“Carry on,” I edge her. Her eyes falter for a second before she brings them back. “If you hurt her, I don’t care how big you are. A .50 will cut right through all that bulky muscle.” She eyes my body up and down.
Jesus, this bitch is crazy.
“Yeah, I don’t plan on hurting her, you can retract your claws, feisty one.” I chuckle at her attempts of stepping on me. Nodding her head, she turns on her step and walks back behind the counter.
Pacing back to the table, I nudge my head toward the glass doors as we all make our way out. “Jesus Christ, that bitch is crazy.” I shake my head, walking to my bike.
“What happened?” Hella asks overly interested.
“Just saying she owns a fucking Desert Eagle and that if I hurt Meadow, the .50 would slice right through all my muscle. She said all that with a little psycho smirk on her face. There’s definitely more to that feisty little blonde than meets the eye,” I answer, placing my helmet on.
Hella swings his leg over his bike with a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He glances back to the bakery. “Consider me intrigued.”
Shaking my head, I kick start my bike to life, and pull the address out of my pocket. “I’m going to head over to Meadow. I’ll meet you back at the compound.”
The fucker needs to learn to leave his dick in his pants.
Pulling up to Meadow’s work, I switch off my bike and get off. The place is huge. One large white building built exactly like a motel. There’s a little sign that sits in a garden at the front of the complex that reads New Home in cursive writing. The gardens are well kept, and colorful and the building tidy with a fresh lick of paint. Removing my gloves, I push them into the back of my pant’s pockets and make my way to the front area that reads Reception. Pushing open the doors, a little bell rings ahead of me and I walk to the counter where a young girl, maybe around eighteen is sitting, searching through a stack of papers.
Her head snaps up at my opening the door, as she straightens her shoulders. “Hi! I’m Cassandra, how can I help you?” She’s wearing a tight bun on the top of her head and a whole lot of make-up.
“Yeah, I’m looking for Meadow?” I answer, scanning her up and down.
A deep blush sprawls across her face. “Um, yeah, sure. But can I ask who’s wanting her? I have to for safety reasons.”
“Beast,” I answer, reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone.
“Okkaay… I’ll be back in a sec.” She dashes out the back while I open up the text message from Hella.
Hella - What’s that girl’s name again?
Me - Who are you talking about?
Hella - The girl from the bakery.
Me - For fuck’s sake, it’s been 15 minutes and you’ve already forgotten?
Hella - Yeah, quick.
Me - Why quick?
Hella - Because I think Travis here has a little stiffy for her. I want first dibs.
Rolling my eyes, I send him back a text.
Me - Melissa. And good luck, the girl will probably shoot you before she fucks you. Both of you.
Pushing my phone back into my pocket, Meadow walks out, her hair up in a high ponytail, her cheeks flushed red contrasting off her milky skin. “Hey!” she smiles, surprised but not bothered.
“Hey, can you leave early? Zane’s getting everyone on lock down,” I answer, running my eyes up and down her body while trying not to be obvious. But damn… the girl is fine. She’s in nothing but white skinny jeans, a dark tank top, and Chuck Taylors. I’m sure the more and more I see her, the more I see her through different eyes. She could be in old rundown clothes and still be more appealing to me than one hundred ho’s on their knees.
“Um…” she glances down to her watch before looking up to me, “I guess. It’s a little quiet in there at the moment, and we’ve employed another girl. I’ll just get my things. Do you want to come with?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Come in there? Won’t I scare them?”
She laughs. “No, Beast. They’ll probably find it cool that you ride a motorcycle. Come on.” She gestures to the door, my feet following her before I can stop them.
Walking down the hallway, it’s all smooth white walls that smell of flowers and bleach—figures. Clean and sweet—chicks definitely run this joint. She pushes open a door that opens out to one large room equipped with foosball tables, activity tables, and televisions. There are bean bags spread out evenly and the walls are painted in white, blue, and purple.
There are about seven young kids all playing with something different, the eldest can’t be older than fourteen.
“Hey guys, I want you to meet someone.” Meadow turns her head to me and I smile at her. Why the fuck am I doing this shit? I don’t give a shit about these little shits.