by Bijou Hunter
10
Ford
Got an Itch Only Shay Can Scratch
In the walk-in freezer, Creepy Spencer hangs upside down. His chattering teeth act as a nice diversion from the whimpering he’s done since we dragged him though the backdoor of the closed Hunk O’ Love. The restaurant has two freezers. One for food and one for guys like Creepy Spencer.
“I didn’t know,” he whines again.
Pax glances at me as we sit in the kitchen and wait for the final word on Creepy Spencer’s fate.
“I’m proud of your restraint,” he says, chewing on a wad of gum. “A man messes with your intended piece of tail and you don’t burn the world down. I guess you’re maturing.”
“Thanks, man. Means a lot coming from you.”
“Maybe you just know it’ll never happen with Lucky’s kid.”
“She’s not his kid,” I mutter, thinking about Shay. “If she was, Lucky would have pissed a protective circle around her by now. You ever see the way he is with Paige? She’s only nine and he’s already throwing rocks at neighborhood boys who are sweet on her.”
“True. Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been shot down twice by Miss Trucker Hat. That’s gotta hurt, bro.”
“Fuck off, champ.”
“Eat shit, fella.”
I grin. “Did you see her wailing on the creeper? A man could fall hard for a chick so crazy.”
“The mouth on her too. Make a sailor blush. I liked when she was screaming about his fucking mom. Classic trash talking. Yeah, I can imagine her raising you some pretty pups.”
I roll my eyes. “That reminds me, we need to get home and let Folgers in before it rains.”
“We could just shut the door on this fucker,” Pax says, gesturing towards Creepy Spencer. “Who would care if he froze?”
“Our boss might care,” I say, staring at the pervert. “I’m killing him eventually though. A guy like him is on borrowed time.”
When Creepy Spencer stares back at me, I know he’s thinking about Shay. The guy has a habit of latching onto girls and stalking them until someone beats him down. Tonight, Creepy Spencer got beaten down twice, but he’s still jonsing for Shay.
I suspect he wants revenge, but he’ll never get it. Even if the boss says to let him live, the reprieve will be short term. Creepy Spencer has fucked with a lot of women over the years, but now he’s gone after mine. No way does he walk away from such an error.
According to Trigger, Creepy Spencer lives to be creepy another day. After ditching the fucker near his house, Pax and I head home to let in the dog before the storm arrives. Large drops tease the night and Folgers isn’t happy to be slightly wet. The Rottweiler and Shepherd mix shakes himself next to Pax, clearly blaming my brother for the delay.
“I met a chick,” Pax says, checking the mail while I kick off my shoes. “Goofy little broad just getting out of a bad marriage. I’m thinking I’ll hit her up tonight.”
“Go for it. I’m planning to stay home with Folgers.”
“Want me to ask if she has a goofy little broad friend for you?”
“You know the answer.”
Pax stares at me. “She’s a kid. A cute kid, but she’s not ready for anything besides high school boyfriend shit. You come with too much baggage. My advice is it go and have fun until she grows the fuck up.”
“Nice advice, but when I had my arm around her tonight, it felt good. A million times better than fucking Maggie or another random chick. A small touch like that made me want more and I’m not settling. You’d understand if you knew how it felt. Once you get a taste, settling for easy shit won’t cut it.”
Pax studies me. “This chick might be the magic pussy that makes you lose the need for easy fucks. She might be everything and you go domesticated like the other guys. That’s all nice and well, but if she steps in between us, I’ll bury her deep.”
I can’t help laughing at his pathetic threat which pisses off Pax. He grabs his keys and heads for the door.
“Blood before beauty, right, bro?” I call out.
Pax stops and nods once before disappearing out the door.
I don’t blame him for being territorial. We’re the only family we know and the only friends we truly trust. If his goofy broad turns serious, I’ll worry too. No one stands between the brothers. It’s our motto. One of them anyway. When we’re drunk, we come up with a lot of them.
