Come as you Are: Plantain Series Book Two

by Amelia Oliver

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  COME AS YOU ARE

  PLANTAIN SERIES BOOK TWO

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Amelia Oliver

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Text Copyright @ Amelia Oliver

  Text Copyright @ Amelia Oliver

  Cover Design Copyright © Creative Book Concepts

  Formatting by Indies Ink

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyrighted Material

  DEDICATION:

  This book is dedicated to my husband and my two babes, I love you.

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  Epilogue

  PLAYLIST

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  1

  I look up for the fiftieth time at him in ten minutes, his contagious laugh catching my attention even though I know exactly what I’ll see when I raise my head. He’ll still be talking to that skank with boobs too big to be real who came in for an oil change, longest oil change in the history of ever. I don’t want to look at him or notice him or even react to his laugh, but I’m a glutton for punishment.

  I certainly don’t want to notice how sexy he looks with his hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, tendrils of sun kissed brown hair escaping the elastic to hang loosely around his face. I don’t want to notice how perfect the stubble on his jaw is, how it frames his chiseled features and his plump lips that surround a perfect smile.

  No, no, I don’t want to notice those things. But fuck, I do notice and I can’t stop. I look over as he raises one perfectly tan arm, his dirty hand lifting to tuck some hair behind the skank’s ear with his long fingers, causing her to giggle.

  Okay, she’s not a skank, I’m speaking out of sheer jealousy because I want his hands to be touching me, like, anywhere. The two are leaning towards each other on the hood of her car, talking but I can’t hear over the sounds inside the garage and the huge fan sitting in the front door beside me, yet I can still hear their shared laughter. I’m watching them from the perch of my desk in the front of the auto body shop, a high counter surrounding me. Thankfully it shields most of me, and I use it to hide behind, but my eyes still find their way over the top to watch them.

  “Skye?” Maven comes out of her office, setting down a stack of papers and looks overly irritated. Dornan’s been gone for almost the entire week, and I know they haven’t made it official that they’re together, but I know they are or else she wouldn’t be acting so annoyed since he’s been gone.

  “Can you fax these, and call this guy?” she sighs handing me a business card before running a hand through her long dark hair and resting her elbows on the counter.

  “No problem.” I smile, taking the card from her. “Oh, and Justice called for you again.”

  Maven groans and shakes her head as I hear Drag laugh and my eyes flicker towards him, again. Now the skank is running her hand up and down his arm and I want to break her fingers. The woman gives his bicep a squeeze before she looks down at his forearm, and I know she’s asking about his tattoos there. Tattoos of two opened mouth skulls and three red roses, surrounded by swirling water, an emerald tree boa extending from the top, that I’ve memorized from my hours or observation. Then her hand trails down his forearm, over the ink, to his fingers, and they intertwine for a moment. Maven follows my gaze and makes an ‘ugh’ sound, before turning her attention back to me.

  “That’s annoying,” she comments as the skank pretends to be interested in whatever Drag is saying, while really she’s caressing his arm.

  “Yup.” I let the ‘p’ pop and try to return to the task at hand, grabbing the phone receiver and about to dial the number on the card Maven gave me.

  “Doesn’t that get old?” she continues.

  I let out a humorless laugh as I look up at her, “Yes it does,” I say, giving her my brightest smile.

  “Especially when he’s so hot and he gets with chicks like that… It’s sad really. I mean, have you seen that man’s tongue? Lord knows what he can do with that thing,” she says nodding her head back towards them.

  Oh, I’d thought many times about that tongue; it was hard not to. Have you ever seen Gene Simmons stick his out? Drag’s is like that, pretty hard not to notice.

  “I bet he’s amazing in bed,” I blurt out, in a daze still thinking about his blasted tongue abilities.

  Maven raises her eyebrows in a ‘ah-ha gotcha’ expression as she begins to smile. I should have known, she never says anything about Drag, she was baiting me with the tongue talk. For the first time, I’ve just admitted to actually caring about anything involving Drag. Shit.

  “I mean, yes it’s sad and he’s a total pig so…” I try to recover and then begin to dial the number, ending my conversation with her.

  Maven’s lips curl into a devilish grin and she shakes her head slightly, giving me a wink before retreating into her office.

  It’s not that I don’t want people to know that Drag interests me, but that’s the thing, he’s a total player. I don’t want him to catch wind that I’m maybe kind of interested. That would ruin the fun of the fantasy. However, I would totally sleep with him. But there’s something about keeping that to myself, like if he knew then he’d try to get in my pants. I want our ‘hook up’ to be because I want to, not because he knows I’m down for it.

  I’m on the phone twenty minutes when Missy walks through the front door and rests her forearms onto the counter beside me, pushing her huge sunglasses up on top of her head and setting her designer purse next to her. She waits until I’m off the phone before she greets me. “Ready for lunch?” she asks.

