FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME

by Scott Hildreth

  I looked around the house. The floor plan was open, and the entire house was like a huge flat. It was decorated in a contemporary fashion, and looked very modern. I looked into the kitchen. The countertops were free of clutter. A toaster was the only sign of an appliance on the countertop. On top of the refrigerator was a jar.

  I looked at the jar. It seemed out of place on top of the refrigerator. I walked closer, and as I did, I could see that it was a mason jar, an old mason jar with a brass lid. I walked closer. As I got closer to it, I could see that it was full of paper.

  I walked up to the jar and picked it up from the top of the refrigerator. I looked inside, turning the jar. Different colored paper, receipts, tickets.

  I squinted and tried to read what was on them. I turned the jar in my hand and looked, amazed at the contents. White House Down. Two tickets from the movie theatre. Receipts: Espresso A Go-Go $8.19. Espresso a Go-Go $13.12. Il Vicino $21.19. I shook my head, turning the jar. The Buckle $ 88.30.

  She had kept every receipt she could get her hands on from where we had been. I turned the jar, looking at it in amazement. On the bottom was a dried flower. From the farmhouse we broke into, I was sure. I had picked a flower on our way off the porch and handed it to her. I had imagined she would have thrown it away. I wondered how she even got it here, riding on the back of the motorcycle. She must have put it in her pocket. The “Air Bag” sticker off of the passenger side of the car, she had peeled it off of the dash after I bought the car.

  Souvenirs.

  I felt a rush of feelings I had not felt in years.

  When my mother passed, I frantically looked through the house for answers, some form of answer to my life, to my father, to what had happened. An answer for why I had to live my adult life without a mother. An answer to my father’s wealth. In my search, I found a box. In the box was a copy of every newspaper article that had my name in it. Every report card, every crayon drawing, everything that was ever placed on the refrigerator with a magnet.

  Everything.

  In my mother’s closet, a box of souvenirs. A box containing my life, proof of my existence and my accomplishments. Proof to me that she cared, that she loved me.

  She loved me.

  I placed the jar back on the top of the refrigerator, and smiled. I smiled on the inside and on the outside.

  I walked to the sofa, and as I did, the bathroom door opened, and Kelli walked out smiling. Wearing gauze bandages the size of dollar bills on each knee, naked as the day she was born, she walked into the living room. Her body was that of a model. Her looks as naturally beautiful as could be formed. She gracefully walked her walk of purpose into the living room.

  And collapsed into my arms.

  Chapter 27

  KELLI. “Grad school?” he asked.

  “Yes, at Columbia, in New York,” I said, crying.

  “Baby Girl, don’t cry. Is that what you want?”

  I shook my head from side to side. I opened my mouth and cried harder. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t speak. My knees hurt, I was tired, and I was deeply, madly, for the first time in my life, in love.

  My world, my future, my only reason to continue to exist and have some form of meaning, some form of true accomplishment…sat across the sofa from me, looking into my eyes.

  “What do you want, Baby Girl? Tell me. Just tell me what you want. For a minute here, clear your mind. Don’t think about what your father wants. Don’t think of what you think I want. Don’t think of anything. Think for a minute, a long minute, what do you want? Instead of being selfless, be selfish for a moment. If you could make the decision here, if your decision was what happened, no repercussions, no one gets angry, no consequences, what do you want?” he asked, speaking quietly and softly.

  “Think with your head, Baby Girl, not your heart.”

  I extended my arm toward him, my fist clenched. My arm was shaking, I was crying and trying to catch my breath. I held my arm out as flat as I could and opened my index finger and pointed at Erik.

  “Me?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “You want me?”

  I nodded again, sobbing. Over and over I nodded, my finger pointing to Erik.

  “Your future, your life, and acceptance to Columbia. Your father, his wishes, the dealership,” he paused, and looked into my eyes.

  “And you want me?”

