My eyes bulged. I tried to cough but couldn’t. I wanted to give the universal signal for I’m choking, help me, but had no idea what it was. After pounding my fist into my chest twice, frantically, Porter must have realized the threat was real.
He leaped from his end of the couch, yanked me to my feet, and spun me halfway around. I felt a surge of pressure against my chest. I coughed and watched the grape shoot from my mouth and then bounce across the living room floor.
“Holy crap,” I gasped. “I almost died.”
“You didn’t even come close,” he said, releasing me from his grasp. “Three to zero. Time’s up. You lost.”
“I can’t go pick that crap up,” I said. “I almost died.”
“You choked on a grape, and it’s over. We had a bet. The loser of this grape toss has to dive to the Chinese place and pick up the food.”
“The loser is recovering from almost choking to death,” I said. “You go get it.”
“What good did it do to play the game?” he asked. “If you’re going to cheat and stay home while I go get the food?”
There were a million and a half people in the city of San Diego. Of those, roughly half were men. Of that population of seven hundred and fifty thousand men, I doubted there were more than one who would agree to a grape toss contest with the loser picking up the Chinese take-out.
Porter was quickly finding his way into my heart. Deep into my heart. He was so much more than what he appeared to be on the surface.
“How about we both go?” I asked.
He twisted his mouth to the side. “If I go, I’ll feel like a loser, but I didn’t lose.”
“Come on,” I whined. “I don’t want to go alone.”
“Suck my cock after dinner?” he asked.
His cock was huge, and my mouth was small. Sucking it was nothing short of jaw-breaking torture. But, if that’s what it took to get him to go with me, so be it.
“Sure” I said.
“Promise?”
I extended my hand.
He shook it, grinning the entire time.
I scrunched my nose. “What?”
“Who’s manipulating who, now?” he asked with a laugh.
I tried to act stupid. “What are you talking about?”
“That bullshit in the kitchen last week, after I bent your little ass over the island to prove a point.”
“I wasn’t manipulating you,” I lied.
“And, I’m not manipulating you now.”
“You are, too,” I argued.
“Manipulation is tricking someone into doing something. I won the grape tossing contest fair and square. You tried to claim you damned near choked to death, hoping I’d get the food out of sheer pity. I agreed, but only if you’d suck my cock later. You agreed to the blowjob offer, because you wanted my company on the ride to China-Go. This deal is as legit as the day is long. Zero manipulation.” He snatched his keys from the end table. “You ready to go?”
It sounded pretty legit.
I nodded. “I guess so.”
On the way to the door, I had a brainstorm.
“How about when we get home, we have a contest to see how many peas we can pluck out of the fried rice using chopsticks? If you lose, you lick my pussy.”
He opened the door. “Sounds good. What do I get if I win?”
There was no way he could win. “Two blowjobs,” I said.
“One tonight, one tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
I stepped through the door and onto the stairwell, all but tripping over a box that had been placed in front of the door.
He nodded toward the Zappos box. “What the fuck is that?”
I pushed the box inside the door with my foot. “New pair of Chucks. My old ones are getting raggedy.”
“What’s it doing up here?” he asked.
“The UPS guy always comes up the back steps. He knows I sit back here, and he likes to chat. I think he feels like he’s kicking it with a celebrity.”
He nodded, and then pulled the door closed. “So, do we have a deal?” he asked. “Chopsticks tricks for blowjobs?”
“You haven’t been practicing, have you?”
“Nope,” he said.
I laughed. “You’re going to lose. You can’t use chopsticks for shit.”
“What’s the punishment, again?”
I locked the door. “Licking my pussy.”
“Damn it,” he said. “Looks like you’ve manipulated me again.”
I paused and looked at him, confused as to who was manipulating who. Truth be known, I think Porter was manipulating me into manipulating him into having hot sex. But, he was doing so willingly, and knowingly.
Which, in my mind, meant that I was the one being manipulated.
I shrugged it off and followed him down the stairs, wondering if I could ever win at anything with him.
Anything at all.
18
Ghost
To describe our MC as an Outlaw Motorcycle Club would be an understatement. We were an outlaw club, but beyond that, we were outlaws. Being an outlaw and appearing to be otherwise wasn’t an easy task. Not expressing emotion was crucial to our way of life, and to protecting our identity. I had the ability to look into the eyes of the devil himself without showing emotion. Remaining stoic had become second nature for me.
Until I met Abby.
Positioned between the door frame and the window, I rang the doorbell. Despite the cool morning air, I wiped sweat from my brow while I waited for her to open the door.
The door swung open. Wearing running shoes, nylon shorts, and a tight-fitting tee shirt that said Nevertheless. She Persisted on the front of it, she looked adorable. She always looked adorable.
“Oh, Wow.” She leaned forward and kissed me. “You’re early. Come in.”
It had been exactly one month since we kissed that day at the pie shop. I stepped through the doorway and revealed the hand that I’d nervously been hiding behind my back. Upon seeing my surprise, she gave me a bug-eyed look.
