by KB Winters
Aren’t I a lucky fucking girl?
Teddy stomped her Jimmy Choo’s on my hard wood hall like a perturbed child. “Jana, seriously girlfriend, I need you to stop this. It’s noticeable, yes. But it’s not hideous. The only reason people notice it is because you make it so damn noticeable.”
My hand automatically went to the object of our discussion, touching the offending scar because home was the only place I ever wore my hair up. When I wore it down, hiding the scar was easier. It made my life easier. A lot easier. “It’s pretty hard to ignore.”
“It is when you’re drawing attention to it every five seconds.” She whirled on her heels and I had to jog to keep up with her as she made her way to my bedroom. “Go shower. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I glared up at her for several long minutes, but Teddy was one tough chick. Probably the toughest I’d ever met, which is saying a lot considering I went into foster care when I was eight. But Teddy’s tough act wasn’t an act to hide a fear or a vulnerability, it was hard earned and impressive to watch. That’s how I knew it was a losing battle and my shoulders fell. “Fine.” I took a quick shower and blow dried my hair before reentering the bedroom. “Oh, hell no. Absolutely not!”
“Why not?” She held up a pair of jeans I hadn’t worn, or been able to wear, in two years along with a long sleeve tunic that hugged my curves. “This is casual and sexy.”
“For starters I can’t fit in those jeans.”
“Try them,” she held them out to me and I snatched them from her, letting the robe fall to the floor and grabbing a pair of black lace panties.
I stepped into the jeans and my stomach tightened. I wasn’t one of those girls who constantly worried about what she ate. I ate healthy and turned part of my basement into a gym, but the curves had proven they had more staying power than I did, and all I could do was accept it. So I did. But still, the dark wash denim was at least two sizes too small in the hip and ass area the last time I tried them on. Then something weird happened. They slid up easily over my hips and ass, problem areas all women know well, zipping with the barest hint of resistance. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does. I told you before that you dropped a few pounds. Are you sure there isn’t a man hiding in your love shack out back?”
I rolled my eyes. Teddy was unnaturally curious about my girl cave in the backyard. It had plenty of light from three sides and temperature control but beyond that, it was bare bones. I spent time in there painting and sketching, and I never let anyone inside. Not even Teddy. “It’s just art, Teddy.”
She huffed. “Right. Finish getting dressed and I’ll wait up front.”
“Teddy what the hell is going on? We never go out.” She knew how much of an ordeal it was for me and usually she didn’t push.
“No we rarely go out because you’re a pussy and I let you be one, because I’m kind of one too. But not anymore. We’re going out to enjoy tacos, nachos and margaritas. And maybe meet some guys.”
I groaned at the last part. I loved Teddy for seeing any beauty in me, but she was my friend. She had no idea what it meant to be disfigured because she was the exact opposite. Beautiful. Perfectly so. The definition of beauty in the world today. Beside her, I only looked worse. “You can meet some guys, just be happy I’m going at all.” I didn’t bother with any makeup other than a colored gloss as I fluffed big fat curls around my right shoulder. I slid on a pair of strappy heels so I wouldn’t like a child beside her tall frame. “It’s not going to get better,” I mumbled, spritzed some perfume and took the long, slow walk to the living room.
“Damn girl, you look hot enough to screw.”
“I think you’re confusing me with your reflection behind me,” I deadpanned and grabbed a sweater as I stood near the door. “Ready?”
“Damn straight,” she grinned big and put on her best runway walk, the limp that ended her modeling career barely noticeable when she put a little swing in her hips.
***
“I’m so hungry today! I had an early morning Skype meeting with Charlene Simms and I didn’t get to eat breakfast.” Teddy barely stopped to take a breath as she told me all about the reality songbird with the golden voice. “The girl doesn’t know what she wants, no colors or themes or anything. And what she does want,” she scoffed, “is the very worst and gaudiest of Vegas style.” I listened to her complain but not really complain. Teddy dealt with difficult clients with more money than sense. It was a stressful job but she loved it.
