Chapter 15

fifteen

HENDRIX

My stomach grumbled for the Taco Casa I knew was waiting for me as Bellamy and I cut down the dark street toward his ex's house. It had been nearly a month since Tony had asked us to steal a car, and I was horny at the prospect of the grand each of us would take home.I needed that money like a bear needed a shit.

Bellamy stopped just out of reach of the street light, then ducked behind a half-dead bush. "Shit. Nikki's old man's pickup is in the drive. Maybe we should—"

I punched him in the shoulder hard enough he nearly fell into the shrub. "Stop being a puss, Bell." Maybe he could afford not to steal the car. I couldn't. "Tony specifically asked for a Z28, and you know as well as I do that Salami Tits's dad has one parked in the backyard."

Bell peeked around the bush at the house. "He pulled a gun on me once for pissing in the yard, Hendrix. It's my first semester in college. I don't want to want to die."

"You said he has bad aim."

The electronic glow from the television in the front room was the only light on in the place. Everyone in Dayton knew Mr. Wright was a raging drunk. Chances were, he was passed out in his Lazy-Boy recliner.

Checking over my shoulder, I could just make out the shadow of Wolf's truck parked down the street, engine running, headlights off.I gave him the hand signal, letting him know we were going in before I crept through the overgrown grass.

Bellamy huffed, then followed me around the side of the house. "This is stupid as hell."

"Everything we do is stupid as hell."

I climbed over the dead trunk that had flattened half the chain-link fence, then hopped into the yard.

Moonlight reflected off the hood of the bright-red Camaro parked beside a broken swing set.

"I swear to God, Hendrix. He'll recognize us if he sees us. If we get arrested..." Bell glanced at the house behind us, nerves visibly rattled like we hadn't spent the last three years stealing cars—and only one of us had gone to jail for it. Zepp. And he had nothing to do with the car he was arrested for stealing. That was all Monroe James and her redheaded devil self.

"He's too drunk to see straight. No one's getting arrested."

"All right. If I get shot, I'm going to kill you

"Out of the two of us, he'll definitely pick off your ass. You're slower, and, for once, I'm not the one who fucked his daughter."

Grumbling, Bellamy dropped his dad's police bag to the ground with a thud. Within a matter of seconds, the lock was popped.

He went to climb behind the wheel, but I snatched his shirt and yanked him back.

"What the hell are you doing, Hendrix?" He shoved me, but I still managed to place myself between him and the car.

"You're shit at hotwiring. I let you have the last car we stole—thirty-seven days ago—and I could have beat one out on a saltine cracker by the time you finally got it started."

I swept a nest of crumpled napkins out of the way, sank into the driver's seat, then dismantled the steering column, quickly pulling out wires. Sparks lit up the dusty interior. The engine whirred to life, sending the potent stench of mildew wafting from the air-conditioner vents.

"Good," he said. "Now get out."

"Shut your mouth and get in the passenger side."

"You can't drive Hendrix. Your license is suspended."

"Like I give a shit."

"It's safer to ride with a blind drunk than with you."

I snatched the seatbelt and buckled myself in

"Get out." Bellamy kicked his boot against the side of my seat.

The floodlight to Nikki's house cut on, followed by the bang of a screen door. Mr. Wright barreled onto his porch in a pair of tighty-whiteys, a beer can in one hand and a shotgun in the other.

If I were going down in a hail of gunfire, it was going to be over something epic, like robbing a bank of millions while getting a blowjob from Lola. Not stealing a piece-of-shit Camaro from Nikki Salami Tits Wright's yard.

"You sons of bitches!" Nikki's dad shouted from the back porch, aiming his gun.

Bellamy launched himself over the hood, clamoring for the passenger door while I shifted the gear into drive. "Go, Hendrix! Go!" His ass had barely touched the seat before I pressed the accelerator to the floor.

The impressive engine roared to life like a jungle cat, tires spun, and the car skidded across the yard just as the bang of gunfire sounded.

A bullet pinged the back of the car.

I drove full force toward the chain-link fence. He fired again. Literal sparks ignited when the bullet hit the side panel. "Holy fuckballs, man! I thought you said he had bad aim?"

I skirted onto the road, and Wolf peeled off with a screech of tires and smoke lifting in the glow of the taillights.

