HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  He shook his head and sat up straight. “Cell phones and the internet have ruined modern society.”

  “They’re useful for a lot of things, though.”

  “They damned sure are. If they’re in the hands of responsible men and women, that is. But they’re also tools for irresponsible people to become even more irresponsible. Fuckin’ child molesters, pedophiles, stalkers, internet bullies, computer hackers. Christ, I could go on for days.”

  He relaxed, and then reached for his chest. As he winced in pain, I stood up.

  “That wasn’t indigestion,” I said.

  His jaw went tight and his eyes pinched closed. After a few seconds, he relaxed again. “It sure was. That fucking lettuce is killing me.”

  “Was it really?”

  He opened his eyes, and then gave a dry response. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll leave the lettuce off next time. Did you like the cheese? It was different, huh?”

  He grinned. “You’re unique, kid. You really are.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You know why I say that?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’ll tell you. When you’re asked a question that you don’t want to answer, you start talking about something else. Your ability to make the transition seamlessly is remarkable. I start a conversation about why you’re single, and the next thing I know, we’re off talking about Havarti cheese. Most wouldn’t even realize you didn’t answer the question in the first place.”

  “Did you like the cheese?”

  He wrinkled his brow. “Why don’t you have a man in your life?”

  I sat down. “Long or short answer?”

  “What time is it?”

  I looked at my watch. “12:45.”

  “Let’s go with the long one.”

  A sigh escaped me. “Here goes.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I took a deep breath, and then began. “My dad left, and when he did, he took a piece of my heart with him. I grew up wondering if it was something I did, or if maybe it was that he just didn’t love me. I wanted to fix it, but I couldn’t. By the time I was a teenager, I found myself trying to fix everyone else because I couldn’t fix my own life.”

  “What do you mean, fix everyone else?”

  “My boyfriends. I found myself more attracted to the bad boys, and I tried to fix them. Deep down inside, I really don’t think I wanted them to be fixed, though. I liked them more than the nice boys. The problem was that most of those kinds of boys were abusive, and abusive relationships never last.”

  “Well, at least you had the common sense to leave them.”

  Somehow, I managed to laugh a dry laugh.

  “I didn’t leave one of them. That’s not what girls like me do. We stay much longer than we should. Most of us stay in abusive relationships until we’re so beaten and battered that our boyfriend’s in jail. And then, we’re standing there waiting for him when he gets out.” I forced a smile. “No, they left me.”

  He looked up. Sorrow covered his face. “Did you love any of them?”

  “I thought at the time I loved them all, but I didn’t. There was one I did, though.”

  “Was he abusive to you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “It’s okay.”

  I didn’t like talking about it what happened, and decided to keep my response as brief as possible. “He wasn’t. He was the only one who wasn’t abusive.”

  “And he was your only love?”

  “He was.”

  His eyes lit up. After a few seconds, he grinned. “Did he love you?”

  “He did.”

  “What happened to him?”

  I should have known he would ask. I tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t. The pressure in my chest increased with each heartbeat until I thought I was going to burst. Thinking about it was painful, and talking about it was impossible. I hadn’t thought about it for years, and in the last two days, I’d mentioned it twice.

  Avoiding lengthy responses with Pee Bee was easy. With Bradley, it would be impossible. He would pry and pry until he got what he wanted.

  A response was necessary.

  It was the price I paid for allowing people into my life, I supposed. I gazed beyond him, and into the small landscaped area in the back yard. “He uhhm. He didn’t work. He hustled for his money. You know, made a little here, a lot there. But he always provided, so I never asked. He didn’t use drugs, if you’re wondering. So, we’d been together for a few years, and I was in college, studying for my nursing degree. Back then, I lived in a house, not an apartment.”

  I paused, remembering the night the police crashed into our home.

  “He had this friend, Josh, who I never liked, by the way. I wouldn’t let him in the house. Ever. That was my rule. We had another rule. We never lied to each other. That’s where the evasive responses come from. I think I picked it up from him. Sometimes he’d talk in a circle to keep from lying to me.”

  I took a shallow breath. My soul ached. What happened wasn’t my fault, and I knew it. But, I was forced to live with my memories of the time we were together, which included his execution of the crime.

  “We were in bed one night. Sleeping. The police came through the windows, through the walls, and through the front door. They uhhm. They drove one of those things through the side of our house.”

  I took a short, choppy breath and although I didn’t want to, continued. “They took him away, and other than one visit in jail, I haven’t seen him since.”

  It wasn’t enough. I wanted it to be, but it wasn’t. He would certainly ask. I needed to finish the story.

  My eyes fell to the floor. I couldn’t look at Bradley.

  At least not yet.

  My stomach soured. I pressed the heels of my palms against my ribs and struggled to swallow.

  “Did you hear about that family in Escondido? Two uhmm. Two years ago? It was in June. The 16th. That was the day that uhhm…that it happened. There was…it was three…three kids…and their…both parents. Somebody…”

  I exhaled. Along with it, part of my soul escaped me.

  “They were…Somebody uhhm…”

  My mouth had gone dry. Continuing wasn’t going to be easy. My lower lip was quivering. I bit into it and spoke softly through the corner of my mouth.

