Page 29 of Mischief Mayhem
“What?” I asked, the word hissing out of my mouth in a snarl.
She had a shit-eating grin on her face while she dropped popcorn kernels into her mouth. “Nothing.” She shrugged. “Just curious what you and Hollywood had to talk about.”
“A single lady on the porch with an eligible bachelor in this day and age?” I wailed in a dramatic southern accent and pretended to gasp, clutching my proverbial pearls. “What will my dear ole Pa think?”
“Stop.” Selene shook her head and glanced at Alba to make sure she was still out of earshot before continuing. “I’m trying to look out for you. Be careful.”
“What are you talking about?” I’d known Hollywood as long as her, if not longer, and arguably better. When I’d first gotten home from college, we’d been nearly inseparable because of his requirement to babysit me. I knew he fucked around, I knew he was a playboy, and I knew how much he was trying to change that reputation.
“Look, I love Hollywood like a brother, and I think it’s hilarious how much he’s going to have his hands full with you.” She snickered and let out a deep sigh. “But I meant what I said about people thinking Hollywood is trash. Hell, he probably thinks it himself. He’s been shot, what? Three times now?” She whistled and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I know I’m one to talk about early graves, but that one . . . he’ll be lucky to see thirty-five.”
I sat back and ruminated on that. I hadn’t thought about it before, but she was right. Hollywood had agreed to take care of Leo Caputi, even after everyone else swore him off. He had dived in front of a bullet for me, and two other times I knew about. Ru said he was spiraling, that he’d taken Trojan’s death hard, and not that I blamed him, but it made his desperation to be dominated more understandable.
In a world that had suddenly spun out of his control, Hollywood wanted to relinquish that responsibility to someone he trusted, if only to ease the load for a short period of time. Warmth spread through my stomach, increasing the profound happiness that he’d come to me.
No one else in Madison County would treat Hollywood with the tender mix of gentleness and roughness he needed. No one else could understand how dominance and submission could make this fucked-up world seem livable.
I spent the next day thinking about what I wanted to do when I saw Hollywood later that night. I had an idea of what he’d be into based on what he’d whispered in my ear at the clubhouse. All that pondering did not prepare me for the conversation we would actually have or the shivers racing down my torso when I watched him walk into my house and close the door behind him, clicking the lock into place.
Wheels was on a run for the MC, and Hollywood assured my father he was up for babysitting me after spending the day with Leo. But that was a much more innocent way to describe what we would actually do.
I sat at the dining room table with a fuzzy black robe covering my matching leather outfit underneath. I didn’t have to dress up to do a scene, but like an actor on a stage, having the right attire put me in a different mindset. Two glasses of water sat on the table next to the checklist I had for him to complete.
“Hiya, V,” Hollywood said with his classic grin, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he strolled forward. I understood why KC had called him mischief the other night, especially as it shimmered in his eyes while he took the seat opposite me.
“Hi, Hollywood,” I said. “How was your day?”
He shrugged. “I spent my morning with a mass murderer that’s kinda-sorta our enemy.”
“Only kinda-sorta?” I pursed my lips and raised an eyebrow. “I thought any Caputi was an enemy.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too.” The sound of his soft chuckle made me smile. Then, he nodded to the piece of paper in front of him. “What’s that?”
“A checklist.” I pushed it closer to him and drummed my fingernails on the table.
He picked it up and held it to his face so he could squint to see the writing.
Did he need glasses?
I’d have to remember to ask him that after this was over.
“Pegging?” He let out a loud disbelieving whistle. “Damn, V. There’s some wild shit on here.”
“If you think pegging is wild, you haven’t gotten around nearly as much as I thought,” I said with a small chuckle.
He shifted his dark gaze to mine, his features falling a little, just enough to hint at his trepidation. “You’ll really do the stuff on here?”
“I have my own list.” I pointed at the paper in front of me and kept my back straight, trying not to be intimidated by the fact this was Hollywood, a man I’d known since childhood, a person I’d always considered belonging to my brother. “I’d like to see how much our interests align before we go further. As for tonight, you gave me a wish list in the back room at the clubhouse. I have no limits with anything you mentioned.”
He shifted his hips in the seat and ran a finger over his mouth while he considered the list. It had three columns full of activities with a Y M N for each—yes, maybe, or no.
“Do I have to fill it out before we begin?” He raised an eyebrow.
“That depends,” I said. “Did you think about what I asked you?”
Clearing his throat, he kicked his boot across the floor and straightened his spine. “I did.”
I waited, using the silence as my urge for him to continue.