Sledge

by Jessie Cooke

  “Daria.” She loved the way it sat on his lips. She loved the way he snuggled down next to her and pulled her into his arms. She loved everything about…hooking up…with Sledge, and she hoped they could do it again…soon. Of course, her overactive writer’s imagination wanted more…and had an outline already written for it inside of her head. She fell asleep with that thought and a smile, and woke up in the morning…alone. It was her first clue that he’d meant what he’d said about it being “just fucking.” Now if she could just get a clue as to how to handle her own nonsensical, romantic notions before they blew up in her face…

  15

  “You need to get laid or what?” Ash snapped at Sledge. The two men hardly ever fought, but Sledge had been a bear for days, and he knew it. Knowing it unfortunately didn’t change the fact that he was in a bad mood and Ash was trying to tell him how to take apart an engine, like he hadn’t done it by himself dozens of times before. He felt like Ash was talking down to him, and that was just pissing him off even more.

  “Worried about my sexual activity again, are you?” Sledge asked him. What Ash didn’t know was that Sledge had gotten laid, and it had been damned good. But he’d woken up in the middle of the night and realized what he’d done. He’d gone in with the intentions of fucking the rich girl and having the last laugh…but by the end of the night, when he woke up with her warm, sexy body in his arms, he had to admit to himself it was more than that. He actually liked her and for a second he lay there in bed next to her and wondered if there might be a chance for them to have something more. He started imagining what that would be like. She’d have Hollywood movie premiers, family dinners, best friends who shopped at Bergdorf’s or wherever the hell rich girls shopped these days. The point was, right there in bed was the only place in her life he could imagine that he fit…and he was pissed at the realization that wasn’t going to be enough. His idea about fucking the upper-class women the way Bruf always had was not such a good one, since he’d had a “thing” for this upper-class woman for years. He was torturing himself and he knew he had to stop. So, while she slept, looking gorgeous and making him hard all over again as he watched her, he’d gotten up, got dressed, and left. That was three days ago, and he hadn’t been able to think of anything else since…and it had put him in one hell of a bad mood.

  “If a little pussy would snap you out of this fucking foul mood, I’d pay for it.”

  “What the fuck is it with you and paying for pussy for me all of a sudden? You think I can’t get a woman unless you pay for her? And if I couldn’t, you think I couldn’t pay for it my own fucking self?”

  “Hey,” Ash said, holding up his greasy hands. “Let’s calm down. I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. You have to admit, you’ve been kind of a dick lately. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with you.” Ash had called him a dick before, an asshole, even a little bitch. This was the first time that Sledge ever took offense at it.

  “You tell me I need to get laid, insinuate that somebody, probably your rich ass would have to pay for it, call me a dick, and wonder what’s wrong with me? Maybe you and your fucking superior attitude is what’s wrong with me.” Sledge knew as soon as all of that came out of his mouth that he didn’t mean it…but his blood pressure was up, and he was having a hard time backing down.

  “If you’d just talk to me I wouldn’t have to fish for information. And talk about somebody with a superior fucking attitude, can you even hear yourself?”

  “If you’d just mind your own fucking business, there wouldn’t be a problem. You act like you have some kind of right to know what’s going on in my life. Sometimes Asher Bennett IV invades your body and you start snapping fucking orders like you’re still that piece-of-shit rich boy.” Sledge could see by his friend’s face that he’d gone way too far. Ash’s face was red and his fists were clenched at his sides now. Ash wanted to hit him. For the first time in their lives, Ash wanted to knock his fucking head off…and Sledge couldn’t believe it, but that’s exactly what he wanted him to do. He wanted to fight, even if it was with his best friend. Maybe because it was his best friend.

  “I’m walking the fuck out of here before I lay you out.” Ash turned toward the door and Sledge said:

  “Like you fucking could, rich boy.” That was it. Ash spun around on his heel and his right hook caught Sledge on the side of the face before he even knew what hit him. He stumbled back and then dove at Ash, pushing him into the open hood of a car behind him. He threw a punch and felt a crunch as blood flew from Ash’s nose and sprayed across his face.

