Nicky's Fire

by Nancy Fornataro

  Giving him a level stare, she replied, "Flimsy excuse. Besides, I'm not sure you've got one now, buster."

  "Hey," he said, as he flopped onto a chair, "the name is Action."

  "You wouldn't know it to look at this place. How about if I start shoveling it out tomorrow?" Then, she remembered something. "Damn! I don't have a nightgown."

  Grinning up at her, he said, "Awww. What a shame."

  Picking up her bag, she said stoically, "I'm going to the bedroom now. I might be back, and I might not. This is scary. No telling what I'll find in there."

  However, if she avoided looking at the torn wallpaper, the bedroom wasn't too bad. But she gazed with amazement at his assortment of weapons lying carelessly on a scratched dresser. She inwardly ticked them off. A 357 Smith and Wesson revolver, a Beretta .32 semiautomatic pistol, and a knife the size of a meat cleaver.

  "Quite an arsenal you've got in here," she yelled, "remind me to stay on your good side."

  "Right!" he yelled back, "Keep in your place, woman!"

  "Can I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?"

  "Hey, me casa es su casa. Help yourself."

  "Is that French or Spanish?"

  "Good question. I'll look it up and get back to you."

  She showered, after first cleaning the tub, swearing all the while. This man was a slob, she decided, either that or he was very busy fixing motorcycles all the time or something.

  Throwing on the t-shirt, she laughed. The thing came almost to her knees, and she thought it made a pretty good nightgown.

  Climbing into the somewhat rumpled double-bed, she yelled, "Good-night, Nick!"

  He yelled back, "Good-night, Legs!"

  As she snuggled under the covers, she realized the bed smelled like Nick. Deliciously so. He wore a cologne or aftershave. Nah, she thought, it couldn't be aftershave. She'd felt his bristly chin when he kissed her. Must be some kind of soap.

  Burrowing her face into his pillow, she wondered if he'd sleep on the couch. Then, after a few minutes, she fell fast asleep.

  She woke later to the sounds of voices and laughter. Looking at the luminescent clock dial, she saw it was three o'clock in the morning. Groaning, she turned over and went back to sleep.

  But, an hour later, she was ripped rudely from her slumbers again, as the overhead light was suddenly flipped on.

  Nick's voice said, "Aw, Tiny, she's asleep. Don't bug her."

  Clutching the covers around her neck, she looked towards the door. Standing in it, actually filling it, was the fattest man she'd ever seen in her life. His scraggly blond hair hung on his shoulders in greasy strands, a front tooth was missing out of his wide grin, and his clothes were so dirty, she couldn't believe it. They probably have a life of their own, she thought.

  "Geez, Nick," the man slurred, "she's beyutiful, man. Where'd ya find her again?" He lumbered to the bed, and sat, it sagged, and Chloe felt herself sliding towards the man.

  "Niiick," she called weakly.

  Then she heard his voice. "Tiny, get off the bed for Christ sake, you're going to break it!" Nick stood in the doorway, frowning, and Chloe looked at him helplessly.

  "Geez," Tiny complained, as he hefted himself up, "I ain't that fat."

  Nick laughed. "The hell you aren't! Come on, let's have another beer. You got a good look at her, now let her go back to sleep."

  Sleep? What was sleep? Chloe wondered. She watched the man move slowly across the room. Then, he turned, and said softly, "Action's got a old lady. Who woulda believed that? What the hell."

  Then, the light flipped off again, and she heard Nick whisper, "Good-night, baby."

  Sunlight streamed in the room early. Too early for Chloe, who squinted at the bare window. Turning over, she realized Nick must have slept on the couch. She sniffed, and thought it was probably better that way.

  She lay for a few minutes, lazily stretching. Then, after she'd brushed her hair, she padded into the living room. But, Nick wasn't there either, and an uneasy feeling started in the pit of her stomach. Where was he?

  Then, shrugging it off, she decided to clean up the place. She spent the next hour straightening, washing, and trying not to gag at the mess. Then, she really thought she must be someone's slave, and wondered what other truly exciting things this guy had in store for her.

