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“I’m not hittin’ it. Your ass would be knocked the fuck out on the ground if I were. I just don’t want to hear you running your trap about them, okay?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, adjusting his shirt and taking a retreating step away from me. “Yeah, got it.”
Turning my attention back to the car, I get to work. Jacob pisses me the hell off pretty much all the damn time, especially when he’s running his mouth about women. But when he mentioned Lexi and her sister, I saw red. See? This is why I should stay the hell away from her. She gets in my head and messes with me. All I want to do is reach out and grab her, holding her close.
Preferably naked.
* * *
My phone rings just as I’m clocking out to head home.
Mom.
“Hey, Mom,” I say in way of greeting as I walk towards my bike. It’s starting to cool off already, the sun starting to drop behind the trees. Even for November, the weather is somewhat mild, which is why I’ll ride my Harley as long as possible.
“Hey, Link. Done with work?” she asks, a screech from one of the boys echoing in the background.
“Just heading out to my bike.”
“I hate that thing. It’s dangerous,” she tells me for the ten thousandth time. No more dangerous than the drinking, drugs, and gambling that got us into the fucked up situation we’re in now. Of course, I’d never say that to my mom.
“So what’s up?” I ask, steering the conversation towards safer ground.
“Uhh, I was called in to work. Someone called off, and you know, I could really use the money.” Mom’s working at the café part time, but has been able to grab extra shifts every now and then. She’s the first one on the list to go full time when a position opens up. In the meantime, she’s cleaning houses while the boys are at school, just to pull in as much extra cash as possible.
“I can run home and grab the car. I’ll be there in fifteen,” I tell her, throwing my leg over the bike.
“You’re off tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “See you in a few.”
She signs off and I clip my phone onto my belt. Without waiting for the Harley to warm up, I throw it in first and take off towards my place.
So much for a nice, relaxing night off. I’m about to be terrorized by two eight-year-old mini-mes with a chocolate milk and chicken nugget addiction.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling my old Blazer into Mom’s driveway and stopping with my ass end sticking into the street so I don’t hit the bikes lying at the end of the drive.
“Knuckleheads,” I grumble as I head towards the front door. Before I raise my hand to knock, the door flies open.
“Link!” Jeff hollers before tearing through the door and jumping into my chest.
“He’s here,” Jack yells, sneaking around the side of the house and throwing himself on my back.
“Tweedledee and Tweedledum!” I exclaim, grabbing a hold and twisting them until one is in each arm. “Ready to go?”
“Yep!” the both exclaim in unison.
“Go pick up your bikes from the drive or Mom will run them over when she leaves,” I tell them, setting them down on the old porch. As I slip into the small, rundown house, I make note to grab some boards and fix the bad ones on the porch as soon as I can.
“Hey,” I holler as I step inside.
There’s minimal furniture, all well-worn and mismatched pieces. The living room has a small television, old floral couch that might have survived the seventies, and an ugly green recliner that smells like sweat and cheese when the temperatures get too hot. The only thing on the wall is an old portrait of the three of us boys, taken seven years ago when the boys were barely a year old.
“Hey,” Mom replies, stepping out in a pair of clean jeans, white tennis shoes, and a standard white polo shirt with the café logo on the front. “Where’d they go?” she asks, looking around the small living room.
“Outside to pick up their bikes. They left them at the end of the drive again.”
“One of these nights, I’m going to run one over.”