“Oh my God. Are those.” Her blue eyes met mine. “They’re for me?”
Seeing the excitement in her eyes was reassurance that she liked the flowers as much as I hoped she would. Expressing my feelings wasn’t easy, which made conveying how much I cared for her a difficult thing to do.
I wanted to say that being with her made me feel different than I’d ever felt. That comfort washed over me completely when she was in my presence. Nothing else seemed to matter after meeting her, but I couldn’t find the words to tell her without feeling foolish.
So, a gift of flowers and a simple card was my only hope.
Beaming with pride, I handed her the vase of flowers. “They are.”
She raised them to her nose and inhaled a slow breath. “They’re beautiful.”
“One of the fellas has a nursery,” I said. “His Ol’…his wife has a green thumb. She picked them out special for me. She told me what they were, but I can’t remember what they’re called. Inside of the Mustang smells good as fuck, though.”
She looked the flowers over. “Some of them are tulips, I know that. I’m not too familiar with the rest of them, this is the first time I’ve ever had flowers.”
Seeming to be in a trance, she walked toward the kitchen and set the vase on the center of the island. She adjusted the stems, turned the arrangement in a circle, and then stepped back and gave it a long look.
“They smell so good.” She wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm and then met my gaze. “I’m sorry. This is just…I’ve always wanted this to happen.”
A tear welled at the corner of her eye. I placed my hands on either side of her face and wiped her eyes with my thumbs. “So, those are tears of happiness?”
She nodded. “They are.”
I kissed her. “I hate to see you cry, but I’m glad you’re happy.”
Kissing Abby was indescribable. The things in my life that once seemed important became irrelevant after I kissed her
the first time. All that mattered following that kiss was kissing her again.
“You’re amazing.” She hugged me.
“I’m not that amazing,” I said. “It’s kind of like an anniversary, or whatever. I thought I needed to do something.”
She leaned away. Her expression changed from joyous to one of surprise. “That’s what these are for?”
“Yeah, like a celebration, or whatever.” I shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do. Thought maybe we could get dinner.”
She grinned from ear to ear. “At nine in the morning?”
I chuckled. “No. I was just excited. Hell, I couldn’t sleep last night when I got home. I came over as soon as I thought you’d be done running.”
She raised her index finger. “I’ll be right back.”
She bounded across the living room like a lion chasing a gazelle. She returned just as fast, with her hand hidden behind her back. “I got you something too I couldn’t decide whether to give it to you or not because I thought maybe I was being sappy or whatever and it’s been on my dresser since the day before yesterday and last night I was thinking I was an idiot for getting it but now I know that you and I are like peanut butter and jelly or whatever maybe peas and carrots I always thought that was a cute line from that movie.” She extended her hand. “Here.”
I laughed at her breathless explanation and then looked at what she’d handed me. A pale-yellow envelope with a bulge in the center. I grinned upon seeing it and reached into my back pocket. I pulled out the card I’d purchased and handed it to her.
She smiled. “Open yours first.”
I opened the envelope, pulled out the card, and then reached inside. After removing the gift, I looked it over. A weathered piece of hammered brass had been formed into a bracelet. In the center, it had one word stamped.
Believe.
“I know you like to wear bracelets,” she said. “I had a lady make that one special for you. It looks old, but it’s not. I measured your wrist by wrapping my hand around it. I hope it fits.”
I tried to think of the last time someone gave me a gift. I couldn’t. I studied it for a moment, and then slipped it onto my right wrist.
“Believe.” I looked at her. “I like that.”
“In anything, and everything,” she said. “If it can be done, you can do it. We can do it. All we have to do is believe. Remember that.”
I rubbed the bracelet with my thumb. “I will.”
“Read the card,” she said.
The card had a photo of a pile of shit on the front of it. I chuckled at her selection and opened it. Printed inside, it said, you are not a turd. I laughed again, and the read the elegant hand-written script.
Ghost Porter-Porter,
I know how and when our relationship began is a matter of opinion, but I’ll give you mine. I’m sure it isn’t what you want to hear (because it involves God) but I’ve always had a problem with saying what comes to mind, and this is what came to mind.
Here we go.
I think God put you in my life because you were exactly what I needed. Consequently, I’m exactly what you need, too. You may not know it, but I am. I make you happy. I can see it in your eyes.
If you can’t see the joy that you bring me when you look into mine, it’s because you’re too busy paying me compliments (which I adore, btw). We’ve been together a month. I know it’s only the beginning, but something as devastatingly beautiful as the Grand Canyon started with one trickle of water flowing across the desert.
We have a beautiful future together, I’m sure of it. All we have to do is continue believing this is where we belong.
Believe.
Abby
With a lump in my throat and a swollen heart, I looked up.
“B-T-W means ‘by the way’,” she said. “I was going to cross it out and spell it, but I didn’t want the card to look crappy.”
