react harshly, she told me. Once I found out who it was, it was pretty clear why she was feeling so guilty.”
“Did you and Tito grow up together?” Jennifer asked.
Cash nodded. “We sure did.”
“It was him, wasn’t it?” Jennifer asked.
“Yeah,” Cash said without much emotion. “It sure was.”
&nbs
p; My heart sank. His reluctance to commit to be in a relationship made sense. Not perfect sense, but I understood his fear of commitment a little better.
Jennifer’s eyes shot wide. She stood, steadied herself on the arm of the couch and shook her head in disbelief. “She fucked him?”
“He fucked her,” Cash said in a bitter tone. “More than once.”
“It takes two to willing parties to do the dick dance,” Jennifer said with a thick tongue.
Cash shrugged. “I gave my word to her, so I let it slide. And, once I decide to let something go, it’s gone. So, from then until now, I tried to forget it ever happened. Then, when I saw him over here, I got pissed off. After I found out that he had no idea which one of you lived here, I realized he felt no remorse for doing what he’d done in the past. That’s why I hit him.”
While Jennifer appeared to be absorbing what had been said, Cash rested his forearms against his thighs and gazed blankly toward the kitchen.
I cleared my throat. “I understood all of that except for the last part. Why would it matter which one of us lives here?”
“He knew the woman who lived in this house was off limits,” Cash said.
“Oh.” I swallowed heavily. “How’d he know that?”
“Because I made it clear,” he said.
I felt warm and tingly inside.
Warm, tingly, and smitten.
And. I. Loved. It.
SIXTEEN - Cash
The tremendous amount of horsepower that Ghost had extracted from the five hundred and fifty-seven cubic inch engine was obvious. The rump RUMP rump RUMP rump from the Mustang’s exhaust shook everything that wasn’t bolted down.
He revved the engine once, sending an eardrum-shattering roar throughout the garage. I loved horsepower as much as anyone, but the sheer force belting out of the exhaust was pounding my eardrum deeper into my skull with each rotation of the car’s camshaft.
Ghost sauntered to the driver’s door, reached inside, and shut off the ignition. The hair on my arms continued to crawl for a few seconds afterward, nonetheless.
He pulled earplugs from his ears and shook his head. “That should to do it. With ninety-three octane, this ought to hit the dyno at eight hundred horsepower. Maybe a little more.”
Cash Page 10