  Nick came in an hour after that. She'd just washed her hair, and was untangling it with a wide-toothed comb, as she sat on a rickety vinyl kitchen chair. "Ouch. I can't stand all this excitement Nick. Ow. God, I hate long hair."

  Chuckling, he sat beside her. He was even more impressive and handsome in the daylight, in spite of his face stubble, and she grew embarrassed for some reason. Then she realized she felt like last night was a blind-date, and this was her first good look at him. Like a one-night stand, without the sex.

  He said, "The house looks great. Listen, you don't have to clean up, you know. I've been kind of letting the place go."

  "Kind of?" she replied, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one. And by the way, do you ever shave?"

  He rubbed his chin. "Yeah. Guess I'll have to start now, eh? What changes a woman brings."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Where have you been so early? Don't you ever sleep?"

  Sitting back lazily in the chair, with his legs thrust out in front of him, he replied, "Not much. Usually, only a couple of hours a night. I've been working on a bike." He held up his greasy hands.

  "The world of a man." Then she sighed, "You can have it. So, what's on the agenda today?"

  He shrugged. "Not much. We're going to Max's house for dinner. He wants to meet you. So, I hope that doesn't dash any dinner plans you might have had for us."

  "Not quite," she said, smirking at him, "I'll just put my seven course masterpiece on hold."

  "Right."

  ********

  It turned out, after Chloe spent the day being a surly slave, that Max's house was in Rancho Palos Verdes Estates.

  "How can he afford to live up here?" she yelled at Nick, as they rode up the winding road.

  "Drugs!" he yelled back.

  And, as Nick told her the day before, the house was a fortress, with huge iron gates and a security system. And, she thought, as they rode slowly up to the front, it was the house of a millionaire. No doubt about it. Heavy drugs. Big money. Big bust.

  A small, blonde woman came to the door, with a baby on her hip. "Nicky!" she squealed, "Come on in!"

  They entered, and introductions were made.

  Chloe smiled at the woman. Tessie looked very innocent and very young, far from the image Chloe held of hardened biker babes. She did dress like one, however, in jeans and a tank top, similar to what Chloe wore.

  "How ya doin?" Tessie asked, in a soft voice.

  "Good, thanks." And Chloe wondered how she was supposed to act hard, when this little, tiny woman was staring at her with eyes like saucers. "Cute baby," Chloe said finally.

  "Oh, thanks. Come on in and meet Max, then we can put Bobbie down. Hopefully, he'll stay down for Marisa. She's our maid and babysitter."

  Chloe looked around as they walked down the hallway. Ultra modern furniture graced the large rooms, and it seemed incongruous to Chloe that the good guys lived in a hovel, and the bad guys lived in a mansion. But, not for long, she reminded herself. Although, the thought of throwing babies out into the street did bother her considerably.

  Max, who sat in the sparkling, chrome anointed kitchen, rolling joints, had the hard look of someone who'd used drugs all his life. His curly brown hair was fairly short, compared to Nick's, but his face was pock-marked and riddled with knife scars. His face, staring up at her now, held no trace of emotion at all, as he grunted a hello. He was smaller in stature than Nick, but wore the same jeans and white t-shirt.

  "Get her something to drink, babe. Me and Action have business."

  "Okay honey," Tessie gushed, "Come on, Chloe, let's put the baby down. We can get to know each other."

  Chapter Three

  By the
time Chloe sat down to dinner with the Bikers in Paradise, she'd learned, not from wanting to, every detail she'd ever want to know about the sex lives of Tessie and Max. Tessie was a gossip machine, but only about the sordid details of her love life. And Chloe thought once she could steer the woman away from the sex thing, she'd probably learn a lot about the club.

  Dinner proved to be Chinese take-out, eaten lustily from about twenty containers. Supposedly, it was Max's favorite. The man didn't talk much, but Chloe felt his presence like a bad omen. As Tessie chattered on, all through dinner, and Nick's eyes twinkled at her from across the kitchen table, she felt Max staring at her. He had a cold face, and eyes like Charles Manson. She understood why he was the leader of the group...Chloe wouldn't want to cross him.

  As they finished up, Max said, "Let's go in the Jacuzzi, then go to the clubhouse. It's still early."

