by Bijou Hunter
“What does that mean?”
“Mom’s parents. Mainly her mom couldn’t have been easy to kill even if she was trash. I don’t have the stones to off a chick.”
Pop studies me and exhales loudly. “Neither did I. The bitch also looked enough like your mom that I just couldn’t end her.”
“Vaughn is a cold motherfucker.”
“Especially for a hippie,” Pop says, chuckling. “He’ll still kill just about anyone, though. Something turns off inside him when he has a target. I can’t do it.”
“Neither can I.”
“But we need people like Vaughn.”
“But we don’t need people like Rod.”
Pop’s gaze softens. “No, we don’t, but killing him isn’t simple. I hope you realize that.”
“He’s a club guy. I get it.”
“No, he’s the son of a club guy. Not only does he know our secrets like Jim Bean, but Eagle Eye has the loyalty of a lot of the guys.”
“Loyalty over you?”
“I don’t know,” Pop says, exhaling roughly, “but I’m not ready to find out. That’s why we sit on this shit until I put something together. Killing Rod won’t be like Gary Lee. We can’t make it look like he ran off. If Rod goes missing, everyone will know it’s us.”
“More like they’ll know it was me.”
“But you’re my boy, and everyone knows you’re not enough of a hothead to take him out without getting the okay from me first.”
“Well, that is why I’m here.”
Pop stands up and walks around the desk. “Colton, I need you to understand that this shit with Rod isn’t easy for me. I’m not blowing off what he did, and I’m not saying Stella doesn’t matter. Rae and Kori either. You saw how I sat on my rage when it came to Gary Lee after he shot MJ. I wanted to kill him immediately, but I had to be smart for the club.”
Pop stops talking until I nod approvingly. He’s giving off an insecure vibe I’m not used to from him.
“I’ve got a few ideas brewing on how to deal with Rod and Eagle Eye because there’s no way we take out one without the other dying too. It’s a package deal, so I need you to trust me. Don’t go off half-cocked and make shit worse. I know you love Stella. I remember how crazy I got when I met your mom. I do get what’s happening here,” he says, patting my head. “But I need you to suck it up and keep your shit under control for the time being. Can you do that?”
“Sure, Pop.”
“You say the words, but I don’t know if you mean them.”
Shrugging, I explain, “I mean them when I’m saying them, but I don’t know what happens if I see Rod and think of him wrapping his fat fingers around my woman’s throat. I want to behave, but some things will push a man too far.”
“I get that, so you need to avoid the fucker. Understand?”
“What about club meetings?”
“You skip them. Stay away from Whiskey Kirk’s, and anywhere else the fucker hangs out. Avoid him until it’s time to end him.”
Smiling, I lean back in the chair. “I hope to gut him like Quaid did Gary Lee. That looked real personal, and I want the asshole to know why he’s dying.”
“Do it any way you want, but only after I figure out how to deal with his father.”
My mouth opens to talk shit about Eagle Eye, but then I catch the distinctive sound of my mother’s voice in the front office. Pop gives me a “shut up” glare and returns to his chair.
Mom knocks on the door, gets the all clear from Pop, and enters the room. Seeing me, she shifts her expression from that mildly horny one she wears whenever hanging with her man to something more appropriate for her only son.
“Your head is sunburned,” Mom says, leaning into me for a hug. “Have Stella apply extra sunscreen.”
“He could wear a hat too,” Pop says.
I scoff at the suggestion. “Hats make my ears look big.”
“Yeah, Coop, he’s trying to look nice for his girl.” While Pop rolls his eyes, Mom rubs my head. “Where’s Stella?”
“At work.”
“Naw,” Pop says, waving his hand around and probably wishing Mom would fondle his head next. “She can’t be working in that dump.”
“That’s what I said. I told her I’d pay for shit, and her job could be as my love slave, but she insists on making enough to pay me back the money she borrowed when we met.”
“That’s sweet,” Mom says, smiling. “Isn’t that sweet, Coop?”
“Yeah, baby, it’s sweet.”
