Little Memphis (3 page)

Ford

Chick’s a Biter

Maggie is a warm body that few guys want to wake up next to. By the time I’m done at Suede, my hook up options prove slim. Maggie is fine when the lights are off and her mouth is shut.

Now, the sun is up and she’s moving around behind me in bed. I remain on my side and pretend to sleep. If I fake it for long enough, maybe Maggie will leave and I won’t need to make morning small talk.

“Your brother is a better fuck,” she says, climbing out of bed.

“I’ll mention that to him later. Lock the door on your way out.”

Maggie stomps around the room, looking for her clothes. Once she’s dressed, she kicks the mattress.

“I’m not a club whore you can use and throw away.”

Rolling over, I smile at her. “Funny because I say spread and you always ask how wide.”

Maggie wants to say something. Hell, I heard she’s an eye-clawing, hair-pulling maniac when in the right mood. She won’t bitch with me though.

Instead, she storms out to find someone who will tell her lies about how she’s not a loser and the right guy is around the corner. I might have told her lies if she didn’t insist on crying whenever anyone said a single nice thing to her.

After Maggie is gone, I stumble into the shower and wash off her perfume. It’s not a bad smell, but I hate thinking about her. I suspect she makes me sad.
Pathetic people usually do.

Pax is sitting alone on the deck when I walk outside. Wearing only boxers, he looks worn down. Hell, Pax doesn’t even glance at me, but stares at the swaying trees.

“Did she break your dick?” I ask, sipping coffee while checking my messages.

Pax peers back at me and smirks. “Bitch was a biter.”

I burst into laughter once I see his arms. Pax laughs too. The guy can’t stay serious when someone laughs around him.

“Sure she wasn’t a zombie, man?” I ask. “Should I keep you quarantined to see if you turn?”

“Turd,” he says, studying the bite marks on his wrist.

I pull out my phone. “Hold still.”

Pax shows me the bites while I take pictures. We find a really great one on his back that I send to the rest of the club. If the guys think having old ladies is scary, try dating a zombie bitch.

When we arrive in the Hunk O’ Love’s private backroom for breakfast, Joker pulls his gun on Pax. “Not craving brains, are you, Home Run?”

“Naw, just pussy like usual.”

Joker laughs and holsters his weapon. After Pax orders the usual for breakfast, he walks to the restroom. A minute later, Lucky enters with a slight limp. I figure his old lady isn’t happy to see him.

“Good trip?” I ask Lucky.

“Not bad.”

“Did Jenn break something?” Joker asks, grinning behind his cup of coffee.

“No, I’m getting too old to drive straight through from Hawthorne with only a few hours rest.”

“Those few hours with a pretty girl are bound to make the old lady pissed.”

Lucky rolls his eyes. “Darby’s big mouth.”

“She calls me every day to remind me why we split,” Joker says, grinning.

I smile too, even though I know their split had nothing to do with Darby’s mouth. Everyone knows the same thing, but we play along. This isn’t
Dr. Phil
and Joker doesn’t need our wisdom.

“Shay needs a break,” Lucky mutters in between gulps of coffee, “and I decided to give her one.”

“A philanthropist!” I declare, saluting him with my glass of orange juice. “I see a statue in your honor one day.”

Lucky sighs like a man at the end of his life, making me wonder if Jenn broke something important.

“How’s your mom?” I ask while the other guys laugh at him.

“Hanging on. Nothing will kill that old bird.”

Saying nothing, I nod. My mom hasn’t been around since I was a kid. I don’t even know if she’s alive. Most days, I don’t care. I’m really not one to swap stories with a mama’s boy like Lucky.

“This girl is legal, right?” Joker asks Lucky.

“You talked to Darby.”

“She didn’t check her ID, man.”

“She was working at a bar. So yeah, I’d guess Shay is legal.”

“If she’s hot, bring her to Suede,” Pax says, sitting down and digging into his eggs. “Slim pickings lately. All the hot girls are getting married and knocked up. The next batch of premium tail hasn’t graduated from high school.”

Lucky frowns. “You want me to bring a girl to the bar, so you can all slobber on her?”

“We’ll take turns,” Pax says, winking at me. “Draw straws to see who gets to charm her first.”

Lucky shakes his head and I sense he’s pissed. Pax senses it too, but doesn’t care. I don’t really care either, but I love playing the rational brother. It’s one of my favorite cons.

“We’ll use kid gloves,” I promise.

When Lucky nods appreciative-like, I catch Pax rolling his eyes.

“Fellas,” I hear from behind me.

Our president Trigger looks like shit. Worse.
He looks weak.
Walking into the backroom, Trigger moves slowly. I sense if a fight broke out that he’d pass out from the stress.

