by Bijou Hunter
“I want in on this love,” Justice says, wrapping her arms around us. “My sisters are so special.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I feel old.”
“You are old.”
Justice hugs me tighter. “I’ll miss your big queefing mouth when you move away to go to college.”
“I’m not going to college or moving away.”
“Bummer,” she says, walking away.
Journey and I take turns cooking a late breakfast for everyone while playing with Ike. As a gift on my big day, Mom endures listening to Katzenjammer on repeat. I hear her say something about it being too noisy, but the woman’s musical tastes went out of the window as soon as Jared’s penis went in her body. Some men fuck out a woman’s brains. Jared apparently fucked away her good taste.
After we eat, everyone heads out to the back yard where the kids play, women gossip, and men pull out their rulers.
“Do you think Emmett will call me today?” I ask, wanting my sisters and mother focused on me rather than staring at their men nearby.
“He doesn’t seem like the romantic sort,” Justice says. “Of course, he really likes the idea of popping your poopy cherry. My vote is on yes.”
“He’ll show,” Journey agrees. “Emmett’s been waiting a long time to make a move. For a guy, it’s been an eternity since he made his pervy declaration.”
“He isn’t a perv.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t just agree with me because it’s my birthday, and I’m special, and you feel inferior under the shadow of my specialness.”
“In that case, Emmett wants your bod,” Journey says. “He isn’t looking for stimulating conversation or cuddling. As long as you keep that in mind, you’re solid.”
“What makes you think I’m capable of stimulating conversation when I’ve had no practice in this house?”
“Burn,” Justice says, laughing. “Mom, are you going to stand for that attitude?”
Our mother waves off Justice’s question. Her gaze is focused on an animated Jared speaking with the younger guys.
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
“Don’t believe the lies,” I say in my Jared-voice. “Dick size doesn’t matter.”
Justice snorts and does her Court voice that sounds more like a stoner than her husband. “But I have a big dick. It’s super big. I can yank this puppy out and prove it.”
“Dicks belong in your pants,” Journey says, doing her version of Donovan that sounds a little too dead-on. “I’m barely able to endure you idiots already. If someone pulls out a dong, then I’m gone.”
“Rhymed,” Justice says and high-fives Journey.
“I don’t think they’re talking about dicks,” Mom says as if she just met us and took our crap at face value. “Jared’s been tense lately.”
“Not getting enough sex probably,” Justice says.
I shake my head. “Trust me that they do it constantly. I had to move across the house to avoid hearing all the huffing and puffing from those two. Oh, and the wall banging. I don’t know whose head is banging like that, but I sense a concussion in someone’s future.”
We all look at our mother who ignores us. She narrows her eyes and stands up.
“I’m going over there.”
Journey shakes her head. “They’ll stop talking if it’s club business, and you know it’s club business.”
“Something bad is going on,” Mom says as if in the know.
“No,” Journey murmurs, cooing over Ike in her lap. “They’re in flux lately. Joe won’t give up his position, even though Court’s ready to be the guy making the official calls.”
“Did Donnie tell you that?” Justice asks, clearly irritated to know her sister gets the club dish while Court refuses to share.
“I don’t need it spelled out to get the gist.”
“Do you think Joe might hurt my man?” Justice asks, staring at Court until he senses her gaze and frowns in her direction. “We’re bound psychically.”
I give Journey an eye roll, and she nods. Justice is so pathetic about her man. If her behavior weren’t highly entertaining, we’d force her to stop.
“He knows I worry, and he looks to comfort me.”
“He’s frowning at you like someone farted,” I point out. “Ahh, that’s so comforting.”
Justice purses her lips. “Are water guns still on the table for your birthday?”
“Sure, but I should warn you that Mom and Jared bought me a super soaker for my big day. If war breaks out, your scrawny ass is getting drenched.”
Justice looks uncertain. She really wants to squirt me. I don’t blame her.
