As usual, it was Digger who collected food that the supermarkets threw away, while she tidied the site, and trudged across two fields to collect the water from the spring-fed troughs, on what used to be cow pastures. Water was a big deal and, by luck rather than design, the derelict dairy farm had a ready supply from an underground spring.
Her mood hadn't been helped by the fact that her van was still knackered. And while she couldn't really blame anyone for her predicament, it did piss her off that no one here had anything more than a rudimentary knowledge of the internal combustion engine. Of course they all knew how to weave a fucking dream catcher. Big lot of use that was.
Digger had said that they were good people, and she guessed he was right, but they were dreamers. And while she kept the place tidy, and Digger provided a ready supply of food, they would sit around the fire listening to Nigel pontificate about where the rest of the world was going wrong.
Shit, she really didn't like that guy. She'd met his kind before: Men who latched on to women and used their charisma to get what they wanted. He and Meg had hooked up at a festival a couple of years previously, and once he'd realised that her dad was a lord or something, he'd stuck to her like glue. Of course that hadn't stopped him fucking anything with a pulse. But that was okay, because they didn't follow the constraints of normal society; they were free to express their love however they pleased. Yeah, right. Mouse was pretty sure that if Meg expressed her love in the same way, his true colours would show. Meanwhile, he was impregnating half the women here, and acting like he was doing them a favour.
If she was honest, the reason she'd stuck around was because he scared her a little, and she didn't want to leave Meg with him. Her friend was vulnerable, and Mouse knew that Nigel would exploit that, and she was pretty sure that if he was backed into a corner, he would hurt her.
“Mouse! We've got company.” Moon, a young hippie type, who spent her time leaving gifts for the goddess, and making fuck-ugly jewellery that no one would buy, trotted over to the fire pit. “I thought you said the bikers wouldn't be back, and I left offerings to Pan for protection.”
“Barbed wire would've been more effective, love.” Mouse tied up the bin bag and straightened up as the van pulled up on the edge of the camp. “And I think we're okay. It looks like there's only one of them.”
~oOo~
“What do you want?” Mouse stomped towards him, trying, and failing, to look badass.
Nitro grinned. “Got you a present, so be nice.”
“Oh...” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Because he didn't want her to think he was a wanker.
“Cus I'm a nice guy.” He climbed out of the van and opened the back doors, revealing a large cardboard box. “Where do you want it?”
She didn't move. “What is it? For all I know it could be a bomb or something... Your name is Nitro, after all.”
“Or it could just be some old books.” He pulled the box towards him. “So, where do you want them?”
She didn't trust him—he could see it in her eyes—but her mouth turned up a little. “Follow me.”
He did as instructed. Through the mud, past the badly dressed hippies and their raggedy children, to an old Bedford horsebox with a huge anarchy symbol on the side. Mouse stood on a piece of old linoleum just in front of the steps leading up to the door, and toed off her boots before leading him inside.
“Wow, this place is cool.” Nitro was genuinely impressed. The interior had been clad with wooden panels, and they, in turn, were decorated with posters and photographs. The floor was covered with colourful rugs, and the tiny kitchen area was surprisingly clean and tidy Behind a curtain above the driver’s cab, he could see a bed, and a small wood burning stove in front of an old leather sofa gave the small space a warm and cosy feel.
He dumped the box on a wooden trunk that doubled up as a table and straightened up. “I wasn't sure what you'd like, but there's a bit of everything in there. If you don't like them, pass them on.”
“Why?” Mouse opened the box and began searching through the contents.
Without waiting to be asked, he sat down and began rolling a joint. “You said you didn't have anything decent to read. Most of these were part of a job lot at an auction. I've taken what I want, an' these I either already have, or I'm not interested in reading. Figured you'd give them a good home.”
Something remarkable happened to her face when she smiled. The way her eyes lit up and her cheeks dimpled transformed it from something pretty ordinary into something amazing. “Wow. Thank you. Thank you so much.” She pulled out a book. “Black Beauty! Oh my God, I haven't read this for years. I cried so hard. I think it was the first time a book ever made me cry.”
