by Bijou Hunter
“Be a final girl and stay out of the basement.”
“Or don’t go in the house at all,” Kelsi suggests. “It could be like that Grudge movie. Once you go inside, you’re fucked.”
“But Shane lives there, and he isn’t fucked.”
“Well, he did get sucked, so...” Hugh says, and I laugh.
“We’re even,” I tell Kelsi. “Tomorrow, I’ll get in the lead.”
“It’s not a contest. However, I probably did a better job.”
“Well, I would hope so,” I taunt, and she laughs. “You suck more dick than Hugh.”
“Fuck you,” he growls. “We worked out the numbers while you were in Cleveland, and I was ahead by two dicks. Since then, I've been sucking like a teething baby.”
“I’ve been doing more anal,” Kelsi says and shoots Hugh. “So, the numbers check out.”
“No,” Max says, shaking her head. “I never want anything up my butt.”
“Such a virgin,” Hugh teases.
“I’m afraid of the part where the guy finishes and forgets my name. You know I’d cry.”
“I’d cry too,” I admit. “Well, maybe not if he called me ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart.’ I could pretend he still knew.”
“Just do what I do,” Kelsi says when she thinks we’re getting too dark. “One time, some biker jizzed in my mouth and said, ‘You’re so hot, Casey.’ I said he was hot too and then called him by the name of another Skullz. That way, he got his feelings hurt too. What a fucking bitch.”
“Was it Chase?” Hugh asks, laughing. “He always looks ready to cry.”
“No, that’s Boyle. He has those big, crybaby eyes. I never really noticed how big and sad they got. Then the Reapers took over, and Boyle got sad about Candyman dying. They’re huge like anime eyes. That’s why I only let him do me from behind now. I can’t look at his face without wanting to laugh.”
The sound of a motorcycle pulling into the driveaway ends our amusement.
I whisper, “They heard us mocking them and came for payback.”
“Don’t answer the door,” Hugh whispers back and returns to playing.
“They’ll bust down the door and scare Hilly,” Kelsi says, climbing over him to peek out the front shades. “Oh, it’s just Ramona’s lover.”
We all scramble to the front door, and then I hurry to the bathroom. Ugh, why did I wash off my makeup? I should have stayed sweaty, made up, and wearing a fake tat on my throat to hide the hickey Shane left behind. Instead, I’m bare in a way I really don’t like to be in front of people who aren’t the Band. I don’t even like to look this way in front of my mom.
“He’s ready to swagger over to the door,” Max whispers and then realizes he can’t hear us. “No time to primp. Get out there and distract him with a nip slip.”
Kelsi snickers. “Lick your lips a lot, so he'll think of blowjobs.”
“No,” Hugh grumbles, “then he’ll need her to suck him off now, and I don’t want to share the house with another man. Get rid of him, so I can shoot Kelsi in her big fat face.”
“My operator really does have a fat face,” Kelsi whispers and then unlocks the door.
I step outside to find Shane looking restless. Is he really here for a blowjob?
No, he just wants a single, lustful kiss. No other expectations, certainly no demands. Shane just missed me like he said in his messages.
I don’t know how to cope with such raw emotion from a man. Or anyone really. The only people I trust are inside the house. I assumed I couldn’t feel this kind of safety with a biker, especially one as young and handsome as Shane.
Because he doesn’t need to be nice to me. Shane can force his way into my bed. He can easily win his way into my heart. There’s no reason he has to treat me well.
I’d write off his behavior as a symptom of his good upbringing, but Shane’s pushy with people, including me. I felt him maneuvering me a lot yesterday. It’s his nature to take what he wants.
The choice not to push me isn’t second nature for him. He’s forcing himself to behave for my sake.
And that’s why I’m falling so hard. I already fear the day when Shane decides to treat me like everyone else in the world besides the Band.
Until then, I’m hooked on the handsome biker with a smile far softer than the man wearing it.
