Page 140 of Devil’s Disciples

She shouldered her purse and gave me a look. “If? I thought you sucked his dick until he went blind?”

“I did.”

“Bikers like blowjobs more than barbeque, beer, or billiards.” She walked past me. “You swallowed, right?”

“Sure did.”

“There’ll be a next time,” she said over her shoulder.

I clutched my purse and followed her down the hallway. “Barbeque, beer, and billiards? Did you learn that on Netflix?”

“No, I’m done with that series. I’ve seen them all, twice. I’m on to reading biker books now.”

“Biker books?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Biker romance novels.”

“There’s biker romance novels?”

“Thousands of them,” she said.

“I’m sure they’re accurate,” I said in a sarcastic tone.

“As long as they keep bringing on dreams like the one I had last night, who cares?”

I followed her to the register without saying another word. I had my doubts that biker romance novels would be accurate, but I had further doubts I’d be able to go the next twenty-four hours without at least taking a look at one.

52

Cash

It had been a week and a half since I’d seen Kimberly. Each passing day had been filled with thoughts of her – but my fear of becoming dependent on a woman prevented me from acting on my desires.

Aggravated that I couldn’t simply get a blowjob without being drawn into the eye of a life altering hurricane, I sat in Baker’s upstairs office at the far side of his desk, drinking a yogurt smoothie.

Amazed at the flavor of the low-cal chocolate beverage, I lifted the plastic bottle and studied it. “Ever try one of these fuckers?” I asked. “I’m thinking they’re going to be my new go-to breakfast. They’re cheap, easy, and taste good as a motherfucker. Might be able to get back down to two hundred if I stick to drinking ‘em for a month or so.”

“I don’t drink anything that uses aspartame as a sweetener. You might get down to two hundred, but you’ll be dead by the time your fifty.”

I studied the ingredients and found aspartame as being one of them. Puzzled as to why they’d use it if it wasn’t healthy, I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes. “Why do you always have to piss on my parade?”

“Aspartame is arguably the most dangerous substance added to foods today,” Tito said from behind me. “It’s been linked to headaches, dizziness, problems with one’s digestive system, Alzheimer’s disease, diabetes, attention deficit disorders, Parkinson disease, and lupus.”

I turned around. “Quit sneaking up behind me, you little midget. I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Baker.”

“I agree with everything he said,” Baker said. “Aspartame is terrible shit.”

Puzzled, I looked at the half-full bottle, and then met Baker’s gaze. “Why would they put it in here?”

“Because if they didn’t, it’d taste like shit,” he responded.

“I don’t believe it causes all those fucking problems,” I said. “They couldn’t sell it if it did.”

Tito sat down beside me and placed his computer on the edge of Baker’s desk. “If you want to be an overweight diabetic who can’t seem to focus and has trouble remembering where your bike is parked, keep drinking them.”

It aggravated me that Tito was as intelligent as he was. There were some things I simply wished I didn’t know. Stumbling through life ignorant of the horrors associated with chocolate yogurt smoothies wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

I glared at Tito for ruining my new breakfast plan. If I had simply met him on the street, I would guess his age at no more than twenty-one. He hadn’t aged since high school, and although he was muscular and had a sleeve of tattoos, he seemed harmless to most who met him.