BoyScout (The Rebels MC) Page 8

  “Johnny Kane, but no one calls me that anymore, Shaw. No one. What about you? What’s your story?”

  She cleared her throat, fidgeting. “I don’t have one.”

  “Everyone has one, Lips.”

  She looked down shyly and pulled her hand from mine. “Not one I’m ready to tell.”

  “All right. Fair enough.” I did a stomach curl, sitting up, twisted and locked eyes with hers. My hand lifted, gently pulling her sunglasses off her face. She flinched, biting her lip.

  “Your body is banging, Babe, but those eyes, those eyes are apocalyptic, and I have to tell ya, I’ve seen a set just like them before.”

  I had been growing suspicious more and more and needed answers.

  She swallowed and I could tell she was nervous. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah!” I grinned.She shrugged and looked away, giving me a weak smile.

  “Well, lucky him, I guess.”

  I sighed, closing my eyes like she had just confirmed my worst fear, but still needed more proof. “I never said it was a him.”

  She cleared her throat, nabbed her glasses from my fingers and stood, tugging her towel along. I turned just in time as she shook it out, sand blowing in my face. “I gotta go, Scout. Good to see you.”

  “Johnny.”

  She stopped. “What?”

  “You can call me Johnny if you want. I kind like it coming off your lips.”

  She smiled and hightailed it out of there, but not before she heard me holler after her.

  “Hey, Sunshine, you can run again, but eventually like I said, you’ll trip, and I’m going to be there to catch you.”

  “Scout we’re at the table,” Slider bellowed from across the room. It had been a few days since I had seen Shaw and was just finishing up a rebuild. We’d been hired to re-haul it for some showpiece in Vegas. She was a beauty. Fucking gorgeous once I got done with her. It was 1969 Oldsmobile 442. We had done a complete frame-off restoration with complete Rally gauges, clock and tachometer, beautiful stock wheels with red-lined tires, and an 8-cylinder engine, a 4-barrel carburetor with an automatic transmission.

  “Need a minute,” I shouted over the music, taking in the finer details of the interior. The buyer wanted it done in all red leather with double stitching. It was completely pimped out and spectacular.

  When I walked in everyone was already sitting. “She done?” Smokey asked.

  I nodded. “Fucking A, she is. I almost want to keep her for myself.”

  “Good. Hawk has nailed down a forty-k fixer upper, a ’67 Camaro coming in next week. I want you on it.”

  “Absolutely.” I took my seat next to Slider.

  I had started coming here with my brother, Jacob around ten or eleven observing, and learning everything I could under Smokey’s watchful eye, so it was only natural for me to come join them, once I graduated high school and split from home. They took me in no questions asked. A year later they gave me my patch and leather.

  “Also, Kick and Slider, Jimmy called and needs a favor. He has a few vehicles that are gonna need a paint job and new VINS and plates.” Jimmy was an old, old friend from the service who brought us hot cars on occasion so he could resell them for a boatload.

  “All right, where are we from last week and the meeting with Reno?”

  “Good,” Hawk cleared his throat. “They know the deal. We’re not muling their shit from the border. They want the coke; they need to ride and pick it up themselves. We cut ties years ago with that shit. Don’t need trouble knocking on our front door.”

  “All right. And Howie?”

  “Looking for new merchandise as we speak. He’s a picky motherfucker. Thank God.” Hound, lit his cigarette with a smile.

  “How many?”

  “Two more. Dusty got knocked up and split with her man. Shawna is moving to L.A. to do some porn video and thinks it might be her big break or some shit.”

  “Keep on him, Hound. And, Scout, I thought you were still looking?”

  “I am. Not much yet. What about hitting up Triple X and taking one from there?” I suggested even though we rarely tapped from that dump.

  Kick laughed. “No fucking way. Those chicks are all tits on a stick from snorting their earnings.”

  “All right. So,” Smokey looked around and then stopped on me. “What’s with this chick, Lips, I’ve been hearing about?”

  Everyone else looked at me. “What are you looking at me for?”

