Chapter 2
One doesn’t appreciate how far one end of Texas is from the other end until you traverse it. The 28 th state of the Union is a behemoth, and driving from Corpus Christi, where I’d lived all my life, to Austin normally took five hours. Thanks to traffic, the drive was longer than expected. My mother insisted we could reach our destination without a single stop, if we fueled up beforehand and packed some snacks. She was right, but when we finally arrived at the hotel, my bladder was screaming for relief, and my legs needed stretching.
Unfortunately, a problem arose with our reservation, which further delayed our check-in. My mother insisted I stay with her because she had it in her head that our room required facial recognition, fingerprint scanning, or both. She swore I’d have to validate my own credentials for access.
A huge banner welcoming the attending authors for Motorcycles, Mobsters, and Mayhem stood near the registration desk. Mom’s name was listed as a sponsor and I grinned, so proud of her.
The moment we entered our room—using a regular key card—I zipped toward the bathroom.
“Don’t be long, Effie.” The words floated to me. “I don’t have time for anything but a quick shower and throwing my clothes on.”
I slammed the bathroom door shut. Mom and I barely spoke on the drive over. I zoned out and kept music playing through my earbuds. Mom drove. However, we’d be in close proximity for the next several days. Bygones had to be bygones.
As usual.
Once I did my business, the niceness of the hotel room sank in. It was leagues better than the motel rooms normally booked during family trips.
“The bathroom is free now,” I announced to my mother when I walked out of the bathroom.
Mom lifted her head and halted rummaging through her suitcase.
Boxes of books and swag filled one hotel cart. Since we arrived two days before the signing, we’d spend tomorrow sorting the preorders, the special swag reserved for readers who placed huge orders, Mom’s raffle baskets and the games and prizes for on-the-spot wins at the table.
Flashing a smile, she retrieved her small toiletry bag and the dress I hurriedly added to our garment bag for tomorrow night’s dinner. “All right, I’ll be out in a jiffy, sweetie.”
I nodded, resisting the urge to snicker. What the fuck was a jiffy? After years of hearing her say it, the word had yet to become unamusing.
While my mother locked herself in the bathroom, I plopped down on my bed, opened my IG app on my phone, and notified Slice of my arrival.
Me: I’m here :)
Slice: Sweet
His reply came within minutes. After weeks of slow responses and radio silence, his quickness delighted me.
Slice: Can’t wait 2 see u.
Grinning, I bit back a squeal.
Me: The feeling is mutual.
Much to my disappointment, he didn’t reply. He didn’t even open the text. My smile turned into a pout. Undeterred, I looked at the bathroom door and listened for signs my mother would soon walk out. The sound of running water relieved me. I took a deep breath and inched my oversized shirt up, revealing my lace bralette. It was cute and comfortable, holding up my girls nicely without pinching my skin. I opened my camera app, quickly snapping a few pics. After a moment of deliberation, I bit my lip, chose the best photo, and sent it to Slice.
My rational side wondered if I crossed a boundary. Being so flirty with one of my mom’s models wasn’t the smartest choice.
Another part of me—the one that ruled— wasn’t rational, but jealous and eager. Mom wanted to set up Slice with my sister. I refused to let that happen. The knowledge urged me to stake my claim and finally act on my feelings.
Perhaps, I was a bad sister and daughter, but Cassie wouldn’t leave Chad, and Mom never forbade me from mingling with her models. Since she wanted to set Cassie and Slice up, she shouldn’t have had a problem with me and Slice.
The bathroom door opened and my mother stepped out. She looked positively stunning in 3-inch block heels, and her curls gelled into a sleek ponytail. Her basic makeup of eyeliner and red lips turned her into one of her heroines instead of my mom. I’d always been told I favored her. When she didn’t look like a bum, I appreciated that compliment.
“I’m about to head out.” Mom smoothed down the royal blue wrap dress I insisted she bring. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful, Mom,” I replied.
My phone buzzed and my heart leaped. Slice was responding to my photo. It got his attention. All my friends knew how busy I would be so they wouldn’t contact me and risk getting on my mom’s bad side.
The phone buzzed again and Mom lifted a brow.
“Do you have everything you need?” Somehow, I kept my voice steady and resisted shoving Mom out the door.
Thankfully, her annoyance cleared. “I think,” she said, hurrying to her nightstand and grabbing her purse. “If I need you to bring me anything, I’ll text you.”
I really hope she didn’t. Dropping everything to drive to her location would ruin my plans for the evening. She wasn’t sure if she’d drink, so she was taking an Uber and leaving the SUV with me.
I loved my mother, but I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Slice tonight, not be an assistant. This might be my only shot to win him over.
