Page 17 of The Trailer Park Twink
On the other side of the bar, Bubba bends down and scrounges through the refrigerator, for what, I’m not entirely sure. Regardless of what he’s looking for, it gives me an unobstructed view of his bubble butt, now on full display through his American-flag shorts.
“Daddy?” I say, keeping my voice low.
“Yeah, bud?”
I casually motion in Bubba’s direction. “I can see why you’ve never introduced me to these guys.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to have my face between those cheeks by the end of the night.” I know I’m behaving shamelessly at the moment, but I kind of want to push his buttons just to see what he’ll do. As expected, his face turns redder than a tomato, and he wraps an arm around my waist, leaving no space separating us, and I no longer have any means of escape. Good. I never want to escape Dallas. I want him to consume me. To brand me as his.
An idea pops into my head, and the moment it does, I gasp, because it’s absolutely perfect! Dallas will love it. I grab him by the wrist and tug him away from the group of guys. Once we’re out of earshot, I ask, “Can I get a tattoo?”
“You’re an adult, Austin. I can’t stop you from getting a tattoo if you want one.”
I just stare at him, because those are the stupidest words I’ve ever heard. He knows how much his opinion means to me, and the fact he’s so blasé about me permanently marking my body leaves me feeling hollow, because what if it means my body is of no concern to him? What if he’s not bothered because he knows we won’t be in each other’s lives forever?
“You know that’s not true. I’d do anything you ask,” I say, my voice cracking with fear and nerves and so much worry. Hiseyes are searching mine, but I have no idea what he’s trying to find. “I will. I’ll do anything for you, Dallas.” I lick my lips, getting them nice and wet for him. “Anything.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “What—” His voice cracks. “What do you want to get? For your tattoo, I mean.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Am I going to like this surprise?”
“Trust me.” I press my hand against his heart. “You’ll love it.”
“Alright. It hurts though. You know that, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
He just chuckles and points at the men near the bar. “Since it’s supposed to be a surprise, I’ll stay here until you’re ready for me to come back over. Go tell Clint what you want and just flag me down when you’re ready.”
“He looks busy. I don’t want to distract him.”
Dallas shakes his head. “Last time we had tattoo night, he did four lines of coke back-to-back while he was putting the Statue of Liberty on Bubba’s thigh. It turned out fine. He’s good at multitasking.” He snaps his head in my direction, his jaw squared, shoulders tense. “If anybody offers you coke tonight, you fuckin’ turn them down. Don’t even think about snorting that shit.”
I have no desire to blow rails with these men, but I’m also a little uncomfortable with the fact that he’s hanging around people who do. I mean, more power to them, and I’m happy they’re having fun, but Dallas doesn’t need to touch the stuff. Who knows what the hell it’s been cut with.
“Have they offered it to you before?”
He nods. “I don’t like it though. Never have. I did it a few times in high school, and it just made me paranoid. Haven’t touched it since I was teenager.”
“Good,” I say. “I wouldn’t judge you if you did, but I’m glad you don’t.”
He clears his throat and looks down at the floor. “I know I probably shouldn’t be talking about her like this with you, because it’s your momma, but after seeing everything the drugs have done to her, I don’t think I’ll ever touch anything harder than beer or pot. I just don’t want to risk ending up that way.” He darts his eyes toward me, his cheeks blushing when he sees I’m still staring right at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re only saying what we’re both thinking.” I sigh. “I don’t ever want to be like her either.”
His hand touches mine. “I’m sorry, Aussie.”
“For what?”
“That things have been so hard for you. No one deserves to be dealt the hand you’ve been dealt, but out of everyone, youdeserve it the least. I just wish things had been easier for you. I wish I would’ve known you sooner. Maybe I could have . . .”
My finger grazes the side of his palm, slowly and methodically stroking his skin. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I met you before Mom did?”
“I would’ve had even more time to get to know my best friend,” he answers proudly like it’s what I was hoping to hear. It isn’t. He must realize my disappointment, because his smile falls and he studies my face, trying to read me. “What’s wrong?”