  I leaned toward him, touched my finger to his chest and pressed hard, sobbing and nodding my head.

  He moved my hair behind my ears and softly put his hand under my chin and lifted it until our eyes met. I looked into his eyes, and tried to stop crying. His left hand clasped my right hand lightly. He lifted my chin a little higher and leaned toward me, his mouth open slightly. I closed my eyes.

  His lips met mine and we kissed. Softly, he kissed me as his hand slid to my face. He held my face in his hand and turned my head to make the kiss perfect. I felt my warm tears dripping down my face, onto my chin, and then onto his face. Our lips parted. He sat back on the couch and looked into my eyes, his hand still on my chin.

  His mouth opened slowly. He swallowed. He took a deep breath, exhaled, looked down at the couch, and then looked up. He inhaled again, and he spoke.

  “I will go with you to talk to your father if you wish,” he said.

  I tried to scream, but my mouth just opened, and nothing came out. I lurched forward, and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight. I laid my head on his shoulder and cried. Tears of fear and uncertainty turned to tears of joy.

  His arms wrapped around me and he leaned his head into mine. He patted me on the back and stood with me in his arms. I was exhausted. He carried me into the bedroom and held me in one arm. My legs were wrapped around his waist. I didn’t want to let go.

  With his other arm, he peeled the comforter back and laid me onto the cold sheets. Leaning down to release me, his head beside mine, I feared him leaving me for the night. We have never slept together, and I wanted it so bad. As he released me, I tried to whisper, but again, nothing came.

  My head on the pillow, I still cried softly. He walked away from the bed, and I heard his steps behind me. I heard his belt and his zipper. I exhaled and tried to stop crying. He removed his shirt. I felt the bed shift and the comforter move. He crawled into bed and started to nestle beside me, his chest on my back.

  I exhaled and closed my eyes.

  Chapter 28

  ERIK. Kelli was exhausted. We had talked for over an hour and a half, her naked on the couch, about the poker run, grad school, and her father. She cried the entire time. I was not prepared for a conversation with such depth and emotion. I was not prepared to make a mental decision about my desire to have her stay here; hell…I didn’t even know she was scheduled to go anywhere.

  Everything happens for a reason, and this was no exception.

  I lie in bed, trying to make us both comfortable and I thought of the jar on the refrigerator. The receipts. The souvenirs. She had, from the beginning, kept everything that reminded her of us.

  Everything that was some form of proof that we existed as a couple.

  I thought of the text that she sent me the other day. I remembered it word for word.

  Part of me has been missing my entire life. I have lived with a void in my soul. You fill that void, and you fill it perfectly. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. Life without you in it is not living. I need you in my life to survive.

  To survive.

  This poor girl had no idea what she was signing on for. Although I was a man’s worst nightmare if crossed, I was, to women, kind, considerate, articulate, caring, and even romantic. Sexually, I was a demanding prick. She had only seen a portion of what I expected or wanted from her sexually. She was eager if nothing else.

  I wondered about her ability to be sexually compatible with me. She had no idea what was in store for her.

  She lay beside me, her breathing becoming shallow. Poor girl. She had a rough day. Her knees bandaged from the
concrete parking lot. Her hair wet from crying. Her muscles were certainly sore from crying and being tense for an hour and a half on the couch.

  I thought of my mother, and the box I found in the closet, and her love for me. Love that I never really knew existed until I found that box. I thought again of the jar, and the similarities of the two.

  I moved closer to Kelli. My hips against her ass, my chest tight to her back. Her left leg was straight, and her right bent at the knee. I bent my right leg, and pressed it lightly against hers. I reached over her with my right arm, and cupped her left breast in my hand lightly. I slid my left hand between her head and the pillow, allowing her to rest her head on my extended forearm.

  I laid my hand on the pillow. It felt cool on my hand. I flattened out my hand, feeling the smooth fabric of the pillow.