However, I couldn’t tell her that, so I just nodded and said, “Of course, Mom.”
She rushed out the door. Finally alone, I gave into the urge and opened Slice’s message. His bare chest greeted me and my breath hitched. His abs were the stuff of dreams, and sexy tattoos covered his skin. Words failed me. I hearted the photo and scanned the accompanying message.
Slice: Hope u don’t mind me returning the favor
I giggled, my fingers moving as my mind struggled to process the perfection of his body.
Me: Nope, not at all.
I took a moment to fan myself with my hand. An ache settled between my legs as I viewed his photo again. Goddamn, but he was a fine man. Hopefully, I’d get the pleasure of sampling him before the weekend was over. With that thought, I went to my suitcase, looking for the outfit I had brought just for him. If all went well, it’d knock his socks off, allow me entry into his bed, and, ultimately, a shot as his girlfriend.
It looked as if I knew exactly how I’d spend my evening. Effie Monroe’s tit pic surprised me. Had she been anyone else, I would’ve sent her a dick pic. That would’ve truly been quid pro quo.
But, nah. I wasn’t sure how down she was for a casual fling. No fucking way in hell would I tie myself to that sweet piece. Not exactly innocent but not cut out for my life.
During the drive down, I ignored my anticipation of seeing Effie and tried to figure out my draw to her.
Still, after hours on the road, I lacked understanding of why the fuck I corresponded with her. It started out as being nice to Daria’s daughter. Quite sure the woman wouldn’t continue to hire me for her covers and the odd appearance at book signings if I’d been a dick to Effie. However, I could’ve cut ties with her months ago. Yet, I looked forward to our DMs. Even when I fucked one of the club rats, I couldn’t wait to see if Effie messaged me.
“Slice!”
At Daria’s call, I froze. I’d been in the lobby waiting for Effie and hoping to avoid Daria. My room was on the second floor just like the restaurant I assumed she would meet her fans.
Effie’s mom sailed to me and my eyes widened. I didn’t remember ever seeing Daria wearing makeup or dressed so nicely. I had to admit, she was easy on the eyes, an older version of her daughter.
If that was what the future held in store for Effie, she should consider herself blessed.
Daria’s smile crinkled her eyes. “It’s fate, finding you all alone. You must come with me now.”
The elevator dinged and Effie stepped into view. I glanced over her mom’s shoulder. I didn’t have to tell Effie to hide. Her eyes widened and she darted out of view. Probably into the room where all the snacks were sold.
Daria half-turned, saw no one, and focused on me again. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
“You have to,” I told her, not unkindly. “I have plans.”
“Please?” she said with a little pout. “My fans will be sooo happy.”
“Spending time with their favorite author will make them even happier.”
“Are you seeing someone special?”
She attempted to sound casual, but the broad was fishing. My mind raced. As far as I knew, she was happily married. She negotiated her jobs with me in conjunction with Lennon. Terms for my covers and appearances were usually a joint effort between husband and wife.
Fuck. Who knew with chicks? A lot of them wanted a walk on the fucking wild side, and to hell with significant others.
She tapped my shoulder. “Are you?”
I shrugged. “I’m seeing a friend.”
She licked her lips. “Male or female?”
“Why?” I asked slowly, more suspicious by the fucking minute.
Fuck my life, but I couldn’t be in a situation where Effie just revealed she wanted to fuck me, and her mother decided to shoot her shot.
“I want to introduce you to someone.”
It couldn’t be Effie. I already knew her.
“Cassie.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“You sound just like Moose,” she squealed. She pressed her hand on her forehead. “Oh, swoon. Already in character. So rough and sexy.”
Was she fucking hitting on me or playing matchmaker?
Moose was a fucked up biker name. I’d told her that when she ran the idea of her photo shoot for the biker she imagined by me. Obviously, she hadn’t listened.
I glared at her. “I’m not wearing antlers or lounging on a moose pelt.”
She waved away the words. “We’ll work something out.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, but I let it go. “Who’s Cassie?” I asked again.
She dug into her little purse and came out with a piece of paper. “My oldest daughter. She just broke up with her boyfriend. A total loser. Call her. I think you two would be such an adorable couple.” She swiped a lock of hair behind her ear. “Even if she won’t listen to advice from Lenny and me, you would.”
I couldn’t imagine what the fuck gave her the impression that I’d jump in line with her dictates. Not setting her straight because time was wasting, I stuffed the phone number in the pocket of my cut. Had to admit, I was curious despite myself. What type of chick was Cassie for her mom to try and set her up with me?
“For a minute, I thought you wanted me to look after Effie.” I left it at that. I didn’t know how much her mom knew about how often we once communicated.
