Fabulous!
Jail, here I come!
Did they still have the death penalty in California?
Yes!
Eek!
Chapter 18
Brodie parked the motorcycle in a red zone in front of a fire hydrant. The police cruiser rolled to a stop and double parked behind us, reds and blues flashing.
Brodie didn’t have much choice about parking because the street was narrow and filled on both sides with parallel parked cars. Even though this was a tree-lined suburban neighborhood street, it was still Santa Monica. Eighteen million people and counting in the greater LA area. There was never parking anywhere.
Brodie put his kickstand down and leaned the bike on it.
“Sorry about this,” I muttered. My assumption was Brodie had been speeding. Because of me.
He pulled off his helmet and tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes it was.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He swung his leg over the front of the bike with the grace of an Olympic hurdler or a martial arts master.
“How’d you do that?”
“Practice.” He took my hands and helped me off the back of the bike.
A male officer stepped out of the cruiser wearing the standard black uniform and gun belt. His bulky bulletproof vest puffed out the uniform, making him very intimidating. He jabbered something into the radio clipped to his shoulder before walking up to us. He looked right at Brodie and said, “Sir, do you know why I stopped you?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t,” I said, looking between them. “We weren’t speeding, were we?” It had felt like we were, but what did I know?
“No, you weren’t,” the officer said. “Miss, are you aware that California has a helmet law?”
I was now. And I’d just broken it. Great. For the first time in my life, I consciously played dumb and hoped to hell my luxurious blonde hair would sell it. I said to the officer (as stupidly as possible with my voice rising like a little girl), “There is?”
“There is.”
“Oh, gosh,” I pouted breathlessly. “I’m really sorry, officer. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.” That was true.
Officer Doubtful smirked at me like I was lying.
“Honest. It was my first time. And we were just going a few blocks. See, we live in the same apartment building and we were—” Running away from a guy who tried to rape me before Brodie killed him? I sighed, feeling defeated. Maybe if I showed remorse he’d let us go with a warning or whatever. In a normal voice, I said, “I’m sorry, officer. It was my fault.” About the helmet, not the murder. That was Lester’s fault! He was totally asking for it! He deserves to be dead. “I should’ve known better than to ride without a helmet.”
The officer looked at Brodie, “Do you have a second helmet for your friend?”
“I don’t.”
“Were you aware the helmet law applies to passengers as well as riders?”
“I was,” Brodie said curtly.
The officer’s eyes roamed Brodie’s face for a moment. “Sir, can I see your license and registration?”
Brodie sighed and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Yeah, yeah.” He handed both to the officer.
“Thank you, sir.” The officer turned to me and looked me over again.
Oh no.
He was going to ask for my license too.
I froze with fear.
If he did, I was in big trouble. I didn’t look anything like the picture of plain Jane on my license. He’d probably think I’d stolen my own ID. But it was the only ID I had. What did they do with people who weren’t in the system, because supermodel me didn’t actually exist. There were no driver’s license pictures of me/her, no college graduation photos, no high school pictures, etc., etc. This was bad, bad, bad.
What would happen then? Would they just lock me up and throw away the key? I didn’t know for sure, but I knew things were about to get a whole lot worse.
Officer Doubtful was still staring at me.
He knows! He knows I’m hiding something!
Crap! Crap! Crap!
I swallowed hard and tried not to look scared to death. What happened if Officer Doubtful arrested me? Would he cuff me and stuff me and haul me down to the station to interrogate me for the murder of Lester the Molester? Would the police play good cop bad cop until I broke and told them everything? What would I do then? Call a lawyer I couldn’t afford? I’d have to call my parents. What would they think if they came down to the police station and saw me? I knew one thing: they wouldn’t think I was their daughter! How would I prove who I was to anybody? I supposedly knew Brodie but he didn’t even know who I was! I wouldn’t even be able to prove I was a US citizen! I’d probably end up deported to Russia and sold into white slavery!
This was a thousand different kinds of bad!
I cringed, trying to hide my naked fear.
How had this day gone from bad to worse to ass fucked in just one hour?
Then it hit me. I would tell the police I was Chelsea Johnson, my sister. I’d say we’d switched driver’s licenses by mistake. That’s it! I’d say we got carded at a nightclub last week and mixed up our IDs and now she was up in San Francisco so we were waiting until her next visit to switch them back, rather than risk losing them in the mail. It was perfect! Chelsea would totally back my play! But I’d just have to convince her I was me. No, wait. That wouldn’t work. Chelsea didn’t look like plain Jane me. Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
There was no way out of this.
Maybe I’d just tell Officer Doubtful I’d lost my license and tell him I was Chelsea. Yeah, that was my only option. My sister was going to be pissed when—
The officer smiled at me. “Give me a minute.” He walked away and climbed in his cruiser and started punching things on the computer screen next to the steering wheel.
I blew out a huge sigh, trying to rid myself of the now toxic levels of anxiety pumping through my system.
“You okay?” Brodie asked.
“Yeah,” I lied. “Hey, I’m really sorry about this. This is all my fault.”
“No worries. We’re good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He rubbed his knuckle against my arm affectionately.
