by Geri Glenn
My favorite thing I’ve learned about her is that when she’s concentrating, her little pink tongue pokes out the side of her mouth just a tiny bit. It makes me hard every single time.
I don’t know why I keep coming back here, torturing myself with what I can never have, or why I am doing this creepy stalker shit. The only thing I can say is, she’s got my attention, and I can’t get her out of my fucking head.
As she types and drinks her chocolate drizzled, girly coffee, her German Shepard lies silently under the table, head always up and alert, watching his surroundings. I can smell her strawberries from where I’m sitting, and it still continues to fuck with my head.
Like every other day, at six o’clock on the dot, an alarm sounds on her phone. She packs up her computer and earbuds, stuffing them into a hideous, neon pink backpack. I love this part of my stalking best because this is when I get to hear her voice.
“Come on, Dex.” Her voice sounds like sex – husky and sensual. If she sounds like this when she’s just talking to her dog, I can’t help but wonder what she’d sound like if I got my mouth between those creamy white thighs of hers.
Slowly, she stands, swinging her bag over one shoulder, hand clasping the handle of the dog’s harness. I watch as he slowly leads her away from the chair, around her table, and past my own. Just as she passes, mere inches from where I sit, she pauses. Her head tilts down in my direction, and I swear at that moment that she’s looking right at me.
I freeze, staring up at her, wondering if I’ve been busted. My dead heart pounds erratically in my chest as we stare at one another for what feels like several minutes. She leans forward slightly, and if I’m not mistaken, takes a deep sniff. Did she just fucking smell me?
My face heats, and I sit up straight, unsure of what to do. And then she smiles. I can’t breathe. She’s smiling directly at me, her entire face lighting up with pure delight. She has the wonkiest, most fucked up smile I’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.
“Hi again.” She keeps grinning at me as she speaks, and it takes me a minute to realize that she’s talking to me. Shit! Can she see me?
“Uh … hey.” Real smooth, asshole.
Her smile widens with amusement. “Maybe tomorrow, instead of sitting all the way over here, you can join me at my table.”
I stare at her in shocked silence as she stares back from behind those dark sunglasses, waiting for my response. Anger courses through me like wildfire. She can fucking see me. She’s seen me all along. This bitch is playing with me, and I don’t like it.
I curl my lip, sneering at her. “Not fuckin’ likely.”
Her smile falls a fraction, disappointment flashing across her face before she straightens, clears her expression of all emotion, and shrugs. “All right. Your loss.”
I don’t say a word as she turns, gives the harness a gentle tug, and steps out of the fenced area of the patio onto the busy sidewalk. My mind is spinning. I thought she was fucking blind. All this time she knew I was watching her, and she likely thought I was a fucking pervert or some shit. She’d been making fun of me when she’d invited me to her table. That’s the way passive aggressive bitches like her work.
As she leaves, passing in front of the patio with her head held high, I hear a commotion from farther down the sidewalk. Swinging my head in that direction, I see people crying out as they jump out of the way of a bicycle careening down the sidewalk at top speed.
Whipping my head back to her, I see her turn, stepping farther out into the middle of the sidewalk as she tries to figure out what the commotion is. That’s when I realize, she really can’t see. She is looking in the direction of the noise, but there is no way in hell she can see that she’s about to be run over by that bike. If she did, she wouldn’t be just standing there.
I jump up from my seat, moving to vault over the waist-high fence of the patio as I holler out a warning. “Look out!”
The bike is just about to her. The kid on it has a purse clutched in one hand, his entire torso turned, looking behind him and not in the direction that he’s going. He’s going to hit her – there’s no way I will make it to her in time.
Just then, her dog angles his body in front of hers, using his weight to push her back against the patio fencing. My feet clear the fence, and I land beside her just as the dog lets out an ear-piercing yelp.
It all happened so fast. The worst part is, I don’t even know what the hell it was that happened at all. I was walking away, trying not to show my humiliation at the way that my regular coffee neighbor had shot me down when I had heard a bunch of yelling and movement behind me. I’d turned to look just as I heard Coffee Dick yell out a warning. Next thing I know, my own dog had shoved me against a fence.
