Now, one might ask themselves how a high class woman, like Darla Lovell, ended up with the bad boy biker criminal, Whitey Smith. Sure, the rumors were true. Whitey had a big dick. He oozed confidence. He was powerful and fearless. All of these were quite attractive traits, particularly for a young, rich, law student that wanted to piss her daddy off and walk on the wild side. Whitey kissed her lips, then headed for the door. Before he left, he looked back and said, “You just agree with Big Stu and Beatle. You don’t worry about anything. Stay in here until the police come. Let the guys handle it.” Then he was gone.
Gunshot! Monkey Bone was dead. The story went as follows:
Big Stu: ‘Monkey Bone had seen Darla hanging around the bar. He was obsessed with her. Tonight, he decided he was going to have her, or no one could. He tore off from the bar, and me and Beatle went after him. We were minutes behind him. We walked in, and he had just stabbed the fiancé. When we tried to move toward him, he pulled out the gun and shot himself in the head.”
Darla, honey?” He shook her face a bit, and Darla nodded several times. She couldn’t find her voice to verbally agree, but she did understand.
Beatle: “It’s just like Big Stu said, Monkey was obsessed with Darla. Tonight was the night he was going to hurt her. We had been trying to talk him out of coming over here at the bar, but he didn’t listen. He was drunk and high, and we followed him here. He stabbed the boyfriend and shot himself when he realized what he’d done.
Darla: “Brad and I were having a fight in the apartment. We were arguing. It all happened so fast. The knife was on the counter. Monkey Bone barged into the apartment. He was mad that Brad was yelling at me. He shoved Brad, grabbed the knife, then stabbed Brad, just as Big Stu and Beatle entered the apartment. They saw him do it. Then everything was a blur as he pulled a gun and shot himself.
And that’s why Darla Lovell was forever indebted to Whitey Smith and the Brass Bonds Motorcycle Club. They saved her life that night and poor Monkey Bone was a dead man. Whitey found out that Monkey Bone had been stealing from him, so he was already marked for death. Whitey, ever the opportunist, saw a way to kill two birds with one stone.
***
Now years later, she stood staring down Whitey, who was so cavalier about the shit storm that was coming their way. Surely, Jasper could show up at any moment. They had the meeting with Lorenzo Mauriello, which if it did not go well, could lead to a war with the mob, and the truth was, Darla was just tired of Whitey’s shit. While she was grateful for not going to jail for murdering Brad Vanderwall, she was tired of Whitey owning her body and soul.
Darla wiped away the evidence of Whitey’s satisfaction from her mouth with the back of her hand. She was glaring at him now. They had too much to do and all he was worried about was using her for his pleasure. Typical Whitey. She watched him zip his pants up with a big smile on his face, “Great head, babe. You’re still the best, even after all these years.”
Darla stood up and smoothed her skirt, “Are you prepared to meet with Mauriello tonight?” She combed her fingers through her hair, trying to neaten her appearance post blow job.
Whitey lit up a cigar, feeling quite satisfied. His eyes shifted toward her in a sideways glance while he puffed on it, causing the tip to flare red, “What are you worried about, Darla?” He had a sense that she had something on her mind.
“Nothing, really. Do you have any intention of giving him the deed? I’m sure he won’t be coming alone, Whitey. Lorenzo Mauriello is a specific type of businessman. Fuck him over and we’re all dead.”
Whitey took a long drag and settled himself into the big leather chair. As he pulled the cigar from his mouth, his index finger curled over the top of it, and he puffed big white circles into the air.
“Don’t you worry even one of your pretty blonde hairs about Mauriello. I can manage the meeting. You’re my lawyer and my slut – not my consigliere.” He sarcastically tried to sound like an Italian mob boss.
“Do you even have a deed to this land?” She couldn’t hide the tone in her voice. Not now, after having to suck down his seed and deal with all of the other issues that were going on, such as not knowing where Jasper was or what Lauren had on the video footage. The footage! Darla grabbed her cell phone to check for the link that Lauren was supposed to send.
Whitey was watching Darla with suspicious eyes. What did she care whether or not he had the deed? It was none of her business. His eyes moved on her as she appeared to have suddenly remember something and grabbed her cell phone.
“Looks like our little Lauren came through.” Darla pulled her laptop from her briefcase and loaded it up. After a few clicks, she found the email with the link and clicked it. It took a full five seconds for the video to open, but there it was … a clear shot of Whitey and Big Stu in Lucas Jackson’s office, arguing with him about the deed.
“Whitey, I need that FUCKING deed! I can’t give you this money without it. He’ll kill me!”
“What are you worried about? I got the deed. I’ll bring it over later. Just give me the money now, and I’ll take care of the deed later. I promise.” Whitey offered Lucas a big ‘trust me’ grin.
“No. Whitey, no. I’m not giving you this money. There’s two million in cash in here. I’m not giving it without the deed.”
“Lucas, listen.” Whitey’s voice was calm and collected. He was an imposing man, and with Big Stu standing behind him, there was no way Whitey wasn’t walking out of there with that money. In fact, that’s EXACTLY what he told Lucas, “You can either give me the money, or I can take the money. Which way would work best for you? Either I take it … or you give it. Get it?”
“Fuck!” Lucas shoved the money toward the far side of the desk, and stuffed his fingers in his hair with complete despair and frustration. “Whitey, I’m coming to the bar tomorrow to pick up that deed. Don’t make me or Mauriello come looking for you. Please, Whitey.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Lucas. Don’t worry about the deed. I’ll make sure you get what’s coming to you.” With that, Whitey picked up the suitcase and walked out of the room, with Big Stu right behind him.
“I never did give him the deed, but he definitely got what was coming to him.” Whitey grinned at Darla after stopping the tape.
Darla was fuming. Whitey enjoyed pushing the envelope but lately he was becoming completely reckless. “Whitey, do you understand how damaging this is? If the Sheriff sees this footage, he will absolutely re-open the Lucas Jackson murder and investigate.”
Whitey slammed his hands down on the table, at the same time as lifting his body from the chair. He towered over Darla, and his speed and aggression made her jump in her skin, “Don’t you dare tell me my fucking business! Enough with your mouth already, and this deed. You do what I tell you to do and nothing more. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be doing life for sticking a 9-inch blade in your fiancé’s neck!” He turned around and punched a wall in sheer frustration!
Inhaling sharply, Whitey calmed himself, then walked up to Darla, “Now. I’m going to go over the game plan with MY crew. You keep your ass right here in this room, and you don’t do shit until I call for you. You got it?” He grabbed her face and held it tight while she nodded that she understood. Satisfied she was convinced, he let her face go and headed for the door, “Text Mauriello from Peter’s phone and confirm the meeting. Make sure he knows to be on time.”
Darla watched Whitey go, then went to her bag to retrieve the phone. She pulled it out and stared at it for a long while before scrolling to Mauriello’s phone number. Then she sent the text. After that, she scrolled to another phone number and sent another text.