Page 21 of The Biker and the Professor
Trying to appear as relaxed as everyone else, I slouch my shoulders and dip my chin. “Just her neighbor.”
He laughs at me. “Cookie wouldn’t bring someone who’s just a neighbor to the compound. And if you were just fresh club pussy, she wouldn’t have left you with a babysitter.” He leans forward and points the mouth of his bottle at me. “You gotta be someone real special.”
Fresh club pussy? Who talks like that? Is this really Nero’s life? Are these the people he spends his time with? Is this really how he talks, most especially about women, when he’s with them?
Cookie wanted me to come and see what his life is like, and now that I have, I know without a doubt that I want no part of it.
I reply, “We’re all special, aren’t we?”
Scratch chuckles and takes another swig, and I’m just about to take a sip of my own beer when I see him. Nero, sauntering through the throngs, in the glow of the bonfire, with his arm around another girl.
The girl, with jet-black hair and notable features, is clad in jeans and leathers like he is. She laughs at something he says, staring up at him with adoration. She’s young, nineteen at most, and so striking with her gothic-style hair and make-up, her skin so smooth and clear it almost looks fake and doll-like – a kickass doll, or the avatar you would choose in a video game.
It hurts me to admit it, but they lookrighttogether…socially correct.
Watching them together, in this setting, with all these vibrant, raw, energetic people living their best lives, makes me feel old, and…puritanical.
I also feel stupid. So…freaking…stupid.
Standing abruptly, I tell Scratch, “I have to go.”
He stands with me, clasping my forearm to halt me. “Whoa, hang on there, sweetheart. Let’s find Cookie fir—”
“First of all, I am not your freaking sweetheart.” I yank my hand from his grip. “And second, Cookie is not my goddamn keeper.”
Slamming my beer down on the picnic table, I pivot in the opposite direction of Nero and his girlfriend, then I commence speed-walking through the crowd.
“For shit’s sake, woman,” Scratch curses, chasing me. “Hold the hell on!”
I don’t. I keep moving, and he keeps chasing. He sure is loyal to Cookie.
Nearing my escape, I’m almost away from the open area and closer toward the paved landing where the buildings are when I crash hard to someone.
Someone much taller and much larger than I am.
Stumbling back, I mutter a “sorry” and make to go around the person, but when I’m seized by my upper arm, I’m forced to look up.
Well, dammit.It’s Nero.
“What the hell?” he growls down at me.
Desperate for an escape, I twist from his grip and turn to run, only to slam right into Scratch’s chest. The look he gives me echoes Nero’s words.
Swiveling back to Nero, I demand, “Get out of my way.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands right back. “And why’s Scratch chasing you?”
“Just babysitting for Cookie,” Scratch says behind me. “Then she got up and started running away like a madwoman. You know her?”
“Cookiebrought you here?” Nero asks, his displeasure evident. “Why on earth would she do that?”
Right then, his girlfriend jogs up next to him. “What’s going on?”
Jealous and uncomfortable, I attempt to escape again, but I’m blocked by both men. “Out of the way,Nero.”
“Nero?” Scratch says through an amused chuckle. “Oh, brother, youknowher all right.”
“Ahhhhhh, this is her. The owner of the Porsche,” his girlfriend comments, crossing her arms as she sweeps me over with her hard stare. “I can tell by the way she’s dressed.”
