June’s not the talking type. Everyone knows it. And Mason’s mental state—it’s not her business to pry into his private inner world. She wonders if she should drop it.
Nonetheless, she says, “You want to talk about it?”
“No,” he answers. Blunt. Voice little more than a rough scrape across the air.
She settles back into the crook of his arm. Plays with the hairs on his chest. “What would you say if I said you have to talk about it?”
“That it’s bullshit.”
“No, actually it’s not. Thing is, I’m not sleeping in a bed with someone who won’t, um…” Again June has to search for the right word, this time going back nearly a decade to that other lifetime. “Communicate.”
Now he goes still. The arm around her stiffening, like he’s thinking of pulling away. “June, you ain’t told me two things about you I could rub together into any kind of story, and you expect me to tell you all my stuff?”
She flinches. Mason’s right. June knows she’s not exactly the world’s best communicator. Not even close. And she’s lucky to have found someone who’s okay with that. She should let it go. Just let it go…
Instead she says, “My life was perfect.”
“What?” The sudden topic change seems to throw Mason for a loop.
“My life…before Razo. It was perfect. That’s why I speak this way. Because I grew up in Bluebriar—a small suburb outside Little Rock. I had a mom and a dad. They were both teachers, him by choice—her because her art career didn’t really work out. Mom “failed out of New York City”—that’s what she used to say. But it worked out for her in the end because she met my dad when she moved back to Arkansas.”
It hurts to talk about this, to talk about the fairytale before the nightmare. June is nearly struck dumb by the sadness and regret that pierces her heart as she talks about her parents for the first time in nearly ten years, but she continues. Determined to share her story, so Mason will open up with her.
“My mom used to joke that she only got with my corny dad because he had his own apartment and it was way better than living with her mom. Don’t get me wrong, though. She loved him, and he really loved her, and then they had me. I know both of them wished I talked more, but other than that, we were the perfect family. No abuse. No nothing. I don’t remember either of them even ever yelling at me. But then Dad died in a car accident. I was fifteen. He was only thirty-nine. Maybe he thought he had time to deal with stuff like life insurance. But the point is, he didn’t have any. And the accident was his fault. So there was nothing for him to leave us. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the thing is…my mom…”
Here it comes. The bad part. June has to take a deep breath, but keeps going. “See, my mom didn’t just fail out of New York City. She told me the whole story once when she was high on something that makes people talk a lot. Maybe cocaine? I don’t know…anyway, she told me how she’d gone to New York and fell in with the wrong crowd. My grandma came all the way from Arkansas to get her. She put Mom on a bus with her and dragged her home. Scraped together enough money to put her in rehab. Mom was six months sober when she met my dad. She said it was perfect timing, because she’d been plotting her escape back to New York City when they met. Been thinking dangerous thoughts, like if she was going to go out, she might as well go out high. Serendipity…that word was one of my dad’s favorites…but then he died. And by then, Grandma was gone, too. That’s when I realized my mom wasn’t the person I thought she was…”
June laughs bitterly. “I’m still trying to figure out who was the lie. The mother I had for fifteen years, or the woman who died in that abandoned house next to Jordan’s mother? Either way, over the next two years I realized I was living with a ticking time bomb. A drug addict who only pretended to be my mother. But she was all I had until I met Jordan. So when my mom and Jordan’s mom died, I turned to Razo because I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. And, well, you know how that turned out. Almost seven years of my life, lost. I spent the two years before that following my drug addict mother around from score to score. And the fifteen years before that? Perfect.”
She lets out a long breath. “You think Razo’s the worst thing that ever happened to me. But I promise you, he’s not. Those fifteen years before everything went to shit are the worst thing, and that’s why I never, ever talk about the time before. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I do,” Mason says quietly, wrapping both his arms around her. “I ain’t never had nothing good to miss. Can’t imagine having it, then losing it like you did. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Me, too,” she admits for the first time since her mother’s death. She’d spent so long denying those fifteen years, so long trying to act like they never happened, that this is quite literally the first time in a long while June realizes how much she misses her childhood. Misses her parents. Misses the life she used to have.
They say nothing for a while. June’s steeped in her sad memories, and it feels like Mason is giving her and her memories the quiet respect they deserve.
But eventually she asks, “Now will you tell me why you feel like opening windows? Did something happen that you haven’t told me about?”
“Yeah, but you ain’t going to like it, June. I’m not sure how to tell you.”
Alarm bells sound inside her head. She thinks about his past. About all the gangs still out there now, spouting the same hateful ideals he once did.
“Thing is, I been falling in love with you for a while now, but that dinner you made for me and Jordan…well it sealed the deal. I didn’t realize it ‘til just now, but the falling part is over, sweetness. I’m fuckin’ flat on my back in love with you. And that shit scares me worse than anything I ever faced before.”
June shakes her head. Processes his words. Only to have her mind stutter to a complete halt. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Yeah, she did hear him. But June still has no idea where this is coming from. “Just because I didn’t make tofurkey?” she asks.
And he chuckles, like she’s made a joke, even though she’s dead serious.