My parents share a horny gaze that makes me wonder if she dropped by for an afternoon quickie. That is until Gram appears.
“We’re going to lunch,” Mom says while Gram walks around the back of the desk and kisses Pop’s head.
I hug Mom and give Pop a “suck it” look. “Moms are great.”
“Tell me about it, kid,” he says, hugging his mom against him.
Gram smiles. “I’m hiring Rae to be my house manager.”
“What does that mean?” Pop asks, suddenly grumpy.
“You know what it means.”
“You just met her.”
“Yeah, but I like her.”
“What about the girl who already cleans your house?”
“She works for other people too, so she’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t trust her inside when I’m not there.”
“But you trust a girl you just met?”
“Yeah, Cooper, I do,” Gram says, leaning forward until their noses are a few inches apart. “I tested her trustworthiness. Don’t talk to me like a child. I know what I’m doing.”
“Tested her how?” I ask before Gram can spank my pop.
“Left cash out on the counter when she was in the house. Small bills, change, stuff she might think she could take a little of without alerting me. She didn’t take the money, but she did hide it for me. Then Kori gave me a lecture about how I should be more careful.”
Grinning, I nod. “The kid’s got steel balls on her.”
“Right now, Rae needs to leave Kori in the morning and go to the hotel,” Gram explains. “If she works for me, she can keep an eye on her daughter and work around that schedule.”
“So, you’re doing this to help her out?” Pop asks, hating change.
“I need this, Cooper,” Gram says, losing her temper. “The house is too big for one person, but I can’t sell it. But it’s like a museum, needing cleaning all the time. I don’t trust just anyone in there, so I’m stuck at the house. I want to spend more time in Conroe and travel with my friends. I’d like to go on a long cruise like Bianca Bella and her mom do. With Rae working for me, I can leave and know my house is safe.”
“More time in Conroe?” Pop whines, zeroing in on the part where his sisters hog up more of his mother’s time.
“Quit your bitching.”
“I didn’t know the house was such a hassle. I’ll get MJ to help out more.”
“Please, no,” Gram says and glances at Mom who smiles. “MJ refuses to clean messes she didn’t make, and she doesn’t believe untouched rooms get dirty. I tell her that they still need dusting, but she isn’t buying it.”
“She doesn’t believe dust is dirt,” Mom tells Pop.
“That’s dumb.”
Breaking a family rule about associating MJ and dumb, Pop suffers a million cuts from our dark frowns.
“For shame,” I say, shaking my head.
“What if she heard you?” Mom asks, glancing behind her and out to the front lobby.
Suddenly worried, Pop stands up and looks over his woman’s head. “She’s here?”
“She’s why we’re having lunch in town,” Gram says, nudging him. “MJ wanted to visit Quaid, but she’s too scared to come downtown alone.”
Pop instantly looks guilty, but I know it’s not because he used the word dumb. He’s a powerful man who couldn’t protect his little girl. It’s guilt he’ll live with until his dying breath. That’s how Pop’s wired and why he understands that I’ll never be satisfied
until Rod is rotting in the ground.
THE UNWANTED
Working only part-time, I never get a break. I am able to leave the booth during quiet times as long as I keep close to the door to see customers entering.
Twice a shift, I find a moment to walk outside and breathe the fresh summer air. I imagine Kori and Rae at Jodi’s place where they swim and take walks. It’s so quiet there, but I don’t enjoy it as much as them. My mind is always on Colt and when I’ll see him again.
The station is quiet despite it being the middle of the day. I stand near the door, keeping watch and thinking about Colt’s plan to drive to Pema. Moving again so soon feels jarring. I’ve spent my entire life wanting to settle down. For Colt, though, I’d move every other week. We could live in a car. Hell, we could bunk in a frigging box. I don’t care as long as we’re together.
I’m not particularly lost in thought, yet the next moments startle me. Almost as if I’d fallen asleep and someone shook me awake.
I barely noticed the three young women walking by. The station is on a busy street with lots of restaurants and the Walmart. People come and go without me registering their presence.