Another bullet whizzed through the air. I checked the dirty rearview just as Nikki's dad hooked it onto the street with his can of beer and shotgun. He stopped in the middle of the road, taking a sip as he buried the buttstock in his gut and aimed.

I veered off into a yard, plowing through a village of garden gnomes. Colorful shards of pottery flew into the air.

"Seriously, Bell. That's bad aim?"

"Shut up and drive, you dick."

After flattening an inflatable Wal-E-Mart pool, I fishtailed it onto the two-lane highway that ran through Dayton and opened the old car up. What could be better than barrelling down a deserted country road at eleven o'clock at night in a candy-apple red Z28 with a massive decal spelling out "Screamin' Demon" across the windshield?

Aside from having Lola's warm lips wrapped around my cock while I was doing it? Not a damn thing.

Bellamy socked me in the shoulder. "This is why you can't drive."

"Can't drive?" I snorted, then put the car into fourth gear and laid on the accelerator. "Looks like driving to me, cocksucker."

Huffing, he shook his head. "We're going to jail."

"Eventually." Nothing was more certain in Dayton than death and jail time.

Tires squealed when I hooked it around a hairpin turn, and Bellamy, like the little, scared-of-getting-shot-at diva he was, held on to the oh-shit handle.

The car fishtailed just as an entire police department's-worth of flashing red and blue lights appeared in the distance. Right where Tony's garage was.

I let off the gas, watching as Wolf cut into the 7-11 parking lot. "Oh, fuckballs, man. Maybe we are going to jail."

Police were everywhere, and I was in the driver's seat of a stolen car. Jerking the wheel, I took a hard turn into the unlit Catfish Cabin lot and spun the car around with a squeal of tires. I jumped out like the damn thing was seconds away from going up in a ball of fire, then took off.

Bellamy's footsteps pounded the pavement behind me. "You left it running!"

"No shit." I hurtled over a dead bush, then booked it across the highway to the gas station, climbing into Wolf's idling truck.

"Dude…" He leaned over the wheel a little more, staring in the direction of the garage. "I hope to hell Tony wasn't the one who got busted."

"Who else would it be?"

"A police chase? A drug bust? It's Dayton."

And any of those options were a helluva lot better for us. If it was Tony, my skint ass would be down to bare bones.

Bellamy clamored into the extended cab, completely out of breath when he slammed the door. "Damn, Hendrix. You can run."

"Of course, I can. How the hell do you think I got away with jacking shit from Wal-E-Mart for so long? If you can't outrun a security guard on one of those high-powered scooters, orange is going to be your new black."

A fleet of cop cars zoomed past on the highway, sirens blaring as they screeched to a stop in front of Tony's.

Wolf put the truck in drive. "We should probably get out of here…"

My adrenaline was still up when Wolf dropped me at my house. Wouldn't that have been some shit. Me getting put in the slammer for grand theft auto a month before my brother got out for the very same thing?

I went inside and turned on the living room light, stopping halfway past the couch. A fresh hole decorated the wall above the TV, and my cracked game controller lay on the floor. "What the…"

"I got your Taco Casa."

Lola stepped out from the kitchen, holding up a paper Taco Casa bag. With a smile, she kicked the trash can over the threshold, flipped the lid, and dumped the bag inside.

"What the hell?" I grabbed both sides of my head at the pure sacrilege. There was a lot of crap food someone could throw away. Taco Casa was not one of them. "Are you crazy?"

She stared me right in the eye, that insane, batshit, Medusa rage flickering to life. "I ate all your Pop-Tarts, too." She flipped me off. "I hope you starve."

I felt my brow wrinkle, my eye twitch. "Why would you do that?"

"Why would you fuck me the same night you banged Virginia Ford?"

Where in the hell was she coming up with this crap?

"I didn't fuck anyone last night except you!"I took a step toward her, my annoyance at the situation and ruined Taco Casa quickly escalating.

"You didn't even have time to change the damn sheets."

"What are you not listening to?" I used hand signals like an air traffic controller waving down a 747 to emphasize my frustration, punctuating each word when I said, "I didn't fuck anyone last night."

"I saw her hair clip in your room, Hendrix." She took a step into the living room. "She turned up for a repeat this afternoon."

