Welcome to Sugartown

by Carmen Jenner

  She hasn’t resumed her sucking. In fact, aside from the places where our bodies are connected, she’s not touching me at all and I couldn’t care less. My Johnson’s not happy about it, but he fucking should be considering I’ll never need a new mental image for my spank bank ever again. Seeing the way Ana writhes against my hand, the way her hips buck and shudder, hearing the breathy moans escape that ridiculously fuckable mouth of hers as she comes for me is enough to make me never want to look at another woman again, much less fuck one.

  With all the shit I’ve done, the hurt I’ve caused people, some I barely knew and others I knew too well, for all the worthless hours I’ve spent wandering through this mess I call a life, looking at this girl before me—who is so perfect and innocent, and downright trusting in every way—I know that, somewhere along the line, I must have done something right for her to want to let me in.

  I also know that I’m completely fucking screwed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ana

  “Come on. You have to give me more details than ‘it was nice’. I mean, why the hell haven’t you strapped him to the bed and impaled yourself on his enormous cock yet?” Holly whines.

  It’s not that I’m not used to her being this vocal about my sex life—or up until recently, my lack thereof—it’s the fact that she’s sing-songing it throughout the diner when my kid brother is sitting at a booth nearby, and so is Sugartown’s one and only homeless resident, who carts around stray cats in his trolley and always smells like pee. He’s harmless. A little crazy, but he’s never been a threat to anyone. Ordinarily, Crazy-Eyed Callaghan would meet us at the back door at the end of the day and we’d offload any leftover pies into his eager hands. Today, for some reason, he’s a paying customer and has just as much right to be in here as anyone else.

  I grab Holly by the arm and yank her behind the counter. “Would you keep your voice down, please?”

  “What’s the matter? Don’t want Crazy-Eyes to hear all about your boyfriend’s big cock?” she whispers.

  “I didn’t say it was big.”

  “Honey, you didn’t have to. Have you seen the guy? He’s a freaking giant! A sexy giant, but a giant no less. If he’s not big, then there really is no god.”

  “Oh my god, you are so sick.” I laugh and throw my cloth down on the counter and trade it instead for the pie I made Elijah. “I’m just going to run this over to him, really quick.”

  “Oh, speaking of sick, is he into kinky shit? You know, cuffs, paddles, anal?” I feel my whole body flush head to toe, and I almost drop the pie. Holly’s eyes widen with excitement. Even Crazy-Eyed Callaghan has never looked this nuts.

  “GET THE FUCK OUT!” she shrieks, and Callaghan starts shaking his head and muttering to himself as he gathers his ratty plastic bags together.

  “Holly,” I whisper-yell before turning to him to apologise. He doesn’t hear me, on account of her carrying on like a banshee.

  “Ohmygodyouhavetotellmeeverythingrightnooooooooooow!”

  I hightail it out from behind the counter, snatch up Sammy, who is looking about as freaked out as I am, and bolt for the door. And, just as I’m thinking it might be time to find a new best friend, Holly throws back the shop door and screams, “That big, kinky giant of yours isn’t going to save you from me, Ana Belle. I know where you live girlfriend and I WILL find you!”

  “Ana Cabana?” Sammy asks, as he shoots daggers at Holly over my shoulder. “Wath kinky mean?”

  I really have to learn to keep Holly away from my kid brother.

  “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” I say, and set him down on the footpath. He disappears into the shop. As I approach the garage, I can hear the sounds of flirty feminine laughter and the occasional clang of a wrench banging around. Dad took off with the dragon to some club meet thing earlier, so I know Elijah’s here alone finishing things up. Correction. Was here alone.

  “And when I’m older, Anath’s gonna tell me what kinky ith,” Sammy states proudly, and I hear that stupid whore with the flirty laugh giggle again. The sound grates on me and I have a really weird sense of déjà vu. I know that laugh, and I wasn’t wrong about it belonging to a skanky whore. Nicole White.

  “Aww, he’s so cute. Is he yours?” she asks. Oh for the love of god, that bitch knows exactly who the kid belongs to. The same girl who she stole her last boyfriend off.