“Yeah, just because of that, sweetness. And just because you put wings with a drive chain on my back. And just because you loved and protected and brought up as right you could, a kid that could have been me. But mostly because I was better from the day I met you. You make me better. You make me wanna be a better man. Also, you’re hot as fuck, and you make my dick harder than steel. But other than that, no, there ain’t no reason for me to be this fucking in love with you.”
“Mason, no…no…”
Strangely, this—not her recounting of what happened before they met—is what breaks her, makes tears pool in her eyes.
“Oh fuck, June. Are you crying cuz I love you?”
Mason switches on the bedside lamp, then curses some more when he sees her crumpled face. “Sweetness, don’t cry, oh fuck, please don’t cry.”
She shakes her head…because… “How can you feel this way about me? I’m so…I’m so…” she can barely choke the word out, “unclean.”
He looks down at her, head cocked to the side. “You are confusing the shit out of me right now. You think you’re the one who doesn’t deserve my love? That you’re the dirty one in this relationship? June, I bought you while I was wearing White Pride patches on my back. I got so much blood on my hands, I’m surprised they ain’t stained red. No, don’t shake your head. Look at me. Look at me.”
It’s not like she has much of a choice. He chases her eyes until she gives in. Same ol’ Mason. Same ol’ June. But now everything is completely different.
“It’s okay,” he tells her. “Me loving you—it’s okay.”
But it’s not. “You think you’re in love with me, and that makes you want to open all the windows and doors. So you can what? Leave? Leave us, even after…”
She stops, finding out the hard way that she’s not nearly as brave as she thought. She can’t bring h
erself to say “I” and instead says, “After Jordan’s gotten so used to you.”
Mason shakes his head. “Like I said, this shit is scary for me, too. Makes it hard to breathe. Makes me feel a little—I don’t know. Like I got to get out of here, before you hurt me worse than my father ever could. But that’s just a feeling, June. It’s not truth. I ain’t opening no windows, and I ain’t going nowhere you ain’t. I need you to trust me on this. No matter how bad the feeling gets, I ain’t leaving either of you. In fact, you want out this hillbilly love, you gotta leave me. Which you can’t, on account of you belonging to me. So that’s settled.”
Now it’s her turn to shake her head. Because she doesn’t understand how this could have happened. Why it happened. She doesn’t have a clue how to respond.
“I love you,” he says in answer to all her unspoken questions, his voice little more than a ragged whisper. “But June, that don’t mean you got to love me back. You asked what was bothering me. I told you. That’s it. You know what? I don’t even want you to love me back. Not until I earn it. So for now…”
He dips his head, bringing his forehead to rest on top of hers. “Let me love you. Can you do that, June? Just let me love you...?”
To sum it up, Mason is a former white supremacist biker—let’s call him “retired.” And June—well, she’s a black woman he bought off a Hispanic drug dealer. There is no reason in the world they should be having this conversation. No reason, save ownership, they’d ever breathe the same air, much less share the same bed.
Yet June closes the distance between her mouth and his, greedily devouring Mason’s lips as she pulls his big body over hers. She wants him again. Is crazed with the need to feel him between her legs. To know he’s real. That she’s not on the verge of starving to death in the Cul while her mind hallucinates some weird, twisted, pre-death fantasy.
But it’s not a dream.
She knows this when he raises above her and pushes all the way in, his thick cock stretching her beyond comprehension. But there’s no pain. No pain at all.
“Mason…” she gasps.
He starts moving. Gives her what she needs, what she wants…first in slow and steady strokes, then faster, sloppier, all while grunting, “Fucking come, June. Fucking come before I spill this load in your sweet pussy.”
His crass words galvanize her body, and she cries out when the orgasm rips through her. True to his threat, Mason comes soon after with a sharp groan, his body going rigid on top of hers as he spills his load right where he said he would.
They don’t talk about it anymore after that. The fucking is too good. It takes away all their words. Mason flicks off the light again, and they settle on separate sides of the bed in silent but mutual agreement. He won’t open any doors or windows tonight, and she won’t try to talk him out of the crazy thing—the many crazy things—he just told her.
But still, June has to wonder if he’s asking himself in the dark what she’s asking herself in the dark.
Where do we go from here?
Chapter Twenty-Five
The answer to that question comes in December, a little over a week later. On a bright but cold Friday morning.
“Where’s Mason?” Jordan asks when June walks into the kitchen.
He’s already up and eating a bowl of cereal at the table, while finishing the homework that’s not due until the following Monday. This is a common sight these days, since Mason won’t let him work on the bike after school until all his homework is done. Better to get it done and out of the way so he can do what he wants when he gets home.
“I don’t know,” she answers, padding over to the coffee machine. “He was already gone when I woke up.”
Jordan eyes her jeans and sweater combo. “You don’t have work today?”
“Nope,” she answers. “Figured I’d bike into town.”
“To do some Christmas shopping?” Jordan turns all the way around in his seat and fixes his eyes on her. “Maybe for a new video game system?”
“Nope,” she answers.
His face falls in such a dramatic fashion that she almost tells him the truth. She and Mason already picked out a gaming system for him earlier that week. It’s wrapped and waiting for him on the top shelf of their closet.
