Page 88 of Rest In Pieces
“Now, why would I wanna do that? Real men can’t compete.”
“You say that now, but I’m sure there are a few biker hotties that would love to pop your cherry, both figuratively and literally.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her, and she snorts.
“Unless he’s the president, I’m going to have to pass. I have standards, you know.”
“Sorry, the president’s taken, and his old lady Sunshine looks like a fucking supermodel. I want to both bask in her glory and shave her head to even the playing field. Though she’s one of those people that you just know would suit being bald, the bitch.”
“She sounds awful.”
“I know, right? Plus, she’s sweet, smart, and pregnant, so she’s got that whole glowing thing going on. It’s disgusting.”
“Oh, my poor little ugly duckling.” She pats me on the back in the most condescending way possible.
I grin, and she smiles back.
“Jokes aside, I’m glad she’s nice. Old ladies hold a lot of sway over the rest of the women. They can either make you feel welcome or completely freeze you out. I’m happy she’s a good one.”
I nod as she puts our food on our plates and hands me mine before sitting across from me. I open the drawer behind me and grab us both forks.
“I’m hoping Legs is around so I can see how she’s doing. We really do need to arrange a night out or something with her, but with my crazy schedule, it’s tough.”
“Invite her to the set. Stefan’s been pretty cool with everyone from the club dropping by, so I doubt having Legs there will bother him.”
“That’s a great idea. I should text Mercy and Jinx to see if they want to come, too. They’re the ones I told you about—the ones I met when G took me out for breakfast.”
“There you go. A girl’s day out that works with your schedule, plus I can keep them busy while you’re filming.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. I’m excited to meet them. I’ve never met real-life biker babes before.”
I throw my head back and laugh at the stars in her eyes. She’s around famous people and doesn’t bat an eyelash, but tell her she’s going to meet some real-life biker chicks, and she gets all starstruck.
By the time G shows up, Nevaeh has already gone to bed. I’ve been trying to watch aFriendsrerun for the last ten minutes, but my eyes keep slipping closed.
The sound of his bike outside pulls me from my light doze. I stand up and stretch before grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. A quick look at the clock shows it’s quarter past eleven. It’s not that late, but it sure feels like it after a long day on my feet, even with the nap I took this afternoon.
I walk out, locking up behind me before heading over to G. He holds out the helmet for me, and when I take it, he tugs me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m so late. Monica’s tires were slashed. I had to take her back to her hotel.”
I tense at the thought of Monica on the back of his bike with her arms wrapped around him. I might not know much about biker rules, but I know putting a woman who isn’t yours on the back of your bike is generally considered a no-no.
As if sensing what I’m thinking, he pulls back and rubs his hands up and down my arms as he looks into my eyes. “I couldn’t leave her there, not with her stalker lurking around. I was just doing my job. I promise, nothing more. The prospect was already at the hotel when I got there, and he’ll watch her tomorrow.”
I swallow and nod, still not happy, but what can I say? He’s right. He couldn’t just leave her there.
I pull the helmet on and flip the visor down so he can’t see my face. Sliding the backpack onto both shoulders, I climb onto the bike behind him and wrap my arms around him. Closing my eyes, I try not to think about Monica doing the same thing. He pauses for a moment, his hand moving to my thigh, and squeezes it before he starts up the bike again.
The ride to the clubhouse is uneventful, though my brain is going a million miles a minute. Did she wear my helmet? Did shefeel like she belonged behind him? Does she want him like I do, or is her interest in him purely based on fear and protection?
Ugh, I hate this. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve walked away, preferring to be the one to call the shots. Being in control is important to me, more so than most people. After my accident, my body was so broken I had no control over anything. Hell, I couldn’t even wipe my own ass.
Giving over some of that control to G has been liberating. I’ve felt lighter because he made it feel like a privilege. But this whole thing with Monica makes me second-guess myself. As comfortable as I am in my own skin, it’s still a road map of all the scars I’ve collected over the years.
Monica has the kind of skin that gets her ads for a fancy skincare line. She’s a famous actress, for fuck’s sake. Next to her, I’m a cheap knockoff. So why would he pick me over her?
My demons ride with me all the way to the clubhouse, only shutting up when the engine turns off, and the silence envelops us. I climb off his bike and pull the helmet from my head before setting it on the seat. I stand there waiting for G to get off, not knowing what to say or do.
He steps toward me, slipping my bag from my shoulders and easing it to the ground. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”