“How about we don’t plan for shit that isn’t a current problem?”
“I thought you were Mister Plans?” Lowell asks.
“Yeah, and how did all my planning work with the Killing Joes?” I ask, patting my scarred stomach. “Sometimes, you have to go by gut instinct.”
The corner of Bronco’s mouth lifts approvingly. Despite trying to be more of a plotter in his old age, my uncle normally follows his impulses. But we’re both capable of learning the skills that don’t come naturally. That’s why he trusts me to run his club one day.
“The Serpent’s Eye is a rowdy club,” I say, glancing at Anders, who can’t be comfortable in his corner. “But they’re in Missouri. We have Indiana between us. There’s no logical alliance to be made, grudgingly or not.”
“Fair enough, but no more sneaky missions. If you’re asking for help from Aja, it’s a club matter, even if it remains between us four. I know she’s your sister and blood to the club, but your mom will never be okay with her here. Bambi and the others will be just as shitty. Let’s keep that relationship outside of Woodlands, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll let you know when the phone gets handed off to Needy and if Monroe’s mom actually calls.”
Nodding, Bronco gestures toward the door. “You better head out before Anders hurts himself in that corner.”
Relieved to get out of the small room, I hurry to my bike and look around the steady traffic passing by the often-empty ice cream shop. In my pocket is the burner phone linked to the number Needy will get. Despite shit being in motion, I’m nervous to tell Monroe yet.
I don’t know her mom. In my mind, I can imagine Needy living comfortably and wanting to leave her past behind. But I also watched those videos of Needy and Monroe together. I can’t believe the woman in them would abandon her daughter. Of course, people are complicated, and no one really knows what’s in another person’s heart.
I climb on my bike and let it idle. Months ago, I was ready to leave this place. Years earlier, I was obsessed with proving myself. Now, I’m in no rush to do anything except be at Monroe’s side.
MONROE
Conor keeps his secrets and dreams of things that aren’t meant to be. Like how he wants me to move into his mom’s house. Even if I wanted to see Barbie Jessup repeatedly through my day, there is no way in fucking hell on earth does she want to see me. Over the last week, we’ve run into each other a handful of times. She called me “Molly” twice and “Monica” four times. I also caught her calling me a bitch once. In her defense, I did refer to her as various Barbie products.
“Did you like having the apartment to yourself before I moved in?” I ask Amity as she dances around in the kitchen, wearing boxers, knee-high boys’ socks, and a white Buckeyes jersey.
“No, why would I want to be alone?”
“Privacy.”
“Who needs that?” she asks while wrapping her dark hair into a floppy ponytail. “I don’t like the quiet. The past gets really loud when people aren’t around to distract me.”
I think to ask about her childhood, but Amity doesn’t want to get bummed out. She’s been in a good mood since breakfast. Now, she’s positively giddy. Amity is always happier when she gets to work at Rooster’s in the evening.
“Oh, my, god,” Amity says and gasps. “I was thinking about how Bronco got hooked up and then Anders. They were single for years, then wham! Now, not so long afterward, Conor gets hooked up. That’s when I realized you’re the girls from ‘Friends.’”
“Explain, please,” I insist while joining her in the kitchen.
“Lana is the clean-cut good girl like Monica. Pixie is the fun hippie like Phoebe. And you’re Rachel. You even ran away from a wedding.”
“The wedding was months away, and I don’t want to be Rachel. She was a bitch, and Conor’s too hot to be Ross.”
“Conor is like the three guys mashed together. He’s smart like Ross, sexy like Joey, and funny like Chandler. You got the trifecta, baby,” she says, winking at me while lighting a joint. “Still, I’m sorry you’re Rachel.”
“It’s okay. She does have the best hair,” I say, running my fingers through mine. “But who would you be in that scenario?”
“Umm... one of those sidepieces the guys had.”
“How about the hot one that dated Joey, and he stole her food?”