  Ten o'clock, Chloe thought. Then she realized bikers were night people, like predators.

  "Oh," she said, "I didn't bring a bathing suit with me."

  "Silly!" Tessie laughed, "We don't wear suits."

  Chloe's gaze drifted to Nick. He raised his eyebrows, and she smiled at him tightly.

  Before they all wandered to the back patio, she grabbed Nick's arm, while Tessie and Max argued about something, and she hissed, "You didn't tell me about this!"

  "I didn't know about this," he whispered, "I've never been up here for dinner before."

  "So much for modesty," she said dryly.

  The Jacuzzi was large, bubbly and inviting. Chloe gazed around the back yard, and saw a long, well-lit swimming pool beside the Jacuzzi. She wondered how many people died on the streets to accommodate this. The house gave her an eerie feeling, and she thought she'd be glad to get back to Nick's hovel.

  Nick and Max still talked in the kitchen, so she stripped quickly, tied her hair up, and lowered herself into the steaming water.

  The two came out, finally, and both started stripping nonchalantly. She hadn't realized just how big Nick really was, until he took off his shirt. He had muscles in places she hadn't even thought of. They rippled and gleamed with his every movement, and she was fascinated. Finally, averting her eyes, while she chatted with Tessie, Nick got in and she felt him slide beside her.

  "Hey, babe," he whispered in her ear, "is this fun, or what?" His arm came around her shoulders, and he pulled her tightly against him. The shock of his hard, naked body sent tremors through her. Then the warm, surging water relaxed her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

  Nick felt her thigh and the side of her breast press against his chest, and he groaned inwardly, cursing Max. He felt his hardness start, and was glad the man turned up the jets just then, so it remained hidden. As she chatted with Tessie about the baby, he found his gaze drifting down to Chloe's breasts. They were half in, half out of the water now, and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch them. Her body was soft, so soft against him. Too provocative, too tempting. Then he felt her hand rest on his thigh; her touch was light, casual.

  Trying to get his mind off Chloe, he wondered when Max would go to Mazatlan. But his next thought was of Chloe again. He could only sleep so many nights on the lumpy couch. Then, he'd have to go in the bed and try to sleep beside her. What he told her about needing a few hours of sleep was a lie. He was exhausted right now, and wanted very much to go home.

  Luckily, to his relief, Chloe decided to get out of the water just then.

  "Too hot!" she explained to Tessie, laughing.

  But as he watched Chloe rise from the water, he thought he'd never seen a woman's body that was quite as beautiful. Her breasts were large, high and well formed, with generous nipples that were now contracting as the cold air hit them. Her waist was small, her hips slender, and her buttocks enticingly curved.

  She stood over him, briefly, her breasts hanging down tantalizingly, and her lips grazed his. "Gotta make this look good," she whispered, with a smile tugging at her lips.

  As she climbed the steps, he looked at Max. The man raised his eyebrows, and said, "Sweet."

  Nick grinned. "Yeah. I'll have a tough time keeping the guys away from her, though."

  Later, after showering, dressing, and taking a somewhat chilly ride into town, Chloe looked around the large clubhouse. It was a small warehouse, away from houses and people, in a seedier section of Culver City. There were about ten bikers there who stared, as she entered with Nick, and three women who also looked her over.

  The place smelled of smoke, pot and unwashed bodies. Posters of Marion Brando hung on one wall, along with blown-up photos of the gang members. America's most wanted, she thought ruefully, and wonderful pieces of evidence.

  A stereo blasted from one corner of the room, and she didn't recognize the group playing. It was heavy music, though, and it contributed to the sinister feel of the place. A battered pool table stood alone, in the center of the room, and a loud game was in progress now.

  Nick poured her a whiskey from a make-shift bar in the kitchen of the place, which also contained, on the counters, more drugs than Chloe had ever seen before.

  He started introducing her around. Each man seemed grubbier than the last, and she tried to remember their names.

  Tiny, she remembered from the night before, and he repeated his beyutiful line, as she smiled at him. He wore the same clothes as last night. She recognized the grease spots.

  She met Ace, a smaller, Italian biker with an earring and a nasty attitude. The rest were friendlier, almost too friendly, as they ogled her. And, there was a certain respect in their eyes as they looked at Nick, and she wondered what he'd done to deserve it.

