Page 14 of Guitars and Cages

I just hoped the kid liked the derby. He should; his dad had loved cars, tinkering under the hood, racing them, watching races—if it had an engine then Chase had been in love with it. He had to have passed some of that along to his kid; hell, he’d passed a hell of a lot of it along to me.

I was so focused on the derby that I almost ran Tina down in the hall. She made a big show of pressing herself tight against me, gripping my arms like they were the only things keeping her from falling. She smelled like she’d smoked a pack already, and those muddy eyes of hers looked like they were popping out of her head. She wiggled and twitched, pupils dilated all to hell as she looked at me for a moment and then looked away, trying to see everything at once and failing to focus on anything.High as hell,I thought, disgusted at how sweat-slicked her hair felt as she pressed her head against my arm and slid her fingers up my shirt.

“Not now,” I pleaded, using both hands to move her away.

She swayed and grabbed my belt loops, yanking. I stayed still and she crashed into me, laughing as her hands once again started to roam.

I felt myself get aroused by all that groping and wiggling despite my annoyance. “Dammit, let go!”

Her hand slid into my back pocket. “Come on, Asher,” she pleaded.

I was entertaining thoughts of carrying her back to her apartment and taking her against the door when I felt her try and lift my wallet. I caught her wrist and squeezed until she yelped.

“Knock it off,” I told her with a sigh.

“But we always have so much fun together,” she pointed out, wiggling close again. “You should let me move in with you, then we could have fun together all the time.”

I could feel her nails digging through my T-shirt and I muttered another curse or two at Morgan and how right he’d been. Damn, what the hell was she on? It was like she’d grown a couple extra pairs of arms. Her hands were wandering everywhere, likely looking to try for my wallet again as well as other things. I’d heard the Super yelling at her about her rent last night when I’d come down to get her to watch the kid for me. I was betting she’d spent the rent money and then some on whatever the hell she was flying on today. Now I felt like a bigger ass for having let her keep on watching Rory. Still, it had been a long time since I’d seen her this messed up at the start of a day.

“You ain’t moving in with me,” I told her, gripping her by her forearms and lifting her enough so I could get by. I deposited her in her doorway and backed up a couple steps.

“Come on, Blaze, you know you want me. It’s that kid, isn’t it? He doesn’t like me, so now you don’t want me no more,” she accused, eyes narrowing in anger.

I saw her hands curling to talons, and with those nails I had no doubt it was gonna sting if she lit into me. As it was I was itching to smack the hell outta her. No one but my brothers called me Blaze. The only reason she knew about the nickname was ’cause I’d rambled out a couple of my glory-days stories to her when I was high and told her all about how I’d gotten it.

“I don’t have time for this, Tina. You ain’t moving in, and that’s final,” I snapped, turning to go. My eyes met those of a dude about my age as I almost crashed into him. He was balancing a load of boxes in his arms, trying to get around us to go up the stairs.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying to motion me aside. I didn’t move; I was too busy warring with the twin sensations of anger and unexpected lust. This dude was hot. Maybe I was a little bigger, but he was far, far more ripped, with black hair to the middle of his back, tied into a ponytail to keep it out of the way. I loved long hair, loved to sink my fingers into it, loved to feel it draping across my chest. Absolutely, positively fuckin’ loved it.

“Well, then don’t ask me to watch the brat no more,” Tina yelled, jarring me out of my little fantasy.

I whirled, hands on either side of her, glaring down into her face before I had time to rein my temper in.

“If you ever call my nephew anything other than his name, they’ll be scraping pieces of you up off the sidewalk with the rest of the trash, you little junkie whore.” This time I remembered to catch her hand when she went to claw me. She launched into an embarrassing tirade of expletives before I opened the door to her apartment and shoved her inside. She tripped and sprawled on the carpet, crying and cussing and throwing a fit as I slammed the door.

What the hell had I ever seen in that crazy bitch, anyway?

Oh, yeah, the sex she’d so willingly offered. Funny how free tail makes up for damn near anything.

“Damn,” the dude with the boxes commented, eyes darting from me to the door I’d just slammed.

“Word of advice, man, don’t fuck that stupid skank!” I snarled at him as I shoved past, stomping up the steps the whole way back to my apartment. Damn if his eyes didn’t remind me of the deep blue-green of the ocean off the California shore. I shook my head, knowing better than to let my thoughts continue in that direction. If anyone knew, if they ever suspected... I pictured Kimber in my mind; pictured breasts and compact, curvy bodies, anything to keep those other thoughts from taking root in my head. I’m bisexual, technically, but I’ve only been with guys for money. I don’t dare do it any other way. Not after…well, I wasn’t gonna let my thoughts go there.

By the time I got back upstairs, Rory had done a fairly decent job of cleaning up the mess and I suddenly felt bad, ’cause I didn’t even know if he’d managed to find something to eat before all the drama began.

“Hey kid, ya hungry?”

“Yeah!”

“How’s bacon, eggs, and hash browns sound?”

“From McDonald’s?” he asked hopefully.

“Naw, from the fridge.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

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