  “I’m still waiting for an oil change to cash out, then we can go.”

  Oh, yes, Drag’s still conversing with the skank. Missy looks over towards the garage bay and eyes Drag laying on his game before walking over towards the door that separates the office from the garage. Clearing her throat before she asks, “If you’re done trying to fuck her, can she pay so Skye can go to lunch?”

  I try to stifle my laugh because Missy gives zero fucks. Sure, she’s the boss’ old lady, but still. We are the unlikeliest of friends, but her edgy disposition is the yin to my positive yang. The skank scoffs in offense before Drag straightens and with a huge smile aimed at Missy and says, “No trying, if I wanted to fuck her, she’d be naked on the hood of her car.”

  His voice is rough and deep and sounds like the most incredible sex imaginable. You know that song “Sex and Candy” by Marcy Playground? Every time he speaks, that song pops
into my head. Missy rolls her eyes as the two come over and stand at my desk. Drag hands me the paperwork for the job and I quickly enter the info into the computer.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see he’s looking down at me, his fingers beating out a rhythm on the countertop along to the rock music playing in the garage. I feel my skin start to flush as the same pulse he’s tapping is in sync with the pulsing between my legs. My hands rest on the keys for a moment as I try to focus on what I’m doing, but I can’t help thinking of his hand on me, his fingers doing that to my body.

  “So what are you doing tonight?”

  I hear another voice and don’t need to look up to know it’s skank talking and that now Drag isn’t looking at me anymore.

  “The club’s having a party.”

  “Oh I love parties, what time?” she coos in that annoying way chicks do when they want something.

  “Fifty bucks,” Missy interjects.

  “What?” Skank asks.

  Drag chuckles but says nothing.

  “If you want to come to a club party and you’re not a member, it’s fifty bucks.”

  I look up and see the skank looking totally confused, she’s looking at Drag like she can’t believe it.

  “Surely if you bring me with you-” she starts.

  “You heard boss lady…fifty,” he says in mock seriousness.

  Now she’s looking between Missy and Drag before her eyes land on me, her mouth agape like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. I give her a small smile and say, “That’ll be $32.50,” while outstretching my hand for payment.

  Drag laughs…laughs, at something I actually said. I look up at him and he’s smiling a dimpled grin before he winks at me, his eyes so light green that in the sun they look like sea glass. Jesus Christ, I think I just combusted. There’s something underneath all his bravado, I just know it. He reminds me of James Dean, all seductive and dark on the outside but there’s the real him inside that he doesn’t show, a vulnerability that I don’t think he wants anyone to see.

  “But Drag, I told you I’d suck your dick,” she finally whines, not caring that anyone else can hear her.

  He shrugs. “There will be girls there tonight who will fuck me so…sorry.”

  And it’s with that that all my feelings of him not being such a pig, fly out the window.

  2

  Missy and I sit in the Plantain Diner and look over the menus. I know what I want but still look anyway, the fried pickles are to die for here. Finally, I close my menu and take a sip of my water through the straw. I watch Missy as she scans the menu out of habit as I did since she also always orders the same thing. She really is beautiful, in her late fifties but looks thirty, her blond hair always perfect like she just came from the stylist, along with manicured nails adorned with a huge diamond wedding ring and clothes that appear new along with never being without the latest designer handbag.

  While studying her, I can’t help but compare myself to what I see before me. My long blonde hair is pulled back into a messy knot, I’m wearing a tank top I’ve owned since high school, along with a pair of jeans I’ve probably owned for longer, and cheap Target flip flops adorn my unpainted toes. Two long beaded necklaces hang from my neck and chunky rings of silver and turquoise fill my fingers.

  I consider myself BOHO chic, which also works well with the fact that I just don’t like spending money on superficial things, especially clothes or getting my nails and hair done regularly. I still look feminine and take care of myself with yoga, I eat right and think men find me attractive; I’m just a different style than Missy.

  “So, I know I ask you every time, but really you should come to the party tonight,” she says, closing her menu to take a drink of her Diet Coke.

  “No, I don’t want to spend fifty bucks to come and I have some things around the house I want to do.”

  “You don’t pay, just that bitch and sweet bottoms, secondly-”

  “Wait, what’s a sweet bottom?” I ask.

  Yes, I work for a shop owned by a motorcycle club, but I myself never associate with the club. I’ve never attended a party or do anything with the members. I’ve never even been inside the clubhouse, even though I work yards away.

  “Those are the ‘ladies,’” she finger quotes, “who hang around bikers to fuck or do other hooker-like things with them.”

  “Ew.”