What she doesn’t realize is I plan to drench her today no matter what she does. My gift needs breaking in, and her face is begging for a bath.
6 Train Wrecks - Poppy
As the sun disappears outside, Hal licks cake frosting off my index finger. Mom aches to warn me about feeding her dog fattening stuff. I feel the wheels turning in her pretty blonde head, but she decides to save the lectures for a less momentous day.
Outside, a Harley approaches, but I don’t pay it any attention. I’m grooving on sugar and the joy of having Journey play with my hair. My sister hides her softness behind powerful biceps and a sexy snarl, but her touch is wonderfully tender when she scratches my scalp.
I’m already living the dream for my eighteenth birthday when Mom tells me that I have a visitor. Though reluctant to leave Journey’s magic fingers, I finally pry myself off the couch. Though the leftover piece of cake beckons me, I find something sweeter outside.
Emmett’s looking damn fine standing with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a gift bag in the other. I take his offerings and set them on a table on the porch. My gaze takes in how wide his chest looks in the Dairy Queen T-shirt.
“This is tight on you,” I mumble, stroking a finger across his chest.
Sporting a height a few inches over six feet, Emmett needs to bend way down to kiss me. His sexy mother-fricking lips cover mine, sending my hormones into overdrive. I swear the man fires a heat-seeking missile straight to my crotch.
Before doing something stupid only feet from my family, I place my hands on his chest and push. Emmett gets the message and lets me breathe.
I edge away from him and walk to where I set the flowers. “I hope you didn’t show up thinking today was your lucky day.”
Emmett doesn’t let me get away so quickly. He follows me to the end of the porch, using his size to block my escape. Doing what any self-respecting cock tease would do, I slide my divine ass over the railing and flee into the yard. Emmett follows suit and we end up standing near his Harley.
“No worries, baby, I showed up to remind you of what you’re missing,” he says after our cat and mouse game.
Stepping back, I give his hot bod an obvious once-over. “Turn around and show me what you’re packing in the back.”
Emmett never hesitates. Arms in the air, he slowly turns, giving me an excellent view of his manly curves. His shirt rides up just enough to provide a glimpse of his happy trail. I imagine running my fingers through the dark hair and following it south to where his package hides.
“Not bad. I’d put you in the top three on my list of possible cherry poppers.”
Emmett rolls his eyes. “No way. Unless your list is me, myself, and I, you’ve only got one name on that list.”
“There are other men in the world.”
“Not for you.”
“How many women did you pluck this week?” I ask, crossing my arms and pushing up my small boobs for his enjoyment.
“Zero. That’s why I’m walking like my dick’s on strike.”
Laughing at his expression while he pulls at the crotch of his faded blue jeans, I pat his chest.
“I’d claim I’m sorry, but we’d both know I was lying.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, erasing the space between us and taking a lock of my hair in his r
ough fingers. “I think you could make me believe you were sorry if you really tried.”
“We’ll never know, will we?”
“Won’t you lie a little for me, baby?”
I stare into his dark eyes and smile brightly. “No.”
“Never gonna be easy with you.”
“Why should it be? My mom raised me to believe I was worth all the trouble.”
“She wasn't wrong.”
“No, she wasn’t. My mom is fan-fricking-tastic. Never say otherwise.”
“Can I talk shit about your sisters?”
Narrowing my eyes, I push him, but Emmett doesn’t budge. He’s a solid wall of muscle and horny intent.
“I think you just fell out of the top three,” I threaten.
“Can I check out your sisters’ asses?” he asks because Emmett never knows when to back the hell down.
“Sure. Feel free to jack it off to fantasies of them while I’m busy riding another guy's dick.”
“When you talk about sex, your eyes light up in a super sexy fucking way. I wonder if they’ll do the same thing when I make you come.”
“Probably.”
Emmett smiles and releases my hair. “Do you know how to bowl?”