Folgers sits on the couch next to me while I watch the news then an episode of Tattoo Nightmares. He also hangs around during my shower. At some point while I’m walking around in my dark room, the dog decides to find another place to haunt.
Crawling under the covers, I listen to the rain against the windows and imagine Shay doing the same thing at Darby’s place. She’s likely upstairs in one of the bedrooms that didn’t belong to MJ. Imagining her long blonde hair messy across a pillow, I wonder if she wears a nightgown or flannel pajamas to bed.
A man like me gets only a few shots in life to find a woman who fits. Not like the businessman-type who visits his elderly mom up the street. Clean-cut with bright white teeth and a spray tan, he works out and dates a new woman on a regular basis. He’s searching for his Barbie wife to look pretty in the yearly Christmas cards. They’ll have bland babies and live a bland life. A lot of women can fit with a lame guy like him living a cushy life.
I’m not him. I’m not looking for my Barbie. If I want a kid, I can always go commando with a trailer trash chick unable to remember to take her pills. My club brother Bagman never wanted a wife. Instead, he has a couple kids by a couple chicks and he plays daddy on weekends. No harm, no foul. It’s a good life for him and he’s not looking to change anything.
I’m not looking either. Yet I find myself wondering about Shay in a way that makes me feel like a lonely kid. The house is too quiet and the rain feels oppressive. Mostly, my bed is too empty.
I close my eyes and imagine Shay looking up at me from under the tip of her hat. Her eyes are the same color as the gray marbles I played with on the gravel driveway as a kid. When Shay looks at me, I see no hint to her mood or tease to her plans. Even when I pulled her off Creepy Spencer, her eyes were unreadable. Her lips twisted in rage told me more than those eyes.
No matter how well she lies, I refuse to believe she wants any man besides me. I suspect she’s thinking about me right now too. Feeling her soft fingers on my skin, I know she wants to touch me. She needs me to touch her.
I caress my cock like I know she will one day. Shay will make me come. I suspect she’ll take pleasure in having power over me. Not in a cruel way. No, Shay likes making others happy. I don’t know how I know this about her, but I do.
Thunder crashes overhead and I hear Folgers scramble for his corner. Shay is somewhere, listening to the thunder too. She’s who I focus on. Not the now, but a day in the future when she’s with me in the dark. Thinking of when she downed the shots of whiskey, I imagine those wet lips sucking at my cock.
Closing my eyes, I can feel her in bed with me. Her skin is chilled against mine until I warm her. Her delicate fingers tease me, her lips suck at my flesh, and I hear her say my name in the same whispering voice she used to ask if she was in trouble.
I find relief. The physical kind, but I don’t sleep for a long time. Rolling around in bed, I eventually turn on the TV. Nothing interests me while everything reminds me of Shay. Even the slutty chicks on the phone sex commercials make me wonder about her.
Lucky claimed she worked in a strip club, yet she hides her body now. Her new style works for me. I’m not looking for anyone else to see what’s beneath the flannel except me.
I’m still awake when Pax returns home after two. I don’t bother him as he makes way too much noise in the kitchen. Folgers follows him around, his nails clicking on the wood floors. They’re like a fucking circus moving around my level of the house. I wonder if I sound as loud to Pax when I arrive home after an easy lay.
Even though Shay’s likely asleep, I can’t relax. I
need to know she’s safe. She didn’t look hurt when I left her, but I didn’t check close enough.
Is she afraid? In pain? Does she fear Creepy Spencer hurting her again?
Fuck. I need to know the answers, but calling is out of the question. If I woke her up in the middle of the night, Darby would drive to my house and kick me in the balls.
The only way I sleep is to think of Shay wrapped in my arms in my bed where I’m sure no one can hurt her. Finally, I relax into dreams about Shay sitting next to me in the booth at Suede.
I sleep, but wake to the same fucking need to see Shay. Of course, I have no intention of going the stalker route and checking her out from afar. Screw that. I want to see her up close and personal. No, I want to talk to her, touch her, taste her, everything.