  “They had all been…”

  It was all I could say. I let out a breath and then looked up and met his gaze. His eyes were red and swollen. One of my shoulders shrugged. Kind of. I wanted to be done.

  He nodded.

  I needed to say it anyway.

  “That. That uhhm. That was him. Him and Josh.”

  My head nodded a few times, even though I didn’t want it to. I think it was trying to remind me that it really happened.

  He reached across the table. “I’m sorry.”

  I gently squeezed his fingertips.

  “Yeah.” I wiped my cheek against my upper arm. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Pee Bee

  Heaven, by Rag N Bone Man blared from the speakers. Momentarily lost in the music, I twisted the throttle back and increased my speed. After a few very enjoyable blocks, the song ended.

  I glanced at the dash. Much to my surprise, it was 3:00 a.m. I cocked my head to the side. “You worn out yet?”

  “Whatever you want,” she said. “I could do this all night.”

  “We don’t have to go much longer for that,” I said. “It’s three o’ clock.”

  She leaned forward. “Three? In the morning?”

  “Well it sure as fuck isn’t afternoon.”

  “Holy crap, I had no idea.”

  Unlike most women riders, she didn’t hold onto me, and knew very well that she didn’t have to. She rested her feet on the pegs, her back against the rest, and let her arms hang at her sides. Each time she leaned forward, however, her boobs pressed into my back.

  It was enough of a tease that each time it happened, I wanted to fuck her that
much more.

  “So what are you thinking?” I asked.

  “I’ve got to get up at 5:15. Take me home, I guess.”

  Although we’d ridden up and down the coast in our night’s excursion, at that moment we were only fifteen minutes from where she’d dropped off her car. I changed lanes, rolled up to the light, and quickly made a U-turn in the vacant intersection.

  I grabbed a fistful of throttle and sped up to 60 as fast I could. As I steadied the speed, she rested her chin on my shoulder.

  “I love it when you go fast,” she breathed into my ear. “It’s…it makes me feel clean.”

  “What? Clean?”

  “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  A ride on the bike did a lot of things for me, but making me feel clean wasn’t one of them.

  “Always made me feel free,” I said. “When I twist that throttle, I want to scream freedom!”

  “Maybe that’s what I feel.”

  She leaned back against the rest. Within a few minutes, we were parked beside her car.

  I switched off the bike, put down the kickstand, and glanced at the apartment complex beside where we were parked.

  “This is where you live?”

  “This is it.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” I said, hoping I’d figure out a way to get inside without pissing her off.

  She got off the bike, pulled off her helmet, and let her hair down. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, really,” I said. “I’ll walk you up.”

  She handed me the helmet. “Okay.”

  We walked side by side, weaving through the maze of buildings, until we reached one in the rear of the complex. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, I glanced over my shoulder and looked out toward the street. Her car was half a block away.

  “Do you always park way out there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why? There’s parking right here.”

  “I like the walk in the morning. It gives me a little time to think.”

  “So, you park way the fuck out there?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “All the time, or sometimes?”

  “All the time.”

  At first, it seemed odd. After a few steps up the walk, I decided to respect her for being unique.

  After we’d walked half the length of the building, I saw a guy passed out against the side of the building. Before I had a chance to point him out, Tegan rushed to his side.

  “Marcus!” She leaned over and tapped him on the arm. “Marcus!”

  He opened his eyes, glanced at her and then at me. After he rubbed his eyes and messed up his short brown hair, he stood up and put one of his hands against his hip.

  At five foot five, and a hundred pounds at best, he was tiny. Dressed in bright blue skin-tight jeans, an equally tight orange tee shirt, gray sneakers, and a powder blue plastic watch, he looked like he belonged in an Easter basket.

  He looked right at me. His eyes dropped to my feet, slowly rose along my six-foot-eight frame, and then stopped when they met mine.

  “You must be Pee Bee. Your reputation precedes you. By a few weeks. Or fifteen miles. Take your pick.” He looked at my feet. “I like the boots. Are they Docs?”

  “Huh?”

  “Docs. Doc Martens.” He pointed at my feet. “Your boots.”

  They were Doc Martens. I looked at Tegan. Her right hand was covering her mouth. I looked at Marcus. “Yeah, they are.”

  He held out his hand. “Marcus. I’m sure she’s told you, but we’re like sisters.”

  I shook his hand.

  “Marcus is my neighbor,” she said. “What are you doing sleeping outside my door?”

  He let out a sigh and then his hands started again. “Brian. We went to Rich’s, which, as you know, I hate. So, we were dancing, and then we had some martinis, and the next thing I knew, he was talking to Greg. Oh my God, it was like, right in front of me. And then he left. Greg, not Brian. Anyway. At that point I was like, what-ever. I mean, who does that? Who? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Uhhm, nobody, thank you. So, I had another martini. Let’s be honest. I had two more. And then I went to the bathroom. When I got back, he was gone. Like gone. So, I looked around, and then I asked around, and then I just left. Or I tried to. I was almost to the door, and Serge grabbed me and made me pay the bar tab. Eighty-five dollars, thank you very much.”