Nitro laughed. “I actually left it in cus I thought the kids might like it. I think there are a few kids’ books in there.”
“Oh no, I'm keeping this. I might read it to Sapphire, though. She's horse mad.”
He could kiss her right now. In fact, the only thing that was stopping him was the evil-looking machete just inches from her hand. Instead he pulled out his lighter. “Would you prefer if I smoked this outside?”
“You'd be better off smoking it in here. We're all out of weed. One whiff of that and they'll be all over you like a rash.” She sat next to him and took the joint from between his fingers. “Why are you here?”
Because she was the only person he'd ever met who'd heard of Bulgakov. Because he'd never met a woman who broke into scrapyards or lived in a horsebox in the woods before. Because she was fearless and angry, and there was nothing compliant about her.
He shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Now don't be going all big dumb biker on me, I know you have a better vocabulary than that. Why are you here, Nitro?” She sniggered. “That really is...”
“Yeah I know, you told me, I'm a wanker.”
“I never said that. You just have a really stupid name.”
“Says the girl who's named after a disease-ridden pest.”
Mouse pulled a face, and lit the joint. “You still haven't answered my question.”
“The truth?” She nodded and passed him the joint. Nitro took a long pull. “You're different. I want to do something other than just fuck you.”
Mouse raised her hand. “You might want to stop there, before you dig yourself into a hole. Forget it, it doesn't matter.” She stood up. “Thanks for the books, I'll see you out.”
Fuck. “Have I offended you?”
Mouse sighed and sat back down. “I'm sure you're a decent guy, and I really am grateful for the books. But there's no point in you pursuing whatever it is you think you want. I'm not going to fuck you because I don't do casual sex, and any sort of relationship with you is impossible. And I don't want to be your friend because you and the club you belong to are the antithesis of everything I hold dear. Go home, biker boy. Support the troops, treat women like whores, fight your turf wars. Do whatever the fuck it is you do. Just, please, don't come here again.”
Ouch.
“I guess there's nothing else to say, then.” He wasn't going to fucking beg. Nitro stood and pushed open the door. “And for the record, I really don't want to fuck you.” Fucking bitch. What gave her the right to judge him? He spun around. “You don't know shit about me.”
“I know about your club.” As she stood, the blouse she was wearing slipped down her arm, exposing her shoulder. It was tanned and more muscular than he'd expected. “This isn't personal, Nitro. Your world and mine... never going to happen.” She smiled. “Thanks for the books, though, They really are appreciated.”
He should have turned and walked away; it was abundantly clear she wasn't going to budge on this. But her eyes had met his fearlessly, and her shoulder was just begging to be bitten. And when she smiled... fuck.
Mouse caught him staring and pulled the blouse back onto her shoulder. “Sometimes women say no, Nitro. Look on it as a learning experience.”
No they didn't. Not to him. “Don't you ev
er do something just for the sheer hell of it? Y'know, take that stick outta your ass an' have a little fun? You should try it, Mouse. Maybe a good fuck is just what you need. You don't do all this,” he waved his arm in the direction of the camp, “cus you give a shit. You do it cus feeling superior gets you wet.”
The look on her face told him that that had hurt, but her expression hardened. “I give a shit. Do you really think I'd live like this if I didn't? You think I get arrested for shits and giggles, huh? Cos I get turned on by getting my arse kicked by old Bill? If I don't do this, who will? Who's gonna stand up to the corporate giants that are raping the planet, and the governments who put profits above everything else, if I don't? This is what I do... who I am. My principles are as important to me as yours are to you. You bikers are always banging on about respect. Well how about you show me some?”