“I knew what it meant,” I said, my voice straining from the emotion I was feeling. “Read.” I cleared my throat. “Read mine.”
Mine wasn’t as delicately written as hers. When she finished reading it, she laid it beside the flower vase.
She inhaled a long breath, and then let it out. “You asked me not to hurt you,” she said. “After we kissed. Remember that?”
“I do.”
She brushed her hair behind her ear and then scratched her nose. “I need to ask you to do something for me.”
I grinned. “Okay.”
“Don’t leave me. Please. No matter what happens between us, don’t make me live a day without you. If there’s ever something I do that makes you angry or sad or whatever, just tell me. I’ll fix it. There’s no reason for us not to be together, ever. Doing this.” She pointed to herself and then to me. “It’s easy. Too easy. I don’t even have to try. I’m just my stupid self and you accept me. Don’t--”
“I won’t.” I said.
“I can’t imagine what I’d do if--”
“I won’t,” I assured her. “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving. Now, or ever. I lay in my bed at night and think of you. I read and re-read your text messages. I’ll probably sleep with this card under my pillow. It’s crazy, but I can’t imagine living a life without you.”
“Neither can I,” she said. “So, it’s settled.”
“What’s settled?”
“You’re stuck with me.”
I slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her tight to my chest. I knew I’d never leave her. I didn’t have it in me. I feared, however that she’d one day leave me.
Every other woman I loved had.
Why would she be any different?
19
Abby
George sat down across from me and gave me a quick look over. “It’s been a long damn time since you came in here for advice.”
“Who says I’m here for advice?”
“We’re empty.” He waved his hands toward the vacant seats. “It’s three o’ clock. Too early for dinner, and too late for lunch. You’re here to talk.”
It aggravated me that he knew me that well. “No, I came in for something to eat.”
He rubbed his hands together. “What’ll you have? Pancakes? The Abby? Your other favorite? Apples and grilled cheese?”
“I’m not hungry,” I admitted. “You’re right. I wanted to talk.”
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s perfect.” My shoulders slumped. “That’s the problem.”
His eyes narrowed. “Perfect is a problem?”
“I don’t feel like I deserve this. I worry that it’s all going to come crashing down. That he’s going to leave me. That it’s too good to be true. He’s too good to be true. This entire thing is too good to be true. That there’s no way this can last. That--”
“Take a breath” He reached across the table and cupped my hand in his. “In through the nose, and out through the mouth. You’re going to hyperventilate if you’re not careful.”
“I get worked up when he’s gone,” I said. “I don’t know what the problem is. It’s like I can’t function without him.”
He squeezed my hand and smiled. “Solution sounds simple to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Spend more time together,” he said.
We saw each other every day. I didn’t want to smother him and give him a reason to reject me. But. When he was gone, my mind went fifty different directions, developing possibilities of what might happen to prevent him from ever returning. Everything from changing his mind about being in a relationship to wrecking his motorcycle. I remained stuck in my pattern of worrying until he returned.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, because I did. When he was away, I simply couldn’t believe I deserved something as special as what we had.
I let out a breath. “I see him every day. If we had normal jobs, we wouldn’t see each other this much. Sometimes I see him two or three times a day. It’s not that. It’s just. I get worked up when he’s away. When he’s gone, I c
an’t believe I deserve what it is we have when he’s with me.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s with you or he’s gone, Abby. You still have it.” He looked at me like I was crazy. “Did you give him that bracelet that Lawson’s wife made for you?”
“I did.”
“What did it say on it?”
“You know what it said.”
“What did it say, Abby?” He arched one brow. “Remind me.”
“Believe,” I responded. “It said, believe.”
“Sounds to me that you need to take some of your own advice,” he said with a dry laugh. “Believe, Abby. Believe you’re worthy of him. Believe he’s in this for all the right reasons. Believe that he feels the same way about you that you feel about him. Believe that your lives collided for a reason. That the man above gave you an opportunity, and that for once you were paying attention and recognized what it was he put in front of you.”
I nodded. “I’m trying.”
“I don’t like too many people, and I like this guy. It has nothing to do with cars, if that’s what you’re wondering. Deep down in my gut, I believe Porter’s a good man. I can’t assure you of what the future holds, but I can tell you this: your odds of succeeding are greater with him than they were with--”
“Don’t even say his name,” I said.
“Well, you were with him for six years, and we never had a talk like this.”
“I was in that relationship for sex. I didn’t care about him. I was a fool and got wrapped up in the comfort of having sex and thought that was enough. I learned that it wasn’t.”
Sex was the only thing I had in common with Kelvin. If we weren’t screwing, I didn’t see much value in having him around. In fact, when we were done having sex, I often wanted him to leave.
“Exclude the sex,” he said. “Why are you in this relationship?”
I thought for some time before speaking. The answer was easy for me to understand, but not so easy to convey. George released my hand and relaxed against the back of the booth while he waited for me to respond. After an awkward silence, I decided it wasn’t one reason, it was many.
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