10. Ten
Ten
Vic
R ush,
Long time no talk. It’s a relief to know you didn’t encounter a bear or stumble into quicksand, preventing you from getting back to me.
I guess my first question is, why now? Why not months ago? Why not say something that night? And how do you know where I am now?
It’s a relief to know you’re still alive. Maybe I’ll talk to you again. Maybe I won’t.
-Rosie
“Who’s ready to lose their asses tonight?” Trey asks as he walks in with a blunt hanging from his lips.
“Confident words for someone who lost their Fat Boy last week,” Marcus mutters with a mocking smirk.
“I plan on getting her back tonight.”
“I’ll trade you for your V4R,” Marcus says.
“Fuck no! I love the Ducati.”
“You should stop betting your bikes, T, or you’ll soon have nothing left,” Julian interjects.
“The Fat Boy’s too clean for you, anyway. She’s mine, and I already changed her name,” Marcus gloats.
“Don’t you dare. Jae is the only name she goes by.”
“Jae and Trey?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re fucking weird.”
“All I hear is a compliment,” Trey says.
We might be at each other’s throats sometimes, but once a week, we come together for our long-standing tradition that dates back to our preteen years. It hasn’t always been poker as it is now. As we’ve grown, it evolved into a safer alternative for the five of us psychos who used to spend this sacred day causing havoc by tagging, fighting, stealing, and partying. Although we still partake in some. It’s kept us all close through all the bullshit. Now we bet large amounts of money while smoking blunts and shooting the shit. Even Trey and Ax wave their white flags for the night and leave it to healthy competition.
Strolling in with an air of excitement, our newest member, Samuel, joins our night for the first time. After years of relentless begging, Ax conceded and allowed him to join us, considering he’s recently patched in .
The memory of his smile is etched in my mind as they removed his prospect patch and unanimously voted him in as a new member. It probably mirrored the same one I had on my face when I was a teen and got mine, only to lose it a week later.
My luck fucking sucks.
My mood sours until I think about Rosie for the millionth time today. I still can’t get the feel of her off me. Not that I want to. But I should. That’s why this night is perfect. The guys keep my mind occupied so I don’t do something stupid like break down her door and go for round two.
My chair creaks as I tilt it back and look up at her window on the second story through the blinds of the guesthouse.
I haven’t spoken to her since running out of her room. I need to figure out my shit.
The first thing I felt that night was relief. I finally gave in to my urges and desires. Then, a form of contentment washed over me as her hand rubbed my head while she was in her post-orgasm daze. Then, the regret kicked in. The what the fuck am I doing? This can’t happen type of regret. She’s not just some chick I can fuck, then ghost like all the others. I felt like a real piece of shit for humping my best friend’s sister when I promised I’d stay away from her, and even more so for leaving her confused as hell with a hurt look in her eyes.
Judging by her letter to Rush, it’s safe to say she’s pissed at the moment. The letter was supposed to give me some insight into her mind and her time here. Maybe she would even talk about me? But I went and fucked it up on both sides. This is all a confusing clusterfuck.
None of this was supposed to happen.
It wasn’t supposed to go that far .
It wasn’t supposed to go as far as a kiss, but then she did the unthinkable and leaned in for it. She wanted the kiss just as bad as I did.
The thought of getting her riled up and begging for more only to leave her hanging has gone through my head multiple times since she’s been here, especially when she gives me shit and tries to drive me crazy.
But then she leaned in and wanted me. Me. Not the me from our letters, but the me who stood in front of her with all my fucked-up parts. Then, she came, and I couldn’t help but follow her off the edge. I came in my pants like a fucking teenager. That was a first. The guys would laugh their asses off if they got ahold of this information.
I can’t help but go back to the dazed look on her face as she came down from her high. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, and her lips turned swollen and red from our kissing.
“Yo, Vic, it’s your turn.”
My chair legs hit the floor with a thump and I shake my head. I’m going to drive myself fucking mad if I don’t stop this shit.
“You got time for me this week?” Trey asks. “I have a piece I’ve been thinking about.”
“You have room left?”
“Only on my dick. Should take a couple of weeks to finish.”
“More like minutes,” Ax comments.
“Alright, motherfucker.” Trey’s chair scrapes across the floor as he stands and unbuckles his pants.
“For the love of God, keep your fuckin’ pants on. We’ve seen your dick enough,” Marcus mutters .
“I can squeeze you in. Just get me an ounce of whatever this is.” I pass him back his blunt, the relaxed, euphoric feeling hitting me like a fucking train.
“It came from one of my rooms. Been the best run I’ve had in a minute. I’ll bring you a P.”
“We’re planning to go for a ride next weekend if you’re down,” Julian says as he puts his cards down.
I shouldn’t go. Lately, I’ve been spending an excessive amount of time on my bike with them, but I can’t resist. I miss the powerful sense of brotherhood and the comforting weight of my kutte on my shoulders.
“I’m down.”
Before I can stop myself, I lean my chair back one more time. Rosie stands in front of the window while talking on the phone with a huge smile on her face.
Who the fuck is she talking to?
My phone beeps and alerts me to a motion sensor activation on the front left corner of the house despite there being no walkway, just a bush and a fence to the backyard.
“Vic, it’s your move. What’s got you all distracted?”
“Maybe it’s who. Heard you guys got into a fight the other night,” Marcus says.
I ignore all of them as I wait for the picture to load.
“You guys expecting anyone?” I ask.