“I guess it’s a good thing she’s paying you well.”
Teddy’s smile lit up her whole face, big ocean blue eyes glittering like jewels. “Very well. It’s my favorite part of having rich clientele.”
The cute young waitress set down a pitcher of margaritas along with hot tortilla chips and fresh made salsa. I took a sip and listened as Teddy talked gold cummerbunds and top hats for bridesmaids, effortlessly swatting three interested suitors. They were all of the same type, the kind of guy way too arrogant to think anyone, never mind one as beautiful as Teddy, could not be interested in them. Thankfully they didn’t spare me a look. “You always figure it out,” I reassured her because that’s all she really wanted.
“It is kind of my thang,” she said, grinning and making her perfect eyebrows dance.
“I would love to be your thang,” a dark haired man said as he leaned against the edge of the table, his back to me. Because I’d learned soon after I got the scars, that I was invisible.
I bit back a smile, but Teddy did what beautiful women do in this situation. She laughed. “My plaything or just any old thing?”
“Whatever you want, babe.”
Her phone rang and vibrated on the table, and Teddy grinned up at him. “What I want is to finish this call so I can finish hanging with my homie. ‘Kay?” She patted his shoulder as she slid from the booth, answering the call as she headed toward the door.
I didn’t bother looking up, just continued to eat chips and salsa, between sips of strawberry margarita. Teddy was lucky I decided to drive, because these margaritas needed at least two more shots of tequila. I hated being out because people stared. People were cruel and they simply thought it was okay.
“You don’t stand a chance with the smokin’ redhead, she’s got expensive tastes. But take the ugly fat friend, she’ll be grateful for a night with a stallion like you, Greg.”
The other one, Greg I assumed, laughed with too much energy like he was trying too hard to impress. “She might not be ugly and I don’t mind having something to grab on to. Fat chicks love a good hard fuck.”
I didn’t bother to turn around because I could guess what they looked like. One would have dark hair and the other blond, dressed like some after work office drones. One would probably be better dressed because he made more money, probably not Greg. They were both players, probably even had some kind of scoring system for their conquests. Not Greg laughed. “Damn man, you’re making me want to change my mind about which one I want to stick it to.”
I rolled my eyes, grateful when Teddy returned to drown out their asshole bro chatter. “Good news, she’s decided on old Hollywood. She’s got an audition for some gangster flick set in the twenties and wants these photos to help her land the role.” She rolled her eyes and took a long sip from her glass.
We placed our orders and as soon as the waitress rushed off, the two dickheads screwed up their courage and approached our table. The stupidly good looking one, not Greg, trained his focus wholly on Teddy while not Greg turned to me, practically pinching his nose just to inch closer. “So,” he began but I put up a hand to stop him.
“I’ll stop you right there, Greg, the fat ugly chick isn’t interested in a good hard fuck with your tiny limp dick. Go back to the bar and wait for your bro to strike out with the hot one.”
He looked at me, eyes flashed surprise for a moment and then anger. “Whatever.”
“Oooh, good comeback,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes before returning t
o my margarita. I might not be much to look at but even with the scar I was average looking. I knew my strengths and weaknesses and one day I might find someone who could tell them apart. Until then, it was just me. Not Greg continued to lay down every cheesy pickup line and compliment he downloaded from some pickup artist website, while I dug into my fish tacos. Teddy looked longingly at her spicy beef nachos while Todd—because of course, Todd—did his best impression of the hot jerk from every teen movie and soap ever created.
Finally, she called time of death. She turned her big blue eyes up to him, just a hint of a smile in them and flicked her hair off her shoulders. “Todd I’m going to be honest with you because you are seriously hot and I think we have a connection.” It was a total lie, but it was part one of her best letdown. “I’m not looking for casual sex. I want a husband and kids and I plan to have both within the next eighteen months. I’m not sure that’s what you’re looking for, is it?”
