Chapter Five #2
Her friend Nessa is a different story. We get on okay, and I’m impressed by her owning her own marketing company, she isn’t just a pretty face and a giant pair of boobs. It’s the way she eyeballs Handlebar whenever she’s at the compound. Another thing Waverley made a point of joking about.
She sees the jealousy, and it pisses me off. Men aren’t a part of my trajectory right now. Although sex is. It’s been a long time. The last guy was over three months ago, and it lasted maybe a month. God, all I am doing is making myself horny, and that is not helpful.
My phone rings, making me jump. Speak of the devil herself.
“Hey.”
“Wow, I’m surprised you picked up. You’ve been leaving me on read and not answering voicemails. You’ve been avoiding the compound.”
“Whatever gave you that impression.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. Girl’s night at my place tomorrow. Hudson is in New York.”
“I got a new case, things are going to get busy.”
“All the more reason to blow off some steam beforehand,” Waverley says.
I can practically hear the smile on her face. She’s been a different person since she moved into the house with Hudson.
“Fine, but we’re staying at the house, right?”
“Of course,” she scoffs. “Dirt is throwing a party for one of the guy’s birthdays. The club girls will be out in force. I avoid that crap like the plague.”
It makes me a little sick thinking of what goes on there when the guys all get fucked up and rowdy. I’ve never seen Handlebar act the way the others do, and Waverley has told me more than once he doesn’t do those things.
The thought of seeing him screwing some random woman who hangs around just to get laid by any brother who looks sideways at them, makes my blood boil.
“Be at the house at eight, bring a bottle and plan on staying over.”
She hangs up before I can reply. I have a choice. Just because she’s avoided letting me answer doesn’t mean I can’t stay home.
I’ll be there. It’ll be nice to see the girls. And mom. No one else.
And certainly not the sexy mechanic.
“I mean, I considered getting them reduced but they do have their uses,” Nessa winks at us.
Waverley busts up laughing. I’m still staring at Nessa’s tits. She’s holding them at the bottom, raising them even higher than her bra does. She keeps looking from the left to the right one, and back again.
“I always wanted bigger boobs when I was younger,” Waverley says. “But I like mine, they’re just right.” She doesn’t need to add that Hudson is happy with them, it’s written all over her rosy face.
“Ugh, they can be good for some activities,” Nessa lets one go and gives the other a baleful stare. “But most of the time, they get in the way. Getting clothes that fit is a nightmare and under boob sweat,” she pulls a face. “Is a very real thing.”
My nose wrinkles at that. How did we end up talking about Nessa’s boobs?
Well, probably the two bottles of wine they’ve worked their way through.
I’ve had two small glasses and been nursing a third for the last hour, which no one has noticed.
I’m not feeling the vibe to get shit faced.
Being the only sober one has its pitfalls.
It has been fun, can’t lie. It’s taken my mind off the hell of knowing I have to work with Vance Roderick.
“Have you seen me trying to run on a treadmill,” Nessa sighs. “Sometimes I think I’m going to end up with two black eyes.”
“They’re too squishy to give you a black eye,” Waverley laughs.
I arch a brow at her, and she shrugs a shoulder in response, still grinning. Waverley has been through a lot. It says something about her strength and character that she allows herself to be so happy. I’d still be fighting it in her shoes.
“Do you want to feel?” Nessa asks me, with a very serious look on her face.
“Don’t use me to get you off.” I give her a dirty look.
“It’s scientific,” she squawks.
“Not my kind of science experiment. But thank you for the opportunity.”
Nessa lets out a long sigh, as if she is hard done-by.
“You have perfect breasts,” she says.
Now I’m getting uncomfortable. This woman has no shame.
“She got them from me.”
We all turn to my mom standing in the doorway, looking somewhere between puzzled and amused.
No one locks their doors down here. Everyone knows this is Hudson’s place, and he’d kick the shit out of anyone who came in here unwelcomed.
“Rosa, where’ve you been?” Waverley asks. “You’re missing all the fun.”
“So I hear.” She comes around the chair I’m sitting in and sets some snacks and a six-pack on the coffee table, then leans her ass on the arm of my chair. “I was watching Rip almost getting his neck broken.”
“What did he do now?”
“Who is Rip?” Nessa asks.
“New Prospect,” Rosa tells her. “He’s clumsy as shit. He was stumbling around drunk out front of the clubhouse and leaned against one of the bikes.”
“Uh oh,” Waverley covers her mouth. Mostly because she is trying not to laugh. “How many?”
“Seven. All went tumbling down with his dumb ass lying on top of Ink’s bike. I was passing and saw the whole thing.”
“Well it was an accident, right?” Nessa turns her head between us all, blonde curls swishing. At least she’s let go of her boobs.
“Did you forget their bikes are extensions of their dicks?” I drawl.
“There was a lot of screaming and shouting. Handlebar had to get Rip out of there before someone strung him up.”
My heart jumps at the mention of his name. Mom looks down at me for the briefest of moments.
“It’s not so much that he knocked them down,” Mom goes on. “Bikes have a lot of protruding parts.”
“Says you,” Waverley snorts.
“They can get tangled up, and it’s hard to pick them apart. They lock in together.”
“You’re making it worse, mother,” I indicate Waverley who is reading all kinds of innuendo into what Mom is saying. Nessa is laughing now too.
“Well then, it’s like a gang bang up there,” she winks. “They’re all huddling around the bikes trying to figure it out, holding each other, giving direction to one another.”
The laughter gets louder, and I begrudgingly give in to it. Not just mom lowering the tone, but the thought of them trying to get their bikes separated. They’re probably all drunk too.
“Let’s go watch,” Nessa shouts.
Waverley cheers. “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
“No, come on. We said we’d stay away.”
“That was before this happened,” Waverley hops up and grabs her sneakers. “I’d pay to see this.”
Mom earns a scowl from me. She winks again as she pops open a beer and takes a few swallows. Nessa and Waverley are already on their way out.
“Did you have to do that?” I set down my undrunk wine.
“You and I can stay right here, honey.” She pats my shoulder.
We sit in silence for about twenty seconds. Mom keeps pouting out her lips and letting out small sighs. I know what she’s doing. Her voice is inside my head, like some kind of warped Jiminy Cricket.
‘Just have fun, it’s okay to let your hair down once in a while. Come poke fun at the drunk ass bikers.’
“Fucking fine,” I nudge her and get up. “But I’m only doing this so I can point and laugh.”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
“And I’m driving up there.”
Her brow lifts in the direction of the wine glass.
“I’ve barely touched it.”
“Everything okay, honey?”
I put on a smile that can fool anyone, including my mother. She doesn’t need to hear about the Roderick case. I link her arm, grab my keys and we head out to poke some fun at the big bad bikers.