Once the picture appears, I spring to my feet, nearly causing the table to fall. A person dressed in all black with a ski mask is creeping along the side of the house.
“What the fuck’s your deal, man?” Ax says as he looks at me, worried .
“Gun. Someone’s in the yard. All black with a ski mask.” I put my hand out and wait for one to be placed in my hand.
I know they’re all packing. I can’t carry on my person because of my history, but I have many hidden throughout the house, just in case.
I keep my gaze fixed on Rosie, who remains unaware of the intruder as she talks on the phone.
She better not be talking to a guy.
Trey hands me an anodized gold Glock. Motherfucker would have the loudest-looking gun out there.
“It’s my baby. Be good to her,” Trey says.
“Marcus, you want to go around the other side of the house?”
“On it,” he says, walking out the back door without another word.
I walk out the door of the guesthouse at an even pace. Knowing the person is still on the east side of my house. He’s watching me. I can feel it as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I turn around as he walks out from the side.
“You walked into the wrong yard, motherfucker.”
With the stealth of a ninja, Marcus sneaks up on him from behind and pistol-whips the fuck out of him. The guy falls to the ground with a loud thud.
“Shit. Let’s bring him inside before one of your uppity-ass suburban neighbors sees,” Marcus says with a huff as he picks up the dead weight.
We move the intruder to the guesthouse, where the guys have already set up a chair and rope. Perfect.
We eagerly rip off his black polyester mask, only to find a stranger in front of us. It’s nobody I’ve pissed off, which is worrisome since he came to my house .
“Wake up, sunshine.” Trey smacks his face hard enough that his neck cracks to the side. The man’s eyes open to slits, probably feeling the headache from hell from being hit on the back of the head. “I gotta say, you made my night coming to my brother’s house unannounced.”
The guy says nothing to Trey as he looks around for a way out of this clusterfuck.
“Nowhere to go. Why the fuck are you on my property?” I ask.
The man gazes into my eyes with a piercing stare, his silence speaking volumes.
I’m about ninety percent sure why he’s here, and it has to do with the infuriatingly perfect human obliviously talking away on her phone as if someone isn’t about to get tortured to death less than fifty yards from her. And if my suspicions are correct, it’s fucking concerning how quickly they located her.
I’m just thankful the poker night was here tonight, and I got the alert so quickly.
I fucked up a lot before her arrival, but upping my camera and security system wasn’t one of my shortcomings.
“Looks like he’s playing the silent game. My favorite,” Trey says, “You got a flathead screwdriver?”
I walk to the kitchen and rummage under the sink for my small tool kit. “Will this do?” I hand it to Trey, who looks like he was just given a trophy. This is about to get messy. I reach back under the sink and grab my hidden Glock with the silencer attached before placing it in the back of my pants.
The guy’s eyes widen a fraction before he composes himself. Marcus grabs his hand and places it on the poker table.
“We’ll give you one more chance. What are you doin’ here?” Marcus says.
Silence.
“Nothing? Really?” Axl shakes his head. He prefers a quick and direct approach with a bullet between the eyes. Unlike the rest of us, he does not share in our enthusiasm for torturing.
With the flathead screwdriver in hand, Trey forcefully positions it under the guy’s nail before wrenching it up. The sound of his nail being torn from the nail bed makes my skin crawl in anticipation. His nail now hangs from a small piece of the cuticle while blood streams from the open wound onto the forgotten cards and table. The man shakes, and a vein bulges from his forehead, but he says nothing.
It’s impressive and slightly terrifying.
“Not even a sound? Guess I’m losing my touch, guys,” Trey mutters before ripping off the remaining nails from his hand. On the last one, the guy finally cracks and lets out one of the most gut-wrenching squeals I’ve ever heard. Thank fuck for the soundproof insulation Trey insisted I install when I bought the house.
Trey’s smile only gets bigger the more the guy whines. “Talk or I’ll start tooth extractions, which hurt a fuck of a lot more than your little hangnails.”
“We want the girl.”
“What girl?” Axl asks before anyone else gets the chance.
“The princess—”
Without hesitation, I draw my gun and aim it directly at his face.
The overwhelming need to keep Rosie safe compels me to pull the trigger. The absence of remorse engulfs me as the bullet smoothly exits the chamber, whispers through the silencer, and strikes him between the eyes .
“Holy fuck, Vic!” Samuel says.
“What he said. We don’t know why he’s here, and we were just getting to the fun stuff,” Trey whines.
“He said princess, what’s that about?” Marcus asks.
Ax looks over at me, and I know he wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut. I’ll tell the guys about who Rosie is when I’m ready.
I ignore Marcus’s question.
“I was tired of listening to him cry like a little bitch. You think you guys can get rid of him before he gets a bunch of blood on the floor?”
“First, you kill the fun, and then you ask for cleanup? What the fuck?” Trey says.
“Sorry,” I say with a shrug.
“I guess it’s time for some brotherly bonding. Samuel, get the fucker’s legs. You too, Ax,” Trey says.
“I’ll go find somethin’ to put him in,” Marcus mutters as he walks out the door.
“Best poker night ever. It’s going to be hard to top next week, but we can try,” Trey mutters.
“Are they all like this?” Samuel asks as he looks down at the dead man.
“No, but I think we should make it a thing,” Trey says.
“No,” all of us say in unison.
“You guys are no fucking fun,” Trey mutters as he hoists the dead man over his shoulder. “Later, Vic.”