  Limpy had brown hair, a brown beard, and, not surprisingly, a limp. Chloe thought bikers were not real creative with names.

  However, one of the pool players was called Squirrel. She looked at Nick questioningly. "He always hides his stash from everyone," Nick explained, "squirrels it away."

  Big Bob, the other bearded pool player, was about six-four and Chloe thought he must weigh upwards of three hundred pounds.

  "I'll play the winner," she told him. He grinned at her, showing a rotten front tooth. For macho guys, she thought, they sure avoided the dentist's office.

  While she waited for the game to end, Nick drifted off, and one of the women approached her.

  "Hey," the woman said, clacking her gum furiously, "I'm Limpy's old lady."

  "Howareya?" Chloe responded, wondering if the woman had a name.

  "Sandy," she said.

  "Chloe."

  The woman had the biggest breasts Chloe had ever seen on such a short woman. She tried not to stare, and focused on Sandy's long red hair instead. It was one of those indescribable reds that could only come from home dye jobs, one on top of the other. Plus, the woman's rather homely face was covered with so much dirty-looking make-up, it made Chloe wince.

  An unmistakable smell of body odor was floating around this woman. That, mixed with the peppermint gum, and some sweet, heavy perfume she wore, was enough, Chloe thought, to make a person gag.

  The men's pool game ended, and she was to play Squirrel.

  "Listen squirrel," she said casually, as she broke and a solid ball flew into the side pocket, "don't be hidin' these balls from me now, 'cause I got a temper."

  "Yeah?" he replied, screwing up his face, "Well, I got one too, babe, so look out."

  She stifled a laugh. When he made that face, he really did look like a squirrel.

  Nick watched her playing pool, as he lounged in an old chair. She was good, and he wondered what would happen if she beat Squirrel. Plus, he was enjoying the view immensely. Every time she bent over, he either watched her breasts almost fall out of her lacy, white tank top, or her rounded derriere moving and wiggling. And he wasn't alone. All the guys in the place were watching the game now, with interest, including Limpy, who received a violent punch from Sandy for his efforts.

  But then, Rhonda wandered in, and he groaned. She'd been after Nick for a year now, relentl
essly, and she'd finally settled for Squirrel.

  She stood at the doorway, her hands on her hips, glaring at the two playing pool. And Nick thought idly that she was a nice-looking woman, compared to the others. She was slim, but busty, and wore clothes that emphasized it; like the skintight, red t-shirt she had on now, tucked into a black mini-skirt. Her hair was long, straight, and shiny black, but she was mean as hell, and wore so much make-up on her somewhat attractive face, he thought someone could scrape it off with a trowel.

  "Squirrel," she yelled, "what the hell are you doing with that bitch?"

  Squirrel looked almost sheepish for a minute, then remembered himself. "What the fuck do you care?"

  "Who is she?" Rhonda moved towards Chloe, who now leaned on the pool table casually, watching the woman.

  "The name's Chloe," she said, staring at the woman, "what's it to ya?"

  Rhonda stood in front of Chloe now. "He's mine," she spat, "get lost."

  Chloe smirked at her. "No can do. Gotta finish up here. Then I'll give him back."

  Nick watched with a grin, and a certain amount of fascination. Yeah, Chloe was good.

  Chloe turned her back on Rhonda, and started to line up a shot. Rhonda grabbed her arm, but Nick thought Chloe must have expected it, because her pool cue came down on the woman's arm with a loud crack. "You get lost," Chloe said in a low, ominous voice.

  Nick caught Max's eye, and the man grinned at him. This was getting interesting.

  But Rhonda wasn't done. Blinking quickly, trying not to show her pain as Chloe bent down to play again, she raised her fist to strike.

  However, Chloe was faster. She grabbed Rhonda's wrist, and brought it around the woman's back so fast, Nick hardly saw it. And, Chloe wrenched Rhonda's arm so hard, Nick thought it would snap. Holding the arm higher and higher up, painfully so, Chloe said, "You qotta listen, girl. I told you," she jerked it up further, and Rhonda winced, "you can have him when I'm done, understand?"