Chapter 3
KINGSTON “FROST”
It’s been over a month since my best friend Smokey visited to update me on the MC.
Since I’m the sergeant at arms, I gotta make sure everything is secure.
My job is to keep Skull and the rest of the crew safe, which is lacking since I’m unable to use a computer, adding to the safety of my brothers.
I’m on my last leg of my second year in prison, with one more year to go.
Fucking cops and district attorney from a couple of towns over prosecuted me for involuntary manslaughter.
No doubt they’re on the Grave Disciples MC payroll.
The big fucking bouncer and member of the Grave Disciples picked a fight, risked taking me on, and lost. Glad the motherfucking piece of shit is rotting in the ground.
Prison life ain’t so bad though. It’s close to where I live and work. A couple of Prospects and club members have been watching over my tattoo shop. The only other tattooist is Jess, who lives above the shop, so I’m losing money every day I spend in this shithole.
Barney, one of the prison guards, comes up to me as I’m leaning against the bars of my open cell.
“Smokey coming?” I nod. This guy is hard up for friends.
“I heard he was called to Colorado for the forest fires.” My patience is thin.
Staring at this douche doesn’t deter him from talking.
“I’m thinking about being a smokejumper, too. ”
Another guard, Stevens, calls up to me. “Kingston. Smokey’s here.”
I push off the bars and pat Barney’s humongous stomach, letting out a humorless laugh.
No parachute could hold his fat ass. Lazy in life and on the job.
Smokejumpers, like Smokey, are physically fit.
Plus, dumb fuck Barney probably only has his GED.
Smokey’s got a Bachelor’s in Agriculture.
Sounds like a pussy degree, except Smokey is anything but one.
I take my time through the maze of men standing around, giving me chin nods, fist bumps, and high fives. In this joint, I’m a fucking God. The inmates and guards want to be my friend to the point I have them eating out of my hand.
The door opens to the visiting room, and sure as shit, Smokey is in a chair, feet up on another one, eyes closed with his hands clasped behind his head.
The guy can sleep anywhere, even standing up.
When we were kids, he’d pull pranks on prospects then jump into bed as if he had been sleeping. And they believed him.
With my foot, I push his feet off the chair, causing him to fall sideways, but he catches himself.
“Nice to see you, too, dick.” He tosses me a pack of cigarettes, and glances at the other visitors. “Fourteen months left, Frost.”
“Not soon enough.”
I place a cigarette in my mouth to chew on it, gesturing to him to hand over the accounting book from my tattoo shop.
There are a lot of red markings, indicating a loss.
Jess has been keeping the books, building his own clientele, but my absence is hurting the business.
While I glance over it, my anger builds, and I chew the shit out of the cigarette, spitting it out onto the table.
Fuck, fourteen months will tank my shop.
Aside from my house and property, and a couple of small investments, the shop is all I have, which I worked years to establish.
My brothers helped plenty as I built a clientele from the area and neighboring states.
Smokey cuts into my thoughts. “You gotta get laid.”
My eyebrow rises, and I give him a pointed stare. “Will that save my business?”
He waves his hand in the air. “Your business will survive. Trust me on that. Words been out for a long time, and those you’ve helped will be back. What it won’t do is save your dick from falling off.”
Barney comes into the visiting room, waddling over to our table. “Hey, Smokey. I wanted to ask you about smoke jumping.”
Smokey folds his arms over his chest. “Sure.”
“Been thinking about becoming one.”
Smokey gives me an are you kidding me look, and with the back of his hand smacks Barney’s stomach. “Get rid of this and we can talk.”
Barney bobs his head. “Cool. Thanks.”
It’s as if Smokey didn’t just insult him. He turns and we laugh at the dumbass. He’ll be lucky if he retires here. Sooner or later, someone will get sick of his stupidity and shank him.
As I shuffle through the book, Smokey slaps his hand down on it to stop me.
“Frost.” My eyes narrow on him. “The business won’t suffer.
None of us will let that happen.” I scrub a hand over my face, and he steers the conversation away from my store.
“Jasper’s got a new girl working for him at Times Up!
Pretty little thing. She lives above Gears’s garage. ”
He hands me his phone to show me a picture of her.
Pretty ain’t the word I’d use. She’s a fucking smokeshow.
Thin and small tits aren’t my norm, but her face interests me.
It’s a profile picture of her body, dark hair down to mid-back, and she’s facing the camera, smiling.
The spotlight of the overhead lights catches her green eyes. Spring green.
Smokey laughs. “I knew you’d think so, too.” He nudges my arm. “If you get conjugal visits from her, fourteen months will fly by.”
Shit, he knows me too well.
This has me thinking about how to lure her here. Fear is always a good tactic, and my brothers are perfect for the job.
Looking down at the picture, I run my fingertip over her hair. Lips. Yeah, those lips wrapped around my cock will keep me occupied until release day, and this has me smirking. I’ll release down her slim throat while she chokes on my dick.
Barney wanders around the room, looks over my shoulder, and I hand the phone to Smokey before he can see the girl.
“Another picture of one of those hot girls you got, Frost?” I lean back. “Could you maybe set me up with one of them girls? What do you call them? Sweet somethin’?”
“Sweet Butts.” Smokey and I shake our heads, laugh, and I say, “Set me up in a conjugal visit room for the rest of my stay, and you got yourself a Sweet Butt.”
Sweat shines on his fat face, smiling at us like he won the fucking Mega Millions. He probably has a hard-on as we speak.
“I’m on it, Frost.”
Smokey asks, “What kind are you itching for, Barney?”
Always the smooth guy.
Barney’s sausage fingers wipe across his upper lip. “I like blonds, but I’m not picky. I’ll take any of them, Smokey.”
“A blond it is.”
Barney quickly leaves to see what he can do for my conjugal visits, and I ask Smokey, “What’s her name?”
I’d like to punch the smug smile off his face.
The asshole is in my head again. We’ve grown up together in the MC, getting into plenty of trouble and fights.
Fortunately for him, he’s got the smarts, and decided on college.
Something I lack. I’m as dumb as my fucking crack-whore mother, and murderous father.
Ain’t no college gonna let me through its doors.
Since the day I was born, my parents told me I’d amount to nothing.
If it weren’t for my brothers, I might have listened to them.
“Stephanie.”
I blink to clear my thoughts, remembering my question. “Her name is Stephanie?”
“She goes by Stevie.”
“Come by in two weeks to hear my plan.”
Smokey leaves and I return to my cell, repeating her name in my head.
Stevie. I sit down at the small desk in the cell, and take out a piece of paper and a pen to send a note to her.
I’ll get her full name when Smokey returns in two weeks, and I’ll tell him to put it in her mailbox.
My eyes close to the image of her in the picture.
Spring green eyes gazing up at me as I pump my dick in and out of her mouth, reaching the back of her throat, until those greens glisten with tears.
I hurry and write the fucking letter. The fantasy of her in an enclosed room with me causes my dick to weep.
Kicking my cellmate out, I lay on the top bunk, unzip my jumpsuit, and take hold of my cock, imagining I’m guiding it between Stevie’s lips.
My hand pumps my shaft, twisting the head as my pelvis meets my downward stroke.
Fast, chasing my release, which spills over my hand.
I zip up, hop off the bunk, and wipe my hand off on my cellmate’s pillow.