I’d heard a crash of metal, several thuds, and then Dexter had let out a long, ear-piercing scream of pain. Coffee Dick came out of nowhere. Now I’m knelt down, hands out, frantically patting the air around me as I tried to find Dexter.
“He’s right here.” His hand grasps my own and moves it down and to the left until it rests on Dexter’s head. “He’s hurt.”
Just then, a groan comes from a few feet away. Coffee Dick growls, and I can feel his pissed off energy pouring off of him. “You stupid fuck. What the fuck were you thinkin’?” His voice has moved, and I know instantly that he’s moving toward whatever “stupid fuck” he’s talking to.
I can hear a crowd of rubberneckers gathering around us as I pat along Dexter’s body, looking for any sign of bumps or bleeding. Coffee Dick is knelt beside me again, muttering to himself something about body bags and deep holes. Suddenly he’s standing, and he’s taking my dog with him.
Grasping my hand in his own, he places it on his hip. Surprised and confused, I yank it away. “Babe. We gotta move. Hook onto my belt loop.”
“What?” What’s going on?
“Your dog is hurt. We need to get him to a vet. To do that, we gotta move. Now hold onto my fuckin’ belt.”
In no position to argue, I reach back down, locate his belt loop, and hook my pointer finger through it. He starts moving, and I have to jog to keep up with him. “He’s really hurt?”
“Yeah. May have a broken leg. He’s holdin’ it funny.” I tuck my body close to his and hold on tight as he weaves his way through pedestrians. “Call a taxi. Have them meet us at the corner of Bleeker and St. James.”
“A taxi?”
He doesn’t answer. He just keeps moving, dragging me along behind him. I pull out my phone, asking Siri to dial the number for the taxi service I always use. I place the call, requesting the pick up where Coffee Dick had said, while he pulls to a stop. Raising my hand, I locate Dex and gently stroke his head which is resting on Coffee Dick’s bicep.
I realize then that his name very likely isn’t Coffee Dick, and he is doing me a favor so, even though I am pretty sure he’s an asshole, maybe I should find out his actual name. “I’m Laynie.”
I continue to stroke Dexter’s head, my hand accidentally-on-purpose brushing along his bicep. It’s huge and hard as a rock. I feel him tense when I speak; he doesn’t answer me, though.
“You have a name?”
“A name?” He sounds uncomfortable.
“Yeah. You know … a name. Something I can call you besides Coffee Dick?”
He lets out a surprised snort. “Coffee Dick? Why the fuck would you call me Coffee Dick?”
“Because you’re always at the coffee shop … and you’re kind of a dick. Coffee Dick.”
Amusement laces his voice as he turns to face me. “Tease. Call me Tease. Just don’t fuckin’ call me Coffee Dick. Ever.”
“Tease?” I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “What kind of mother names her kid Tease?”
“It’s not the name my mother named me. It’s the name I go by.”
Why somebody would ever choose to go by the name Tease is beyond me, but I can tell this is important to him … so I push anyway. “Well, I like Coffee Dick better than Tease.”
Silence surrounds me for a moment before I hear the sound of a car pulling up beside us. Taking my hand in his, Tease moves forward, placing my hand on the top of the door, allowing me to feel my way inside the vehicle. I scooch my bootie over to the far side and he lowers himself in beside me with Dexter on his lap. I tell the driver which veterinarian’s to take us to and we’re off.
Again, I reach over, placing my hand on Dexter’s head, stroking his ears the way he loves it. The cab is silent, and my thoughts start running wild. Worry for my dog moves to the forefront of my mind. I don’t know what I will do if the poor bugger’s leg is broken. Part of me wants to go back and kill that careless kid for hurting him.
“Travis.”
His voice pulls me from my worries, bringing me back to the present where I am crammed into the back of this tiny cab with a complete stranger and my wounded dog. “Uh … sorry. What?”
“Travis. My mother named me Travis.” His voice is soft and spoken almost directly into my ear. I feel like he just let me in on an enormous secret. Goosebumps race across my skin.
