Mason's Resolution

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Mason's Resolution Page 8

by Kristine Allen


  My eyebrows waggling, and I grinned. “Sheeeeeeit, of course I’m up for free titties.” What red-blooded American man wasn’t?

  “Besides, Dice, you’re just jealous that their titties don’t even touch your chest when you get a lap dance because your belly gets in the way.” His face progressively got redder before he finally burst out laughing.

  “Shit, son, don’t let this belly fool, ya. I could whip yo ass up one side of the street and down the other any day of the week. And momma sho enough don’t complain about it, if’n you know what I mean.” Dice was from Louisiana, and he had a hot temper but was good at keeping it in check most of the time. He always said he was a lover not a fighter… unless he got pissed, of course.

  We all laughed at Dice’s pelvic thrust actions, teased him about throwing out a hip, and finished our beers in good humor. So maybe I needed to shitcan Rosalee tonight and look for a new flavor of the month tomorrow night. Yep, sounded like a plan.

  Two weeks into Cherry, I was pretty sure I was ready to shitcan her too. She was on stage dancing to My Darkest Days’ “Porn Star Dancing,” and I sat drinking my single beer at a table in the corner. After she got off work, I was going to have to tell her I was done. It had gotten to the point that I had to imagine someone else every time I fucked her if I wanted to get off. That blew, especially considering whose face always came to mind. That just straight up pissed me off.

  What the fuck I was thinking by hooking up with a damn stripper, I’d never know. That bullshit you hear about strippers being a great lay? Yeah, it’s bullshit. She was probably the lousiest lay I ever experienced. Besides being shitfaced drunk—another reason I rarely drank—her fiery red hair and body drew me in, and well, I guess I wasn’t thinking with the right head, if you know what I mean. Another dumb Hollywood move for the books.

  My beer was lukewarm from nursing it for so long. Pushing it over across the table from me, I leaned back against the wall to peruse the room. There were a few of the brothers laughing and drinking at a table by the stage, some preppy jock looking guys, a few regulars, and a group of business assholes sitting up on sniffer’s row drooling and panting as Cherry shook her ass in their faces. One might expect this to make me jealous, but I really couldn’t give a shit less.

  After her set, she went backstage to change before coming out to rub her tits on my arm. Not sure why she thought it would turn me on after she had just been flashing her tits to half the bar, but whatever. She had on a cutoff tee that barely reached the bottom of said tits and a pair of cutoff jean shorts that left a generous portion of the bottoms of both ass cheeks showing. Her makeup was caked on from being on stage, and her hair was obviously in need of a refresher dye job as I could see her brown roots growing out. Shit, that was such a turn off to me. Natural redheads were where it was at, specifically dark red… Ugh! Stop!

  She kissed me, and all I tasted was stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey. Jesus, I really must have been drunk as shit to have hooked up with her. Of course, it had lasted two weeks, mostly because I’d been put in charge of hanging out at the strip club with DJ and Cash to keep an eye on things here, so she was convenient, what with me being here nearly every night. Redheads had always been my downfall, but since Vegas, it was like they were an obsession. No matter how many I hooked up with though, none were the one I really wanted. There was never any true satisfaction.

  “Not now, Cherry. I’m working.” My hands wrapped around her waist, and I pushed her away from me. She pouted and ran her glossy black nails along my jaw and down my neck. My hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her progress and her touch.

  “What’s the matter, baby, you don’t want a private lap dance?” She ran her tongue along her top lip. Maybe she thought that was sexy, but it just looked cheap to me. She looked cheap. Her other hand reached down to mold to my cock through my jeans. That caused her eyebrows to rise, and she smirked as she felt my semi-erection. “Doesn’t feel like someone isn’t interested.”

  This bitch couldn’t take a hint. Never again was I hooking up with one of our strippers. It seemed like, if they got in your pants, they felt like they were queen shit because they were fucking a patch. My hand grasped her so I was now holding both of her wrists, which I pushed together and up against her chest as I shoved her away from me. A low growl erupted from my throat.