  “Naw, he’s just my wingman.” Elijah hauls himself out from under the stupid cow’s Mazda 3 and fist-bumps Sammy. “Ain’t that right buddy?”

  “Hellth yeah,” Sammy replies while he smashes his little fist into Elijah’s, and I can’t help but laugh.

  Elijah’s gaze meets mine and a silent greeting is exchanged between us. His is possibly a little more friendly than mine.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I say, though I’m really, really not sorry at all, and if my tone didn’t convey as much, the look I give him sure does. I hold the pie out for him to take. “I thought you might appreciate this after a hard day’s work.”

  “Oh my god, you actually made him a pie. That’s so cute,” Nicole says, and I swear I hear a hint of jealousy in her patronising tone.

  Elijah gives her an odd look and then turns his attention back to me before yanking me toward him and taking the pie out of my hands. His other hand slides down my arse and cups my cheeks.

  “Ana makes me all kinds of things,” he says, squeezing my bottom for emphasis and my heart swells so much in that moment that I kinda love him for putting Nicole in her place. In fact, I’m not even sure that line was for her benefit at all.

  “Oh, I didn’t realise the two of you were together,” Nicole snipes.

  I throw her a look over my shoulder. “Would it matter if you did?”

  “Oh come on, Ana. Surely that nasty Scott business is in the past?”

  “Oh, it is.” I turn and smile at Nicole and Elijah pulls me back against him. I press my hand to his cheek as he tucks himself against my neck. My grin grows to proportions that could only be called psychotic. “Absolutely.”

  Sammy runs in from the courtyard out the back, drops a handful of toy cars at Elijah’s feet and adds his two cents. “Scotth’s a arthface with a sthinky weiner.”

  “No arguments there, little man,” Elijah says, and mock punches Sammy’s shoulder before setting his pie down on the workbench. “We’ll still need to do some more work on the Mazda, Nicole. So, if you leave me your number, I’ll call you tomorrow when it’s done.”

  Elijah fishes out a piece of paper and a permanent marker and puts them down on the bench in front of her but instead of using them, the way any normal person would, Nicole picks up the marker and sidles up to him. She takes his hand and scrawls her name and number across his palm. I’m about to go ten rounds with this bitch right there in front of Sammy, and something tells me Elijah knows it, because he shoots her an annoyed look and says, “Right, well, I’m about to close up shop. Ana and I are babysitting the kid tonight.

  “Ooh, romantic,” she quips.

  I swear to god, if she doesn’t shut up I will club her with a monkey wrench.

  “I’m noth a baby,” Sammy protests.

  “Of course you’re not, little dude. I don’t know why they call it that. It’s kinda stupid really.” Elijah turns back to Nicole. “Anyway, I’ll have Bob call you tomorrow when the car is done.”

  “Oh. Okay, sure,” she mumbles and then turns to me and smiles with one of the fakest smiles I’ve ever seen. “Ana, we should totally hang out one day.”

  “Yeah,” I say then mumble under my breath, “so not going to happen.”

  “Well, thanks, Elijah,” she says, and she just can’t resist touching his arm one last time before she walks away, deliberately swaying her hips as she leaves.

  I stare daggers into her back until she disappears from view, but the sound of Elijah’s laughter has me whipping my head around so fast I think I may have actually pulled something. “What’s so funny, Cade?”

  “Nothing, j
ust never picked you for the jealous type.”

  “Yeah well, I am. So bite me.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He lifts me up and sets me back down on the workbench, edging his way between my legs.

  “Are you gonna kith my thister again, cauth dude, thath tho grossth.”

  “Hey Sammy, do me a favour?” Elijah asks. “You know how the whole courtyard is covered in stones?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, earlier I dropped a dollar coin out there and I really, really need that dollar, but I just can’t see it because I don’t have awesome x-ray vision like you do. You think maybe you could find it for me? It’s really important that I get that money back.”

  Sammy folds his little arms over his chest and gives Elijah his best discerning stare. “Whath in it for me, Cade?”