  “What the fuck are you two doing?” The sound of Manson’s voice didn’t faze either of them. They rolled off the car and hit the cement floor with a thud. Sledge was on top when they hit the ground, and Ash brought his hands up to protect his face as Sledge started to throw punches. He felt someone grab him from behind and try to pull him off, but he ignored them. He felt Ash bring up his leg and slam it into his crotch. Pain shot up from his groin, through his core, and landed in the center of his chest…and it pissed him off even more.

  “Stop this shit! What the fuck?” That was Bruf, and Sledge knew the shit was going to hit the fan now…but still, he couldn’t stop himself. It was like years of built-up aggression had suddenly come to the surface and boiled over like hot lava spewing out of a volcano. He and Ash continued to roll on the dirty, greasy floor of the shop, knocking things over and throwing punches while the men around them tried to get a hold on one of them and pull them apart. It was the sound of the gunshot that made them both freeze, and when Sledge looked up, Bruf was holding a gun and he had that crazy look he sometimes got in his eye as he said, “I just put a hole in the ceiling of this shop that I’m pretty damned sure the boss is going to make you two assholes climb up there and patch it. The next hole I make is going to be in one of you.”

  Sledge didn’t think Bruf would really shoot him, but where Bruf was concerned, you never knew. His past was a little sketchy and Sledge had seen him pull that trigger before, without flinching. He looked down at Ash, whose collar he was still holding, and flinched when he saw what he’d done to his friend’s face. What the fuck just happened? He let go of Ash and stumbled to his feet. He turned and held his hand out in the direction of his friend, but Ash hammered it away with his fist.

  “Get the fuck off me,” he grumbled as he struggled to his own feet, by himself.

  Bruf tucked his gun away and said, “Anybody care to tell me what the fuck this was about?”

  Sledge, feeling less aggressive but still annoyed, said, “Maybe you can tell us first when you became president.” Bruf dove toward him but Manson and a guy named Maz stepped between them.

  “Calm down,” Manson told Bruf, “Wolf’ll deal with them.” Bruf was still staring a hole through Sledge, but he backed off. Sledge knew he had crossed another line. He looked down at his feet and said:

  “Sorry, man.”

  “Fuck you,” Bruf said. Ash still hadn’t said a word. Sledge looked at him again. He was wiping blood from his nose, and it looked like it might be broken. Suddenly, as the adrenaline began to fade, it was replaced by a feeling of depression, and worthlessness. What the fuck have I done?

  “Ash…”

  “Fuck you,” was Ash’s response as well.

  “Get your asses over to the clubhouse, now!” Manson barked. There was not only going to be hell to pay for fighting, but for not following their VP’s orders to stop as well. Sledge wiped blood off his mouth and followed Bruf and Manson out of the shop. Ash followed behind with Maz and Ransom walking along either side of them. The guys were afraid they’d continue the fight if they left them alone. Sledge didn’t blame them, but he knew it was unnecessary. Whatever had caused him to attack his best friend had passed, and now he just felt like shit.

  The two men were marched past everyone in the great room, dripping blood. Charlie, Ash’s little sister, tried to ask questions, but she was brushed off by her brother. When they got
into the office, Manson ordered them to sit and then told Bruf to watch them while he went to get Wolf. The office was deathly quiet until their ill-tempered president arrived, filled in and pissed off. Looking at Ash first he said:

  “What the fuck is this?”

  “Sorry, Boss. I’ll clean up the shop.”

  “Fucking A you will,” he growled. Then he looked at Sledge and said, “So will you. But right now, I want to know what the fuck this was about.”

  “It was my fault,” Sledge said. He saw Ash look at him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look at his friend. Ash’s nose was surely broken, and he couldn’t fucking believe he’d done that.

