3. Zepp

THREE

zepp

Our house was a constant revolving door of people. Most buying, some selling. And girls... Friday night meant the bass pumping through the speakers was heavier than usual.

Hendrix dropped to the couch beside me, cracking open a beer. "Slut alert." He cackled into his Miller Lite before Leah Anderson, one of the rich girls from Barrington, slipped onto the couch, then onto me.

Knees straddled my hips while her arms came around my neck. "Hey, Zepp." She tucked blond hair behind her ear, shoving her tits closer to my face while I stared through her. She was a cheerleader who possessed a level of depth equivalent to a puddle of dog piss. But she was nice to look at, plus, it gave the pricks at Barrington a rise when their girls came over to the trash side of town to be tainted by the bad boys.

"Hey, Zepp?" Wolf's voice rose over the crowd in my living room. He pushed through a few girls blocking his way. "Got something for you."

Monroe was right behind him, her cleavage on full display.

I glanced over her ripped fishnets and tight leather skirt, imagining her on her knees. "Decided to take me up on my offer?

"In your dreams. We need to talk."

I shoved Leah out of my lap, telling her to go up to my room. She hesitated and glanced at Monroe with a well-practiced, prissy-bitch, condescending glare. "He has much better offers than you," she said, then stood up, and, for a second, I thought Monroe was going to punch her.

"Well, you look like you suck dick like a champ. So yeah."

People walked between us, laughing on their way into the kitchen. By the time they had moved on, Leah had left, and now it was just Monroe and me.

"Let me guess." I swiped a cigarette from the table and lit it. "You want the car?"

There was a pause, one where she looked completely put out to be here. "I need it."

"We've already been over this."

The girl had shown up to have the same conversation we'd had earlier in the hallway. Unless she was getting on her knees and pulling out my dick, I wasn't giving her shit.

"I'm not sucking your dick. You don't want money." Monroe folded her arms over her chest on a sharp exhale. "So, what do you want?" Relentless and desperate enough to offer herself up like a fishnet-clad sacrificial lamb, which meant endless possibilities for me. "I'll swap it," she said. "For a more valuable one."

I didn't need her help to steal cars. Between my boys and me, we had that covered. And a hot girl like Monroe could do a lot more for me than lift vehicles.

"I don't want a more valuable one. But…" I took a puff from my cigarette, staring at her long enough that I caught her swallow. "I would take three months of your unfailing service."

"Service?" Her eyes narrowed. "Again, I'm not screwing you."

"I'm not talking about sex. Think of it as a personal assistant."

The bump of speakers filled the silence, the hum of conversation. Monroe's nostrils flared. I could almost see her weighing her options, and I couldn't help but wonder why the hell she wanted that piece of shit car so bad. I dropped my cigarette into a beer can, then shrugged. "Don't want it bad enough? No problem."

On a groan, Monroe dropped her arms from her chest. "I need the car now," she said. "I can't wait—"

"You can have it tonight."

That snapped her mouth shut. A slight furrow appeared in her brow. Making a deal with me—especially one this vague—Monroe had no way to know what kind of shit she may end up involved in. "If I agree to this… it needs to stay quiet."

"So it's a deal then?"

"Fine." The hint of a smile pulled at her lips. "Where's the car?"

If I had to guess, she thought she'd get the car and bail on this deal, and I couldn't blame her. Nothing held her to it—except me.

I rose from the couch, towering over her as I forced her back a few feet. "And don't be stupid. You know what I'm capable of." I twisted a tendril of her red hair around my finger and tugged it. "Don't you, Roe ?"

Her jaw ticced, hate radiating from her like stink off shit before I turned away. I was already through the front door when her angry footfalls chased me down the steps. "Where's the car, Zepp?"

"Oh. That car? I sold it," I threw over my shoulder.

"What! I'm not doing shit for you without it."

"Shut up with your whining already. I'm taking you to get it." I had sold the thing the day we stole it. But even if that car sat parked in my backyard, I would have sold it before I "gave" it to Monroe. No way in hell I would take a cut off my earnings.

Thirty minutes later, she had the car. And I had her—for three months.