  “I’ll split it with you.”

  “Pleath. I get more than that for getting out of bed in the morning.”

  “God, you Belles’ drive a hard bargain.”

  I shrug. “He learned from the best.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “Alright, you find me my dollar and I’ll give you this shiny ten dollar note.”

  “Are you serious?” I baulk. “For ten bucks, I’ll go and find your dollar.”

  “Uh, uh, uh!” He gently pushes my shoulders back to get me to stay put. “You will be otherwise indisposed.”

  “Sammy, I’ll throw in ten, too.”

  “Alright, I’ll do it,” Sammy says and hightails it outside.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had experience blackmailing small children, Cade. You don’t have one of your own stashed away somewhere, do you?”

  Elijah’s still watching Sammy’s hasty retreat, but I swear I see pain mar his features before he turns his warm chocolate eyes back on me. “Nah, not exactly father material.”

  Okay. Is it just me, or did he totally just turn fifty shades of guilty?

  It occurs to me then that, despite all the time we’ve spent together lately, I still know nothing about him or his past. And there’s a million and one things I’ve wanted to ask him from day one, but I haven’t, at the risk of sounding like some overenthusiastic creeper. Like, where he grew up? What do his parents do? Does he have any brothers and sisters? Is he close to them? And then there’s the most nagging question of all—why does he have the name Lilly tattooed over his heart? It’s not like it’s emblazoned across his chest in neon pink or anything, it’s very cleverly and very artfully worked in amongst black and grey thorns and what looks like a gothic graveyard scene, but the fact that another girl’s name is permanently inked on his skin still makes my insides churn in that oh-my-god-what-if-he’s-still-in-love-with-someone-else kinda way.

  Still, it’s not like I can ask him outright. Not only would it make me seem totally insecure—which I am by the way, I’m aware of my downfalls and I’m completely okay with this—but it’d just be so insensitive to come out with, “Hey, Elijah, that girl’s name tattooed on your chest along with a graveyard? Is it because she’s actually buried in the ground, or is she just figuratively dead to you?”

  No. I definitely can’t ask him. Not yet, anyway, although at this rate, we’ll both be buried in the ground before I even pluck up the courage to ask him his favourite colour.

  Elijah’s snaps me out of my mini meltdown by saying, “By the way, what’s this about me being a big kinky giant?”

  “Urgh! Holly doesn’t know how to keep her big mouth shut around my little brother. She’s pounding me for information.”

  “As long as I’m the only one pounding you for … other things. Actually, scratch that. Two hot chicks pounding into one another is a sight I’d like to see.”

  I pull away from his embrace to stare him down. “You think my best friend is hot?”

  “I think your best friend is psychotic, but come on, you can’t say something like ‘she’s pounding me’—” His voice goes all high-pitched and, what I assume is supposed to be girly, but really makes him sound like a baby-voiced nymphomaniac, which is just wrong on so many levels. “—and not have a man go to his happy place.”

  “Hey, for your information, I do not sound like a sexed-up Teletubbie.”

  “Okay, so you don’t sound like that, but baby girl, when you come, there isn’t a sound in the world to rival it,” he whispers in my ear before pressing his lips into my neck. “It’s pure fucking magic. Making me hard just thinking about it.”

  “You’re always hard.” I playfully shove at his chest and he slides my hips closer to the edge of the bench so that I can feel just how true that statement really is.

  “Exactly,” he says, and nips my ear lobe. “How long you think we have before Sammy finds—”

  The sound of whooping comes from the courtyard and Sammy races in shouting, “Eat it thuckerth, you owe me twenty buckth.”

  “Hey Sammy?” Elijah says. “I’ll give you twenty more if you leave us alone for ten minutes.”

  “For real?”

  “For real, brother.” Elijah takes out his wallet and hands Sammy a twenty. He slaps another on the bench and says, “That bad boy is all yours, once you’ve served your time.”

  “Cool.” He’s out the door quicker than I’ve ever seen him move and Elijah wastes no time in pulling me to him.

