Page 74 of Freaks Of Nature
“But you…” he lets his words drift, setting one knee down, then the other. “You know how to play along, don’t you, Mason?”
Bile rises in my throat like acid. The mattress pivots. His hands grab my legs.
Flipping me onto my chest, he leans over me, his sickening voice right by my ear as he grates out, “Because what’s to keep me from holding a gun to his head again?”
My body goes still. I don’t struggle when his hands fumble with my jeans and shove them down. I don’t listen to the clanking of his belt and the sound of him spitting into his hand. I don’t even feel his hands or the weight of his body on me.
“So tell me,” he draws out. “Are you teachable, Mason?”
I don’t know what happens after that, I don’t pass out, but my mind shuts down to block out the memory. I can’t remember anything. The next thing I know is Ely walking me out of the bedroom to find Ash still passed out on the couch.
—
“Fuck!” I groan, rubbing my hands over my face. I know from the moment I wake up to the sound of rain that I’m going to have a shit day.
And it’s not just a little drizzle. A downpour pelts the windows at a sideways angle under the wind, which means I can’t ride my bike.
I pound on Ash’s door, knowing that unlike mine, his alarm won’t go off for another 10 minutes; I like to get to the shop early. “Get up, bitch. It’s raining. You got five minutes, or I’m leaving without you,” I bellow.
A grin dances around my lips hearing him swear through the door. He’s going to have to miss out on his morningshower. Lucky for me, I prefer to shower at night. And I’m considering skipping a shave just to light a fire under his ass.
He knows I mean it. I’ve done it before, and I already have the engine running when, four minutes and some odd seconds later, he dives into the front passenger seat of the Impala to escape the downpour.
Despite me being as wet as he, I’m brimming with glee as I pull out.
The car is usually parked at the curb. I want the garage space for the bikes. Could I have backed up into the driveway to save him the trip through the rain? Sure. But if I had to make it, so does my brother. He could count that as a shower.
We make it to the shop before Isaac. I get a pot of coffee going first, then pick up where I left off last. I assume Ash does the same. We don’t need much directing.
By lunchtime, the rain has let up a little. I hand him the keys so he can go out to get us food while I keep painting through our break. I’m working on a personal project, and I’m not really hungry anyway. My stomach is still in knots about last night.
Keeping my hands steady, I focus on my line work with the fine brush. I’m always meticulous, but this one is special. I’m personalizing Em’s helmet.
I don’t get to finish the little details in my free time before I have to go back to what I get paid for, so I decide to take it home to put the final touches on with my setup in the garage.
When we close up shop, Ash drives while I finish what’s left of my lunch. I’ve had a few bites in between paint jobs to tide me over.
Music is playing from the car stereo, but we don’t need to talk for me to know what’s on both our minds.
“It turned out really sick,” he says, nodding toward the backseat at the helmet. “She’s gonna lose her mind over it.”
We’re both equally good mechanics, but I’ve always had more artistic skill than him. I prefer to paint.
“It’s not finished,” I reply. “I don’t even know her favorite colors.”
I went with a dark purple and gold theme over matte black, because I think it suits her. Regal, feminine, but also badass.
“Still.” He throws me a sideways glance. “It’s kinda personal, no?”
That’s the point. “Jealous because all you can offer her are finger paintings?”
“Hey, no girl ever complained about me practicing my body painting skills on them,” he counters, wiggling his digits in the air between us.
I laugh, because I bet it’s true. And because it’s for exactly this quirky side that I needed him to get me close to Emily.
It reminds me that I’m the creep. A voyeur. Because all I want to do is go home to get my bike, so I can sit across the street from the diner and watch her through the window while she works, fantasizing about the things I want to do to her on those tables. I don’t even care that it’s still raining. I’ll imagine pushing her jeans down her thighs… her body bending for me… her needy, wet pussy welcoming my throbbing—
“Is she going to come over after her shift?” Ash’s voice slices through my daydreaming.