The guys all shake his hand and we keep our expressions casual. We’re thinking the boss shouldn’t be screaming to the world that he’s vulnerable. Already winded after a short walk, Trigger runs a hand over his sweaty forehead. The old fuck is doing everything wrong for the club by being here.

Joker knows this fact, but the guy just smiles.
Ah, Trigger is back. Doesn’t he look great? Maybe a little exhausted from fucking the old lady so much. Oh, yeah, everything is super. Just a fucking dream.

Trigger’s had gray hair since I’ve known him. It’s long, just past his shoulders and thick like a horse’s mane. He’s always been tanned and I imagine his skin feels similar to leather. Trigger was my age before I was born, yet he always crushed younger men. These days, I doubt he can crush a beer can.

Pax is all smiles with Trigger which makes me nervous. My brother doesn’t smile that fucking much unless he’s tense. Joker is also smiling too much, but the guy’s fucking name is Joker. I don’t think it’s as obvious on him.

The club owes its loyalty to Trigger, but he’s making it damn hard. One trip to breakfast by the old man and Little Memphis knows we’re down a badass. Now, the town can show us how they feel about this new reality.

Shay

Let Them Drool

Darby takes me to a Wal-Mart where I buy clothes and hygiene products. I also pick up snacks, but I’m careful not to spend too much on Darby’s dime.

My first night in the house is weird and I don’t know what to do with myself. My bedroom has no TV and Darby is reading in the living room. Restless, I sit on the back porch and miss my brothers. I’m still thinking about them later as I fall asleep in a strange bed in a strange town.

The next day is better. Lucky shows up around noon to take me to a job interview. I don’t have anything appropriate to wear, but the interview is a formality. I’m now the evening front desk clerk at The Oregon Inn. The three-story hotel reminds me of Darby’s old world glamour and I feel special to be working here.

“The place is just off the highway,” Lucky says as we stand outside, watching cars speed by. “Lots of travelers. Business types. Should be safe for you even at night. The place falls in club territory. Meaning if anyone hassles you, they’re hassling me. Get it?”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do all this.”

Lucky scratches at the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you ending up at Mickey D’s or stripping again.”

“I don’t know how I’ll repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, lighting a cigarette. “I saw you needing a hand and figured I could help. I’ve done shitty things in my life. Maybe doing a few good ones will even out my ledger, you know?”

Nodding, I’m not used to people helping me. My grandparents are the only ones I depended on, but they passed away years ago. With Lucky, I worry he’ll expect a payment I won’t like.

“You wanna do something for me?” he asks when we get back to Darby’s house.

“Sure,” I mumble, waiting for the payment.

“My club hangs at a place called Suede. Why don’t you come by tonight and let the boys drool over you?”

I wonder if drool is club code for something. Lucky probably senses where my mind went.

“We got some single guys in the club. If you’re interested, it wouldn’t be the worst thing for you to date one. If you think they’re fools, I’ll understand. I think the same thing most days.”

When I share Lucky’s smile, he continues, “Look, they’re curious about you. I brought you to Little Memphis and didn’t claim you. That seems weird to them, so they want to check you out. Don’t let their size and scariness fool you, Shay. These guys are gossipy bitches.”

“I don’t have to do anything with them, do I?”

“Don’t have to say a single word. You can tell them to fuck off for all I care.”

“Should I wear anything particular?”

“Shay, it’s a bar full of rough guys like me. Your trucker look is fine.”

Taking him at his word, I wear jeans, a white tee, a blue and white flannel shirt, and the cheapest tennis shoes I could find in my size at Wal-Mart. Oh, and a
Duck Dynasty
trucker hat over my dark blonde hair. I’m the least sexy chick in the joint, just the way I want it.

Lucky knows everyone in Suede. I follow him around as he says hello and occasionally introduces me to people. Bad with names, I forget them immediately. Overhead, Elvis sings while the bar’s décor is Hawaiian-themed. A large flashing Budweiser sign is surrounded by little hula girls at the back of the bar. I watch the dolls sway and wonder what the hell I’m doing in this place.

Lucky moves around the bar until I’m finally ditched at a booth with two guys, a bottle of whiskey, and three shot glasses. Everyone’s names are mixed in my head including the guys I’m sitting with. I do know they’re hot. They both have thick hair and beards. One is blond, the other dark haired. I watch them down shots of whiskey then a second round. I sip my shot while they bang back another.

Flustered by their good looks, I’m glad I look like crap. If they show me any interest, I doubt I’ll be able to say no. That impulsive part of me is already grading them and imagining kissing each guy. I’m wondering who I’ll choose when I mentally slap myself. Hot dangerous men are the scourge for chicks like me.

“How old are you?” the blond one asks.

I down half of my whiskey shot then lick my lips. The liquor burns my throat and deep into my stomach. It also gives me a little courage.

“I can’t remember your names.”

They glance at each other and grin. When they look back at me, the blond one points at the other guy.