The fact she felt entitled to be pissed over a non-existent encounter she thought I'd had when we weren't even together—after she had cheated on me—was gas to an already lit fire.

I'd told her twice I hadn't slept with the girl, but if she didn't want to listen. If she wanted to let that psycho rage of hers billow, well then, I'd give it enough wind to burn shit down. "Already told you in Brown's office. I don't do repeats." I cocked a grin I knew screamed arrogant smartass.

Her eye twitched before she took a deep breath. "You know what, I don't care where you stick your dick."

Great. Because she didn't need to. And I didn't need to want to stick it in her. "It's none of your business who I fuck!"

Her jaw set as she crossed the living room, stopping to slap her hand against my chest. "Here's your rent. Less twenty-five dollars for the morning-after pill." The money fluttered to the stained carpet when she moved toward the entrance."I'll let you know how much it is when I get tested for STDs," she called before she rounded the corner.

Angry footsteps stomped up the stairs.

I swallowed back the urge I had to scream, then punch the wall. I may have been an asshole, but I wasn't t hat big o f an asshole. If there was a chance I could have had something, I wouldn't have touched her.

There wasn't. I got tested regularly and hadn't touched anyone without a condom but her.

"I don't have anything," I shouted. "I don't fuck girls without condoms."

"Says every shitty guy ever. ‘ You're the only one.' ‘I'm clean.' ‘Just let me go bareback, baby .'"

I rounded the doorframe, stopping at the foot of the stairs just before she reached the top landing. Oh, she was pious. I took the steps two at a time. Anger and jealousy churned a toxic sludge in my veins.

As much of a hypocrite as it made me, I hated the idea that some other guy—or a lot of some other guys—may have had her. "From the way that sounded," I said, whipping around the banister. "I'm the one who needs to get tested."

"Fuck you, Hendrix."

I grabbed her arm just before she made it to her bedroom door.She spun around, and a sharp sting landed on my cheek.I stumbled back a step from the pure shock of it. She had literally, palm on the cheek, slapped me. And my dick loved it. At least until I noticed the repulsed look on her face.

"You disgust me," she said.

Said the girl who had fucked someone else. "Funny because you didn't seem that disgusted when I was sucking my come out of your pussy last night!"

"Only because your dick couldn't last two minutes." She looked me up and down. "You better hold on to that memory of my tight pussy making you come in seconds because you won't be feeling it again."

Then she stormed into her room and slammed the door. I had invited the Medusa in, and this was my reckoning.

The next morning, Bellamy took me to Bullseye so I could get more Pop-Tarts. Because, of course, Lola had declared war, throwing away my precious Taco Casa and evidently eating all of my beloved, chemical-infused pastries. They weren't even off-brand.

When we got back to my house, I hid them underneath the couch.

Bellamy gave me a weird look before grabbing the game controller and turning on the PlayStation. "Did you just stuff those underneath the sofa?"

"Yeah." I snatched my cracked controller from the coffee table, then turned on the TV.

"Why?"

"Storing them in the dark makes them keep longer."

"The pantry is dark. They're Pop-Tarts. They're full of shit that keeps them from going bad."

"That's your opinion."

We started the game.Two minutes in, Bellamy's avatar hit the desert ground.

"How are you so bad at this game?" I asked.

He grumbled something before pressing play again.

I tracked him around the side of a pixilated building. His avatar froze, and I pulled the trigger. "Seriously, asshole, what is—"

"You hypocritical fuck!" he shouted. "You did fuck her in that restroom, didn't you?"

Before I could glance away from the screen, Lola crossed in front of the TV, heading toward the kitchen.

Bellamy's narrowed gaze shifted from her to me. Then he shoved me. "After all the shit you've given me about Drew, and you're banging your own Medusa?" He shook his head. "Now, who's lost their pimp stripes?"

"I'm not fucking him!" Lola called from the kitchen.

Thankfully saving me. I didn't want to lose my pimp stripes. Although, at the current moment, was I plowing into her? No. Give it until tonight, though…

"That's Bullshit. Complete bullshit," Bellamy said, thumbing over at me. "His dick is like a magnet. No way in hell you're staying here and not getting pounded."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Lola move into the doorway, but I ignored her, focusing on beating Bellamy's ass in the game. "I prefer my dick with a little more exclusivity."