“No. I don’t want to stick my fingers in holes where other fingers have already been.”
Emmett smiles at my meaning. “I can’t do miniature golf. The courses make me fucking crazy.”
“So, you want me to teach you then? Huh, okay, I will school your fine ass in the art of getting the ball in the hole. It’s all about the aim, big guy.”
“Fridays is when everyone will be out on dates. They’ll distract me from this view,” he says, waving his hand over my face. “Let’s go out on another night. Is Wednesday good for you?”
“Hump Day is always good for me.”
“Turning eighteen is a good look on you.”
“I know.”
“Never gonna be easy,” he says, sighing dramatically. “Your ma created a monster.”
“No doubt, but I’m too old to change.”
Emmett taps my nose. “You’re set in your ways, but the right man can get you to change. He’ll need to be patient and wise.”
“Too bad you’re neither of those things.”
“No, I’m not. Well, maybe a little patient. I did wait for your eighteenth birthday.”
“You kissed me over a year ago,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but that’s because I forgot you were jailbait. Once I remembered, I was patient.”
“Okay, you’re patient, but not even a little bit wise.”
“No, never wise. I get along fine without wisdom. Well, until you wrapped my dick around your finger.”
“You’ve got dick on the brain,” I say, stepping back.
“No, I got you on the brain, and that makes my dick control my mouth.”
“Men are odd creatures. Someone should study your kind. Maybe hide in the bushes and watch you in your native habitats like titty clubs or sports bars.”
“You feel free to study me up close on Wednesday.”
“I’m the Jane Goodall of rednecks. My work will help generations of young people understand the mating rituals of the big, sweaty male.”
While tugging at the seam of my shirt, Emmett smiles. “You’ll need to get up close and personal to get a full understanding.”
“No doubt. I’ll bring a notepad on our date. Pepper spray too, just in case the natives get handsy.”
Emmett notices someone behind us. After giving the person a head nod, he allows me a wide berth. I glance back to find Jared on the front porch. His arms are crossed and he’s wearing a steely expression. Was this masculine display Jared’s idea or my mom’s?
“I best go,” Emmett says.
“Where did your balls go?” I tease. “Are they riding bitch on Jared’s hog?”
“They’re looking to remain attached until after I’ve got me some babies from a good woman. Once I’m a family man, my balls can go riding with any handsome fella they desire.”
“You’re weird.”
“Save your sweet talk for Wednesday,” he says, walking backward to his Harley.
“About that. After seeing you cower in fear like this, I’m not sure I ought to waste a Hump Day on you.”
“Fine. I’ll bring rope and a gag and take matters into my own hands.”
“Wait, did you just say you’re going to masturbate if I don’t go out with you?”
Emmett grins while climbing on his Harley. “Wednesday at six. Right here. Or else.”
“That’s real scary coming from a guy afraid of someone drawing Medicare.”
Laughing now, Emmett doesn’t dare look at Jared. I watch the beefcake ride away and then turn to my mother’s mustached lover.
“You’re not my father,” I tell him for the millionth time.
“I know. Whenever I start forgetting, I remind myself how I don’t have a glandular problem.”
Narrowing my eyes at Jared, I want to intimidate him like I did when we first met. He only chuckles and returns to the house. Either my bitch powers are waning or Jared’s built up a resistance to them. I hope it’s the latter.
At eighteen, I have a whole lot of living left and those powers will come in handy.
7 Train Wrecks - Emmett
Back in Charleston, I didn’t make decisions in my club. My dad and brother were the ones everyone looked to, even though they were fucking morons who ended up in prison for stupid shit. I didn’t think I was much smarter, but Court and Donovan always include me in their planning.
Since getting the beat into the club, I belonged to the younger guys’ very small inner circle. The Rawkfist Motorcycle Club president might be Joe with everyone kissing his ring, but Court did the heavy lifting. No doubt the old guy’s days on top were limited. If Court didn’t enjoy working in the shadows, he’d likely have pushed Joe out by now.