“He’s Ford. I’m Pax. We’re brothers, so don’t get any ideas about sharing. We’re strongly against incest.”

“It’s one of the few things we’re strongly against,” Ford says, downing another shot before filling his glass again. “Are you old enough to get liquored up? Should I play the responsible adult and take away your drink?”

I down the last of the whiskey and hand Ford the shot glass. “I’m twenty five and three quarters.”

They laugh at the three quarters part. Ford fills my glass and hands it back.

“No way are you twenty five.”

“I’m almost twenty one.”

Ford studies my face, causing my heart to race. Heat flushes across my chest, rising in my gut before settling between my legs. Despite my plan to play cool, I’m already suffering from a serious case of lust. I plan to blame the whiskey.

“You look like a little girl,” Pax says, glancing around the bar. “Are you Lucky’s out-of-town bastard? Is that why he plays protective daddy with you?”

“I don’t know my dad, but Mom said he had giant ears. Lucky’s ears are pretty normal.”

Pax rests his head on the table and laughs. I don’t know if he’s laughing at me or with me. He’s probably just drunk. Narrowing his eyes, Ford leans closer. He pulls off my hat and touches my chin. Turning my head back and forth, he studies me.

“Your ears are normal too,” he says, handing me back the hat. “Maybe that ear thing was a lie.”

“Why would she lie about that?” I ask, laughing from my whiskey buzz.

“Women lie about all sorts of things. Some even lie about little things just to keep their skills honed for the big lies.”

Smiling at him, I instantly know I’ve made a mistake. My whole demeanor is too welcoming. Hell, I might as well flash red meat in front of a predator.

Ford holds my gaze and I can’t look away. His eyes are a dark blue, not brown like I first thought in the dim lighting. With them focused on me, I see nothing else. His expression is inviting, revealing none of the poonhound asshole I know he must be. Lucky warned me about these guys, but I still want to move closer to him.

“Rumor has it you’re working at the Oregon.”

I only nod and sip my whiskey. As my gaze remains on him, my fingers get curious. I struggle to keep them from reaching for his face

“Most nights, I drive past the hotel and now you work there. Hmm…I should stop by and test the mattresses.”

At some point, I decide to reach for his face. My hand is halfway to its destination before Ford’s words slap me awake.

“No.”

Ford gives me a casual smile and takes my hand. He studies the palm for a moment then places it against his bearded cheek

“Is this what you were looking for?”

“No,” I mumble, unable to form a more profound word.

Keeping my hand against his face, Ford stares into my eyes. I think he’s trying to hypnotize me. To my horror, it’s working too.

Suddenly, I remember Pax sitting with us. Not only him, but I’m aware of the other people in the bar. Feeling exposed, I pull my hand away then lean back and look around.

“Playing it cool,” Pax says to Ford who grins.

“A girl can’t give it away too easy. Wouldn’t be classy.”

I want to say something to set the record straight. Yes, Ford is hot. Since his little hypnotizing trick, he’s the hottest man on earth. Even so, I have no interest in giving anything away, let alone what they’re hinting.

I might come up with a really confident way of making myself clear, but I never find out. The men’s gazes leave me and focus on someone at the door. In that moment, I’m invisible.

Ford is beautiful and I still feel the warmth of him on my fingertips. Now though, he’s a predator facing his prey. The men at the door are rough looking, but so are most of the guys in the place.

“Go to the restroom,” Ford says, without even glancing at me. “Don’t come out until Lucky sends for you.”

I should ask questions.
Demand them really.
Except I’m out of my league. Even hating to feel like a kid, I slide out of the booth and never look back. With all of the bar’s predators on alert, my gut warns me to avoid making eye contact as I hurry to the restroom.

A few women enter the restroom before a waitress shows up and locks the door. They ignore me while playing on their phones. I think to ask what the hell is happening, but keep my mouth shut.

The whiskey did a number on me, so I sit on the toilet for a long time. I don’t vomit, but rest my head against the wall and think about my new life.

Hearing loud noises coming from outside the restroom, I close my eyes and imagine my new bed. Darby’s house isn’t my home yet, but it’s a sanctuary compared to hiding in the toilet stall. I crave my little flowered room so badly that I nearly cry.

Eventually, the waitress unlocks the door and leaves. While the other girls leave too, I wash my hands and wait for Lucky. He finally arrives and waves for me to follow him. We walk past a relaxed bar and I spot no sign of trouble. Most of the men are gone including Ford and Pax.

Once outside, Lucky walks to his Harley and climbs on. I join him, still feeling nauseous from the booze. I’m tired and homesick too. Lucky doesn’t say a word the entire ride to Darby’s house. Only when I climb off and prepare to go inside, does he open his mouth.

“I’d have thought you’d dig Pax,” he says before giving me a wink and riding away.