Exclusivity… I snorted at that. She was one to say something about being exclusive.

Bellamy's avatar chased me around a bush. "Then why are you here?" he asked her.

I shot him, then glanced across the couch at him. "She's renting the room."

"You're renting the spare room… to your ex-girlfriend." His wide-eyed gaze drifted from the TV to Lola. "Your psychotically jealous, insane-as-hell ex-girlfriend?"

"Did I stutter, cocksucker?"

A lighter whizzed past his face. "I am not psychotic, you asshole."

When pushed, she absolutely was. Like a feral hyena spoonfed a little helping of meth.

"You are both equally psychotic. This is going to be a massive shitshow." He rejoined the game. "You two are going to kill each other. It's going to be like Amber Turd shitting on the bed times one hundred."

Lola took a seat on the arm of the recliner, right in front of the box fan. I tried to focus on the game until she crossed one leg over the other. The movement inched the hem of her shirt a little farther up her thigh. Damn, she had the best legs. And I had a thing for those best legs…

"Ha! Take that, you asshole," Bell shouted.

I glanced back at the screen and found my avatar in a pool of blood.Laughing, he reached underneath the couch and pulled my box of Pop-Tarts out of its hiding spot.

I slapped a hand to my forehead when he unwrapped the foil and took a bite. "Man, why would you do that?"

"What is your deal?"

"Hiding Pop-Tarts from me now, Hendrix?" Taking a slow sip of her coffee, Lola smirked. "You know I love a challenge."

Last night she was raging over me imaginary fucking some other girl, and now she was wanting to play games with my Pop-Tarts just to piss me off.

Whiplash. Medusa-induced whiplash.

"Great, Bell." I whacked him. "Look what you've done now."

"Ate a Pop-Tart. That I paid for?" He set the open box on the coffee table.

"No." I pointed an angry finger across the room at the evil perched on the recliner. "You've let Medusa in on one of my hiding spots."

He shook his head and pushed off the couch. "Can't wait to see what happens when she hears your headboard banging the wall. Do you want white roses or red at your funeral?"

"I don't care who he screws," Lola said. "Same as he doesn't care who I screw. Do you, Hendrix?"

My attention snapped to her with that damn mug and those damn legs. The bones in my neck cracked. I cared. Oh, I cared . "If you like fucking corpses," I said, then bit the inside of my cheek on a laugh I knew bordered on psychotic. But that was what the girl did. She drove me to the edge of madness.

My grip on the controller tightened, my brow lifting as I stared across the room at her. "Because if a guy is stupid enough to come over here and fuck you, that's what he's going to be—a dead, rotting corpse."

"Screw Pop-Tarts." Bellamy cackled, tossing the wrapper on the coffee table. "I need popcorn for this crap."

"Well, what's good for the goose is good for the gander." Lola lifted a brow.

My eye twitched just as the backdoor creaked open, then banged shut. "I'll fucking goose your gander…" Pluck it and stuff it.

Bellamy snorted just as Wolf stepped into the living room from the kitchen. His bloodshot eyes widened when he glanced at Lola in the recliner. "Why is she in my chair?" His attention shot toward me. "Ah, hell. You're fucking her again, aren't you?"

Lola huffed. "I'm renting a room. No fucking. Get over it already."

Wolf slapped a hand to his face and shook his head. "And this is how the world ends."

"You're the biggest pair of drama queens I've ever met," Lola grumbled before pushing to her feet.

She snatched a packet of Pop-Tarts from the box before Bellamy could swipe it. "Too slow," she said like a brat and then lifted the pastry in a makeshift fuck-you toast on her way out of the room.

I took a quick glance at her ass, almost hanging out of that shirt and my aggravation over Pop-Tarts turned into aggravation over my swelling dick.

The guys were right.

This living arrangement would be akin to some kind of apocalypse—possibly just for my balls and dignity. What in the hell had I done to myself?

"Again," Wolf chuckled. "You're one doomed motherfucker."

I turned on the sofa and flipped him off. "Shut up, cocksucker. Nothing on my ass is doomed outside of my finances."

He fell into the recliner with a heavy sigh. " All our finances are doomed. Because Tony's in jail."

When it rained in Dayton, it poured liquid shit.