“Sure, as long as I’m not Janice.”
“Oh, no, that’s most definitely Jena.”
We share a laugh while Amity hands over the joint. “I like having you and Conor around,” she says as her mood gets a little funky.
“That’s good because I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
“What about his house?”
“In that scenario, I give you up as a roommate and get Barbie in return. How the fuck is that fair?”
Amity grins, scooting closer. I take her hand, sensing she’s lonely.
“How long do you think you’ll be a bunny?” I ask as she wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes.
“Until I get too old and fat. Then, maybe I can waitress. Except it’ll depend on how full the Overlook is by then. If a bunch of bunnies have moved on and there’s space for me here, I bet they’d let me stay.”
“Aren’t you hoping to find a man of your own?”
“No.”
“Is it for the same reason that Jena didn’t find someone?” I ask, thinking about her crush on Bronco.
“No,” Amity says, sighing warily. “Love can make a person vulnerable, allow them to do things they don’t want to do. I’d rather be alone than feel pain.”
A part of me wants to know Amity’s past, to understand why she acts the way she does. But she owns her memories and secrets. No one else has a right to them. So, I don’t ask. I only comfort her as she did for me when I first arrived in Elko.
“Marriage and men weren’t important to me. I never imagined I’d feel like I do for Conor. Back in Minton, I dated a few guys. They weren’t awful for the most part, but I never felt any heat. Dating was something to do to waste time. Yet, being with Conor transformed me into a lovesick pup.”
Amity squeezes me again. “He always seemed lonely and a little disconnected from everyone. I’m glad he found you.”
Cuddling closer, I give Amity the comfort she craves and enjoy the close friendship we’ve built. Yet, there are moments when I feel guilty for bonding with her. As if I’ve forgotten or betrayed Zella. However, if I remained stuck in the past, I’d never have let Conor closer. Without him, I would have missed so much awesome stuff these last weeks.
By the time Conor arrives at the apartment with plans to order pizza, I’m ready to have him naked and under me. Scratch that. Behind me would be better. I want his hands free to explore.
While Amity gets ready for work, Conor and I head to my bedroom. I expect him to tease me about how quickly I’m stripping naked. Instead, he stands near the bed, seeming rather passive.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he lies before trying to distract me by removing his shirt and showing off his excellent chest. “Wanna get married?”
“Sure, why the fuck not? Now, tell me what’s bothering you?” I ask and shove his face between my now bare boobs. “Breathe in Monroe and let out the truth.”
Conor inhales deeply and wraps his arms around my waist. “Rather than retire, Bronco wants to slowly transition to me running things.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It’s not how he planned to do things before.”
Studying Conor’s unreadable face, I search for the truth behind his words. “And you worry the change is because he doesn’t trust you. Do you think he worries I’ve pussy whipped you?” I ask as my nails gently scratch his scalp.
Reclining us onto the bed, he holds me tight. “It could be that he thinks retiring makes him seem old, and his ego can’t handle that.”
“Well, he’s right. Retiring would make him seem old. He isn’t even fifty. Why does he need to r
etire?”
“Because he’s been in charge since he was nineteen,” Conor explains while cupping my butt. “I guess he’s tired.”
“From what?” I ask, kissing his forehead. “His life is so easy now.”
“He has four daughters.”
“Yeah, but retiring ain’t getting rid of them.”
As his green eyes study me, he asks, “So, you don’t think he needs to retire?”
“Of course, he needs to retire. Didn’t you hear how he’s been running shit for almost three decades?”
Conor allows a small smile. “Then, what are you saying?”
“All the blood left your brain, huh?” I tease while his lips stroke my left nipple. “What I’m saying is his slow pace isn’t about you. It’s all him. Bronco isn’t an old man, but he’s tired. His friends are all getting ancient. His oldest daughter is nearly ready to leave for college. But he’s also got a hot new wife and a toddler. He’s stuck between feeling like an old man and being a guy at the start of a new life.”