I turn slightly to face him. “Now that I like. Travis is way better than Coffee Dick.” I smirk a little and am rewarded with a slight chuckle.
The taxi pulls to a stop, the driver calling out the total for our fare. I reach for my purse but hear the driver thank us and Travis is getting out of the car. Scrambling out on my side, I place my hand on the trunk, using it to guide my way to the sidewalk. Travis nabs my hand, once again placing it on his waist. I fumble for his belt loop as I say, “I would have gotten that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” We enter the vet’s office, and Travis takes us straight to the desk. After a quick explanation of what happened, the receptionist moves us right to an exam room. I hear Travis set Dex down on the table, and then he grabs my hand, pulling me up to the edge.
The natural way that he guides me without thought makes my head spin. Even my family is awkward and obvious when assisting me with any task. I hate that. It makes me feel like an invalid and completely useless. Depending on people is not my strong suit, and I don’t do it unless I absolutely have to.
Just then, his phone rings. “I gotta take this. Be right back.”
He leaves the room, leaving me alone with Dexter. I bend at the waist, lowering myself so that I can rub my cheek along the top of his head. “My poor boy. We’re gonna get you fixed up, OK?”
A warm, wet, doggie kiss is planted on my cheek, and I smile. It’s sad to admit, but Dexter is the best friend I’ve ever had. He’s insanely smart, never judges me – regardless of the fact that he’s seen me naked – and he is always happy to see me. Even before I lost my vision, I’d never had a true, loyal friend. Dexter is one of the best things to ever happen to me.
The door opens, and I hear the footsteps of someone entering the room. Lifting my head, I turn toward the noise.
“I hate to do this to ya, but I’ve gotta go. It’s an emergency.”
I nod my head and smile, worried for him and hoping that it’s nothing too terrible. “OK. I hope everything is all right.”
“Yeah. It’s just … work shit. Ya know?”
I nod again in understanding. “I do. Well, hey … thanks for your help with Dex.”
“Didn’t do much.” He clears his throat. “But you’re welcome.” An awkward silence fills the room. “Well … see ya later, Laynie. I hope your dog’s OK.”
Just as his footsteps fade from the room, I turn, dashing toward the door. “Travis! Wait –“ My foot catches on the edge of something – a chair leg, I think – and I stumble, throwing my hands out in front of me to catch myself.
My knees crack off the ceramic tile flooring, my hands landing with a loud slap. His return footsteps pound across the floor as he runs to help me. “Shit! Laynie? Are you OK?”
Feeling like an ass, I nod and struggle to get to my feet. Travis doesn’t help me, and I like that. Somehow he knows that his help would only make it even more humiliating for me. “I’m fine.” I fake a smile, wondering if my face is as red as it feels. “Happens all the time.”
Reaching out, I feel my way back to the examination table, skimming my fingers through Dexter’s fur and searching for my wounded pride. He clears his throat, reminding me that he was in a hurry to leave. “I just … well …” Why the hell am I nervous now? Jeez, Laynie, get a grip! “Can I, uh … get your number? So I can pay you back for the taxi?”
Clearly offended, he growls, “I can afford a fuckin’ taxi, Laynie.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to offend him. “I know. I just … I just wanted to pay you back, OK? It’s important to me.” I face him head on, hoping that he doesn’t argue with me on this. I hate to owe things to people. I’m not a charity case.
He groans. “Fuck. Whatever. Give me your phone.”
Biting back my smile of victory, I hand over my phone. I hear the clicking of the touchscreen buttons before he hands it back to me. “There. Happy?”
I can’t help my grin now. Beaming at him, I give him an exaggerated nod.
He chuckles. “Fuckin’ nut.” I hear him come closer and the jingle of Dexter’s collar from where Travis is petting him. “Be cool, Dex. Later, Laynie.”
My belly is overrun with a swarm of warm butterflies. “Later.”
