Chapter 9 – Tylee
Chapter Nine
Tylee
Scum rolls out of bed, giving me a clear view of his ass cheeks, still red from where I smacked them, still sore from the place I sank my teeth into them. Yummy. He walks over to the small fridge in the motel room and has the decency to get me a Keystone Lite – my favorite.
“Cigarette?”
I join him in a seated position at the edge of the bed. He groans.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he says. “Everybody wants the job done, nobody wants to be the one to do it.”
“That’s right,” I tell him. “That’s right.”
The man has been fighting demons ever since I saw him.
He’s nothing like Isaac, that’s for sure.
I’d have to lie, cheat, start fights, or worse to get a rise out of Isaac.
Scum – not his real name, obviously – has this perpetually pissed off look on his face.
Pissed at the world. Pissed at the government.
Well, now he’s pissed at “the illegals”. I’ve since learned that means anybody he thinks looks Mexican. I’m not racist, but it’s not my place to tell him what to think or feel, as long as he doesn’t use any of those unkind words in my presence or harp on his weird problem.
“Somebody has to get them out of the country. We step up to do it, they call us Nazis. I mean, what the fuck?”
“Can you get me the lighter, Scum?”
He glares at me and hands it over. I meet his stare with an equally intense one. He needs me more than I need him, and he knows it. Now that I don’t have the kids weighing me down, I can act with a lot more common sense instead of worrying about messy diapers or fixing dinner.
“Here’s the damn lighter. I wonder if you’re even listening to me, Tylee.”
“I’m listening. You’re having a shit time kidnapping all the Mexicans in Missouri.”
I don’t feel good until I take that first puff of a cigarette.
It’s nice that he paid for the smoking room so I don’t have to stand in the damn cold just to relax.
Isaac calms down after sex. Scum keeps getting more riled up and I can tell that somehow agreeing with him has got him going about politics.
“They’re not goddamn Mexicans. They’re illegals Tylee. They’re gang members.”
“Sure, babe.”
“Those are the kinds of people your brothers get into bed with. Doesn’t it piss you off?”
“If every girl worried about where her brother put his dick, we’d all kill ourselves.”
He chuckles and puts his arm over my shoulder, drawing me in close for a hug.
I’m glad that he doesn’t kiss me. It’s not that the sex was disappointing.
Scum works hard, knows how to use his tongue, and he gets all gross and sweaty in a way that I actually enjoy with a man.
He doesn’t argue about using condoms either.
I’m not pushing out any babies for a man who isn’t my husband.
“You’re sexy, you know that, Tylee,” he says, grinning at me with his fox-face. He has a handsome, almost cruel looking smile, maybe because his eyes don’t move and his expression stays hard, even when his lips appear to be grinning.
“Yes,” I respond calmly, resting my hand on his thigh, keeping my precarious position safe with a hand close to Scum’s dick.
“You didn’t come all the way out here just to screw around on your husband.”
“My husband left me,” I remind him sternly. Isaac has been the most stubborn he’s ever been about this. He’s not coming back, which means I was right all along not to put all my eggs in one basket.
“Don’t get pissed,” Scum says. I hate that I’m so transparent in front of him. Sex is supposed to make men weaker, not women.
“I’m not.”
I glare at him, which diffuses the tension between us. Scum loves anger. He feeds off of it in a way that Isaac could never understand.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” Scum murmurs in a low voice, kissing me with passion. My tongue juts into his mouth as I tease his tongue ring and a strange throb of desire in my chest almost throws me off course.
“I need to leave my kids and handle grown-up business.”
He laughs, but his voice teases me with a tone that feels cruel and judgmental. “Mother of the year. I’m glad I never got you pregnant.”
There’s a pang of outrage that he says that. We had one near miss and he’s never let it go. Doesn’t matter what Scum says or what he wants. I have him here, ready to do what I want. He won’t turn me down after what just happened between us.
“I’m serious. I need to go to Boston.”
“Why?”
“Isaac won’t stop unless he gets full or partial custody. My whole life, every last thing I do will be dictated by a man who isn’t in this room fighting for me.”
Scum runs his thumb over my lips slowly. His teasing feels good.
“I’m not fighting for you either,” he says, kissing the top of my forehead. I have to fight the temptation to bite his finger clean off. Scum doesn’t do relationships – which is funny, because he always comes running when I call, so he must be lonely for all his posturing. I can use that.
“Good. Then work for me. Help me to kill him.”
Scum laughs. “You are one crazy bitch.”
“I’m serious.”
“Why the fuck would I do something like that?” Scum asks with a laugh. “Crazy bitch.”
He pisses me off but right now… I need him.