Sledge

by Jessie Cooke

  She was smiling, such a genuine, warm, pretty smile, Sledge could feel his armor melting underneath it…again. “I like that story. Can I take back what I said about not using it? I’d change the names, of course.”

  Sledge shrugged, “I guess, as long as you do change the names.”

  She nodded and looked back up at the cage in front of them. Freddie was still down on the floor under the big trainer. “How long will he torture him like that?” she asked.

  Sledge chuckled again. “Until the kid gets it right.”

  “One more question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Why does a big, strong fighter need a bodyguard?”

  “It’s more about keeping the press and obsessed fans away from them so they can concentrate on their training. Jacob’s pretty strict. He wants them in bed by a certain time every night, he tells them what to eat, he even forbids them from having sex right before a fight. He doesn’t want any press because no matter what they say, there’s always someone out there that can turn nothing into a scandal.”

  “Wow, and they go along with all of that because…?”

  “Because they’re damned lucky to have him. Honestly, from what I’ve seen, the guys he recruits don’t have much else. Most of them would never be able to afford a trainer, let alone Jacob Wright. It’s an opportunity that a young, up-and-coming fighter would be a complete fool to turn down.”

  “Makes sense,” she said, turning back toward the cage. While she watched Freddie, Sledge pretended he was watching him too…but he was lost in his thoughts. He had questions of his own, but they were questions that he would never ask her. He just couldn’t help wondering why. Why does she keep showing up? Why does she seem to be trying so hard? Does she just feel guilty…or is it more than that? He wished that he could get that damned kiss off his mind. His balls were turning blue because he hadn’t been able to touch another woman since that night. He was horny as hell…and probably about to do something really…really stupid…but he was horny as hell.

  “So,” he said, lowering his voice. “How long are you going to be in town?”

  She turned back toward him and his cock actually jerked in his pants at the thought of what he was considering. “Maybe two, three more weeks.”

  “Hmm…” He could do this. He hadn’t thought about her for ten years before she showed back up. Well, not much. Not more than a few times…a month. Fuck, this is a bad idea.

  She smiled. There was a question in it. “Hmm…what?”

  “What are you doing tonight?” Jesus, you’re not still in fucking high school.

  Sounding surprised, and maybe a little cautious she said, “Nothing…why?”

  He opened his mouth with the intentions of just putting it out there: “Do you want to fuck?” Instead, what he heard, and unfortunately she did too, was, “Wanna get a drink?” Fuck.

  12

  It was still hot. It was almost nine p.m., and it was still hot. Welcome to the Central Valley of California, she supposed. Or maybe she’d worked up a little bit of a sweat, trying on everything she brought with her…twice… and arguing with her sister via speakerphone while she did. Liza had been trying furiously to reach her since the night of her failed date with the Ken doll. She had seamlessly ignored both her and her mother, until tonight. She figured she might as well get it over with…but it had been excruciating. Liza was not only on a tear about what she perceived as Daria’s being “rude” to Luke…since she hadn’t returned any of his calls either. But she was also freaked out about the picture of Daria and Sledge in the paper and circulating online.

  Daria’s publicist had informed her that her readers loved it. It resembled one of her book jackets…the big, strong, handsome man and the heroine in his arms. Liza didn’t see it that way, especially when she’d figured out it was Steve. She had a million questions, none of which Daria wanted to answer, and some she wouldn’t have answers to if she did. She did her best to put her sister off for another time…maybe when pigs flew…and then she’d rushed off the phone. She was a little worked up already thanks to Liza’s condescending tone…and then the dressing and undressing only made things worse.

  She’d finally settled on a white tank top with a little bit of bling across the breasts, a jean skirt, and white sandals. She wanted to look cute, but not too much like she was desperate to get into his jeans…which she was. She’d braided her hair to the side. She wasn’t sure why…maybe because that way it looked a little less like I’m looking for a piece of ass than it did long and straight. The point was, he’d asked her out for a drink and she wasn’t going to repeat history by throwing herself at him. If he came on to her, she wasn’t going to say no, but making a fool of herself that one time was enough. She was just grateful that he seemed to be moving toward forgiving her, she hoped.

  She walked down the sidewalk toward the entrance of the bar at the end of the street called “Huggys.” It was the closest one to her hotel room and where they had decided to meet. She told herself that if he was thinking about fucking her, he would have picked her up, or invited her to the club. He simply wanted to have a drink…or did he? She stopped walking suddenly and scanned the parking lot. Maybe he was going to stand her up. Maybe this was more revenge…her eyes landed on the shiny chrome handlebars of his bike. She knew from research on one of her novels that the type he had were called “ape-hangers.” The grips sat up high and some men looked like they were reaching for them…but Sledge had long arms and when she’d seen him ride the bike, he had looked completely comfortable. She was glad he wasn’t setting her up to look stupid…but now she was nervous about his actually being there. What on earth would they talk about? She stood there long enough to get her breathing under control and hopefully slow down her heart rate, and then she continued toward the front door of the bar.