AFTER THE CAB DELIVERS me to my bike, I swing my leg over and peel out of the parking lot, still trying to work out in my head what the fuck just happened. After months of watching her, I’d finally spoken to her and found out her name. Fucking Laynie. How I went from silently watching her from behind my coffee cup to having her smile up at me with amusement blows my fucking mind. She’d teased me – like flat out fucking teased me – and for the first time in years, I didn’t lose my shit. Instead, I wanted nothing more than to crush my mouth to hers, wiping that goofy smile off her flawless face.
I don’t kiss, though. I’ve never kissed. I don’t caress or cuddle or do pillow talk. My relations with women consist of grabbing a club whore, bending her over, doing what I need to do to get off and then zipping up my pants. End of story. If she gets off, good for her – I don’t give a shit either way.
Ever since the night I got my hideous scar, I’ve known that I was ugly. Women take one look at me and run. I like it that way – I’m used to it. Maybe that’s why it was easier to talk to Laynie, though, to actually have a conversation with a woman. She couldn’t see me, didn’t know the monster she thought had saved her. If she could, she would never have taunted me. Hell, she’d never even have spoken to me in the first place.
But she did. And she’d made me smile. I don’t even remember the last time I’d smiled. What the fuck is there to smile about? The woman is clearly crazy.
Pulling up to the clubhouse, I see a ton of bikes parked in a row and cars parked in every available spot. The music is thumping, and the sounds of laughter and conversation fill my ears. This isn’t unusual for a Saturday night around here. Things can get pretty wild.
Usually, I don’t mind coming to these parties, but I’ve been fucking busy. For the first time since I became a prospect, I had something of my own to do and these fuckers had called me away. I had no choice, though. As a prospect, the brothers of the Kings of Korruption can feed me all the shit they want, and I have to eat it without complaint. Staying at the vet’s with Laynie would be a waste of time, anyway. A bitch like that and a monster like me don’t even belong in the same city, let alone the same conversation.
When I walk inside, the music and laughter stop completely. What the fuck? I stand in the doorway, looking around the room and see the eyes of every single person in it are focused on me. My skin crawls and my insecurities quickly turn to a slow-burning anger. I fucking hate it when people stare at me. The scar on my face never fails to draw the attention that I avoid at all costs.
Just then, Ryker steps forward from the sea of people. Ryker is the VP of the Kings and one of the very few people in my life that I trust. It was him that introduced me to the Kings of
Korruption in the first place. We’d met one night when he’d come into the bar I was working at. Some mouthy fuck had beaked off about my face, and I’d introduced him to the tread of my motorcycle boots. His buddies had jumped in and tried to take me out. That’s when Ryker stepped in. Between the two of us, we’d kicked the shit out of every one of those mouthy sons-of-bitches, and I’d made my very first buddy.
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me right now, though. He looks pissed. I know that I sure as fuck didn’t do anything to piss him off so I’m curious why he, and everyone else, is staring at me.
“’Bout fuckin’ time ya got here. Been waitin’ for over an hour,” Ryker growls.
I cock my eyebrow, wondering what the fuck his point is. “Yeah? I was busy.”
Ryker snorts. “Right. Well, nice of ya to make time for us.” I don’t say anything and just keep staring at him, waiting for him to make his point. He glares at me and shakes his head before giving it a jerk to indicate that I should follow him. Turning on his boot, he stalks out of the room. I follow behind him, eyeballing every nosey rubbernecker I can lay my eyes on. I’m just about out of the room when my eyes meet Mouse’s. His are confused and a little worried as he shrugs his shoulders.
Like me, Mouse is a prospect. We don’t often get invited into the meeting room of the Kings. As prospects, he and I spend a lot of time together doing one shitty task or another. In fact, I spend more time with Mouse than I do alone. Besides Ryker, Mouse is my only friend and the only other person in the world that I trust.
Why am I going into this meeting and not Mouse? What the fuck is going on? We enter the long rectangular room where we hold Church. Every patched member of the Kings of Korruption is sitting around it with their eyes on me as I enter behind Ryker. He moves directly to his seat, and I automatically head toward the tall stool situated in the back corner of the room. This is where prospects sit when they’re invited to sit in on meetings.