Except one of these girls throws a drink in my face. Instantly, I’m blind from the sticky sludge.
Frantically wiping the drink from my eyes, I never see one of them shove me to the ground. Their punches come hard and fast. Even unable to see, I struggle onto my feet and throw a punch, but my fist hits nothing. They push me down to the concrete and kick my ribs.
Unable to stop them or fight back, I turn possum. My body curls into a ball and I cover my head with my hands.
Through kick after kick, I hear them cussing at me, calling me a whore. Tears clear my eyes enough for me to open them. I notice a classic red Mustang screech to a stop, and two young women join the brawl.
A cold panic overtakes me when I consider how this might be more than a beating. Five on one screams something darker. Will they really kill me in public?
The newcomers don’t join in on my beating, though. Instead, I hear a pained grunt from one of the original attackers. A second one crashes to the ground, looking startled and nearly in tears.
Seeing my chance to flee to the booth, I roll to my hands and knees to crawl away.
“Bitch!” someone yells, and I feel hands in my hair.
“Skank!” someone else yells, and the girl lets go of me.
Falling to the ground with a loud crack, the girl who threw the drink stares dazed. Then her eyes flare with rage as she reaches for me again. Barely able to see through my sticky eyes and hair, I don’t recognize her or understand why this is happening.
Before she grabs me, a foot smashes down on her face. Her nose cracks and blood splashes everywhere like the drink did earlier. Her broken face really isn’t funny, but I burst into laughter.
It’s her expression! She’s so shocked by the pain. Her sobs drown out my laughter.
I turn around to find the two blonde girls pounding on the remain two attackers. They’re as merciless as the first three were to me.
A police car’s siren makes a quick “whoop whoop” as it drifts by.
One of the blonde girls waves off the cop and mutters, “Squeal elsewhere, piggy.”
The other blonde kicks at the sobbing women before growling, “Twats, sit your fucking asses on that curb before I bust your fucking heads open.”
Once my now crying attackers huddle together, the two blondes squat in front of me.
“Use this to wash that shit off your face,” one of them says and hands me bottled water.
“Thank you,” I mumble in between splashing the sticky drink from my eyes. “I’m Stella.”
“We know. Colt’s our pseudo-cousin. I’m Nevaeh Rogers, and that’s my little sister, Sylvie.”
Eyes almost clean, I smile at the one still in front of me. The other marches over to the three girls and leans down to threaten them.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“The one with the broken nose is Jera Sanders,” Nevaeh says and then adds, “Rod’s idiot little sister. The other two slags are her whore friends whose diets consist of biker jizz.”
“Fuck you,” one of them hisses, only to get slapped by Sylvie.
“I’m going to kill you,” the younger blonde warns the sobbing girl. “I’ll feed you to my fucking hogs. Turn your stupid ass into dinner.”
Nevaeh smiles at me. “Syl wants to be a professional killer one day. Nifty, eh?” Sighing, she asks, “Do you think you need to see a doctor?”
My hands reach for my tender ribs. I inhale deeply without too much pain. “I think I’m fine.”
Suddenly, the sound of motorcycles drowns out everything else. Nevaeh turns toward the noise and smiles. Her sister kicks the foot of one of the girls.
“You bitches are busted now.”
Using the side of the booth, I unsteadily stand as five motorcycles pull into the parking lot. I don’t recognize any of the men, but Nevaeh walks straight to a large one with shoulder-length blond hair like hers.
“So, Daddy, these bitches attacked Colt’s sweet-as-sugar girlfriend. We went ahead and did the righteous thing and defended her from these whores.”
Her daddy is Vaughn Rogers. I remember that name from my time with Colt. Though admittedly, I get many of the bikers and their families mixed up. I do remember how Vaughn is an enforcer for the Reapers, meaning he “fucks people up.” Apparently, so do his daughters.
One of the other men is Tucker Johansson who I met briefly at Jodi’s house during the lunch. He didn’t want to talk to me, and I barely got a good look at him. Still, he looks enough like Cooper and Colt for me to recognize him.