Conor gives my nipple a little bite and then exhales softly on my wet flesh. “No doubt you’re right. I shouldn’t read too much into it, but this plan isn’t how I thought it would be. I figured he’d hand control over by now, or he’d make me wait. The slow-go approach took me off guard,” he says in between wet kisses on my chest and stomach. “He also said some stuff that made me think he doesn’t trust my judgment.”
“If he didn’t think you were up to being president, there’d be no slow-go approach. He’d just shut that shit down and get someone else in order. Why toy with you and piss off a whiny Wyatt if he doesn’t trust you? No, you’re golden, and can you suck a little more on this one?”
Conor switches nipples, lavishing my hard, red nub with a tongue bath that leaves me so wet that I finally have to insist he fuck me so I can find relief.
“No more shop talk,” I moan as the head of his cock teases my pussy before entering with a hard thrust. “We fuck. We eat. We choose not to think.”
Conor wraps me in his arms as his hips thrust. He seems weird today, both needy yet cold. Insisting he open up is dumb, though. I wouldn’t want him bossing me around, and Conor’s easygoing veneer is a con. He’s a stubborn man who’ll tell me his truth when he’s ready. Until then, I plan to enjoy the ride.
CONOR
Barbie claims Monroe is the anti-Lana. Bronco’s woman was awkward for months in the Woodlands. She needed Bronco’s daughters to play buffer with the other residents, and Lana always worried about everyone’s opinion.
Monroe, though, quickly gets comfy wherever she ends up. Like currently, she walks barefoot next door to hang out with Pixie at Lana’s house. She doesn’t even brush her wild, brown hair first.
“She’s a slob,” Mom grumbles after Monroe leaves.
“You have ketchup on your boob.”
Mom looks down at her shirt to find I was fucking with her. She gives me the evil eye, but that shit hasn’t worked on me in a decade.
“I love you,” I say before she can bitch.
“You’re a tricky shithead like your dad.”
“Yeah, and he loved you, too.”
Mom finally smiles for real. “How come you don’t move your bunny slut into the house?”
“I’ve already explained how Monroe doesn’t like you.”
“Well, I don’t like her, either.”
“What will you do when I have my own place, and no one lives here with you?”
Mom leans against the black granite countertop. “I might move a man into the house.”
“Someone young and obedient, I assume.”
Smirking, she shrugs. “Maybe. I’ve gotten offers.”
“You’re hot. Everyone says so.”
“Really?” she asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Of course, but they’ll never say it to your face. Those people don’t like you, either.”
“Well, I ain’t a fan of anyone.”
“Hey, I like you fine!” I cry dramatically and throw up my arms. “Cold-blooded shit, right there, lady.”
Barbie smirks at my bullshit and hugs me. “Fairuza likes me.”
“Yes, Pixie’s family does tolerate you better than your own.”
“My family doesn’t know how good they have it,” she grumbles, losing her smile and likely thinking of Bambi.
“Sure, sure.”
Mom pushes me off her as if upset. “People are talking about you and Monroe as if you’re married.”
“She’s the only one I want. I’m glad they can acknowledge what’s obvious.”
“I think you can do better,” Mom mutters, stomping to the family room.
“Well, the medicine makes you stupid.”
Barbie throws a pillow that I easily dodge. “You’re rotten.”
“No, I’m my mommy’s son,” I say, joining her on the black leather couch, “and she loves me so much.”
Grinning now, Mom hugs me again. “You are a good boy. Bambi’s kids are trash. Bronco’s daughters are, well, they’re fine. But you’re the best.”
“And I deserve the best, which is why the universe gave me Monroe.”
“No,” she says, trying to wrestle free of my hug.
“Monroe’s the daughter of an original Executioner. How is that not perfect?”
“She’s also a bunny. Her mom is a whore.”
“So is mine, but you don’t hold that against me.”