  Smoke grinned. “Maybe, because I’m being told you’re one wet dream from being thrust back into high school over this broad.”

  “It’s that girl I picked up for you about a month or so back on the boardwalk. The brunette beach bunny.”

  “The one I wanted for Leather? I thought I told you to get her moved over?”

  “Yeah, I know. She wouldn’t have made it through one song, man. I felt bad for her. She’s down on her luck, so I hooked her up with Fi. She’s doing good at the restaurant. I want to leave her there.”

  His eyes flicked from me to Hound. “Hound?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  He nodded.

  “And?”

  He glanced over at me and sighed. “She’s fucking spectacular. If we could get her at Leather and Lace, I’m pretty sure she’d rake in some hard cash bringing in new clients and keeping the old ones coming back for more.”

  “No fucking way, man.” I stood, my chair falling back and crashing to the ground. “She ain’t stripping.”

  Smokey trained his curious eyes on mine. “You got something going on with her?” Not yet. Part of me refused to believe my suspicions, the other felt like I was protecting her for Smokey. I hadn’t confirmed she was his, but with each little visit, I was more and more convinced.

  “No. I’m just looking out for her. She doesn’t have anybody. Besides, she won’t agree to move over.”

  “Not your call, son.” He sighed. “We fire her then blackball her and give door number two, she’ll bite if she needs rent money.” He looked all around. “All right. All in favor of trying to get this Lips moved from the restaurant to L&L.”

  Hawk, Hound and Smokey raised their hands. I glanced over expecting Kick to add his vote, but he sided with me and Slider surprisingly, which meant she was staying put.

  Smokey’s jaw ticked. He was never happy when he lost a vote. “You better get your ass out there and find a replacement that Howie approves of.”

  “On it.” I’d find someone, hell a few this afternoon if need be, especially if it meant Shaw not dancing on a pole.

  Slider and Kick were drinking a beers at the bar by the time I left the room. They both busted out laughing as I grabbed a beer from the fridge. “What’s so fucking funny?”

  “You!”

  “Me?

  “Dude, you should have seen your face when Smokey wanted to take that vote. It was priceless. Pussy over business is not cool, bro, but I heard Hawk and Smoke talking about bringing her up and roped in Kick here to side with us.”

  Kick slammed his beer back. “Speaking of, I haven’t seen you with anyone lately, which means you must jacking off a few times a day to help out with your horny ass needs.”

  “Nah, Kick, your sister slips in my room each night and takes care of that for me.”

  “Fuck you, punk.” He grinned, punching my arm as he passed by me.

  Chapter 9

  SHAW

  After doing a full hour of yoga on the beach and getting ready for work Jordan, the restaurant owner, called me over within one hour of starting my shift. He was an all- right guy, never really around, besides; Fiona managed the place and he seemed to trust her enough to leave her in charge for the most part.

  “Go open your locker,” he ordered me.He inclined his head, confident, like he already knew what was inside.

  “Pardon?”

  “Your locker. Till’s missing three hundred dollars, Shaw, and word is you’re hurting for money,” he said smugly, quirking h
is brow. I stared at him in horror.

  “I would never, I swear, I would never in a million years steal from anyone.”

  “We’ll see now, won’t we?”

  My hands trembled in fear and my heart started pounding, but I lifted my chin, confident. “Okay, yeah, sure.”

  He followed behind me as we entered the employee locker room Fi was already there with three other waitresses, concern written all over her face, except for Carla, she was grinning like the devil. All eyes were glued on me and suddenly and I didn’t know what prompted it, but my gut reeled with suspicion now. My instinct was to run, but I couldn’t. Not this time.

  I looked to Fiona, who had become a dear friend of mine. She nodded. I turned the knob 6-0-2 my old area code to Phoenix with a shaky hand. Before I could reach in, Jordan yanked out my bag and dumped the contents all over the table. Tampons, my favorite MAC lip gloss, my wallet and loose cash, along with a clear tiny bag of some white substance fell out to add to my shock.

