Page 16 of Clash
“He’s got a point, Clash. I bet you were the kid on the playground that threw temper tantrums anytime he didn’t get his way.” Ranger shot Sandman and Priest a smile. All of them could fuck off for all I cared.
“No, fuckwad, I was the kid that beat up the kids who threw temper tantrums. Get your facts straight!”
“Touchy,” Priest said, laughing. “Yeah, something is definitely wrong with him. He’s turning down fresh pussy, and he’s irritable. I’d say he was having woman troubles, but we all know that women are repulsed by his very existence.”
“Face it, Bud. You’re unfuckable,” Ranger added, all of them laughing like hyenas.
“Tell that to your sister, asshole.”
Ranger’s hand clenched into a fist. It was a known fact that Ranger’s sister Olive was off limits to the club. He kept her away from everyone and everything, even Sandman, who was supposedly his best friend. Although, Olive was quite the looker, if she wasn’t a death sentence waiting to happen. That’s one pussy even I’m not stupid enough to touch.
“Talk about my sister like that again, Clash, and I’ll fucking skin you alive.” The fact that Ranger was even threatening me, was cute at best. The man really needed to get laid, badly.
“Look, will you guys just fuck off and leave me alone? I got shit on my mind, and I don’t need you monkeys fucking that up for me.”
Ranger’s face softened just a tad. “We’re just worried about you, Clash. You’ve been different ever since Shasta left—angry, moody, a bit unhinged. It gives off Sabbath vibes, and it has us all worried.”
“Well, stop fucking worrying about me. I’m fine! I just needed a goddamn beer, and you all are wasting my buzz.” I grabbed the beer from in front of Sandman, taking it as my own. No one said a word about it.
The three of them just stared at me with concerned eyes, but none of them said another word, allowing me to enjoy my third beer in peace.
Leaving my condo was the only way I could lessen the chance of going off on Gina. I already scared her, and I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. But it was shocking how her words affected me, like she knew just how to wound me without even trying.
Being nice was getting me nowhere with her… maybe I had to try a new angle… one that I was familiar with and accustomed to.
If she didn’t like me nice, I’d love to see what she thinks of me when the real asshole comes out. And that’s just what I’ll give her.
The Clash she expects… the Clash everyone expects me to be.
Cold-hearted.
Unapologetically crude.
And one hundred percent… grade ‘A’ Asshole.
7
He didn’t come back for what seemed like hours, and when he finally did, he came stumbling in, reeking of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke. There was a hint of perfume in the air as well, but I stuffed the niggle of jealousy that came over me and shook it off.
I didn’t know him.
I shouldn’t be jealous.
I wasn’t jealous.
“Hey, sweet cheeks, how’s it hanging?” he asked, laughing hysterically as he bumped into a chair.
I shot a wary look over at my son, who was sound asleep on the couch.
“Clash, are you drunk?”
He held up his fingers, barely holding them apart as he slurred, “Maybe just a tad. But why do yooou care? Huh? I’m just another disgusting biker. Lewd, crude, and full of attitude.” He laughed at his rhyme. “I sound like Dr. Seuss.”
He then proceeded to recite the entireOne Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue FishDr. Seuss book by heart. “That man wasa fucking genius!” he exclaimed, swaying just a tad after he finished reciting his favorite childhood story.
“Clash, please, keep your voice down. I just got Alex to bed and I don’t want to wake him up.”
He looked over at my son, his face ever so slightly softening. “That kid is amazing,” he whisper-yelled. “You did good, little momma.”
