HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “More soldier bullshit?”

  “Soldier?” he snapped. His eyes quickly thinned to slits.

  Oh fuck, I hit a nerve.

  I prepared for an evening-ending argument.

  “Soldier? For fucks sake. You think I was a soldier?”

  Not now, no.

  He wasn’t just acting like he was insulted, he was insulted. I didn’t know what else to do, so I shrugged.

  “United States Navy. SEAL Team One. I wasn’t a fucking ground pounder,” he barked.

  My throat constricted, my mouth went dry, and my pussy started tingling. All at the same time.

  I swallowed hard. “You were a SEAL?”

  He inhaled a deep breath and glared. After a forced sigh, he shook his head. “Some fucking reporter you are.”

  He hopped over the wall. “Come on, shit-for-brains, let’s go watch the sunset.”

  We walked down to within a few feet of where the ocean met the land and sat down. The sound of the waves washing ashore was calming, and exactly what I needed. One benefit of having an outlaw biker accompany me to the beach was that most people – upon seeing his kutte and tattoos – decided to move further away, leaving us with our own little private spot.

  “Thank you.”

  He shot me a look. “For what?”

  “This.”

  He shrugged. “Used to do this when I was a kid. We didn’t live very far from the beach. It’s nice thinking back to when I was a kid. Before things went to shit.”

  I wondered just what he meant by before things went to shit. Eventually, curiosity won the battle, and I proceeded to offer him an even trade. My when things went to shit in trade for his.

  “When I was eight, my mother went to get some things from the store. My two brothers and I were at school. There was a pileup on the freeway, and she was sitting there waiting on traffic. They said the guy was going seventy or so when he hit the car behind her.”

  He touched my hand. I looked right at him, and he looked back. We shared a moment with our eyes locked, and then I continued.

  “She didn’t make it home. They said she wasn’t in pain though. I guess it broke her neck. At least that’s what they told us. That was when things went to shit for me.”

  He decided to sit down, and pulled against my wrist as he lowered himself to the sand. We sat side by side with his hand touching my wrist lightly. Just enough that I knew it was there, but I didn’t look.

  He stared out at the ocean for some time. All the while, he seemed to be doing breathing exercises. In through the nose and out through the mouth, which I never really noticed before. The sound of it became comforting, so instead of disturbing him, I just decided to watch the clouds change color.

  “She looked about your age.” His eyes were fixed on the beach. “That’s what I told myself when I saw her. Twenty-five. I remember thinking that.”

  If it took him fifteen minutes to develop the courage to speak, I knew better than to look at him. I simply nodded and continued to watch the clouds transform into a rainbow of colors.

  “We’d just cleared a building that was filled with insurgents. They were assembling the IED’s that were blowing up our troops. A bomb making facility. I stepped around the corner, and there she was. Our eyes locked. She looked worried there for a second, and I figured she was just scared. Hell, everyone was scared. She must have seen it in my eyes. The relaxation, or the tension leaving. I don’t know. But she saw something.”

  He turned his head away from me and I heard him spit. He looked back at the horizon, but I didn’t turn toward him, I could see him out of my peripheral.

  “Whatever she saw let her know I was no longer a threat. She relaxed. I relaxed. We pressed on. Maybe ten meters. And then I saw it. She started to raise a Kalashnikov. It wasn’t a choice. It was a combination of training and experience.”

  He didn’t have to say it. My heart sank for him. I lifted my hand and placed it on top of his.

  Our hands touched, and he looked at me. The skin under his eyes was swollen, but he wasn’t crying. More than anything else, he seemed exhausted. “She was twelve.”

  He must have seen it in my eyes.

  The shock.

  I didn’t respond.

  He looked out at the horizon. “I shot a twelve-year-old girl. You want to know the sad thing?”

  I fought to swallow, and once again, didn’t respond. The silence encouraged him enough to continue. Either that, or he simply needed to say it.

  “If I hadn’t shot her, she would have shot me or one of my team members. If I had to do it all over again, I’d do it the same way. Sad, but it’s true.”

  “I’m sorry,” I somehow managed to say.

  I squeezed his hand for sincerity’s sake.

  “So, I came home from the war. I’d been fighting in one place or another for fifteen fucking years, and I was ready to settle down. I tried to get a VA loan for a house.” He turned toward me and shook his head.

  “They denied me. The motherfuckers put me in a position where I had to kill a fucking pre-teen girl, then denied my government home loan because I had insufficient credit. Tell me how the fuck I was supposed to get credit when I was busy fighting for this country’s fucking freedom?”

  I’m so sorry.

  “Anyway. That’s when things went to shit for me.”

  He looked away, obviously upset, but not angry. I was upset too, with our government. I turned toward the setting sun, but left my hand on top of his. He didn’t object. Not in the least.

  In a few moments, the sky illuminated. It was a glorious display of the most magnificent colors I had ever seen. Slowly, the sun lowered itself into the water.

  Together, Navarro and I watched it happen. While we held hands.

  On the beach.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nick

  “My vote’s for pork. Beef gets all fucking tough and stringy if you don’t do it up right,” Pee Bee said.