  “That’s it? That’s all you got to say is that it was your fault? I want to know what this was fucking about? You two fighting over a woman? Is it Mack?”

  “Fuck no!” Sledge said. Ash didn’t say a word, but now Sledge could feel him glaring at him. He finally looked at Ash and said, “You know this isn’t about Mack, right?”

  “I don’t know what the fuck it was about. You attacked me like a crazy fucking person.”

  Sledge chuckled. He knew it was a completely inappropriate response, but in all honesty, Ash threw the first punch. But he was asking for it, all day. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I wish there was an explanation I could put into words…but I don’t have one. I felt like you were talking down to me, telling me what to do, and something snapped. I just lost my head. I’m really sorry. I’ll clean up the shop and fix the roof…”

  “The roof?” Wolf said.

  “I kind of shot a hole through it, Boss,” Bruf said.

  “Fuck me! Have you all lost your fucking minds? I’m surprised there aren’t cops at our fucking gates.”

  “Sorry,” Bruf mumbled. “It was the only way I could get their attention.”

  “Fuck,” Wolf said, again. He looked at Ash and said, “Is Mack home?”

  “No. She’s in New York.”

  “Have Charlie or one of the boys drive you to the hospital. Your fucking nose is broken.” Sledge flinched again. He tried to say he was sorry again, but Ash was already out of his seat and headed for the door. Wolf turned on Sledge then. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you’d best figure it out. I’m not going to have my men fighting among themselves. We’ve got too fucking many irons in the fire to have fucking anarchy going on in our ranks. And let me tell you something else, when your vice president tells you to jump, you better fucking stop whatever you’re doing and ask him how fucking high, you got that?”

  “Yes sir,” Sledge said. He looked at Manson and not for the first time he wondered why of all people, Wolf kept the small, almost mild-mannered man by his side. Maybe that was it. Maybe Manson was the cool head and voice of reason that kept Wolf from killing his own men when they acted like wild animals, like Sledge had today. “I’m sorry, Manson. I don’t know what happened tonight, but it won’t happen again.”

  Manson didn’t say anything, but he nodded at him. Wolf continued, “Go clean your ass up and then get out to the shop and start repairing the damage you did out there. I’ll have one of the workers from the new property stop by in the morning and assess the roof. If there’s anything you can do there, you’ll fix that too. Then, I want you up there at the new property for the next week. You’ll report directly to the foreman and do whatever he needs you to do. Maybe having idle hands is what’s got you losing your fucking mind.”

  “Okay,” Sledge said. Construction work wasn’t a problem. The fact that it was still a hundred degrees in the middle of September kind of sucked, but he’d live. Mostly, he just felt tired and ashamed and confused about what had pissed him off so badly that he broke his best friend’s nose. Wolf started to walk away, and Sledge said, “Boss?”

  “What?”

  “I’m really sorry, and this really won’t happen again. Can you have someone give me a heads-up how Ash is doing when he gets back?”

  Wolf glared at him for a few seconds and then said, “We’ll see,” before walking away. Sledge guessed that was better than nothing. He stood up and Bruf watched him leave the office. Everyone in the room outside the office door tried to pretend like they hadn’t been listening to Wolf scream at him, but Sledge knew they had all heard. His face burned as he walked past them and headed out toward his trailer to clean himself up before he went out to assess the damage that he and Ash had done to the garage.

  Sledge’s body hurt all over. His face hurt where Ash’s fist had left bruises and cuts. His shoulders hurt from hitting the cement and throwing punches. His knuckles were bloody and raw. His groin fucking hurt where Ash had kicked him. His legs hurt, and so did his stomach. He’d spent three hours cleaning up the garage and he’d gotten back to his trailer just as the sun was going down. After standing under the warm spray of the shower for half an hour, he’d pulled on a pair of shorts and was staring into the refrigerator as if food might magically appear if he looked long enough. He didn’t want to go over to the clubhouse. Everyone over there was probably still pissed at him for what he’d done to Ash. He was too fucking sore and tired to get on his bike and go out. He finally grabbed a bag of half-eaten and stale corn chips off the top of the refrigerator and took them to the little living room with him. He picked up the remote and flipped on the television set as he settled back into his recliner. He’d just flipped up the footrest when someone knocked on his door.