He hadn't missed what was on the flyers and posters that decorated her home, and if he was honest, he admired what she was doing. He thought it futile, but it must be something to have such conviction. He wasn't going to let her off that lightly, though. “When haven't I shown you respect? You were the one who was gonna scratch up my bike. You were the one stealing from the scrapyard. I've been nothing but respectful. My brothers lost a lot of cash cos they walked away from this place, and twice I've turned a blind eye to what you were doing. I thought we could spend some time together, is all. Kinda thought it'd be nice to talk to someone about something other than bikes and pussy. Guess I thought wrong. See ya around, Mouse. Enjoy the books.”
He wasn't sure he was comfortable with the way her eyes bored into his, but he held her gaze until she blinked and smiled. “You got any more of that weed?”
~oOo~
Mouse shook her head as Nitro passed her the joint; she was getting stoned, and that might cloud her judgement. She should have just let him walk away, because this was bad. Really fucking bad.
If it had just been a physical attraction, it would have been easier... maybe. Although he smelled so good, and the fingers that encircled the coffee mug were long and strong. She'd tried to avoid looking at his face, because he smiled a lot, and when he did.... Shit, she really should have let him leave.
The problem was, she liked him. He made her laugh. Too many people in her world—herself included—took life too seriously, and Nitro was like a breath of fresh air. He was self-effacing; as happy to make fun of himself as he was of her. He was smart and, surprisingly, to her at least, open-minded. She liked that he was well read; far more than she was. Liked that he challenged her—that he questioned everything—liked that he was interested in what she had to say.
They'd talked for hours, just the two of them. They'd argued about politics and music—Jesus, his tastes were bad—and they'd laughed a lot. They'd shared those great moments when you realise that finally, you've found someone who gets what you're saying.
And then he'd announced that it was too warm in there, and pulled off his hoodie.
Mouse really hoped that the 'eep' sound she'd just made was only in her head. She coughed... just in case. “Nice ar... ink.”
“Thanks.” Was that biceps flex absolutely necessary?
She was kind of having trouble with just how... physical... how fucking manly he was. This guy wasn't just at the front of the queue when they were dishing out testosterone, he'd gone round twice. Mouse spent her life surrounded by scrawny punks and hippie types. Tall, muscular bikers were a novelty that certain parts of her body, at least, were eager to investigate further. So far, her brain had managed to overrule her hormones, but it wasn't going to hold out much longer.
She swallowed. Okay brain, one last push. “I think you should go now.” Well, that sounded really fucking feeble; you're going to have to do better than that.
Nitro smiled. “Or I could stay.”
Her ovaries did a happy dance. Mouse shook her head. “Not a good idea.”
He didn't argue. With a sigh he pulled the hoodie back on. “Yeah, you're probably right.” He leaned over, and Mouse braced herself as he touched her cheek. “Shame, though.”
Yes it was. “Goodbye, Nitro. Thanks for the books.”
4
Nitro closed his eyes as the redhead bounced around on his cock and moaned like a porn star. She was working it, he'd give her that, but he really wished she'd shut the fuck up. Actually, he wished she wasn't there at all.
He opened his eyes as she dragged her nails across his chest. “How about you quit the theatrics, darlin'. I ain't buying it.”
She stopped bouncing and looked down at him. “You've never complained before.”
He'd fucked her before? Jesus, in future he was going to drink less, and pay attention more. “Guess I ain't feeling it tonight, darlin'. Why don't you go back to the party, cus neither of us are havin' much fun here.”
“You want me to go?”
He closed his eyes again. “Yeah.”
Fuck this shit. As soon as the door slammed shut, he dropped the condom into the trash can by the bed and pulled up his jeans. He snuck out of the back door of the clubhouse and climbed onto his bike. He doubted he'd be missed; he wasn't exactly the life and soul of the party right now. In fact, for the last few days he'd been, in the words of Biff, 'a proper miserable fucker'.
~oOo~
All his life, people had said he was too impetuous, that he never thought about the consequences of his actions, and Nitro guessed that was true—the evidence certainly backed it up. He'd jump from the frying pan into the fire, and back again, time and time again. And it wasn't only him who paid the price.