  I turned away from the meat case and shot him a look. “If you don’t do it up right?”

  He nodded. “You know, if a fucker don’t know how to cook it.”

  “What can I get for you?” the butcher asked.

  “We’re not sure yet,” I said. “Give us a minute.”

  He wiped his hands against his apron and grinned. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

  I turned toward Pee bee. “You come to last year’s barbeque, Peeb?”

  “You know I did, why?”

  “Year before?”

  “What the fuck you gettin’ at, asshole?”

  “Were you here year before last? At the barbeque?”

  He sighed, and then nodded. “Yep.”

  “Was the barbeque good?”

  “Damn good.”

  “Flavorful?”

  “It was good as fuck, why?”

  “Was any of it stringy or tough?”

  He shook his head. “I just said it was good.”

  “Ryder was in charge of the smoker for the last two years. If you liked it, it’d stand to fuckin’ reason that he’d know how to cook the fuckin’ meat.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “We’ll get some of each. Fifty-fifty.”

  “Get more pork than beef. Beef ribs are a fuckin’ bitch to get right, Boss.”

  I folded my arms in front of my chest and glared at him. “Didn’t we just settle this? Fifty-fifty?”

  “We didn’t settle it. You did. You don’t ever fuckin’ listen to me. You might ask, but you don’t give a fuck what I say.”

  “Oh, so now you got your fuckin’ feelers hurt huh? Over some beef ribs?”

  “Make a decision yet? The butcher asked.

  We both glared at him.

  “I’ll just…I’ll…I’ll come back in a few minutes,” he said.

  I turned toward Peeb and huffed out a sigh. “You don’t pay attention to the details, asshole. I asked you what you liked, not what you wanted. I was being polite. Cou
rteous.”

  He laughed. “Now you’re a kind-hearted fucker, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So you were just askin’, but not givin’ a fuck what I responded?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. Not exactly. Are we really standing here in the fucking store arguing about meat? Why does everything have to be so god damned difficult with you?”

  He shook his head. “It ain’t difficult. I ain’t difficult. Beef ribs are a bitch to get right. Get pork. That’s pretty simple. You wanna be a prick and go fifty-fifty, do it.”

  I flexed my biceps. “You calling me a prick?”

  “I just called you one, yeah. You flexin’ on me, Boss?”

  I shook my head. “Just asking a question, you big dumb fuck.”

  “I’ll beat your presidential patch-wearin’ ass, Crip. Don’t call me a dumb fuck.”

  “Dumb pork-eatin’ fuck.”

  He raked his hair from his face and took a step back. “I mean it.”

  “So, did you make a decision?” the butcher asked.

  We both turned toward him.

  His eyes widened. “I’ll be back.”

  “Beef,” Pee Bee snapped.

  “Pork,” I said.

  His eyes darted back and forth, alternating between Peeb and me. “Go with a little of each?”

  “Fifty-fifty,” I said. “We need about 75 pounds of ribs, total. No, make it 80. And 30 pounds of beef brisket.”

  “When would you like it?”

  “Can we pick it up Friday?”

  He nodded. “We’ll need you to pay in advance on that much meat.”

  I reached for my wallet. “Just give me an amount.”

  “So, 40 pounds of beef ribs, 40 pounds of pork ribs, and 30 pounds of beef brisket?”

  I nodded. “Sounds right.”

  He punched his finger against the keyboard on the scale, printed off three stickers, and stuck them to a piece of butcher paper. He handed me the slip of paper. “Just pay at the register. They’ll scan those for you.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  He chuckled. “I thought for a minute you two were going to actually fight over it.”

  “Like a fist fight?” I asked.

  He nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  I wagged my finger between Peeb and me. “Who do you think would win?”

  The look on his face changed to worried. “Oh, I’d hate to guess.”

  “Guess.” I said.

  “I really…”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Guess.”

  He pointed to me.

  “Come on, Peeb,” I said with a laugh.

  “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Pee Bee said, laughing as he spoke. “I’ve got fifty pounds and seven inches on him. You picked him?”

  The butcher shrugged.

  Pee Bee chuckled. “Why?”

  “Why’d I pick him?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because he looks mean.”

  “He might look mean, but I am mean.”

  “Come on, tough guy,” I said. “Let’s go before you hurt someone.”

  We paid for the meat, and walked out to our bikes.

  “Wanna eat?” I asked.

  “Sooner or later, yeah.”

  I raised my leg over the seat and sat down. After strapping on my helmet, I turned toward Peeb. His helmet still hung from his handlebars. He sat staring blankly out at the street.

  I cleared my throat. “You coming?”

  He nodded. “You bringing her to the barbeque?”

  The annual barbeque was a family event and everyone was welcome. “Was thinking about it.”

  “Funny how things change.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “You ain’t brought anybody to the barbeque since we been havin’ ‘em. Just funny. Not funny haha, but funny weird.”

  I glared back at him in disbelief. “It’s weird that I’m bringing her?”

  “Now you’re bringing her? Not thinking about it?”

  “I’m fuckin’ bringing her. Jesus.” I shifted my eyes to the street. After a short pause, I continued. “She’s a good woman.”