THE CHAPTER WHERE HEADS ARE BUTTED
THE ROMANTIC
I arrive at Ramona’s house twenty minutes early. Kelsi walks outside and tells me that I’m early and to come back. I don’t smile, and her big brown eyes look scared. Then I smile, and she stops staring at me in terror.
“I couldn’t wait,” I say while Hilly sniffs around us.
Kelsi studies me. “Will you be around the Saloon anytime soon?”
“Why?”
Shrugging, Kelsi keeps her gaze on the dog. “I figured I could give you pointers for romancing Ramona.”
I’m about to explain that I don’t need any help wooing a chick. Then I realize there are few people in the entire world who know Ramona better than the woman standing in front of me now. If she wants to give me tips, why would I say no?
“I’ll be around tomorrow night.”
Kelsi nods and then disappears inside once Ramona shows up.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, messing with her hair self-consciously.
“Don’t let it happen again.” When Ramona gives me a look of horror, I realize deep inside that she still fears me. Not a girl feeling nervous about a guy she likes. She literally fears that I will harm her. “I was kidding. I’m here early.”
Ramona forces a smile. “I’ve never ridden on a Harley, you know?” she says, eyeballing my bike.
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, wondering why she’s lying. “I’ll drive under the speed limit.”
“And I’ll hold on tight,” she says, and I catch the way her voice warms.
Leaning down, I brush my lips across hers. Ramona lifts up on her tiptoes and deepens the kiss. I’m a little startled by her affection. She was looking at me as if I was a psycho. Now she grips my shirt and leans into my embrace.
“Shit,” I mumble when our lips finally part.
Ramona looks up at me with her big, dark eyes, and I’m struck by an unfamiliar need. Even as a teenage boy, I never struggled to get laid. I wasn’t nervous my first time. I’ve never felt a longing for something I might not get. Now, this possibility hits me fucking hard.
I want to say something that forces Ramona to trust that I’ll take good care of her. But anyone can make promises. I need to prove I’m worthy of her trust.
The first step is driving as if I’m ninety. At every stop, I glance over my shoulder to check on Ramona. She clutches me as if she fears falling off, but her expression makes me think her thoughts aren’t on the ride. She’s gone somewhere dark.
“My sister is nervous about meeting you,” I lie as we wait at a light.
Ramona allows a little smile, and I feel her thoughts return to the present. “I’m not great at meeting new people. I try to act cool and come off like a bitch.”
“If you start acting like that with Shelby, I’ll kiss you. That’ll be our subtle signal.”
Smile widening, Ramona looks at me as if I’m fucking perfect. Yeah, that’s the expression I want her to wear every day for the rest of our lives.
Her amusement lessens as soon as we park in my house’s wide driveway. I don’t know if she’s nervous about meeting my sister or entering the ghost house.
“I haven’t seen a single ghost or ghoulie in the months that I’ve lived here.”
Ramona grins, but I think she’s relieved when I hold her hand as we walk up the front porch.
“River wants to grill out. I hope you like overcooked meat for dinner.”
“I don’t care,” Ramona says, and I believe her. I sense she isn’t very interested in food. The only time she mentions the topic is when I need to eat, or she talks about Max’s tacos.
“Look at this window,” she say
s and walks over to the diamond-shaped one on the front porch. “This is some funky architecture right here. I heard somewhere that the guy who built the house went to college in New York and had one of them fancy degrees. Like he was a professional design guy. Must have fucked up his life to end up in Shasta.”
“Heard that from who?”
“Kelsi’s mom, I think. I don’t remember exactly. I’ve heard a million things over the years, but I don’t file them away correctly. You’ll probably tell me something, and then in a year, I’ll think it was Shelby who said it.”
I run my fingers over the window just as she did. I’ve seen it hundreds of times since I moved here yet never gave it any mind. Now I admire the interesting detail in the building I’ve called home for months.
“When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike over to the Boulders to look around,” Ramona mumbles as she runs her fingers over the front porch railing design.