  Cursing, but unwilling to ignore it in case Wolf had sent someone over to tell him how Ash was doing, he got up and went to answer it. He pulled open the door and Daria stood there on the steps. Her eyes ran over his body, obviously taking in the cuts and bruises. She was the last person he needed to see tonight; it would be like salt in his already stinging wounds. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I’m not up for company tonight, Daria.”

  “I just need five minutes.”

  “Okay, go.”

  “You’re not going to ask me in?”

  “No. If all you need is five minutes, I’m guessing we can do this here.”

  “I just need to clarify what we are doing. Why did you leave without telling me goodbye the other night? Why haven’t I heard from you since?”

  Damn, she gets straight to the point, he had to give her that. “The other night was just about sex. I thought I made that clear before it happened.”

  She winced, and he felt bad. She wasn’t the first woman he’d had “just sex” with though, and she wouldn’t be the last. He hadn’t taken advantage of her. He told her up front what he wanted, and she went willingly. She had no idea that he was catching feelings for her, and he wasn’t about to tell her. “You did make it clear,” she said, “but honestly, I guess I expected you to have a little more class than to sneak out in the middle of the night.”

  “A little more class” set him off again. He snorted and said, “Well then, I guess you forgot where I came from. Good night, Daria. Have a nice life.” He closed the door in her face and then leaned forward and let his forehead rest against it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck my life.

  16

  Daria had known it would be pointless to seek him out. It was like suddenly she had some kind of twisted need to torture herself. When a man fucks you, leaves, and doesn’t call…it’s pretty self-explanatory why. He was right, too; he’d been honest at the offset that fucking was all it was. Her crazy, romantic head had tried to convince her otherwise. The novel in her head was about two kids that came from different backgrounds. When they were still kids, one hurt the other, but later in life they got a second chance and they ended up living happily ever after. A novel, a story, that’s what it was. This, though, was real life and as much as she hated to admit it, her sister was right…she wasn’t living in it. She kept hurting herself with her own expectations.

  “Daria?” She had almost made it back to her car when someone calling her name stopped her in her tracks. She turned toward the voice. It was Asher Bennett.

  “Hey, Ash.”


  “Hey, what are you doing here?” As Ash got closer she could see the tape across his nose and the bruises underneath his eyes. His lips were swollen and one of his hands was bandaged. He must have been involved in the same fight Sledge was…but that made no sense. The two of them always had each other’s backs.

  She reached up and tried to wipe the tear sneaking out of her eye away before he saw it. With a catch in her voice she said, “I just stopped by to set up some research stuff with Wolf.” Ash raised an eyebrow and looked toward Sledge’s trailer.

  “Really?”

  She sighed. “Okay, sorry. I came by to see Sledge, but he wasn’t interested in company tonight, so I was a little embarrassed to admit that. It looks like you guys had a pretty rough day.”

  Ash chuckled. “You could call it that, yeah. You look upset too. You gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I know Mack hates me and I’m not at the top of Sledge’s list of favorite people…”

  “People make mistakes, especially when they’re kids. I’m sure it took a lot for you to offer Sledge an apology, I respect that. Mack does too…Sledge is just like, a brother to her and she’s fiercely protective of the people she cares about.”

  “He’s like a brother to you too.”

  Ash smiled. “Yeah, but brothers handle things differently than sisters sometimes. Just because I’m protective doesn’t mean I don’t also know when my brother is wrong.”

  “Thank you,” Daria said with a smile. “I’m sorry about your…face. Is anything broken?”

  He shrugged. “The nose, but I’m so damned good-looking that even if it heals crooked, it’ll just give me character.”