  The bar was loud, dark, and awfully crowded for a Tuesday night. There were pool tables and dartboards on one side of the room, and that was where most of the patrons were collected. It looked like there was some kind of pool tournament going on. Rock music blasted out of speakers hung from the corners of the room and three televisions over the bar were tuned to different sports stations. She scanned the tables and booths like she had the parking lot and finally saw Sledge, sitting in a booth near the back. The first thing she noticed was that he wasn’t wearing a white t-shirt. Tonight, he had on a black one and it fit just tight enough to show off the muscles in his chest and shoulders. It was short-sleeved, so she could see the tattoos on both of his arms. He also wasn’t wearing his vest, which, surprisingly, disappointed her. He was looking down at his phone and didn’t see her until she was almost next to the table. When he did look up, his eyes traveled from her face, down to her feet, and back up again. Her body felt hot and tingly, just from that look and she hoped it didn’t show on her face.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey. Have a seat.” She sat down across from him and he said, “What are you drinking?” He slid a drink menu across the table. Her face felt hot as she looked at it. The drinks were named things like Ménage à Trois, Afternoon Delight, Silk Panty Martini, and Buttery Nipple. She looked back up and saw that Sledge was watching her with an amused look in his eyes.

  “Beer?” she said. Sledge busted out laughing and then said:

  “I would have bet you had more balls than that.”

  She giggled. “Balls, huh? Maybe I usually do…but I’m a little nervous tonight.”

  He sat back and looked at her curiously. “What are you nervous about?”

  She shrugged and felt her face go hot again. “Honestly, I thought you might stand me up.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? I asked you here.”

  “You know…karma and all that.”

  He sighed. “Maybe…at least for tonight…we could forget all that bullshit.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.”

  “Now, do you really want beer?” he asked with a grin, “or would you
rather pick one of those sweet, exotic drinks off the menu?”

  “Hmm, okay, I’ll just close my eyes and point to one.” She closed her eyes. She could feel herself shaking inside and she hoped the bar was dark enough that Sledge wouldn’t be able to see her hand shaking. She pointed her finger and let it land on the little, laminated menu in front of her. When she opened them, her face felt like it was on fire. “That one,” she said, clearing her throat, “I guess.”

  “You want a Pink Pussy?”

  He said it so smoothly and casually that she almost choked. “Um…maybe not…”

  He laughed again and waved at the cocktail waitress. The girl, in a pair of very short denim shorts and a tank top with the name of the bar emblazoned across the front of her big boobs, came over with a big smile. “Hey there, hon, what can I get you?”

  Daria cleared her throat again and then said, “I think…maybe…well…”

  “She’d like a Pink Pussy,” Sledge said.

  “Good choice,” the girl said with a wink. “Sometimes there’s nothing more refreshing than a Pink Pussy.” The waitress, who was obviously immune to the risqué names, and Sledge, who was in rare form tonight, both laughed, and Daria wanted to climb underneath the table to hide the blush she knew was splashed across her cheeks. She was no prude and far from being that virgin who wanted to seduce him ten years ago…but something about being this close to him seemed to erase all the years in between.

  Once the waitress was gone Sledge said, “So…you’re a writer, huh?”

  “Yeah, I’ve always had a vivid imagination. I figured I should use it to make a living.” He nodded, and she started to ask him about his chosen “profession.” She wondered what had driven him to become part of a motorcycle club. He was always so smart…practically genius-level smart. She’d heard once that his mother had told someone he was in California working as an engineer…that still made so much more sense to her. She just wasn’t sure how personal he wanted her to get.

  “They’re making a movie out of something you wrote?” She nodded, and he said, “Any famous people in it?”

  “Well, yes…and no. Do you watch the Lifetime Movie Network?” He made a face and she laughed.

  “My mom used to watch that crap…I mean, those movies.”

  She laughed again. “It’s okay. I have yet to meet a straight man, other than those working on the project, that didn’t call it crap.” She was interrupted by the waitress:

  “Here’s your Pink Pussy, doll. Anything else?”

  Again, she felt her face heat up. Jesus, it wasn’t like she was still seventeen. “No, thank you.”

  “You hungry?” Sledge asked her after the waitress was gone.

  “Nah, I ate,” she lied. She’d been too nervous to eat…and she still was. “So how long have you been involved with the Skulls?” she asked. There, she’d opened the dialogue and he could tell her as much as he wanted to.

  “Almost ten years,” he said. She was surprised. That meant that he had joined up with them almost as soon as he left New York.

  “Oh…is that why you came to California?”