  I looked back at Carla. “How could you?”

  She shrugged, grinning like a cat who just ate the canary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Never steal, huh?” He grabbed the money and counted the three hundred dollars out loud, thumbing through each bill, each time looking up to me with disdain.

  My eyes immediately found Fiona’s bewildered gaze. “I swear on my life I didn’t take that. You know me, Fiona. It wasn’t me.”

  “What about the coke? That not yours either?” Jordan hissed.

  I sniffed and turned back to him. “I don’t do drugs.” I returned my focus on Fi since she’d been my one constant, my support system since I had arrived. “Someone set me up. This isn’t me and you know that, Fi. Please, I need this job,” I shrieked.

  Her expression looked pained. “I know, Sugar.” She mouthed the word, “Sorry.” Then went back out front and I couldn’t believe she had just left me there.

  “Get out and get out now. And, Shaw, don’t even think of coming back here to work,” Jordan hissed.

  Refusing to cry in front of him, even though I was about to collapse on the floor with a panic attack, I hastily tossed my things back into the bag and started to leave. “Shaw?” Jordan called out.

  I twisted. He pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from his hand and stuffed it into my bag. “Consider that your last check.”

  As soon as my face felt the warmth of the sun, I let the tears flow. Mentally, I started calculating the money I still had in cash and realize the little shopping spree I had given myself the night prior was all going to have to go back, except my lip gloss seeing I used it already. Unfortunately for me, my mother spoiled me rotten.

  We didn’t have a ton of money, but I babysat all the time and we only rented a small apartment, so we could afford the little luxuries of being a woman. We both loved pedicures and manicures, getting our hair done and we were both very fond of the mall. Typical girl stuff, I knew, but I had missed it, so I splurged and bought some clothes, some much needed undergarments, make-up and my favorite lotion and perfume.

  Rule # 11: You can’t take it with you, so spend it.

  In no time, I was back at my motel room and pacing. I had just over six hundred dollars left to live off and owed three hundred of that for my next week’s rent. I swiped back my hair, wet and stained from my tears, biting and pulling on my lip nervously when my eyes landed on the four bags of new clothes and products and then shifted to the little silver card that read, Leather and Lace.

  I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the one thing that could get me out this mess. “A thousand dollars for twenty minutes—how hard could it be?” I mumbled.

  Chapter 10

  BOYSCOUT

  She was teetering when she opened her motel door. She grinned so damn happily, I almost picked her up and tossed her on the bed and finally had my way with her. “Fiona called and said you two had some fun tonight. She’s worried about you.”

  She hiccuped.

  I grinned. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

  She leaned forward, her hands falling on my chest. “Yes, yes, I am and it feels good.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my mother’s dead, Carla hates me and I’m all alone, and it really, really sucks, Scout.”

  I sighed, not expecting her response to be so forthcoming. And I hated she was in pain enough to resort to alcohol, but I wasn’t one to judge, considering we all did it, even myself. We all get shitfaced here and there to cope when shit gets real. “Fuck, Sunshine, you’re killing me.”

  “You want to come in?”

  “Yeah, I want to come in.” I peered over her shoulder.

  “What’s with the blender?” There was a whitish yellow liquid inside, and all over the table.

  “Piña Coladas,” she hiccuped again. “Fiona stopped by since I’d been down a little today and brought all the stuff to make it, even the ice, and voila.” She held out her hands like she was on one of those game shows, allowing the contestants to view what was at stake, but stumbled.

  “Why the hell did she leave her blender?”

  “She didn’t. Jerry lent it to us, since she forgot hers,” She held her finger to my mouth, like she was shushing me. “I think he likes me,” she whispered, like he could hear her all the way from his office.

  “Jerry, as in front desk guy?”

  “Yeah, he’s sweet.”

  Shaking my head, I moved around her. “Christ.” I had come for two reasons, one to make sure was okay and the second was because alcohol and chicks usually meant verbal diarrhea and I needed her to spill her guts.