  “Cherry, it’s a dick. It would get hard if the wind blew, for fuck’s sake. Don’t flatter yourself,” I said wryly. “As a matter of fact, leave. Hit the fucking road and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Go find another dick to fuck with. I don’t need you anymore.” It was obvious that she was pissed, and I probably hurt her feelings, but I didn’t really care. Call me an asshole if you want. It’s whatever. Damn, I was glad when she flounced off in a huff. It sure didn’t take her long to climb in the lap of one of the brothers, either. Butch looked over at me with an inquisitive expression. With a wave that said, “Have at it,” he grinned and grabbed her ass as she sat grinding on him.

  Maybe I needed to just become a monk.

  At one time, that would have been me, completely fucking happy to have any chick grinding on me or in my bed. Lately, however, I felt restless and unsettled, like there was something more. Yeah, I know it sounded stupid, but I was a fucking miserable asshole, wearing a fake smiling mask. Maybe it’s just the fact that I hadn’t been able to ride as much due the damn weather, with snow one day and freezing rain the next. Maybe it had nothing to do with sex, and it definitely had nothing to do with a certain sexy redhead who had taken up residence in my head. Nope. Not at all.

  Who the fuck was I kidding?

  YEAH, I WAS A coward, but I couldn’t take it anymore. So, while Trevor was at work on Saturday, I began packing anything I had that wouldn’t be noticeable and stuffed it in my trunk. I planned to just move out. If he didn’t want to accept that it was over, I just wouldn’t give him a choice. Loading the trunk in the garage prevented the nosy-ass neighbors from seeing what I was doing and mentioning it to Trevor. When I couldn’t fit any more in the trunk and back seat, I left and headed to Josie’s to unload. Monday would be the day I finished moving everything. I had arranged for a substitute for the day so I could move while he was back at work.

  Three loads later, I figured I had probably reached the limit of trips without raising eyebrows. That didn’t stop me from loading the trunk one last time for the first trip on Monday. Then I decided I needed to get out of the house. For one, I wasn’t in the mood to see Trevor when he got home. For two, my dad had called to say he was home for a couple of days and asked when his favorite daughter was coming to visit. Yeah, I was his only daughter. My dad… I shook my head as I laughed at his humor.

  Scribbling quickly, I left a note on the table telling Trevor I had gone to my parents for dinner. Of course, they didn’t know I would be joining them for dinner, I thought with a devilish grin. Perks of being an only daughter? My dad loved me, my mom loved me despite disagreeing with me all the time, and I could invite myself at any time to eat because they would never turn me away. Aaaaaaaand dessert was bound to be yummy, knowing my mother.

  On the drive to my parents, a guy on a bike passed me, causing that man to creep into my thoughts. Why? You would think after three months, I wouldn’t even waste a second’s thought on him. He was an ass. He had a sexy ass. What? Where the hell were these thoughts coming from? Crazy crap popping into my head. Unacceptable. Why, oh why, did that man have to be at the wedding? Why was Colton even friends with someone like him? Why was I even thinking about him? Argh!

  Speaking of Colton/Reaper—Dang, I had a hard time getting used to referring to him by that silly nickname—I needed to talk to my Stephie. Lordy, I missed her every day. So, I dialed her number and listened to the ringing of the phone over my car speakers.

  “Hey you sexy ho, you! How are you? You coming to see me any time soon?” Steph gave me crap about coming up there every time we talked on the phone. It didn’t bother me… no, that’
s a lie because I wished I could go up there every weekend. Hell, maybe even every day.

  “Hey hooker! How’s married life treating you? How’s that niece of mine doing? And what about my little niece in the oven?” Her laughter was a balm to my soul. We had a long-standing habit of slamming each other, but in a totally affectionate way. I’d never forget the looks on people’s faces when we would greet each other in public back in college. Not everyone understood our form of humor. Fuck ’em.

  “Well, what if it’s a nephew? Huh? We decided to wait to see, but I think it’s a boy this time. And married life is amazing, though sometimes I want to bury my foot in his ass. God, girl, he treats me like I’m made of damn porcelain. I keep telling him I’ve already done this once and I’m sure I’ll be just fine this time too. Of course, that never seems to change anything. I have so much going on with the renovations at the Oasis, and I can’t be there unless I sneak over without Reaper finding out. He’s driving me crazy!”