  He narrowed his eyes on her face for a second like he was wondering what she might use the information for. He must have decided to trust her because he said, “No. I came to California to go to college, but I found out that I didn’t fit in there either.”

  With a shaky voice she said, “I’m really sorry…about how you got treated, and the part I played in it…”

  “I thought we were tabling that crap tonight.”

  “I know. Sorry. I just feel so bad when I think about it, and you kind of brought it up.”

  “Then don’t think about it,” he said, as if it were that easy. “And I didn’t mean to bring it up, I was just stating a fact. I’m a grown-ass man now, and I have a good life. I’m way over it.” She doubted that, since it had only been a few days since he’d tried to make her feel as foolish as she had him. But she let it go.

  “So…tell me how a guy ends up joining a motorcycle club. I’ve always been curious.” She picked up the pink drink in front of her and took a sip. It was sweet and delicious. She took another sip and listened as he started talking. She realized that she liked hearing him talk almost as much as she liked looking at him. Especially when he was talking about the club. He was animated, and his brown eyes shone under the dim lights.

  “No big story to it,” he said. “Most guys join because they’re looking for something that’s lacking in their lives. They need a sense of order, structure…they need that military-style discipline in their lives.”

  “Is that why you joined? For the structure?”

  “Partly. I met Coyote and some of the guys at a bar one night and just started hanging around with them. I liked what I saw…for the most part. Everyone was treated equally, according to their rank of course. Prospects caught a lot of shit, but it’s no different than being in boot camp and paying your dues. Once you get patched in, you can move up in the ranks as far and as fast as you want, as long as you’re respectful, loyal, and willing to work hard.”

  She suspected being treated “equally” was the big draw for him, at least at first. “So, what’s your rank?”

  “I’m an enforcer. It’s not executive status, like a sergeant-at-arms, but it’s an important job.”

  “You enforce…what, exactly?”

  He finished the beer in his bottle and waved at the waitress. “Everything. I enforce the rules within the club and outside the club. You’d probably be surprised, but it’s all about rules.”

  “When you say outside the club…you mean like territory, or…?”

  “You really interested in all of this stuff?”

  She took another big drink of her Pink Pussy and said, “I’m interested in you.”

  “Why?” This time it didn’t sound suspicious, but like he was genuinely curious about her interest.

  “Why?” She took another long drink as the waitress set his beer down in front of him and took the empty bottle. “I don’t know…why is one person ever interested in another?”

  He picked his beer bottle up and put it to his lips. He took a long pull from it, licked his lips, and with a grin he said, “Because you want to fuck me?” She’d been taking a drink out of her glass when he said it…she choked, spat some out, and some even spewed out through her nose. Sledge was still grinning at her the entire time.

  13

  Sledge had asked Daria out on impulse, when actually all he’d intended to do was ask if she wanted to fuck…but before he made it to the bar that night, he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to act like that stupid, scared, seventeen-year-old boy. So far, he was doing good…just acting like himself, his grown-ass self. Of course, when she started choking on her drink and spitting it out her nose, he wondered if he’d gone a little too far.

  “Sorry,” he said, when she finally stopped choking and was wiping her scarlet face.

  “Don’t be,” she said, blushing even deeper. “I was just…surprised.”

  “That I know you want to fuck me?” It was that kiss. She could have kicked him in the balls. She could have clawed his eyes out. But she didn’t. She kissed him back…and it was hot. Bruf had always had a thing for upper-class women before he got together with Sabrina…and that had worked for him. Maybe, Sledge thought, he’d found what his connection to that world could be…fucking.

  She coughed again, and he thought she was going to start choking. She got it under control quicker this time and said, “At your self-confidence, I guess.”

  “Some might even call it arrogance,” he said. He knew he was laying it on thick…maybe more for his own benefit that hers…but he went on. “This is me now, Daria. I’m not a kid anymore, and not intimidated by anyone.”

  “That’s good,” she said, softly.

  He shrugged. “Good or bad, this is who I am.”

  “Do you want to…? I mean, are you interested in…?”

  He thought about waiting an
d letting her stumble over herself some more, but he felt bad. “Do I want to fuck you? Hell yeah, you’re hot. Am I interested in anything more? Not even a little bit. We still live in completely different worlds and I don’t have any interest in trying to fit into yours again.” There, he said it. It was mostly true, except that maybe the interest would be there if he thought it would ever work. Sledge didn’t necessarily like being alone. He wouldn’t mind having an old lady. But an heiress from New York…no fucking way.

  “Wow, that’s…honest.”

  “Brutally, I know. But, would you want me to lie to you? If you’re looking to have some fun while you’re here over the next three weeks…I’m game. If you’re looking for a guy from the wrong side of the tracks you can date to…I don’t know…shock your parents or prove to the world you’re not a spoiled rich girl, then look somewhere else.”