  She followed closely behind me, slamming into me when I stopped. “I’m glad you are here.”

  I spun around. “Yeah, why?”

  “Kiss me.” She closed her eyes and puckered her beautiful lips.

  I chuckled at how cute she was. “You want me to kiss you?”

  She opened her eyes and I had to suck in a breath at their beauty. “Yes, I’ve never been kissed by anyone with facial hair and have always wondered what it felt like.” She hiccuped again, her hand covering her mouth like she had been embarrassed.

  “You’re fucking adorable, you know that?”

  “Is that your way of saying you like me?”

  I merely nodded. The problem was, one little kiss and I knew I’d get caught up in the moment and lose it.

  “I like you, too…hold that thought.” She turned to run, but was too late. She puked everywhere.

  I closed my eyes, scrubbing my chin and sighed. “Shit, lift your arms?” My hands found the hem of her shirt.

  “No.” she protested, moving back a step.

  “Why not?” I scowled.

  She looked down. “Cause then I’ll be naked.”

  “You think I don’t know what’s under there? Babe, you’re covered in puke and you smell like shit.”

  She lifted her arms. “Fine. No peeking, though.”

  I chuckled. “Thank you and I’ll do my best.” I lifted it carefully, trying to avoid any more vomit from hitting her or me or the already disgusting carpet, balling it up as I carried it to the bathroom, glancing back at her spectacular all most naked figure.

  “I’ll start you a shower and clean up the mess.” I walked in the small bathroom, leaving her in just her undies paddling after me.

  She brushed her teeth, holding a towel to cover her breasts, as I rinsed out her shirt in the tub, making sure it all went down the drain, then made sure the temperature was good. It took all my strength not to strip down and join her once she let the towel drop and slipped behind the curtain.

  Instead, I grabbed a small rag and scrubbed the floor with her hand cloth and even used some fruity soap she had on the counter, doing my best to get rid of the remnants; however, it still reeked no matter how hard I scrubbed. She was still showering, humming to a song by The Eagles, when I went in to ring out the towel. “Scout?”

  “Yeah? You want something to sleep in?”
>
  She grew quiet. I felt like she had a question, but she remained silent.

  “Sunshine? Where do you keep your shirts?” The water turned off and out she stepped with a towel wrapped around her, and she went straight to the bed and collapsed.

  “You’re going to regret that.” I grabbed her brush from the counter. She was curled up in a ball with soaking wet hair, and her towel shifted enough I could see practically everything. I yanked open a drawer and pulled out a shirt and a pair of panties. I lifted her listless body, put her undies on first and then slipped a beat-up old Foreigner t-shirt over her head, holding her to me. I slowly started to brush her already knotted hair until all of it was done. She moaned, her head flopping forward. I pulled her to my chest.

  She tipped her head back, eyes closed, and mumbled, “Sleep. I need to sleep.”

  I placed the brush down and got her under the covers. She was out like a light. Standing there watching over her for a good ten minutes with a heated debate with myself, I slipped out of my boots and climbed in beside her. I didn’t hold her afraid of what I might do, instead I just listened to her steady breathing, making sure she wouldn’t drown in her own puke if it all came back up again.

  It was four a.m. when I rolled out and headed home, knowing she made it through the worst of it. I had one question I wanted to ask her, but still ended up with no answers.

  Chapter 11

  SHAW

  The place was off the beaten path and down a side street, but from the outside looked like a normal club one would seek out to go dancing. I stared up, unsure, at the white stucco front, which was surrounded by large black beams holding up the overhang. Above that in bright pink was the San Diego skyline, and sketched across the pink in a bright white glittery shade read Leather and Lace blinking like a strobe light every few seconds.

  A short staircase with an iron railing lead to a large black door with a hot pink velvet curtain pushed to the side. And as I walked up the few steps, I noticed a sign encased in glass with an image of their starring showcase, a girl named Scarlett, along with a half-naked photo of her. My fingers skimmed the pane looking at her features. She was beautiful and had a body that screamed sin, so much so I found myself backing away to head home.