  “Totally ew,” Missy agrees. “But you should come, everyone would be happy to see you.”

  I’ve worked at the shop for two years and I still feel like I’d be out of place, like they’d all look at me as if I don’t belong. Although it’s not the bikers I worry about, they have always treated me nice and been polite to me. But it’s the other people, like the sweet bottoms, that intimidate me. I know I have a nice toned body, but I have zero boobs and look nothing like the skank that was at the shop today.

  I don’t see Drag after I come back from lunch, there’s something going on and everyone’s inside the clubhouse, including Maven. I finish my work and head out without seeing either one again. It’s yoga time, there’s a studio on Main Street where I’m working on certification to teach classes. It’s something I really enjoy and try to do every day, it just makes me feel good and centered. Missy has come a few times and I’ve tried to get Maven to come but she prefers running, which is fine since I prefer to do it on my own anyhow.

  After class I head to my 1991 Subaru hatchback, and crank up Liz Phair- “Supernova” from my 90’s chick rock mix cd. I live about twenty minutes outside Plantain. Plantain’s mostly large houses I can’t afford since all of them are original to the land and historical, it’s a beautiful town and feels like it’s stuck in the 1950’s. The kind of place where kids play kick the can in the evenings, people sit on their porches and talk with their neighbors, the town even hangs flower baskets on every light post down Main Street. Everyone knows everyone and all the goings on.

  Although nice to feel like you’re part of a community, it can be a little annoying at the same time. I’d love to eventually live there one day but know that as of right now, that’s not feasible. I live in Bannister, which is where all the new developments are in the area- malls, grocery stores, movie theaters, apartments, and condos.

  I live alone in a one-bedroom apartment, it’s small but I like living by myself. Although I’m not an only child and had no issues with my sister while we lived together, I still just like having my own space. Sometimes it gets lonely since my sister and most of my friends live in Lancaster, which is an hour away, and my parents live in between Bannister and Lancaster in Plantersville, which is where I grew up.

  I’m close with my sister Amber and try to visit her a few times a year, usually stopping at my parents along the way. My parents were in their forties when they had me, and Amber is almost ten years older. My sister makes me feel like the ‘wild child,’ since she claims my parents never disciplined me because they were too tired and old, yet we still get on great. My parents are awesome but they’re my parents, not my friends. I know I can always go to them with any problem, but I keep away from telling them anything too private because they still very much look at me like a twelve-year old, and usually don’t find my life very productive.

  I get home and shower, eat some dinner and attempt to get some painting done on a landscape I’m working on, but I have no motivation. Flipping through mindless T.V., Becks “Loser” pops into my head at how I feel about myself right now, I’m sitting at home on a weeknight like an old bag with nothing to do. For whatever reason, Missy’s invite to the party tonight is a reoccurring thought I can’t shake, maybe since I know for a fact, from his own lips, that Drag will be there.

  “Fuck it,” I say, throwing the blanket off my legs and head towards my closet.

  I’ve been sitting in the parking lot at the shop for the last twenty minutes trying to convince myself into actually getting out of the car. I swapped my tank top and jeans I wore to work for a linen
V-neck halter top and a different pair of jeans, my jewelry and flip flops remaining the same. I also remove my hair from its knot and let the natural waves cascade down my back, braiding two sections at my temples to meet at the back of my head.

  “This is silly,” I say to myself. “Go in, say hi to Missy and leave, you probably won’t even see him.”

  I’ve been bungee jumping, sky diving, swimming with sharks, why the hell am I scared to go to a freaking party? I know exactly why and his name is Drag, and I’ve decided that if I see him tonight, I’ll sleep with him. It’s not rejection I fear, maybe it’s the chance that we do actually hook up and then…I don’t know.

  I let out a deep breath and let the uncertainty stop taking over as I turn off “Closing Time” by Semisonic in mid verse, and I exit my car, tossing my keys into my hobo bag. I parked over in the public lot to the shop, which is where Missy and Maven’s cars are also parked, and head towards the large gate opened just beyond the shop. It’s a chain link fence that has black industrial fabric attached to the inside so no one can see in when the gate is closed. I’ve never been on this side of the property, which peaks my hesitation.

  There’s firelight just beyond and an orange glow emanates from inside the fencing. There’s bikes and cars parked all along the perimeter and groups of bikers clad in leather stand around in pockets as they look at the bikes. Other people walk in as I get closer, some couples and others standing alone as they fist bump bikers that pass by. The sound from inside the fencing is loud, with music playing from speakers mounted on tall posts and the hundreds of people talking and laughing, it just adds to my nerves even more. What if I can’t find Missy? I hadn’t thought of that until now, but it’s too late for me to turn back, I’m already here.

  “Skye?” I hear and turn to see Smokey. “Hey girl.”