Shay’s fucking gorgeous standing behind the desk of the Oregon’s front lobby. With her hair tied up into a bun, she looks classy. I don’t give a shit about that part. I just like seeing her face so clearly. The curve of her jaw. The sexy shape of her lips. Those gray eyes lighting up when she sees me.
Her eyes no longer hide what she feels. Instead, they reveal everything as I approach. Excitement shifting into fear before settling into a professional friendliness. I’m not a fan of the last look.
“Hello,” she says like I might be checking in for the night.
“No thank you?”
“For what?” she asks, glancing around before focusing on me.
“For saving you from a murder charge.”
Shay grins. “I wasn’t even close to killing him.”
“No, but you didn’t know how to stop.”
Leaning on the front desk, I study her. Shay pretends my gaze doesn’t bother her. She’s quite the liar.
“Thank you,” she says suddenly. “I lost control and didn’t know how to get it back.”
“Been there,” I mutter, reaching out to touch her cheek. “You sleep okay?”
Her gaze holding mine, Shay nods. “Darby makes really good cocoa.”
“I bet she does.”
We just look at each other while my fingers linger on her cheek. Shay steps back, looking around like we’re being watched. I follow her gaze, but the place is empty except for us.
“What happened to that guy?” she asks, ruffling papers to look busy.
“He lives to be a pervert another day. If you see him, even in passing, you tell me and I’ll handle it.”
“Should I be worried?”
I rap my knuckles against the desk and her startled gaze meets mine. “Yes. You made him look like a pussy in front of a bunch of gossipy shitfucks in Little Memphis. No doubt the whole town knows he got done in by a girl weighting maybe a buck o’ five.”
“I weigh more than that.”
“How would I know with the way you hide it under your flannel and business lady garb?”
While I want to tease her about seeing what she hides, she frowns and focuses on Creepy Spencer.
“Is this guy going to come after me?”
My smile fades. “I made very clear what happens to his cock if he so much as looks at you again. Problem is guys like him have no control over themselves. They almost want to die young and painful.”
Shay’s gray eyes focus on me, hiding nothing. She’s scared and wants me to save her. I see that look sometimes with girls alone for too long. They get stuck on someone making their lives easier.
“Give me your phone,” I say and Shay obeys instantly.
I take the pink cell and smile at the flowered cover. Once I type my number into her phone, I hand it back.
“I made me number one on your call list. If you see Creepy Spencer, you call me. Not Lucky or the fucking cops. You call me and I’ll deal with him. You tell him you called me too. Let him know I’m coming, so he better run.”
Shay studies my face then blinks rapidly. “Okay.”
Man, I want to climb over the fucking desk and taste the lower lip she’s biting. She’d let me too. Out of fear or surprise, she’d let me kiss her. I want her to want it though, so I glance around the lobby.
“Is it dead like this every night?”
“Yes. Sometimes, a lone family will stop and need a room. Otherwise, everyone checks in earlier and doesn’t need much.”
Silence passes between us. I guess I should leave her to work, but I refuse. Though I can’t go, I also can’t say anything I want to say. Shay is scared, so what I crave isn’t on her radar.
“You ever put anyone in room 202?” I ask as she watches me.
“No, why?”
Got her curious now, I come around to the back of the desk where two chairs rest. I lounge into one and pat the second one. Shay looks around, uncertain, before sitting.
“Back when I first got with the club, there was a guy who came to Suede every Friday night. We called him Elvis cause that’s who he dressed like whenever he wasn’t working his normal job as a car salesman. He was a funny guy especially drunk. His mom was a circus performer and she taught him all these fun flips and tricks. I didn’t mind him, but Pax thought he was annoying.”
I pause to think of how pissed Pax would get whenever Elvis showed up at Suede. Like a raging bull, he’d storm out of the bar once the back flips began. I’ve always suspected Pax had issues with clowns and Elvis cemented my theory.
“Elvis had a wife for a long time, but no one ever saw her. Then she was just gone and he would come in crying. Pax really hated that. After his wife left, Elvis got weird. He started spending all his time with these two hookers, Cookie and Candy. I think they were twins and one of them had a limp. They were high all the time and giggled at everything. Every weekend, Elvis and the twins would party in room 202.”
