Page 8 of Death's Deal

Chapter 5

Twenty-Four Years Ago

Sitting at the far end of the lunch table, under her breath, “Doe-eyed, motherfucker,” my sister Jazmine coughed and joked on my account.

Honestly, she needs a new hobby.

I chided back, “Eat a dick, J.”

My girlfriend of three years, Toni, was curled up beside me, wrapped tightly in my arms and exactly where I wanted her, no matter what my sister said. With a hand on my thigh, rubbing the soft inner edge of my groin, Toni’s hand moved higher and higher until it brushed along my cock, as if I needed a reminder of why she was where she was. Schooling my features and taking care to make sure I didn’t show a reaction, I took a deep breath before saying, “I don’t remember asking your opinion about my relationship, Jazmine.”

Reaching across her on-again, off-again boy-toy’s lap, J scraped her nail across the remnants of his brownie that had hardened into the container. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Rich girl has you fucked up, Brother,” J stated.

I hated when that was her go-to comment about Toni. It was true, we were from two different worlds. She was from the “right side of the tracks,” and her father was the Mayor of Anaheim. J and me, we were legacy children of the local motorcycle club. We were about as different as you could get.

Martin Morriso, Toni’s father, was in the midst of a heated political race to be the Mayor of Los Angeles. His competitor, Jack Janesque, had used every trick in the book to showcase all of Morriso’s shortcomings, and his possible improper illegalities with the MCs, the LA gangs, and the Mexican cartels. The main MC in question had been ours.

Morriso definitely deserved every accusation Janesque had tossed his way as he wasn’t running a clean campaign. He’d used every dirty trick in the book to stay ahead. Janesque and the tabloids had tried everything they could to make the accusations stick, but he was slippery. Morriso had escaped unscathed by using the lowlifes Janesque didn’t see beneath his fancy loafers, Morriso used them to his advantage.

Over the years I’d seen Martin and my own father together in some rather unflattering situations. Hookers, coke, and long nights with late-day hangovers.

That was originally how we met.

Morriso had a meeting with my father’s club, The Hades Army, and he’d brought Toni along. She stood outside the seaside warehouse we used for unscrupulous dealings, with her long hair, pin-straight, shifting in the hot California ocean air, wearing a tight blue miniskirt, and a white button-down prep school outfit. Neither of us cared about the conversations and business going on inside the building, as I was transfixed on her for twenty minutes straight. We were no more than ten years old then, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Fast forward a few years and we found ourselves both at the same high school. I was the football center, and she was the newest cheerleader.

I liked her from that first moment, and as we grew up, I fell for her hook, line, and sinker. I was, as J put it, whipped. We were hardly apart and my life revolved around her. If she asked me to jump into the ocean and tread water for two hours straight, I would. I would go anywhere she needed, all because she asked.

With the lunch bell chiming, alerting us it was time to head back to class, Toni licked her lips and smiled. “Time for history.”

“History has all the time in the world,” Boyd quipped off.

“Sure. But it’s past,” J chided, going along with the jesting as she rose from the table.

Moving close, laying a hand on my knee and leaning in, Toni attempted her signature move on me. It was this bullshit soft peck on my cheek. She knew I hated it. I always needed more. Pulling her face close until our lips touched and our tongues explored, her tongue pressed tight to mine, dancing, tangling and warring for further contact.

Each breath shortened; every caress perfect. I’d told her before and I’d tell her again, “These lips are mine and they’ll never be anyone else’s.”

“Only yours, Quinny. I promise.” With a soft smile, one that reached her eyes as if a switch was hit, T pulled my cheeks close and kissed me hard once more.

Smacking me hard on the shoulder as she wandered around the table, passing T and me, J smacked me hard on the shoulder. “Get a fucking room.”

As I turned to smack her hard on the ass, she sidestepped with a single finger fuck-you salute. Tucking herself under Boyd’s shoulder, the two walked away as she laughed. “The truth will set you free, Brother!”

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