“What’s this about?” Tucker asks Jera and her friends. “Why are you causing trouble for this girl?”
“She lied about my brother. Fuck her trashy ass.”
Sylvie goes to slap Jera, gets blocked by Tucker, dodges him, and manages to get a few fingers across the girl’s face.
“Vaughn, get your daughter under control.”
“Fuck, Tuck, fuck off with your parenting advice, will ya?”
“What are we doing with them?” a dark-haired man asks and frowns at the girls.
“We ought to kill them,” Sylvie says, and Nevaeh laughs.
While Vaughn gives his daughters an amused headshake, Tucker mutters, “Call Eagle Eye and tell him to get his fucking kids under control.”
“Darlin’,” Vaughn says to me, “why don’t you use the restroom to clean up.”
“If I don’t watch the register, I could lose my job.”
“What do you need with this job?” Nevaeh asks. “I thought you were moving to Pema.” When I look startled, she shrugs. “Honey child, we’re always all up in each other’s business around here.”
Vaughn pats his daughter’s shoulder. “Why doesn’t Judd go stand inside and scare away customers? We don’t want anyone noticing Stella isn’t at the register.”
Smirking, Judd struts—reminding me of Colt—to the booth. Once I know the register is safe, I hurry to the restroom to clean up.
I’m surprised by the mess I find. Did Jera throw a slushie at me? My hair is tinted pink from the drink and soap barely breaks through the sticky film covering my skin. In such a hurry to return to the booth, I never have time to get upset over what’s happened.
There’s no fear. I barely notice the pain. I’m not even worried about making a bad impression. My life since turning eighteen has been almost solely focused on finding and keeping a job. Even covered in slushie, nothing matters besides my worry over getting fired.
Until I step out of the restroom and see Colt.
The anger in his eyes sets off the emotions I kept locked inside. He stops shooting hateful daggers at Jera once he spots me.
His arms provide me the safety to be afraid, hurt, and angry. Later at the Lot House, I’ll laugh hysterically when recalling how Nevaeh and Sylvie kicked the shit out of Jera and her friends. Colt won’t want to
smile because he’s still so pissed, but eventually, he’ll relent. Their shocked tears and Jera’s broken nose are too hilarious for him not to join in once I give him the play-by-play.
THE HEIR
I want blood. Rod’s sister needs more than a broken nose. I want to crush her stupid fucking head and toss her in the dumpster next to the body of her piece-of-shit brother.
I’ve never wanted to kill a woman before, but I’m ready to kill the entire Sanders family once Stella starts crying. No way did Jera think up her bitch plan alone. I’m certain the Sanders sit around raging over the indignities of anyone daring to stand up to them.
“Your friends don’t know me,” Stella says at the Lot House while alternating between laughing and crying. She wipes her eyes even as the tears keep coming. “Now their first impression is me covered in slushie and getting my ass beat.”
Cuddling her closer, I whisper, “Naw, baby, their first impression was when you went Hank Aaron on Rod’s ride.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, still looking like a scolded puppy. “I’m tough against an inanimate object, but people easily kick my ass.”
“Nothing easy about three bitches in a sneak attack.”
Stella’s lower lip remains in a pout, but her eyes linger on my face. “Those Rogers girls beat them up so easy.”
“Their pop’s been teaching them shit since they were little. They’re hippie ninjas.”
Smiling now, Stella gives her pouty lips what they want and kisses me. I’m relieved to feel her relaxing. Though her tears dry up quickly, I’m still pissed and want revenge against the bitch who left a fucking shoe print on my woman’s forehead.
Of course, I can’t kill Jera. It’s why I’m so pissed. Fortunately, before I can spend the entire night seething, Mom calls to ask us to come over to the house. After Stella washes her hair for the third time, we join my parents for the evening.
Wearing her fierce mama bear scowl, Mom waits at the front door and immediately walks out onto the porch when we arrive on my Harley.
“Those bitches,” my saintly mother growls as she cups Stella’s bruised face. “I’ve always hated Jera. She was a bully since back in elementary school.”