Tittering, Daria waved her hand. “Effie? She is entirely too sweet for you.” She leaned in, not recognizing she’d just offended the fuck out of me. Didn’t matter if I agreed. “She’s a social butterfly, but not the most experienced. I doubt she’s even had sex yet; probably saving herself for someone special. She has such a dazzling future ahead. She wants to open her own marketing agency someday. Become the biggest in Corpus, if not Texas and beyond.” Her eyes brightened as if she were relaying something I wanted to hear. “TMI, I know. I just want you to understand why she’s off-limits to you, hun.”
Instead of blasting her with a string of ‘fuck yous,’ I nodded.
“As much as I adore you, I don’t want my sweet Effie with you.” She beamed at me, too much of a damn ditz to recognize the insult of her words. “Now, are you sure I can’t convince you to hang out with me? Hubby says I can double the money.”
The offer might’ve tempted me before Effie sent me the tit pic. Now? Especially considering Daria’s conversation? Not for any fucking amount would I agree.
“Still a no-go,” I said through gritted teeth, reminding myself that this woman was my employer.
Long ago, Effie had mentioned that her mom could be too straightforward and too clueless. A fucked up combination. I’d brushed the text off as venting, putting little stock into the words. Daria hadn’t come across that way.
Keyword: Hadn’t .
Now, I realized Effie had spoken facts.
“Triple the amount of your fee if you come with, Slice.”
“Nope.”
Daria never understood I didn’t do the modeling for the fucking money. I did it because I’d gone through an existential crisis and questioned my life, so I returned to the life I’d known before my mother’s death. I’d wondered if I was a regular motherfucker would my ol’ ladies have split.
“She must be pretty special for you to pass up that type of money,” Daria chirped.
Effie was fucking special.
Inside, I cringed at the thought. Outwardly, I clenched my jaw, stoic determination settling into me.
“One last offer—”
“Save it, Daria,” I growled. “I’m not interested.”
“Aww, that’s too bad. How about—” A frown tugged at her painted lips. The chime of her notification saved me. She dug into her handbag, pulled out a phone, and glanced at the screen. “I must run. My Uber is here, so tootles.”
Waving her fingers at me, she turned and hurried outside to the valet parking area. I watched her hop into a late-model SUV. Once it drove off, I turned.
Effie peeped around a corner of the archway that separated the lobby from the bank of elevators.
I waved her over. As she walked into view, I clenched my jaw to keep my mouth from falling to the fucking ground. She wore a short red bandage dress. The material revealed glimpses of smooth skin. Toned arms and legs brought dirty images flaring to life and the mounds of her tits watered my mouth.
Sweet Effie, huh?
Indeed.
She stopped inches from me. My eyes were still glued to her perky breasts. Instead of reprimanding my blatant ogling, the little minx spun with dramatic flair and offered me a view of her round ass. She faced me again and smirked.
“You like the fit?” she asked innocently, as if she didn’t know that my cock was rock hard.
“I love it,” I responded. It crossed my mind to ditch dinner and drag her back to my hotel room. The one her mother and father paid for.
Fuck, that was low. Even for me.
Daria’s words echoed through my head, forcing me to show some restraint. If Effie really was a virgin, she at least deserved wining and dining before an old dirty bastard like me tainted her. Giving her a semblance of a proper date was the least I could do.
I cleared my throat, adjusting to conceal my boner, and gave her another once over. “ But , I’m not sure if it’s bike-appropriate, babe. The wind can be a bitch. Not to mention my pipe…pipes…exhaust pipes…”
Her face lit up. My bumbling words didn’t register. They seemed to go in one ear and out the other. “You’re taking me on your motorcycle? That’s, like, so cool.”
She giggled, unguarded and carefree. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Then, realization struck me and my laughter died. Because, fuck, what if Daria was right? Then again, did it even matter if she was? Effie was grown, and if she wanted a walk on the wild side, who was I to refuse her? Now was not the time for a moral dilemma, not when a laundry list of other sins had long ago tainted my soul.
“I am, sweetheart, and I want you to enjoy the ride,” I said, mincing my words so I didn’t offend her. “So why don’t you go change into jeans real quick? I don’t mind waiting.”
“We don’t have to leave the premises,” she coaxed.
Oh, yes the fuck we did. With that sultry look and sexy voice, if we didn’t leave, we wouldn’t eat a thing but each other.
“I dressed for you,” she admitted.
It took everything in me to bring on my full asshole. “Didn’t ask you to, Effie. Now, run upstairs and change.”
Immediately, her face fell. I winced, opening my mouth to backtrack and explain my suggestion. Before I could, she huffed out, “Fine,” turned on her heels, and stomped back to the elevator.
What a lovely start to my evening.