Needing Me, Wanting You(4)
“Hey there, sugar cakes. You alright?” Melissa shrugs and gives me a sultry smile, not half as hot as it was when Kent was alive. Sometimes I think she only liked fuckin' me so much because she knew Kent would flip the fuck out if he knew. I'm not a forbidden fruit no more. Well, crap, shit and damn it. “You want to dance or somethin'? Go down to the beach?” We're right on the coast, and yet, I haven't touched my feet to the sand. Have barely even looked at the sparkling blue waters.
“I liked St. Marlin's better,” Melissa says, looking around the room like this here bar represents the city as a whole. The dark walls and the ratty posters clinging to life with yellowed edges hardly show off what Korbin has to offer. I've been here before, and I know there is a mean ass taffy shop on the boardwalk. “I liked it the first time. Even better the second time. Why did Bested by Crows have to fuck that shit up?” Melissa doesn't answer my questions, just stands up and throws me a wink before heading towards the doors.
I don't follow after her. She wouldn't want me to anyway. The person she's waiting for is never coming back again. I can imagine how that feels. Actually, I don't even need to imagine it. I've been there, done that. And thank you, ma'am, but I am through with that shit.
I snort and run my hand through my hair. The only women left in this bar are hardened and probably immune to my special brand of charm. Best I take my search elsewhere.
I turn on my heel and push my way through the heavy green door at the front. Sunshine slams into my skin with an angry vengeance, teasing the black ink on my arms, making me squint my eyes as I scan the street around me. This here's another quiet, little Southern town with charm and a questionable affiliation with the motorcycle club, Seventy-seven Brothers. I've been worried about them for awhile now. Kimmi, too. Most MCs ride around with chapters, areas, or countries on their bottom rocker. Seventy-seven Brothers rides around with this little gem plastered on the bottom of their leather: Should the Need Arise. Now what the fuck does that mean?
“Jesus Lord help us all,” I mutter as I pull out a cigarette and light up, smoking and winking at a pair of brunettes moving down the sidewalk opposite me. One of them tosses a light wave my way, but I stay put. I'm sure there'll be plenty more at the beach. I'm going to force myself to try and relax. There are clubs all over the States, so there's no point in running. Running won't do us a damn bit of good. If we keep doing what we do, we'll always be in somebody's territory. But it's worth the risk. Triple M is a home for those who don't fit anywhere else, who are too broken to be regular, and too regular to be broken.
“Thank God!” My lips quirk up into a smile as I take another drag and then drop the cigarette to the cement, scraping it out with my boot. “Beck, please tell me you're free for the afternoon.”
“Shit, sugar. You just can't stand the thought of me gettin' laid when your bed's as dry as the damn desert.” I turn to Kimmi and let my smile morph into a grin. She looks hot as usual, an untouchable bundle of rounded curves and orange hair, diamond earrings and too tight pants. I love this bitch.
She stops on a dime, plants one hand on her hip and glares daggers at me.
“Hey, if you don't want the company, let me know now and I'll get out of your hair.”
I laugh and toss an arm around her neck, drawing her along beside me as we start down the sidewalk towards the beach. I can hear the sound of waves from here, a gentle lapping that belies the turmoil in our own lives. Ah, how I miss the good ol' days. I would have gladly ran weed for Kent forever if it meant we could keep on keepin' on. Oh well. No point in crying over spilled milk.
“You know I would never turn down a chance to scope out your tits, Reynolds,” I tell her as she rolls her eyes and casts her green eyes over to mine. We have the exact same shade to our irises: green with a sliver o' shit. Kimmi and I both know how to bullshit the ladies. We used to have competitions to see who could bang more babes, but I think we've both lost count.
“Keep wishing and wanting, Evans,” Kimmi says, shimmying her shoulders and sending her massive melon tits a swinging. “You will never get a chance to taste these babies.”
“If I don't get a taste, why'd you come running over here? What the hell do you want now? You're not trying to skim any ladies off me, are you?” Kimmi looks around and then turns her gaze up to me, narrowing her eyes with a smile.
“I don't see any women for miles, Beck. They must've gotten a whiff of your crap and taken off running. Actually, I'm here with a very specific question in mind.”
I nod my head knowingly and try to appreciate the architecture around me. Narrow roads, wide sidewalks, buildings older than my grandpa's pa. Korbin's a colorful town, too. I don't see a single building painted gray or brown or beige. There's a brick house with white trim across the street from a yellow convenience store, parking lot complete with palm trees. And over there is our hotel, pale blue with red shudders. It's a pretty little place. I push back my trepidation and keep smiling.