I open my mouth, ready to ask if she was curious about the nice house her father and his family lived in. Fortunately, I keep my trap shut before I say something that’ll just upset her. Of fucking course, she was curious. I mean, anyone would be. She was poor. He was living in a nice house. Based on what I’ve heard about her mother, Velma worshipped the ground Fuse walked on. She would never demand child support. She just let Fuse give money when it was convenient for him. Once again, I wish he was alive, so I could kill him.
Ramona gives me a very relaxed smile, and I’m relieved to see how calm she is right now. I get so tied up over saying the wrong shit and losing my shot that I end up saying the wrong shit.
The sound of an arriving Harley steals her smile, and she frowns at the man climbing off the bike.
“Is that River?”
“No, it’s Maverick. His brother. Don’t take his lack of engagement personally. He’s a shy little bitch who hides his bitchy shyness under the veneer of a cold asshole.”
“Dude,” Maverick says and gives me a head nod. Stepping onto the porch, he frowns at Ramona and then gives her the same gesture. “Is River inside?”
“Out back, probably.”
Maverick changes directions and heads around the side to get to the backyard.
“He probably didn’t want to go in the ghost house,” Ramona teases and reaches for the door. “Can I see inside?”
I open the front screen door and smile at her enthusiastic grin as she enters. “Ooh, creepy.”
I don’t know why her silly “scared” voice makes my dick hard. Likely, I was so worried she might be in a bad mood, and this day would suck. Instead, she’s full of energy now that we’re here.
THE LEGACY
Hugh insists I smoke a joint before my date. The pain pills make me feel low, and I really want to enjoy today with Shane. I’m convinced we’re going to break up soon. I might only have one day left with him. I need to make the most of our time together.
“You get too quiet in new situations,” he said at breakfast. “Fake Ramona is the worst Ramona.”
I’m still tense when Shane arrives. He makes jokes that would likely be funnier if I didn’t know he could literally get away with murdering me. Bikers have too much power in this town. They do what they want as long as they pay off the small police department. Even if they didn’t grease the right palms, who would really care if I disappeared? Questions might get asked, sure, but Shane would just say he didn’t know where I was, and life would move on for everyone except the Band.
And that’s how it’s been since before I was born. It’s why I could threaten kids with retribution from my absentee father. People in Shasta know the bikers do whatever they want, and we just need to get out of their way.
Not that I really believe Shane would kill me. I don’t think he’s the type to become violent with women. Kelsi says he’s always polite to the female staff and doesn’t hurt the sweet butts. For a biker, he’s downright gentlemanly.
But if he wants to hurt me, I’ll have no recourse but to take the abuse while hoping he gets bored and moves on to someone else.
That worry is always in the back of my head. But the pot settles me down. Now I can focus on what Shane is actually doing rather than what he could do under different circumstances.
By the time we arrive at his creepy-cool house, I’m not worried about much of anything. I’ve gotten used to my shorter hair. Though this morning, when I woke up to feel my neck bare, I was startled. But there was no feeling of loss when I imagined my long locks gone.
Now I’m standing with Shane in the entry of his house, looking up at the two-story-high ceiling with ceramic tiles designed into a smirking cat face looking down.
“Weird.”
Shane glances up and frowns as if he never noticed it before. “I seriously need to pay more attention.”
I’m not surprised that Shane overlooks things like a funky ceiling design or a diamond-shaped window. As a young guy with power, money, and good looks, he’s always on the move, looking for ways to prove himself. Of course, he’ll miss architectural accents in a house not suited to him. I also get the sense that he doesn’t view this place as his home. They picked the house for its size. The rest is just noise.
I squeeze his hand and then walk toward an open door leading to what I think was a library or sitting room. The back wall is built-in shelves. Rather than filled with books, they’re stuffed with photos and knickknacks with place names on them.
“Have you traveled a lot?” I ask, zigzagging around two couches and as many chairs to reach the shelves.
“Most summers, my family went on road trips. Not so much anymore, but I saw most of the US when I was a kid.”