  Her breathing became shallow, and she twitched. Good, she was going to sleep. I held her a little closer. She twitched again and moved her right arm toward the pillow. Her hand rested beside mine on the pillow. I held her close.

  As her breathing became shallow again, she twitched.

  Her hand slid to mine, and she slowly formed her hand around my index finger. Closing her hand, she softly squeezed my finger in the palm of her hand.

  And she fell asleep.

  Want to read more of the Baby Girl Series?

  Book Two - Baby Girl Owned

  Book Three - Baby Girl Loved

  Prologue

  I sat on the barstool with my legs dangling over the edge. Scared to do anything more than sit motionless, I watched him as he paced the floor. The pistol he held was gripped so firmly that his knuckles had gone white.

  “Do you think because of who I am that you’re safe?” He cackled a sinister laugh. “That there’s some code? An oath I’ve taken that’ll prevent me from hurting you? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  It had crossed my mind, but I had no idea how to respond. His tight jaw and fiery eyes warned me that reasoning with him wasn’t a remote possibility.

  I wanted Baker to walk in. To see what was happening. There would be hell to pay, regardless of this asshole’s status. I was sure of it. My eyes drifted to the century-old grandfather clock situated in the adjoining room.

  Shit.

  Baker wouldn’t be home for two hours. My heart fell into the pit of my stomach. It was two hours I doubted the pistol-wielding maniac was willing to give.

  I scanned through the memories of every cop show I’d binge watched on Netflix. I hated admitting it, but I was a hostage. I needed to downplay the situation. To reassure him that hurting me wasn’t in his best interest. We’d develop a faux hostage-captor relationship, and then negotiations could begin.

  Swallowing my fear would be step one. I could talk in circles – and easily buy a few hours of time – if I could get past my dry tongue and the knot in my throat that was choking me from speaking.

  “Hurting me won’t…be…it won’t be necessary,” I stammered. “I’ll comply.” The bitter taste of the inevitable rose in my throat. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and swallowed heavily. “I can assure you that you won’t…you won’t have to--”

  “I won’t have to what?” He spat. He waved the barrel of the pistol at me. “To protect me and my brothers, I’ll do whatever I have to, believe me. I can’t risk forfeiting the time we’ve put into this operation.”

  “I have no…I’ve got…I don’t know what you want,” I murmured.

  “You’re going to talk,” he said through his teeth. “Believe me, you’ll talk, or you’ll wish you had.”

  “Just tell me…just tell me what you want to know.” The words got stuck in my throat, and I began to softly cry. I swallowed hard. “I’ll…I’ll do my best.”

  He glared at me. With each swing of the clock’s pendulum, his eyes thinned a little more. “Tell me what you know about the operation. Every word you’ve overheard. What you know, and what you think you know. Everything.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. “I don’t know anything,” I whispered. “I swear. He doesn’t tell me--”

  He stepped so close I could taste the whiskey on his breath. Then, he raised the pistol and pointed it at my head. “Why are you in here snooping around?”

  I closed my eyes. Obviously, he had no idea how intimate Baker and I had become. I wasn’t snooping around. I’d become a fixture in Baker’s life. Our relationship had evolved from casual sex to one of exclusivity and imminent love.

  I debated with what to tell him. Divulging too much information about my relationship might put Baker at risk. Saying too little wouldn’t justify my presence in his home. I was in a situation where I couldn’t win.

  Protecting Baker was my priority. I decided to lie. I would ad lib my way through it. It was the only way I could shield Baker from the unknown.

  “Answer me,” he hissed. “Or I’ll plaster your brains all over the kitchen.”

  I opened my eyes. “I come by on Sundays and clean up the place. I was getting ready to leave when you walked--”

  “Cleaning girl?” His hand began to shake. “Sundays, huh?”

  I swallowed heavily. “Yeah. Sometimes I cook--”

  “Bullshit. You’re here every fucking day. You sneak in at night. I’ve seen you.” He tilted his head toward the living room. “That night you had the signs. You’re fucking him.” He slipped the tip of his finger against the trigger. “You’re a goddamn liar.”