That made me feel better. Sadly, I was too stressed to be turned on, but it was nice to know he wasn’t mad at me. I shook my head, “If it wasn’t for that stupid Lester, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Who?”
“That guy at Ralphs, the one you—”
“Shhh.” He flicked his eyes toward the cop car.
“Oh, right.” While I tapped my foot nervously, I noticed the officer kept staring at me.
“That cop is checking you out,” Brodie grumbled.
“No he’s not. He’s a cop. He’s probably profiling me. Wondering if I’m high on meth.”
Brodie snorted. “He’s checking you out. Guy has a dick, doesn’t he?”
I watched the cop closely. Brodie was right. When I watched the cop, he stopped watching me. “Okay. Maybe you’re right.” I walked around the motorcycle so it was between me and Officer Wandering Eyeballs.
Brodie smiled. “Told ya. For a hot chick, you’re pretty clueless when it comes to dudes.”
I frowned, “Hot chick?”
“What? It’s not an insult.”
“Yeah, but it’s still degrading.”
“How?”
“If I have to explain, it’s definitely degrading.”
He chuckled, “That makes no sense.”
“Shut up.”
Officer Eyeballs stepped out of his car a minute later and handed Brodie his license and registration. “Sorry for the delay, Mr. Bolden.”
I muttered, “Your last name is Bolden?”
He nodded.
I snickered to myself. It figured. I said to the cop, “We’re neighbors. He just moved in next door the other day.�
��
“Right.” The cop nodded, not caring. “Sir, unless you have a helmet for your lady friend, I can’t let her back on your motorcycle.”
Brodie barked, “How am I supposed to give her a ride home?”
The officer spread his hands and shrugged as if to say he couldn’t help.
I groaned. “I guess I’m walking.”
Officer Eyeballs said, “I’d be glad to give you a ride, miss. If you need one.”
“I bet you would,” Brodie smirked. He shot me a side glance that said, Told ya.
“Oh, uh…” I stammered. “Do I have to? Or can I just walk?”
The officer said, “It’s up to you, miss. But I’d be happy to drive you wherever you need to go.”
“You know what?” Brodie blurted. “I’ll walk her home. You don’t need to give her a ride.” He sounded irritated. “What’s your name, officer?” He read the man’s name tag. “We’ll walk. That cool with you?”
Officer Eyeballs smiled an angry smile up at Brodie, who was at least two inches taller. “Fine by me. But you better move your bike. Unless you want me to impound it.”
I rolled my eyes. Men.
Brodie glared at Officer Eyeballs, his jaw muscles ticking repeatedly. After a strained moment, Brodie’s lips tightened over his teeth like he wanted to punch Eyeballs in the face. Or kick him to death.
Eyeballs was amused, like he was up for whatever Brodie threw at him. “Are we having a problem here, Mr. Bolden?”
Oh, geez. Who was this douche? Was he one of those cops who thought he was above the law?
“Nope,” Brodie said. “We’re good. All good. Aren’t we good, C.C.?”
“Uhhhh…” I stammered.
“Miss, would you like me to give you a ride home? Your friend seems agitated.”
“Yeah, miss,” Brodie said sarcastically. “Do you want Officer Nice Guy to give you a ride home?” If Brodie didn’t get himself under control, he was going to get himself arrested.
I grimaced, “Um, I think I can walk, if that’s okay with everybody?” I looked between the two men.
Eyeballs arched an eyebrow and looked at me.
“She’ll walk,” Brodie said victoriously. “You’ll walk.”
“I’ll walk.” I forced a smile.
“Oh, you know what?” Brodie said. “I think my bike chain is loose. Okay with you if I walk it home, Officer? On the sidewalk, I mean?”
Eyeballs shrugged, “As long as you push it and don’t run the engine, sure.”
“Great.” Brodie smiled at me, “Wanna help me walk my bike home, miss?” He was mimicking Eyeballs.
“Oh, uh, sure. But don’t call me miss.” I was getting irritated with Brodie’s irritation. Yes, I was flattered he was being protective, but he was taking things a bit too far.
Eyeballs said to me, “You sure you don’t want a ride home?”
I rolled my eyes. Officer Overly Chivalrous was getting to be a bit much. “I’m fine. Thanks.” I just wanted him to leave.
“Suit yourself,” Eyeballs said with a wink. “If you need any help, don’t hesitate to call the Santa Monica Police.” He pulled a business card out of his breast pocket.
Brodie turned to the side and chuckled, “I can’t believe this.”
I took Eyeballs’s card. “Thanks.”
“Call me…” he said and his eyes flashed suggestively. “… if you ever need anything.”
I blinked my eyes and shook my head in disbelief. “Wait, did you just hit on me?”
Brodie’s face turned red and he laughed angrily.
“No, ma’am.” Now he was calling me ma’am, covering his ass. “I said, call me if you ever need anything. From the Santa Monica Police.”
“That’s not how he said it,” Brodie grumbled.
“Have a nice day,” Eyeballs said before sauntering to his car and climbing inside.
“What the fuck!” Brodie seethed in a whisper. “That guy just made a play for you!”
