Page 29 of Biker Boo
With a man who kissed her in the dark and disappeared like smoke.And maybe that’s all I’m good for.
A Halloween nightmare.
A one-night sin.
But some sick part of me… some romantic part… wants more.
Wants her to loveme.
The boy she once defended with a Bible and fury.The man who’s spent years waiting for her to see him again.
I bury the past, but it don’t stay dead.
Not in this town.Not with her.
Every time she breathes, she exhumes me.
And I let her.
The Lockup’s dark as usual but it’s morning.Can tell by the roosters over at Pearly Gates.
Halloween ain’t over yet, not in Hell, Kentucky.Around here, we drag it out like a funeral that don’t want to end.Another party, another round, another morning with half the brothers hung over and still pretending we’re twenty.
I drop into a dented metal chair, head pounding like someone worked me over with a tire iron.Oaks is already at the table, sunglasses on indoors, arms crossed like he’s about to pass out where he sits.
Bullet’s got a towel wrapped around his neck, hair still wet from a shower, trying to look alive.Even Rye looks wrecked, and that bastard usually drinks us all under.
The only one smiling is Critter.Kid’s too young to know hangovers last longer the older you get.He’s perched on the side of the couch like a damn squirrel, jittery, always waiting for scraps.
The door creaks open, and in glides Kandddy, the bunny of the week, wearing nothing but a lace thong and one of Legend’s shirts.She’s got a tray balanced in her hands like she’s auditioning for Hooters, only what she’s carrying ain’t beer.It’s coffee.Real coffee.Fancy-shit coffee.
She sets down mugs, steam curling like it don’t belong here in this dump.
I raise a brow when I see the frothy swirl.
“What the fuck is this?”I mutter.
“Cappuccino,” she purrs, bouncing her ass for good measure.
Oaks squints at the foam.“Looks like somebody jerked off in my cup.”
Rye leans in, sniffing.“Nah, brother.If it smelled like bleach, then we’d know it came from you.”
The table bursts out laughing.Even hungover, the boys live for this shit.
Bullet stirs his mug, deadpan.“I don’t care what it is, long as it gets my dick hard enough to piss straight.”
Oaks groans.“What happened to Folgers?”
Rye smirks.“Guess we’re classy now.Kings of Anarchy… now with foam art.”
Bullet leans forward, inspecting the heart shape in his mug.“Cute.I’m drinkin’ this just so I can shit it out in 10 seconds.”
The table erupts with half-dead laughter.Kandddy just winks, refills sugar, then struts off like she’s the queen of the club.
Critter whistles.“Tell you what, I’d drink her any day of the week, those triple Ds.”
Oaks tosses a balled-up napkin at him.“Shut up, pup.You ain’t earned the right to talk about bunnies like that.”