This was my favorite part. Where he tried to figure out how to best lie without just telling her what she wanted to hear. He wanted to just say that’s what he wanted too, because he was that kind of guy, but he sensed Teddy would be able to tell if he was lying. “I’m not opposed to all that, I mean it’s part of the plan, right?” He flashed a charming grin that probably got him out of all kinds of trouble.
“Eventually.”
His shoulders fell and he walked away without a goodbye.
“You enjoyed that,” I accused.
“Maybe, but he deserved it.”
“No way, if you’re interested go after him. Don’t let me stop you.”
“If this wasn’t so good, I would throw it at you,” she pointed at a nacho before tossing it in her mouth. “I know you don’t know this, but it’s kind of the girl code. If a guy doesn’t like your best friend, he’s toast.”
I swallowed and tried to ignore the warmth that spread through me at hearing her call me her best friend. We were friends, sure, but I assumed she had other friends she shared things with or went on shopping trips with in those fancy casino shops. “Oh.”
She laughed. “You know what I love about you Jana, you’re like a robot with your big brain and super observation skills. I feel like I’m teaching you about regular humans.”
I smiled because I knew she meant it as a compliment. “I’m saying thank you only because you’re my friend.” My best friend, apparently. We finished our food and paid the bill, but as we were leaving I felt a prickle of awareness, of being watched, wash over me. I’d felt that feeling once before and I’d reacted too late to save myself a lifetime of heartache and a world of pain. I scanned the restaurant but I didn’t see any faces I recognized, not that I would. I ran far from my last foster home in Detroit and changed my name so that when he got out, the bastard who did this to me could never find me.
I picked up the speed and hauled ass to Teddy’s fancy ass Benz she insisted I drive. I did love the cool gadgets though so I only put up a token protest before driving us back to my place.
Chapter 3
Max
“He thinks taking an art class will help. Why can’t I just paint in my own damn yard?” Carl Brandt was my commanding officer for years and a good friend even longer, and right now he was my sounding board.
“Man up, Ellison. You can take off a man’s skull at a thousand yards, you can damn well go and paint some fruit in the desert.” He also didn’t ever pull a fucking punch, no matter how much you wished he would. He didn’t sugarcoat or coddle.
“Just like that?”
“Hell yes,” he grumbled, voice thick like a man who indulged in expensive cigars a little too often. “One of these days Max, you’re gonna want to get laid again, or maybe make some little frogs for me to command. To do that, you’ll need to get your head on straight. If painting gets you there, do it.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, because I guess I just wanted someone I respected to tell me what I’d been thinking. “Thank you, sir. Class starts in an hour.”
His deep thunderous laugh sounded down the line and I couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like you’re ready.” He let his words hang in the air for a minute and I soaked them in. Could it really be as simple as being ready to be better? “Any word on your brother?”
I sighed. “No. Tate wrote me about six months ago, saying there might be some new evidence in his case but he won’t call me back or see me when I go visit him.” It gutted me to have my baby brother locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. But I hired everyone I could to help get him out and now he’d shut me out. I wanted to help but he was a man, and if he felt the need to fight this battle on his own, I had to let him. Even if it killed me.
“My wife keeps him in her prayers, son. Six years is a long time to spend in prison in general, but especially for another man’s crimes. Want me to see if I can find out anything?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, it’s just I can’t have both things weighing on me.”
“Then you won’t have to. Go to your class. Flirt with a pretty girl and paint something. Talk soon.” He disconnected the call before I could express even more gratitude.
With a shrug, I stood and scanned the living room since it was time to go. I stared at my kutte for a long minute, unsure if I wanted to wear it. In the end, I opted not to wear it, not because I was ashamed of my club. I wasn’t. Reckless Bastards MC saved me when I needed it. Two years ago, I was fresh out of the SEALs and my mind was all fucked up, and all I wanted to do was come see my baby brother. Only to find out he was in jail. No, not jail, fucking prison, and he’d already been there for years. But his club took me in, kept me safe when my mind would have me hurt myself and others. They treated me as one of their own, and eventually I was.