“Do you miss it?”
“I don’t know. It was a lot of effort to get so many RVs coordinated,” he says, sounding grumpy as I look over the pictures of strangers. “Besides, my mom never does well away from home. She gets agitated and wants to hide in the RV.”
I return to Shane’s side and take his hand. “Is there a picture of her on your shelves?”
His frown disappears, and he guides me to a family photo of Shelby, him, and their parents. “This was taken in our backyard at home.”
“By home, you mean Ellsberg?”
“Yeah. Shasta still doesn’t feel permanent yet.”
“Cleveland never felt like home to me,” I say, running my fingers over each face in the picture. “How young were you here?”
“That was last year before we moved.”
“You seem bigger now.”
“I’m still a growing boy,” he murmurs and wraps me in his arms from behind. “I might not be as comfortable in Shasta as in Ellsberg, but I’m glad we came here.”
“Because you get to be in charge here.”
“And I met you.”
Smiling, I don’t respond. I keep getting the feeling that Shane thinks he has to “seduce” me. I assume it’s an Ellsberg thing. He knows I’m risking shit to be with him. Which means he can’t just fuck me and be done with it. He has to romance me and act as if we’re special. Then he can fuck me and walk away without feeling guilty.
His big plan isn’t really necessary, but I sense if I explained this fact that Shane would view it as a hit to his manhood. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to be the bad guy. That’s why we’ll go through this dance to get to the eventual destination of me in his bed.
For the next minute, Shane watches me, watching him. He wants me to act as if I’m fooled by this game. I just smile because he claims I’m a bad liar, and he’ll know when I’m full of shit. Silence is the middle ground. He gets to feel like he’s winning, and I get to let him feel like he’s winning. Before he can push the subject, Shelby enters the room with a dog underfoot.
“Behave,” Shane warns his sister.
“Fuck off,” she mutters and then sizes me up. “You look like Snow White.” When Shane grumbles under his breath, his sister shushes him. “That’s a compliment, stinker. Snow White was so beautiful that the evil stepmother’s jealousy led her
to apple-related shenanigans.”
Shelby is taller than I expect. I know from the pictures that she’s curvy too. Her long, dark hair hangs loose, and she wears a baggy gray half-sleeved shirt and cutoff pale blue jeans shorts. I’m struck by her bright hazel eyes. They literally shine when she walks closer to where her brother stands rigid.
“He thinks I’ll embarrass him,” Shelby says and reaches out to touch the ends of my hair. “Your bob makes you look snazzy, but I’m still going to have to bruise up those half-sister fapsocks for you.”
“Okay,” I say, grinning easily. “They can’t really fight well.”
“I’m a badass,” Shelby announces, and her brother gives a low snort. “I’m a fucking ninja. Ha-ya, bitches!”
Shane playfully shoves Shelby away and asks me, “Do you want to see my room?”
“Save the fucking for later,” his sister says and sits on one of the couches while the dog sniffs my shoes. “Hansel likes your stink.”
“She has a dog,” Shane answers for me. “Hilly is a shitty guard dog.”
“You like to hold grudges, don’t you?” I ask, and Shelby nods for him. “I don’t need a guard dog. I just want something to snuggle.”
“Which brings me back to the question about my room.”
“Yes, please,” I say and step over the small dog who still thinks I need a bit more sniffing.
“Are you fine?” Shane asks his sister before we leave.
“I could use a foot rub if you’re offering.”
Giving her the annoyed frown of a little brother, he guides me out of the room while I say goodbye to Shelby. She waves at me and promises to be my best friend later.
“Ignore her,” he mutters as we walk up the dark wood stairs and down a narrow hallway to a small room almost completely filled with a king-sized bed. There’s also a footlocker in the corner, which I sense is his dresser.
“How did you get the bed in here?”
“Magic,” he says, flopping on the mattress and box springs resting on the floor.
I look around the room, searching for a sign of his personality. It’s just four walls, no closet, a single small window, and wooden floors.