  I laughed at her tirade. It was obvious that he loved her and wanted her safe. Steph also did tend to get a little hormonal and crazy while she was pregnant, so I felt a little bad for him too. Someday I would have that kind of relationship. Inwardly, I sighed.

  “So, how is Colt… ugh, Reaper, other than being overprotective? Everything good with him and his issues? God, girl, I’m glad he has had you and the guys to get him through all that.” Steph had told me a little about Colton and his PTSD from his combat experience in the Army. During his last deployment, which he wouldn’t really talk about, he had been blown up and lost two people in the vehicle with him and other friends in the incident. Then he spent months in the hospital and in rehabilitation to recover from his injuries. I also had found out that “he” was in the vehicle at the time. Damn if the thought of him going through all that as well didn’t make my heart ache for him. Why was it so hard to even think his name?

  “He’s good. I mean, he has his ups and downs, but he’s okay. I’m not so sure about Hollywood, though. Reaper says he has been a cantankerous asshole, which I cannot believe for a minute. Around me and Remi, he acts like everything is normal and perfect, but it seems like he’s trying too hard to be happy. I worry about him.” Jesus Martha, why did she have to bring him up?

  I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask.

  “Why? What’s going on with him?” Dammit. I asked. Shit! Why did I ask about him? Argh!

  “He’s just with someone new all the time. It’s like he’s self-medicating with sex. I keep telling him he’s going to get something that makes his penis fall off.” Why? Why did she have to say that? I was torn between being pissed to hear he was fucking around all the time and having my chest cave in at the realization that he was obviously not giving me a second thought.

  “Oh.” For the first time in maybe forever, I was speechless. Silence reigned.

  “Oh? What do you mean ‘oh’? Holy crap, Becca has nothing to say but ‘oh’ in a conversation. I have never known you not to have more to say than that. If I didn’t know any better, I would almost think you don’t like hearing he is with someone else.” She laughed, and when I still didn’t have anything to say, she got quiet. “Wait. Wait a minute…. Oh my God, Becca! Did you sleep with him in Vegas? I thought he just gave you a ride back to the hotel! Oh my Lord, you did, didn’t you?”

  “What? Why would you ask that? I never said I slept with him! You’re crazy!” Please, Steph, I don’t want to talk about him. I wanted to know every detail about him—wait! What? No!

  I. Did. Not!

  Thankful I was at a stop light, I banged my head on the steering wheel. At the annoying honk of the car behind me, I looked up to see the light was green. My hand shot up of its own volition to give them the one finger salute.

  “Holy shit! You did too! Becca, you ho-monger, why didn’t you tell me? Fess up! I want details. Holy hell, how was he? He’s hot, I can’t deny that, and he looks just, well, yummm. I think it might be a prereq for the guys in the club to be sexy as fuck. Well, there are a few that would shoot that theory to hell…. But I digress. Come on. Share!” Steph could be as relentless as a pitbull when she thought I was holding out on her. This was one time when I really wished she would just drop it.

  “God, I really don’t want to talk about it, Steph. Let’s just say it was a disaster that I would rather not relive. The sex itself was off the charts, but other than that, the incident was… well, I don’t know, it just ended badly. He’s an asshole.” He was an asshole, but he was invading my thoughts and mind all the freaking time no matter how many times I chased him out of there.

  “Wait… Hollywood? An asshole? Are we talking about the same guy? He is one of the funniest, sweetest guys I know, even with all his hidden issues. Wait. Shit, Becca. Do you have a thing for him?”

  My tongue refused to move.

  “You do! Wait, what about Trevor? Did you finally get smart and dump him, then? Now that guy, he’s an asshole. I don’t even know what you saw in him, girl.” Jeez, Steph could rattle on. As I pulled up to my parents’ and put my car in park, I cringed at her accusations and questions about Trevor.