But lately, sleepless nights and a restless mind had made me a shit member. Between Tate and my own fucked up head, I didn’t have time for club business. The Reckless Bastards weren’t like other clubs. We kicked ass only when we needed to and we didn’t fuck with any drugs except grass. Tourists came here for it now and they loved buying legitimately from big ass bikers, and they loved it more that the town was called Mayhem. Because of the pot and the custom bike work, we didn’t need to fuck with guns or hard drugs, instead the third leg of club business was ass. Titty bars and brothels for every income bracket, and it was more than enough to keep us flush.
But still, I knew I hadn’t been carrying my weight at the club. Hopefully this class tonight would help with that too.
The little storefront in the middle of the street looked girly and expensive, the oversized windows featuring pricey paintbrushes and easels. Inside was more relaxed, with soft muted colors surrounding all the materials. “Just go straight on to the back,” a voice called from somewhere to my left.
“Okay, thanks.” I did as the voice said and went down a dark hall that opened into a spacious room with paint splattered floors. Nearly a dozen chairs and easels sat in a half circle and only one other person had arrived, a woman with long white blond hair sat at the chair all the way on the right with her head down as she arranged her palette. I could have taken any seat, but I took the one right beside her.
She didn’t turn or acknowledge me at all so I sat there and looked around, until the teacher came in, a svelte woman with long black hair streaked with silver. She wore a billowing red dress that looked to be made of rayon or some other crinkly material and nearly two dozen bracelets covered her arms. She gave me a strange look, shrugged and went back to setting up her own easel plus the wooden crate in the center of the half circle.
“Hi,” I leaned over and whispered.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice was smooth and gentle.
“We don’t get graded or anything, do we?” I didn’t look over because she kept her head down, clearly not wanting me to look at her. Or see something, I hadn’t decided yet.
“No. Just a chance to paint. And socialize.”
I opened my mouth to ask her name when several women stomped
in on pointy heels, carrying two bottles of wine each, and wearing sashes. One wore a tiara that said ‘bachelorette’. “Shit. A bachelorette party.” A snicker sounded at my right and I grinned. “I’m glad my pain amuses you.”
She laughed again and I realized her voice was deeper, huskier, than it seemed at first. She had the voice of a woman. “Sorry. Incoming,” she whispered and quickly turned away. I swore I heard a squeak but her warning had me on edge.
I looked up to see one of the women sauntering my way, a little wobbly on her stilts. “Hello, handsome.”
“Uh, hi.” Everything about her screamed ‘woman on the prowl’ from her skintight jeans to her lowcut top that showed everything but the nipple.
“Why don’t you come sit with us?” She leaned over, giving me an even bigger eyeful of round pale tits. She squeezed my arm.
I wasn’t going anywhere. I glanced over my shoulder and leaned forward. “I would, but this is part of our date night and my girl is crazy jealous.” I thumbed towards the blond behind me. “So you should probably join your friends.”
She glanced over my shoulder and I have no idea what she saw, or if she saw anything but a golden curtain of hair, but she huffed, turned and walked off with plenty of swing in her hips. “He’s got a jealous girlfriend so he’s a no go,” she shouted to the rest of her friends. They all groaned their disappointment.
“Thanks,” I whispered. She shrugged and I turned to look at her, what I could see, anyway. She was pretty, her lips were plump and pink, with just a hint of moisture on them. But her cheekbone was high and sharp, like a warrior princess. I couldn’t see much else because her hair hung nearly to her waist in thick wavy tendrils.
The teacher stepped in front of the class, did her spiel and then we all got down to work to paint the fruit, cheeseboard and a decanter half filled with red wine sitting beside the bottle. “Shit.” I mostly drew landscapes and the sky, nothing like this.
“Just focus on what you can draw first.”