Chapter Four

Linkin

I park my bike behind the shop with a smile on my face. Honestly, I had no clue Lexi worked at the hair place uptown, but I’m damn glad she does. I’m pretty sure I’ll never go to another barber or beautician as long as I live. Not now that I know what it feels like to have Lexi’s hands in my hair.

Holy shit, that was fucking hot.

I was already sportin’ a chubby just by being near her, but when she started massaging my head? And when she groaned? And then her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure? Mother of God, I swear I almost blew my load in my pants. I’ve never been so turned on during a haircut in my life. And that includes the time I was sixteen and the young new girl washed my hair and dragged her tits across my face.

Lexi just does it for me.

Even though I can tell she’s trouble, I can’t stay away. I want more time with her. The sound of her voice, the way she smells, the softness of her skin, I want to discover everything I haven’t even had the chance to wonder about yet. And I’m doing a shit-ton of wondering. Ever since running into her douche ex and then her in the hallway last Sunday, I’ve been wanting to know more about the fiery little brunette with the sexiest green eyes. No, I don’t want to know.

I need to know.

“Damn, look at you, pretty boy. Someone got a snazzy new haircut,” Jacob, the garage prick, says behind me. I’m gathering up my tools, gearing up to rebuild the Chevy big block 454 motor that’s going into the Nova on the lift. It’s a sweet-ass car that I wouldn’t mind owning, if I were actually able to buy it.

Jacob runs his mouth for a bit more, but I tune him out. He’s a year younger than me, a whopping twenty-five years of age, but you’d think he’s got decades on me. I’ve been working in a garage since I was old enough to hold wrenches, but this ass thinks he’s better than me because he’s been here longer. Even Ernie, the shop owner, knows the kid’s full of shit, and that’s why he’s still doing basic jobs like oil changes and tire alignments. He doesn’t get his hands on the big blocks and the tight front ends that the bad boys want.

Not like me.

“Did you see Ella while you were there?”

“What?” I ask, turning around and facing him.

“Ella. She’s hot. Just turned twenty-one. I think she wants me,” Jacob smirks while making lewd gestures with his hands.

“I wasn’t introduced to them, man. I was just there for a cut.”

“Who’d ya get?”

For some reason, I don’t want to tell him. If I knew any of the other two stylists that were there, I’d happily give him another name. There’s something about this guy that just rubs me the wrong way. Unfortunately, the only name I have (besides Ella) is the one I fantasize about. “Lexi.”

“Alexis? Damn, that bitch is fine too. I wish I grew hair faster; I’d get it cut every week. Show both of them a good time with ol’ Jacob.”

“Don’t call her that.” My ears burn red as I try to keep my temper in check.

“What?”

“Lexi. Don’t call her a bitch.”

“Sorry, man. What? You doin’ her? I heard she left the stiff she was married to. She’s probably looking to bang every cock in town. Bitches on a tight leash always go buck wild when the shackles are gone, man. Heard she was a wild one in school.”

Just the thought of Lexi with other men makes my blood pressure elevate. It’s embarrassing the impact she has on me. Hell, even just the thought or mention of her gets me all worked up.

“Whatever you say, man,” I say before turning and grabbing my impact driver.

“No, seriously. When we were in school, she dated all the bad boys. Not like her sister. She was quiet and read a lot. Great ass, though. Not my type, but I’d still tap it.”

“You might not want to let her boyfriend hear you say that,” I quip, positioning myself at the open hood of the Nova.

“Levi? Yeah, I heard they were together. He’s a lucky son of a bitch. That ass, man. Mmmmmm,” he draws out, my fist itching to connect with his jaw. “I’d like to bite it. But seriously, you tapping Lexi? She’s probably dynamite in bed, dude. You hit it, you gotta tell me, ‘kay? Maybe I’ll go up there and get a cut too. I bet she’d love to blow my mind right about now,” he adds, adjusting his crotch and flexing his hips.

I’m spinning around and pinning him to the side of the Nova before he even knows what’s happening. My forearm has his shirt and neck pinned and my legs have his caged in. “What the hell, dude!”

“Listen to me, you little prick. Quit talking about Lexi and her sister like they’re a piece of fucking meat. Show a little respect.” I lean my weight into his body to show him that I’m not messing around.

“Sorry, dude. Didn’t mean no disrespect. I didn’t realize you were hittin’ it, ‘kay?” he says. “Jeez, you don’t have to be so touchy.”

“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.”

“Probably,” I confirm. “They’re not as well behaved and mild mannered as I was at their age,” I quip, holding back my smile.

Mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You would have been jumping your bike off the front steps and riding with no hands in the street.”

That makes me laugh, mostly because I had done both on numerous occasions.

“Their bags are packed and book bags ready. Do you want me to come over in the morning and get them for school?” she asks, collecting her purse and apron.

“Nope. I can take them before I head to the shop.”

Her matching brown eyes are tired, showing just enough of the exhaustion I’m sure she feels. Long hours and raising twin boys alone, unfortunately, makes Mom look older than her forty-four years. I’m sure she survives on less sleep than I do, and even less food. She’d lost too much weight while we were in Westville, dealing with the aftermath of the boys’ father leaving. Now that we’ve all started new, she’s put a few pounds back on and eats a decent meal on nights she works at the café. The boys will always have enough to eat and will never know the lengths Mom goes, to keep them warm and healthy. I, on the other hand, have been old enough to see it for years.

And it fucking kills me.

“Well, their book bags are by the door with their overnight bags. They did their homework when they got home from school, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Okay,” I tell her, gathering up their bags and heading out the front door.

The boys are already in my car, Jeff pretending to drive, while Jack hangs out the passenger window, Dukes of Hazzard style. They talk to each other on the Ninja Turtle walkie-talkies I got them for Christmas last year. Well, Santa gave them. It’s one of the handful of gifts that I threw under the tree on Christmas morning so that the boys wouldn’t feel the disappointment of not having much to open on the one holiday that’s supposed to bring unlimited joy and happiness to a child’s life.

Shaking my head, I turn around and give Mom a big hug. “Make sure you eat a big meal on break and catch up on some sleep,” I tell her in my best son-knows-best voice.

“I will,” she replies with a smile and tears in her eyes. Reaching forward, she runs her hand along my jaw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I choke on the ball of emotion that lodged itself in the middle of my throat. She’s said this before – hell, tons of times – and every time it gets the same result. “You’d be just fine without me. You’re the strongest woman I know,” I tell her kissing her forehead.

“Don’t let them watch The Hangover again. Last time I had to explain what a hooker was,” she chastises with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine,” I reply with a hearty laugh. “Buckle up, knuckleheads. We’ve got a full night of shenanigans and debauchery to partake in,” I say just loud enough so Mom can hear.

“Yay!” they both holler in unison, diving into the back seat and sitting in their booster seats. They hate them, but I won’t let them ride in the old truck without them.

“Let’s go!” Jeff yells, pointing down the road.

“To de-batteryyyyyyyy,” Jack adds, big, dirty smiles swept across both of their faces.