It also went some way to explain why he was now pressed against a tree trying to placate two scrawny dogs who, despite appearances, were considerably more effective than his patrol dog. “Shit. Nice doggies.” He looked out across the darkened clearing to the old horsebox, and shouted, “Mouse! Hey, Mouse. Get out here an' call these dogs off.”
The horsebox door opened. “Sid, Nancy. Stand down.” Nitro's relief was short lived as the door opened wider, revealing a very pissed off Mouse. “You'd better have a really good reason for dragging me out of bed.”
Nitro pushed himself away from the tree and squelched his way through the mud. He'd ridden for two hours through the freezing rain, nearly bust his neck walking along the deeply rutted, puddle-filled track through the trees, and almost been savaged by dogs. Of course he had a good reason. And by the time he reached her, he was sure he'd know what it was.
“What do you want?” Mouse stood on the top step with her arms folded.
He grinned. “Got an itch, need to scratch it.” He took a step closer, and, cupping her face in his hands, kissed her.
There was an exquisite, fleeting moment as Mouse's lips parted, and.... she pulled away, and buried her fist in his face.
There were three steps leading to her door. If she hadn't been standing on the top one, she would never have been able to punch him as hard as she had. And if he hadn't forgotten that he was on the bottom one when he stepped back, he wouldn't have fallen flat on his ass.
Still, it could have been worse; at least no one saw.
Digger poked his head out of the window. “Word to the wise, squire. She has boundaries. I wouldn't cross them if I was you.”
Okay, so she'd bloodied his nose, and he was lying in a muddy puddle, but, just maybe, he could turn this around. Nitro sat up and groaned, then pulled up the left leg of his jeans, revealing his prosthetic foot. Feel guilty yet, bitch? He risked a glance at Mouse.... Nope. Okay, then. How about this? Struggling more than necessary, he got to his feet, then stumbled and hopped on his good leg. “Agh, motherfucker.”
He looked up to the sound of a slow hand clap. “Give that man an Oscar.” Mouse sighed. “You'd better come in and let me clean you up... If you can manage the steps, that is.”
~oOo~
“I can't believe you punched me.” Nitro handed her the bloody tissue and took the offered mug.
“And I can't believe you were stupid enoug
h to pull a stunt like that.” Mouse dropped the tissue into the bin and sat down next to him. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Nitro shrugged. “I wasn't.” He gingerly touched the bridge of his nose. “Where did you learn to punch like that?”
“Comes from a lifetime of dealing with twats who overstep the mark.” She stared into her cup. “That was out of order, Nitro. I thought you were better than that.”
“Yeah. It was.” She knew he was looking at her, but she kept her head bowed as he continued. “I'm sorry.”
She shrugged, but didn't trust herself to speak. She'd come so close to throwing caution to the wind and letting him fuck her, right there on her doorstep. Mouse resisted the urge to lick her lips, and tried to push away the memory of his hands on her face.
“Mouse?” If she looked up, he'd see the conflict in her eyes, and then he'd think he'd won and smile. And then he would win, because she'd be lost. He touched her forearm. “What's going on?”
Mouse sighed. “I dunno. But whatever it is, it has to stop. I can't allow myself to be played by you.”
“You think this is a game to me?” She really wished he'd move his hand.
“I do, but it wouldn’t make any difference if it wasn't. I... I'm not good at relationship shit. I don't like getting close to people.” She took a deep breath. “I'm not as tough as I look.”
His laugh was deep and rich. “Not many of us are, darlin'” He moved closer. “I'm gonna kiss you now. Would appreciate it if you could refrain from punching me again.” He ran his fingers through her hair.
Mouse closed her eyes....
“Just how long do you want me to stand out here? It's fucking pissing down, now.” Digger grinned as Mouse jumped back as if she'd been stung. “Ten quid, an' I'll go an' kip in the Land-Rover.”
Itinerant Child Page 3