“What do you care? You’re not my boyfriend.” Frankly, I was irritated with both men for their bad behavior.
“You want him to be your boyfriend?”
“Would you just shut up until he’s gone?”
Eyeballs sat in his car, glancing between us and his computer. I didn’t want to wait around and give him a chance to arrest either of us.
“Let’s go, Brodie.”
He stood his motorcycle, toed the kickstand, and rolled it onto the sidewalk.
I followed.
We walked to the end of the block and turned the corner. With Eyeballs out of sight, I felt immediate relief. But neither of us said anything for two more blocks.
“That guy was a fucking cock gobbler,” Brodie barked.
I suppressed a laugh. “I don’t think that’s his thing.”
“Right. I forgot. He was interested in you, not me. Unless you have a cock. You don’t have a cock, do you?”
I laughed openly now. “No!”
“So he was interested in you. Like I said.”
“Jealous?” I smiled at him.
“Me? Jealous? Of that prick? Fuck no.”
“You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. If that guy wasn’t a cop, I would’ve twisted him into a pretzel.” Brodie definitely looked strong enough and big enough to have done it.
“Brodie, do you know what denial is? It’s this.” I gestured at him, my palms raising and lowering like I was one of those Price Is Right models showing off the prizes.
“What are you talking about? Wait, you weren’t into that guy, were you?”
“Would it bother you if I was?”
“Shit. Are you one of those women who can’t resist a man in uniform? You are, aren’t you?” He laughed. “Some women go crazy for that shit. Don’t let the badge fool you. A guy like that is too big a pussy to be an outlaw, so he joins up with a bunch of other pussies so they can harass guys like me.”
“Awww, poor little Brodie. Is the thug life too hard for you?”
He smirked, “I’m not a thug. Or an outlaw. But you should be. I saw how you flirted your way out of a citation.”
“What?! I did not!”
“You kidding? You’re a total outlaw biker babe and you don’t even know it.”
I scoffed, “I’m not an outlaw biker babe.”
“That’s what they all say. Wait’ll we get you a helmet and some skin tight leathers.”
“We?”
He smiled and a sexy dimple popped out. “Yeah, we. I’m picturing you in some tight ass leather pants with the side laces all the way from ankle to hip. And a wrap around zipper. You know, the kind that goes around from front to back like a G-string.” His eyes flashed as he stared at me. “You totally have the ass for it. Mmmm, mmmm. I would tear that shit off you in a heartbeat. Unzip that zipper and take a bite out of your wet pussy before I sink my dick into it.”
Yes, I was getting turned on. Having a caveman save you then drool over you while suggesting he dress you in trashy biker wear before he fucked you was definitely a guilty pleasure. As frustrating as my swansformation had been, it did have it’s perks. This was one.
Trying to hide my blush, I took a deep breath and sighed, “Easy, cowboy. Just because I’ve ridden on your horse doesn’t mean you get to ride me.” Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said it quite like that. No, I wanted to say it like that. Let him squirm because he was making me squirm.
He laughed, “Okay, cowgirl.” Suddenly his eyes bored into mine. “You do the riding. Regular or reverse, I don’t care which.”
Against my will, my eyes flared back at him. I pictured me sitting on his cock, hands planted on his hard chest as I ground into him and rode him like the stallion he was.
Oh, wow.
He nodded, “Thought so. You’re thinking about it right now.” I didn’t deny it. “You like to be in control, don’t you? You like holding the stick. Am I right?”
Maybe I did. I smiled. And blushed. And looked away. “Oh, shit!”
“No! My keys! And my car! I just remembered they’re back at Ralphs with that guy Lester! What are we gonna do?”
Brodie grunted, “Fuck that guy. If he isn’t dead, I’ll kill him when we get there.”
“No, I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
I stopped on the sidewalk. “Are you kidding? You’d murder a guy?” For me? Should I be swooning or calling Officer Eyeballs? I’d never known a murderer personally, but sometimes they moved in right next door.
Brodie stared at me. “If he tries to hurt you, yeah I fucking will.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
I winced. “Uhhh…”
“Relax. I’m not gonna kill the guy on sight. But if he makes a move on you? I will end him.” The way he said it was so dangerous, I believed he would.
“Let’s worry about that later,” I said nervously. “I just want to get my keys and my car.”
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”
Chapter 19
“Can you describe your keys to me?” The man asking was the curly-haired store manager at Ralphs. He stood in the manager’s island between all the registers.
Brodie stood beside me.
I said, “Yeah. There’s a key to my Hyundai and a few others, and a Power Puff Girls enamel keychain.” George had bought it for me at San Diego Comic Con two years ago.
The manager smiled, “That’s them.” They jingled when he reached under the counter and pulled them out. Thank goodness he didn’t ask for my ID.
“Thank you so much. Can I ask, do you remember who turned them in? I’d like to, uh…” make sure it wasn’t Lester the Murdering Molester. “…thank them.””
The manager, who seemed nice, looked up thoughtfully. “Let me think… You know, I’m sorry, but so many people have been in and out all day, I honestly can’t remember.”
If I Were Beautiful (If I Were... #1) Page 15