But that would spoil the surprise, so in order not to give into temptation, she says, “Jordan, hurry and finish your cereal. If Mason’s not here soon, you and I will need to walk to the—.”
The rest of her sentence is drowned out by the sound of a loud motorcycle roaring outside the house.
“Mason!” Jordan yells, jumping up from the table. He dashes from the kitchen before she can nag him to please finish his breakfast first.
June understands why as soon as she steps out onto the front porch. Mason is in the driveway, his denim clad legs on either side of a now gleaming bike that only bears a passing resemblance to the rusted mess he and Jordan brought home a couple of months ago.
“It works!” Jordan yells, running up to him.
“Course it does,” Mason answers, pulling his half helmet off. “What’d you think we were doing? Fixing it up for shits and giggles? Purrs like kitten got into the heroin stash now. Seller I found online is gonna be happy when I deliver this baby.”
Jordan’s face falls. “You…you already sold it?”
“Yeah, kid,” he answers. A bit callously, June thinks, until he adds, “Barn’s only so big. And we got to make way for another fixer upper. I got a Harley FXRT I’m pickin’ up in Bella Vista tomorrow. Real POS. It’s going take at least four months to turn that pig into a purse.”
Jordan’s face lights right back up. “I can’t wait!” he says excitedly.
“Me either,” Mason replies. “But in the meantime…”
He produces a much smaller helmet from out of nowhere. “Want a ride to school?”
“Uh, yeah!! Hold on, lemme go get my jacket and shit.”
“Jordan…!” June says, though she knows she shouldn’t be surprised considering how much time he’s been spending with Mason.
“Sorry!” he calls out as he darts back in the house.
She looks at Mason, her lips pressed in a thin line. Mason responds with an innocent look that might go a lot further if he weren’t also smirking.
“You alright?” he asks. “Sleep okay?”
He knows the answer to both questions, since he’s the one who sexed her so good last night, she fell asleep immediately afterwards, like a milk-drunk baby.
“I slept fine,” she answers, fighting hard to keep a smile from breaking through.
“You going somewhere?” he asks, eyeing her jeans and carefully chosen graphic tee. On non-workdays, she usually hangs out in her pajamas until after Jordan leaves for school. Today, however, she’s wearing regular clothes before nine am.
“I was thinking of biking into town,” she replies. “See if that tattoo place might want to take me on as an apprentice.”
He grins. “Good idea, but maybe hold off on leaving for a little bit. Got something I need to talk to you about.”
Frowning, she nods, wondering what it can possibly be.
When Mason returns, he finds her in the living room pretending to watch the Today Show when really, she’s desperate to know what he wants to talk about.
“Ah…yeah, we should probably do this in the kitchen.”
June turns off the TV and follows him. Watches nervously while he fills a cup of coffee.
“You want some?”
“No, I’ve already had two.” Wow, an answer and a reason why. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to how easy it is to talk to him.
Of course right now, her newfound chattiness is definitely in jeopardy because her ravens are spinning with a nervous energy that makes her want to throw up.
Mason walks over to the table. Hesitates. Hesitates some more. Then sits down with his coffee. “So…”
He runs a hand over the back of his neck. More awkward than she’s ever seen him. This really isn�
��t helping calm the ravens.
Finally he asks, “You given any more thought to your Christmas plans?”
June shakes her head no, not really understanding what that has to do with his odd behavior. “Uh, no, not really. Well, I have been thinking I need to start looking up recipes for Christmas dinner.”
“Thing is...D’s been riding me hard to come visit him for Christmas. I don’t think I can put him off much longer. But…well, if you want—” he stops, clears his throat, continues. “If you want, you can come with me to Seattle. You and Jordan. I thought it might be nice for you to meet my family. And, you know, have them meet you.”
He’s not saying the words. Hasn’t said them since Thanksgiving night. But they hang between them right now.
“Me and Jordan,” she repeats. Then with a tilt of her head she asks, “Is this the same cousin that killed your gang?”
“Our board. But yeah. Same one,” Mason admits with a wince. “But I swear he’s not like that anymore, June. He’s living with a doctor. And they got a baby on the way. When he called to harass me yesterday, he told me he’s starting med school come January. So, you know, he’s had one hell of a makeover. Also, they got other folks coming. His old lady’s family, her best friend, and her husband. He’s Russian, huge as fuck, but basically good people if he’s not mafia, which I’m still not 100% sure he ain’t.”
Mason grimaces again. “Okay…now that I’m saying all this out loud, I can totally understand if you and the kid don’t want to go. Plus it’s colder than a witch’s titties up there this time of year.”
“Do you want us to go?” she asks, honestly confused.
“Well, yeah.”
“Then we’ll go,” June replies, wondering why this is even a discussion.
Mason smiles, but then it dies on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
He looks away, jaw working back and forth, before he looks back at her and asks, “You saying you’ll go because you want to, or because you belong to me?”
The Very Bad Fairgoods - Their Ruthless Bad Boys: A Smoking Hot Southern Bad Boys Boxset Page 64