Shay sits with one long leg crossed over the other and her hands resting in her lap. She’s so focused on me that my cock thickens. I want her now and we’re in a building filled with beds. Taking a deep breath, I remember my story.
“One night, Elvis killed both Cookie and Candy with his dick.”
I can’t help laughing when Shay’s eyes widen. “You’re messing with me.”
Running my finger along the curve of her jaw, I exhale slowly at how soft her skin feels.
I shove my hands into my thick dark hair and try to concentrate. Shay watches me very intently and I suspect she knows how much I want her. I can’t tell how she feels about my need. Her gray eyes show me nothing again and not knowing drives me crazy.
“You think I’d make up a story like this?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. “Just to fuck with you.”
“Maybe.”
“You think I’m an asshole, huh?”
“I know you’re an asshole,” she says, her eyes warming with amusement and something else. Something inviting. “I think you’re the kind of asshole a person can appreciate though.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, accepting the invitation and leaning closer.
Shay shuts down again and glances at the elevator. “Tell me the rest of the Elvis story.”
Leaning back, I grin. “He’s up in room 202 with the girls. Oh, I forgot to mention he’s a big fan of deep throat. Elvis is high out of his mind when he chokes them to death with his dick. They’re wasted too, so once the first girl dies, the second one doesn’t even notice. Elvis doesn’t really notice either until he wakes up the next morning.”
Pausing, I reach out and caress the button at the top of her frilly white blouse. “Is this Darby’s?”
Shay nods then exhales roughly. I imagine lifting her into my lap and ending all the fucking suspense. Waiting is for people planning to live forever.
“When Elvis woke up and realized he killed Candy and Cookie, he wrote a suicide note. He apologized to his mom and everyone who relied on him. Not the hell sure who those people were, but he said he was sorry then hung himself by his belt from the door. Autoerotic-style. The guy went out a pervert.”
“Since three people died in the room, is it supposed to be haunted?”
“No, but it’s a fun st
ory to tell tourists. Feel free to share it. Elvis impersonator kills two hookers with his dick then jacks off while hanging himself. Welcome to Little Memphis,” I say, giving her a wink.
Shay smiles. “Thanks. One of the many great stories I’ve heard since arriving.”
Shay’s smile encourages me to touch her. Before I can, she slides out of her chair and stands up. “I should check the supply room.”
“Is that code for something?”
“Yeah, I have to work.”
“I should come with you,” I say, challenging her.
Shay rolls her eyes. “I need to count toilet paper rolls.”
“I’ll double check your numbers,” I mutter, following her around the corner. When she frowns back at me, I grin. “Math was my best subject in school.”
“Mine too.”
“Want to have a contest to see who counts faster?”
“If I win, will you leave?”
Stepping in front of her, I frown. “I’m not a fan of these fucking games. If you think you’re cute enough to get away with playing the tease, you’re underestimating your hotness. That or just underestimating my fucking opportunities.”
“I’m not teasing you,” she mutters.
Seeing anger in her expression, I meet it with my own. Chicks don’t tease me. A few did over the years, but I always blew them off. I don’t like the chase. Games and power plays are for guys who want to prove they can win at life. I already know I can. After all, I’m not buried in the quarry like those who lost to me.
“I want you,” I say.
“No,” she says, pressing her hands against my chest and pushing me away.
Shay frowns when her push doesn’t move me at all. Clearly, the poor thing hasn’t met an immovable object like me before. I should pity her, but her hot/cold routine is driving me nuts.
“You say the words. ‘No, Ford, I don’t want you.’ You say them, but your wet pussy says different.”
“Gross.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
Shay’s cold exterior chips away until I see her imagining what might happen if she says yes. Her voice is weak when she speaks. “I’m at work.”
I lean closer until my lips are pressed against her temple. “I see you naked underneath me. I feel you wet and tight around my cock. Can you feel me inside you?”