  “I uhhm--”

  The door behind me opened.

  My head swiveled toward the sound.

  Baker!

  Upon seeing us, Baker stopped in his tracks. His eyes darted around the room and then locked on us. “What in the absolute fuck is going on?” he asked in a demanding tone.

  I kept my eyes fixed on him. I wondered how he was going to save me. Surely, he’d give me a signal.

  Something.

  I felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of my head. “I’ll kill this bitch. I fucking swear. Don’t take another step, Baker.”

  “Her?” Baker raised his hands to the sides of his head. “I don’t give a fuck, kill her. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  She doesn’t mean anything to me?

  With each of those six spoken words, a dagger was thrust into my heart. How could he say such a thing?

  My assailant wrapped his arm around my neck and yanked me off the stool so hard I slammed against his chest. Struggling to breathe, and now facing Baker, I searched his face for answers. His eyes were fixed on the man who towered over me, but offered nothing to ease the pain of what he’d said.

  The wild-eyed maniac took a step back, dragging me with him. “I’m not fucking around, Baker. I’ll put one in the back of this bitch’s head.”

  Slowly, Baker lowered his hands.

  The pistol pressed hard against the base of my skull. “Keep your hands where I can see them, Baker.”

  She doesn’t mean anything to me. The words echoed in my mind. Then, it dawned on me. That was his sign. He had a plan, I simply didn’t know what his next step was. Whatever it was, it was going to have to be precise. One wrong move, and I would be nothing but a memory.

  I closed my eyes.

  Please. Guide me through this. Help me understand what it is that I need to…

  The explosive sound of the gun firing caused me to suck what would surely be my last breath.

  Warm blood cascading down my face and onto my chest followed.

  Then, everything went black.

  ONE - Baker

  Six months ago.

  Cash paced the room with his eyes glued to the floor. I stroked my beard with the web of my hand while I waited for him to respond. After wearing the soles of his boots thin and streaking my freshly cleaned floor with scuffs, he paused and looked up.

  “We don’t kill women, children, or the elderly,” he said under his breath.

  His actions were unacceptable. As the president of Devil’s Disciples MC, I had many r
esponsibilities. Keeping my men out of prison was one. Being a babysitter wasn’t. I demanded that everyone follow the rules outlined in the club’s bylaws. If they couldn’t – or wouldn’t – there was no place for them in the MC.

  I could count the rules on one hand. Following them was paramount to the club’s success.

  I studied him. An intimidating man to outsiders, he was lean and muscular with a mess of hair that obscured his eyes when he didn’t take the time to clear it away from his face. His jaw was sparsely covered in scruff, and his tanned skin was spotted with tattoos. His eyes were commanding, making looking away from him difficult.

  “You understand the importance of that rule, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Suppose so,” he said in a flat tone.

  I pushed my chair away from my desk and stood. “You suppose so?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You’re guessing?” I sauntered toward him. “You know how I hate guessing.”

  “What the fuck, Baker? It was an accident.”

  “You expect me to believe you fired that weapon on accident?” I narrowed my gaze. “You left a bullet buried in the cabinet beside that bank manager’s shoulder.”

  “I don’t care if you believe it or not,” he snapped back. “That’s what happened. It was an accident.”

  “If you’re prone to discharging your weapon on accident, maybe this club isn’t the best place for you. I can’t put the rest of the men at risk, Cash.”

  He looked me over as if sizing me up. “What are you saying?”

  “I just said it. I can’t put the men at risk. You know the rules. Only point where you intend to shoot, and only shoot who you intend to kill. No women, no children, and no old people unless it’s self-defense. It’s a pretty simple set of rules. You’re lucky you didn’t kill her. If you had, we’d all be facing murder charges.”

  “It was a fucking accident,” he insisted. “It won’t happen again.”