“Ass,” she says, scooting away from me on the couch.
“Hey, you’re the one planning to move a sex slave into the house after I leave.”
“Well, I have needs. Sexual ones that a vibrator can’t satisfy.”
“Monroe has a giant dildo. A lesser man might be intimidated.”
Barbie frowns hard. “Don’t speak to me.”
“So, is there an actual man, or are you just planning to fuck a random guy off the street?”
“Worried about me?” she asks, regaining her smile.
“No, why would I be?”
Smile gone, she looks offended by my lack of concern. “Boys should worry about their mothers dating.”
“Your heart can handle any break, and your fists can deal with any asshole. What’s there to worry about?”
Mom flashes her most winning smile. “Such a good boy.”
“Does that mean you’ll join me at Bronco’s?”
“What for?”
“I want to hang out over there.”
“Why?”
“Fine, I want to hang out with Monroe, and she’s over there.”
Sighing, Mom looks disappointed. “You need to play things cool. No one likes a needy shithead.”
“I love her with all my heart, and I have the biggest fucking heart. It’s nearly as big as my dick.”
Barbie fights laughter. “Your father had a big dick, too. Which is why he couldn't wear tight jeans.”
“Sweet mother, you’ve told me that so many times. In fact, his big dick is on my list of stories to share with my children one day.”
“I don’t want grandbabies,” Mom nearly hisses. “There are too many little people in this community already.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders even though I have to lean down to do so. “Don’t you want a grandson to show off? Bronco had no boys, and Devlin is a dud. Your grandson will be the superstar of the family.”
“I’ll just pretend Future is my grandson. He’s past the age where I need to worry about diapers.”
“Nope. You’re getting a real grandson. Oh, and my son’s name will be something badass like Frank or Carl. Real manly.”
Rolling her eyes, Mom walks with me out the front door. “Those are stupid names. Name him after your dad.”
“Billy sounds like a porno name. I’ll name him Willie instead. Way less porny.”
Mom likes the idea of Willie, probably because of the country singer and not because she knows “willie” is a term for dick. We walk down our long drive before turning at the sidewalk to
ward Bronco’s house. I hear his girls in the backyard and music playing as we loop around to his back gate.
Future runs over to reveal his pineapple-and-apple concoction. “It’s a fruit sandwich.”
“You’re a weird kid,” Mom says, and Future giggles.
Fairuza waves from her spot on the lawn, where she sits with Chili and Monroe. Pixie sits half in the pool while smiling at a nearby Anders. Her sister and Bronco’s youngest daughters play in the water with Lana. My uncle enjoys a beer while working the grill.
I’m about to join Monroe when my phone rings. Seeing who is calling, I let Mom create a little distance before I answer.
“What’s the frequency, Kenneth,” I ask Aja.
“Mommy has her phone. Not sure how that’ll turn out.”
“Why?”
“She gave me a weird look when I slipped it to her.”
“How did you approach her?”
“Like I was peddling a message from God rather than one from her kid. She’s got an escort, and the religious nut angle seemed the easiest way to get to her.”
“Well, maybe the weird look she gave you was based on your fundie schtick.”
“Could be, but I figured I ought to warn you not to get your hopes up.”
“What’s it like where she lives?” I ask, already thinking of extraction plans.
“One rich guy runs everything, and everyone works for him.”
“If we went in hot to grab Needy, think we’d get out unscathed?”
“Shouldn’t be an issue. He has muscle, but they’re middle-aged dads. Though strapped for a firefight, these guys are more Gravy SEALs than the Navy variety, if you get my drift.”
“Would you be up to help?” I ask, noticing both Monroe and Mom eyeballing me.
“Always.”
“Is that offer from you or your stepdad?”
“Why would Ethan want to help you?” she says, and I can feel her smiling. “He doesn’t trust your club.”
“Got the same speech from my people about your people.”
Frost (EEMC) Page 18