  He spoke a hundred miles an hour and used his hands and eyes to put emphasis where he felt it belonged. By the time he’d finished what he had to say, my eyes were rattling around in my head like pinballs.

  He looked at me.

  I was fucking exhausted just listening to him.

  He looked at Tegan, and then tilted his head to the side. “So, outside. What. Do. I. See?”

  Tegan gasped. “No.”

  His eyes shot wide. “Yes. They were making out. I mean making out. The sloppy kind. And, right by the door. Oh, my God, really? The front door? Have you no taste? Obviously not. It was like an advertisement or whatever for whoever happened past. They should have just put it up on the billboard. You know, the one with that skinny-legged girl on it that kind of looms over the place across the street? For Louis Vuitton?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Tegan said.

  He reached for the door handle and tried to turn it. After realizing it was locked, he looked over his shoulder. “You know the billboard though, right?”

  “Let me get it unlocked.” She pulled her keys from her purse. “I’ll make some coffee.”

  She unlocked the door and then looked at me. “Are you going to come in?”

  “I’m.” I pointed toward the street. “I’m going to head back.”

  “You’re leaving?” Marcus asked.

  I nodded.

  “Oh my God, not before I do this.”

  In one fluid movement, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his phone, and stepped to my side. As he pressed himself against me and held his phone at arm’s length, I couldn’t help but laugh.

  The flash blinded me.

  Then it blinded me again.

  And again.

  “Three’s the number,” he said. “You always get one good one if you take three.”

  He looked at the pictures, pointed the phone at me, shrugged. “You’re too tall, big boy.”

  He held his phone in front of me and twisted his mouth to the side. “Do you mind?”

  “Mind what?”

  “Your arms are long. Can you. Can you take it?”

  I coughed a laugh and reached for his phone. “Sure.”

  “Here,” he said, reaching for the screen.

  As I held the phone in my hand, he opened the camera app, got it ready to go, and then leaned against me. “Press it three times. In the circle.”

  I took three blinding photos, and handed him the phone.

  He looked at them, grinned, and then quickly pulled it close to his chest. “Hashtag met a Filthy Fucker. Hashtag three am. Hashtag I hate Rich’s. Oh, wait. I’ll delete the hashtag I hate Rich’s. I don’t want anybody to think, you know.”

  I looked at Tegan, who was still standing in the doorway waiting on Marcus. I chuckled at the thought of Marcus, and his hashtags. “I’m going to get.”

  “Instagram?” Marcus asked.

  I shook my head. “Not me.”

  “I was going to follow you. Oh, well. It was nice to finally meet you,” Marcus said.

  “You too,” I said.

  Tegan mouthed the words thank you.

  I nodded.

  “I’ll uhhm.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll see you the next time I see you, I guess.”

  I turned away and walked out to the street. Her car sat on the opposite side of the road, sans a driver’s door.

  Her simplistic outlook on life was interesting.

  And, as much as I hated to admit it, so was she.

  Chapter Fifty

  Tegan

  I sat at the table with my index finger hooked through the handl
e of an oversized coffee cup. Although it was 4:00 a.m., I felt remarkably well.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked. “I like him with it.”

  “Not completely clean. Like, a number two scruff. And do something with that hair. I mean, really? Enough’s enough. So, cut the hair, trim the beard down to a shadow, and then I’d like to see that smile. Oh, my God. Can you imagine him without all that hair? With that smile plastered across his face? And his teeth? I’d melt.”

  “Facial hair serves a purpose,” I said emphatically.

  It did. It prevented me from falling for him.

  In the middle of taking a sip of coffee, Marcus lowered his cup enough to speak. “Guys with facial hair kick puppies.”

  I shot him a look. “They do not.”

  “Mark Brewster did.” He took a drink, and then arched an eyebrow. “And he had a bushy beard.”

  “Who’s Mark Brewster?”

  “This bearded guy in school that kicked puppies. And, some other awful things.”

  “Well, I don’t categorize people.”

  “I don’t either.” He shrugged. “At least he’s not a homophobe. Most bikers are, you know”

  “They are not,” I said.

  “You never know what you’re going to get with bikers. I knew a fat sloppy bottom once who rode a motor scooter. Steve. And then there was this guy who would always come for leather night. I don’t remember his name, but he had unruly hair and a lisp. He rode one, too. And, he didn’t just wear leather on Thursdays. It was like, all the time. He was into piss play. And then there’s that guy downstairs. The big Latino guy? He glares at me. Like this.” He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes to slits. “It’s scary.”

  I reached for Marcus’s hand. “All I’m doing is riding on his bike. That’s it. I told him there would be no blowjobs, no sex, no nothing. He agreed.”

  “Oh, my God,” he gasped. “Can you imagine having that guy fuck you? He’s so big. It would be like when you’re driving by Balboa Park and you see one of those great big dogs humping one of those little bitty dogs. And, the big dog has his front legs wrapped around the little one, keeping him from getting away. And as you pass by you’re like oh my God. And the little dog looks at you with his eyes all bugged out, and he’s like help meeeee.”