  “No argument here. It’s just weird, that’s all.”

  “Don’t make it into something it isn’t. She’s not my Ol’ Lady.”

  “Ain’t makin’ it into nothin’, Boss. Don’t get me wrong, I like that little bitch. A lot. She’s good people.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Fish tacos?”

  “Sounds good,” he responded. “But changing the subject ain’t gonna make me stop asking questions.”

  He could ask all the questions he wanted, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to answer them.

  Because I had no earthly fucking idea where my life with Peyton was headed.

  Chapter Thirty

  Peyton

  The night was almost over. Eating barbeque wasn’t something I had much experience with, but so far I was enjoying it. At least until the argument started. With Navarro on my left, and Pee bee seated across from me, I felt like I was being attacked from two different directions.

  “Just take a bite out of each one and tell us which one’s better,” Navarro said.

  “Hold on a fuckin’ minute. Not which one is better,” Pee Bee said. “Which one feels better in your mouth. You know, texture or whatever.”

  “Overall,” Navarro said.

  “Yeah. What he said. Taste, texture, and if the meat’s all stringy and kinda nasty or tough to eat, don’t be afraid to say so.”

  “Just stop,” I shouted. “You two are like a couple of little kids. Hold on.”

  They looked the same to me, and I had no idea why they were having me sample ribs. Eating meat off a bone was pretty gross in my opinion, no matter what it was. For the sake of ending their argument, however, I agreed to give it a try.

  I bit some of the meat off the rib on the left, chewed it, and swallowed it. It was kind of greasy, but it tasted good. The right rib followed, and the meat wasn’t as easy to chew, but it had great flavor.

  I wiped my fingers on the napkin. There was no way to pick. Both were equally gross. I did eeny, meeny, miny, moe and picked up the rib on the right. Pee Bee’s eyes went wide and he smiled from ear to ear.

  It wasn’t what I wanted.

  I waved the rib in the air. “This one sucked ass.”

  Pee Bee’s hand slapped the table. “Fuck!”

  “Told you,” Navarro said. He held out his hand. “Pay up, sucka!”

  Pee Bee dug in his wallet, and then handed him a $20 bill. “Fuck off. She’s not a rib expert.”

  Navarro put the money in his pocket. “She sure picked it.”

  Pee Bee glared at me. “Fuckin’ novice.”

  I shrugged.

  He got up and walked away, leaving Navarro and me sitting alone. Most of the other people were walking around, dancing, or just standing and talking. It was nice to meet more of Navarro’s group. Seeing the men with their girlfriends, wives, or whoever they chose to bring was nice.

  “Here, I’ll toss that in the trash for you.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He took my plate and walked toward the trash can, which was up by the building. While he was walking back to the table, two guys stopped him to talk. Five minutes later, when he hadn’t returned, I glanced nervously around the packed parking lot.

  Men in vests were everywhere, but it wasn’t solely FFMC’s men. Various other members of clubs were scattered about, talking to each other or just standing and drinking beers alone. I was seated at a group of picnic style tables, and as most people were walking around drinking, I was left sitting alone.

  I am in control.

  I am safe now.

  I looked toward the building, and saw Navarro trying to make his way back to the table. After waving off a few men who tried to get him to talk, he finally sat down beside me at the table.

  “Tell me the truth?”

  “I�
��m bound by a promise, remember?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, yeah.”

  “What’s the question?”

  “The rib. The one you picked up. Were you going to say that it was the good one, and then you changed your mind when you saw Peeb celebrating?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  “You didn’t like the other one?”

  “It was kinda weird. They were both gross, but the other one was more gross.”

  He twisted his mouth to the side. “Fuck.”

  “Fuck what?”

  “I’m going to have to give him his money back.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe wait till tomorrow. It’d be more fun.”

  “I’ll probably do that.”

  “Thanks, by the way. I don’t remember if I told you that. But thanks.”

  “For?”

  “Letting me come.”

  “I didn’t let you come,” he said. “I asked you to come. There’s a difference.”

  It seemed like splitting hairs to me. “Thanks for asking me to come.”

  He grinned, but I was left wondering what he meant by what he said. It gnawed on me for a minute, and then I asked.

  “What’s the difference? Between letting me and asking me?”

  “Letting you would be agreeing to allow you to come if you asked if you could. If you said, hey can I come to your barbeque? Asking you to come means I wanted you to come, and I asked you, because I wanted you here.”

  I liked the difference that he explained, but I wanted to know more. There was no way that Navarro and I would ever amount to anything more than elbow-rubbing associates, but it was nice to dream.

  Now that I knew him better, I found him to be so much more than an intriguing biker. He was caring, could be kind, and most of what others saw in him was a hard outer layer that he used to protect his significantly more sensitive inner being.

  Getting through the outer shell wasn’t easy, though.

  “Why’d you ask me? Or why’d you want me?”

  His response was quick and without thought or hesitation.

  “I like you,” he said.

  It wasn’t much.

  In fact, I’d been told a lot more than that from lesser men over the years. But, coming from Navarro, it was pretty fucking significant.