Like most of our meetings, we don’t head to the club’s main hangout. The Rock Tavern is Joe’s place where the older guys go to shoot the shit. Instead, Court moves us around a lot, though we spend a lot of time at Moe & Mae’s Grill.
Today, I meet Court, Donovan, and another new guy named Floyd at a coffee shop in the nearby town of Deacon.
“That’s Stephen,” Floyd says, looking out the window next to our table. “He called last night to talk me into returning to the old crew. When I said the old crew didn’t exist, he told me only one club would be standing. He claims it won’t be Rawkfist.”
“He must trust you to share such information,” Donovan says.
The former cop always sounds a little bored during club conversations. That’s his con, I’ve realized. He’s a sneaky little fucker. Always lurking in the background, barely noticeable, easily forgettable, yet he’s constantly watching and listening.
Floyd doesn’t catch the accusation. I’d know if he did since the guy hides nothing. Floyd wears his heart on his sleeve. He’ll never be a double agent.
“No, Stephen’s arrogant and likes to talk. Even after what happened to the old club, he thinks he’s better for spending time in prison. The guy’s a fucking idiot.”
The old Deacon Rollers Motorcycle Club and the Rawkfist club shared a partnership and territory in Clinton County. Long before I arrived in town, the cops killed or arrested most of the Deacon’s members. Floyd ended up in prison. When released, he came crawling to Rawkfist for a new home. I did the same after meeting Court in prison and learning my old crew had dived headfirst into Aryan Nation bullshit.
Now the four of us sit in a coffee shop surrounded by old timers bitching about the hot weather.
“Stephen thinks he can grab back what the Deacon’s guys controlled. He wants to move into Rockwell and even Rock Top Falls.”
Court glances at a bored Donovan. “That puts him on a collision course with the club.”
“Will Joe want to do anything about that?”
“Probably not. He thinks the cops will knock on his d
oor at any moment. If I ever get that paranoid, please slap the shit out of me.”
“I’ll save myself time and let Justice do it.”
“Don’t be an asshole. You know she can’t fight. Her solution is to throw things around the room.”
“She can’t throw for shit.”
“Exactly. It’s mayhem, so just slap me yourself.”
“Fine, but if I get to have fun, you know Journey will want a piece of it too.”
“So ball shots,” Court mutters, grinning.
“We’ll keep an eye on Stephen for now,” Court says after we finish our coffee. “Let him make his moves while Joe figures out what to do.”
“What if Stephen’s moves involve taking our shit?” I ask.
“Then we take it back.”
“And if Joe never figures anything out?” Floyd pushes.
“He’s enjoying his last hurrah. Soon, he’ll have a medical emergency that he’ll use to retire. I’ll take his place, and Ned will move out of the way for someone to be my VP. Until that happens, we let Joe feel like a big man and Stephen play his cards. Both of them are on borrowed time.”
Floyd exhales, clearly happy with this answer. I’m a sheep and will follow Court wherever he goes. That’s who I am, and who I will always be. Donovan is the only one who gets edgier after Court’s announcement. Then again, he’s the guy most likely tapped to be the vice president and the one least likely to want the job.
8 Train Wrecks - Poppy
I don’t spend a lot of energy worrying over my date outfit. My makeup is a quick job, and my hair behaves as well as it can in the humidity. I’m ready to go without a tiny bit of angst. If only I weren’t ready an hour early, I might have avoided the entire drama raging in my head.
“What if I can’t stand him?” I ask Justice who struggles to braid Matilda’s long dark hair.
“Why would you just now wonder about that?”
“We don’t talk. We banter. He flirts, and I promise to…” I pause to look at Matilda staring at me. The six-year-old is always watching me, and I wonder if she plans to kill me one day and take over the mantle of the most amazing chick in the house. “I promise to provide him with positive feelings.”