  “Just ten minutes, huh?”

  “Baby girl, there’s a whole lot of orgasms you can fit into ten minutes.”

  And what do you know? He was right.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ana

  “Where the hell are we going?” I scream, though I know it’s likely he won’t hear me, given that we’re going 110 km on the highway and in the process of overtaking a Mack truck.

  I feel Elijah’s waist shudder beneath my fingers and realise he’s laughing at me. He’s not going to tell me. I knew that much before opening my mouth. I’ve been pestering him since he busted into my room this morning and demanded I get dressed because he was kidnapping me for the day, and he still hasn’t budged. Then he’d started rifling through my underwear drawer, picked up a pair of frilly pink knickers and inspected them, as if they held the answers to all life’s questions.

  “Okay, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but I really don’t think those are your size, Cade,” I’d mumbled as I’d tried to tame my bedhead without appearing obvious.

  “Why haven’t I seen these on you yet?”

  “The day’s still early,” I remarked caustically and he waggled his eyebrows at me and tucked them into his back pocket.

  “You own a swimsuit?”

  “I live in subtropical climate. Of course I own swimmers.”

  “One-piece? Or bikini?”

  “Are you going somewhere with this?”

  “Where is it?”

  “Top drawer on the left.”

  He yanked open the drawer and rifled through until he found what he was looking for. Producing my yellow string bikini he held it up in front of him and whistled. “Holy shit! I knew this was gonna be a good day.”

  Then he’d shoved me out of bed by dumping half my wardrobe on me and promising me ice cream if I got dressed and came quietly.

  The downfall of riding bikes is that, even on a warm summer day, you still have to factor in wind chill. It makes dressing for days like this difficult, because Australian summers are merciless and jeans and leather are the last things I felt like putting on my body in 40 °C heat. I’d just prayed he was taking me somewhere cool enough that string bikinis were considered acceptable attire.

  Elijah slows the bike and turns off the highway. It’s quieter now, but instead of pestering him again about where he’s taking me, I tuck my head in against his back and watch the trees fly by in a haze of brilliant greens. Another ten minutes sees him pull the bike over at a tiny shoulder in the road marked out with bollards. There is room enough for three cars, but we’re the only ones inhabiting the space.

  “Admit it, you brought me to the wo
ods to off me.” I ease off the bike and begin working on my chin strap. All around us is bushland, but the ground beneath my feet is mostly made up of grass and sand, and I can hear the gentle lull of the ocean nearby. In front of us lies a small winding track surrounded by more trees. “Aww, and you haven’t even had the chance to see my bikini yet.”

  “Ah, but this way I’ll have the chance to do both. They don’t call this place Shark Bay for no reason.”

  Elijah was already off the bike and taking out the ammo cases that he stored his belongings in while he was on the road. He’d quite cleverly crafted his own way to carry his belongings through the use of a custom made sissy bar that housed them. I smile down at him as he chocks up the side kickstand with a small wooden block so it won’t sink into the soft ground.

  “You know, if you rode a Vespa you wouldn’t have to chock your bike up with kindling. They have these amazing new things now called centre stands.”

  He stands and snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me into an embrace, only instead of kissing me he takes my chin in between his thumb and forefinger and gives me his sternest face. “Do not mock my baby.” He pulls away and strokes his palm over the seat. “She was my first love.”

  “Well, your current … er … girl, is getting jealous with all the attention you’re paying your first love, and she has orifices you can stick things in without having your boy bits burnt off.”

  He pulls me into him again and his mouth goes to work on my neck. “Fuck I love it when you talk dirty.”

  “Come on, before we get arrested for roadside indecent exposure.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies and leads me to the path.

  The beach was beautiful, pure white sand, calm crystal azure waters and not a single soul in sight, but Elijah wasn’t happy stopping near the track. No. He made us walk for another kilometre before choosing too plonk down our belongings near a huge paperbark tree that had long since succumbed to dune erosion and was now firmly embedded in the beach.

  He unrolls the picnic rug he’d carried and sets it and an ammo case down before us.