Page 32 of Biker Boo
I groan, grab the throw pillow, and whip it at her face.“You’re gonna make fun of me.”
She bats it away, smirking.“Probably.But I’ll still help you figure it out.”
I flop down beside her, knees bouncing, every nerve lit up.The TV’s on mute, another slasher flick spilling fake blood across the screen, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the mess inside my chest.“I think it’s Legend.”
Janie barks out a laugh.“Of course you do.”
“I’m serious.”My voice cracks.“The way he touches me, J.The way he kissed me… it has to be him.Who else would screw with my head like that?Who else would sneak around in a ghost mask just to mess with my head like that?Legend knows about my love of horror films.”
She twirls her hair, all lazy amusement.“Well, it is Halloween.Maybe it’s the killer.Or maybe it’s Prez, and he finally gave in to his freaky side.”
I bite my lip, nails digging into my thigh.“You think I’m crazy… You gonna call me Crazy Becki like the rest of them?”
“No, babe,” she says around her gum.“I think you’re obsessed.Big difference.”
She’s not wrong.Iamobsessed.With the heat of his gloves on my waist.With the silence that spoke louder than any sweet talk.With the mask that made him nobody and everybody at once.With the way he disappears before I can say, don’t go.
Obsessed with the idea that maybe Legend still wants me.
And if it’s not him?I refuse to think about it.
“I heard Hannah skipped town,” Janie says, casual-like she’s not dropping dynamite.
I whip my head around.“When the hell were you gonna tell me that?”
She shrugs, smirks.“Now.”
Something wild pulses through me.If Hannah’s gone, then Legend’s free.And if my masked man really is him…
My mind spins faster than the ceiling fan overhead.
After dark, I gear up like I’m going to war.
Leather skirt.Fishnets.Blood-red lipstick.
And a ripped tee that reads, “Property of No One”.Screw the bunny shirts with “Kings Only” scrawled across their fronts in Sharpie.Legend once told me I belonged to the club, but tonight?Tonight, I belong to whoever wears that mask.
I’m not the girl crying over our president anymore.I’m the villain’s favorite.The masked man’s obsession.Whether that masked man and our president are one and the same or not.
I tuck a steak knife into my boot.Just in case my Biker Boo turns out to be a killer.
Janie shows up in her Property of Vandal cut, all smug, like she doesn’t know Vandal’s been sliding into my DMs with dick pics.I bite my tongue.No use picking that fight.Not tonight.
We roll into Heck’s Kitchen, the courthouse turned arena, and it looks like a southern gothic nightmare.Candles stuffed into pumpkins, fake cobwebs, bones dangling from the rafters like wind chimes.The Kings know how to throw a Halloween bash.
Apparently, I didn’t miss the Halloween party.The Kings threw this like they threw everything, loud, lawless, and steeped in bourbon.And it was just Halloween Eve.
The bass shakes the cracked walls.Smoke from a dozen blunts hangs in the rafters.Someone’s passed out in a clown mask on the judge’s old bench.The dance floor is sticky with spilled liquor.
Janie flings herself into Vandal’s arms as he gives me a wink, and aI hope you didn’t telllook.
It should thrill me.
Instead, my eyes are already scanning for him.My Boo.My mask.
I sigh before I spot Royal near the perimeter of the ring, leaning against a fake headstone like he’s trying to disappear into the shadow, and make my way over.
Of course, the bikers didn’t dress up.Royal always wears black like all the bikers, but it’s more than that.The bikers wear it like armor.Royal wears it like an unanswered prayer.So tall, taller than Prez, he’s got that creepy kid posture, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, eyes sharp behind his lashes like knives.His long hair curtains around his gorgeous face.