  “What? No! Of course not! He never even crosses my mind. I couldn’t care less what he does or who he does it with. You’re talking fricking crazy.” Lies. All lies. He invaded my dreams, if I was going to be honest with myself, for God’s sake! Okay, yeah, I’ll admit it. I think about him every damn day. I think about him every damn night. I think about him when I, well, you know… “And yeah, I’m actually moving out. Things have been over with Trevor for a while. I should have left as soon as I got back from Vegas. Correction, I should have moved out before I even left for Vegas.”

  My hands clenched on the steering wheel, and I shook it like I wanted to rip it off.

  “Mmm-hmm, okay. You forget I know you, you little skank. Okay, fine, I’ll drop it for now, but you’re going to tell all soon.” Her smug tone irritated the shit out of me. Brat. She was lucky I loved her ass.

  “Gotta go, hooker! I’m here at my mom and dad’s for dinner! Love you! Byeeeeeee!” She was laughing, and I hung up before she could say anymore. My forehead fell to the steering wheel. Shit. What the hell was wrong with me? How could I possibly still be hot and bothered over an asshole like him? Not only didn’t he give me a chance to explain, but he wanted to be all fucking self-righteous. I didn’t like him. I couldn’t stand him. Right? Right. Dammit!

  The big semi-truck in the driveway was a comforting sight, and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. My dad was exactly what I needed right now. Gathering up my purse and climbing out of the car, I prepared to invite myself to dinner. Pasting a smile on my face, I walked through the door only to be hit with the smell of pasta and the sound of my parents’ laughter coming from the kitchen. My smile became genuine as I barged into the kitchen.

  “Ta-da! I’m heeeeere! What’s for dinner?” My parents turned at the sound of my voice, and I watched my dad’s eyes light up and my mom’s smile grow. Love from my parents was never in shortage, and I was thankful because it was just what I needed at that moment in time.

  My dad’s arms wrapped around me in a bear hug fitting his stature. It was obvious, from looking at the two of us together, where I got my red hair from. The only difference being his was graying, which I loved to tease him about, and he sported a full beard, big belly, and tree-trunk arms. My dad was a really big guy, and resting my head on his shoulder was as comforting as it was when I was a little girl. Tears welled behind my closed eyelids. Suddenly, I felt so overwhelmed and lost.

  “Hey, baby girl.” My dad gently pushed me back to look in my face. “Everything okay, sunshine?” The worry etched on my dad’s brow made me feel bad because I was a grown-ass woman and he didn’t need to be burdened with my problems.

  “It’s several things. But don’t worry, Dad, I’ll be fine.” My eyes blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He didn’t believe me, but he respected my need to keep it to myself f
or now.

  We had dinner, and I told my parents about my decisions, which went over like a lead balloon. My parents were upset with me. It actually seemed like my dad really wanted to tell me he supported whatever decision I made, but he was being supportive of my mom and her feelings. She chewed me out for, and I quote, “letting go of the best thing that would come around for me in a long time.” She was convinced he was just amazing and I would have a hard time finding someone who “adored” me so much and could provide for me so well. Yeah, gag! It was frustrating because I never saw this “adoring” side of Trevor unless there was someone to impress.

  Why their response surprised me, I’m not sure. It seemed I was one disappointment after another to them. It was no secret my dad had been brokenhearted when he never had the son he was so hoping for. I’m not saying he didn’t love me, because he did and does. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a little disappointed I wasn’t a boy. My next disappointment to them was my choice in careers. They had aspirations of me taking my artistic flair in a different direction than I had, that’s for sure. Being a graphic designer just didn’t do it for me, though. My passion was sharing my gift with children and watching their faces light up when they created something beautiful of their own.

  My mother had gone on and on about how little teachers made and how there would never be any advancement, nor recognition. Honestly, I felt like my mom was trying to live vicariously through me because, when she got pregnant with me, she married my dad and dropped her entire life to be a stay-at-home mom. It was great growing up, but that had been her choice. It wasn’t my fault she didn’t go to school or develop her own career.

  It was obvious I wasn’t going to get the support I wanted and needed from my parents. “Thanks for dinner and dessert, Mom, Dad. But I better get moving.” My dad laid a beefy hand over mine as I made to leave the table. I plopped back in my seat from my slightly raised position.

 

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