Kit sat at her dressing table for a long time after the show. Per usual, she’d given it her all out there. The crowd had loved it. Each week it seemed more people showed up, new fans made. The bar owner was happy as a clam with the way her show had boosted his business. He wanted to make her a regular, but she’d hesitated from accepting.
Just for a little bit longer. That was her motto in LA. It didn’t seem wise to lock herself down with one gig, even if it was successful. After all, isn’t this where she’d come from? Low level nightclubs, serenading drunken men eager to grow nostalgic over whiskey and wine? She could move beyond this—she would move beyond this. It was her entire game plan.
Now that she was finally getting the hang of life in LA, even if it felt painstakingly slow at times, she didn’t want to settle for just the same old same old of Olympia. No, this was her chance to shine. To push herself. To grow.
But she had to start somewhere. And this night club seemed like a pretty solid first step. But it wouldn’t turn into the only step.
Kit sighed, tiredness licking at her. She hadn’t been drinking much recently, and somewhere between the stress of her move and adapting to life in LA she’d been getting tired. Like really tired. Staying up on gig nights was proving more and more difficult. Adding alcohol to the mix just didn’t seem wise, especially when she was still getting the hang of navigating LA at night.
She smiled wistfully as she caught a glimpse of the new sticker she’d made: Darla and the Devils. When she’d found her band mates on Craigslist, picking the name had been first order. And maybe it was just heartbreak that had made her want the initials DD. But it was pure stupidity that made her put the word Devils in the name. As though the dedication to Bastard couldn’t be more obvious to herself. Thankfully her band mates didn’t suspect anything. It was a lurid secret only for her.
Over a month in LA and she thought about him less, but still way too much for her own good. He was like a stain that just wouldn’t lift. A bastard that just couldn’t go missing in her mind. Four great days and one explosive let down was apparently enough to make her fall in love. And that was just plain disappointing.
One more thing you need to work on out here. She reached for her makeup wipes, ready to start removing the effects of Darla. Stay away from bikers. Stop thinking about Bastard. Get your love life to the next level.
It would all come together in time. She was sure of it. And so was Andi. That was all that mattered.
Kit had managed to wipe off one cheek’s worth of foundation when a knock sounded at her door. She looked at the door through the mirror, brow furrowed. “Who is it?”
“A visitor.”
She frowned. That was unacceptably vague. She never got visitors back here, Gary made sure of it. She pushed to standing, pressing an ear to the door. No sounds from outside, other than the pulse of the bar in the distance.
“What do you want?”
“To see you.”
And there it was—his voice. The voice that she’d been hearing in her dreams and fantasies for five weeks, no matter how hard she tried to forget it. She whipped the door open, mouth parting at Bastard’s boxy frame filling the doorway. Her breath hitched and she backed up a couple steps, unable to decide on an emotion. Relief crowded her, along with anger and sadness. She’d wasted too much time on a man who she barely knew. Wasted too many tears on a guy who couldn’t even be bothered to give her a proper goodbye. Yet she’d craved him, pined for him, nearly every waking moment since he left.
On certain days it felt like insanity. On other days it felt like her was her soul mate. But every day, she told herself to shut the hell up about it and move on.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” The words leapt out of her mouth before she could think better of it. Anger edged her tone. She wanted to throw her arms around him, punch him in the side until he doubled over. And then she’d kiss him so hard his lips hurt for an entire day afterward.
And then maybe she’d be the one to walk away without a goodbye.
“I told you. To see you.” He didn’t move, just gripped the edges of the door frame. His biceps bulged through his thin black shirt, those moss green eyes softening all the hard edges of his biker façade.
“Okay, and? You could have seen me on the stage. You’re seeing me now. Is this enough now? Can I shut the door?”
Bastard’s never ripped his gaze from her. “Don’t need to be so testy.”
“Actually, I do. I don’t really have time for men who don’t have time for me.”
A formidable silence settled between them. She drew quick breaths, her nostrils flared.
“Fair enough.” Bastard leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. He nodded at her dress. “You’ve filled out.”
She scoffed. “You are fucking unbelievable. First, you completely bail on me for no good reason and act like a total dickhead. Then, you show up over a month later just to tell me I’ve gotten fat?” She pointed over his shoulder. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“That’s not what I meant—” he started.
“I don’t care what you meant. You had your chance with me, and you blew it. Bye.” She kept her finger pointed past him, steeling herself against the hurt that flashed across his face.
“You look sexy,” he said, “Jesus Christ. I’m complimenting you. Did you get work done?”
Her eyes rounded. Maybe she’d been out of her right mind during their four-day escapade. No way in hell could she have been attracted to an ass hat like this. He might be showing his true colors now and they were not nearly as dazzling as she’d hoped. “Are you kidding me? What the hell kind of work would I have gotten?”
He jerked his chin toward her chest. “They look great. I mean, they were great before, too, but—”
She let a noise of disbelief. “My boobs? You think these are fake?”
Finally, Bastard looked ready to backpedal. He straightened, holding out his hands. “No, that’s not really what I meant. I mean, everyone gets their tits done out here. If you did, I wouldn’t care.”
“You think your opinion holds any weight with me?”
“Well—” he paused. “No.”
“Exactly. Anything else offensive you’d like to say before I call Gary to remove you? You’ve wasted enough of my time.” Her heart hammered against her ribs. Despite his infuriating opening words, she was desperate to feel him against her.
“No. I think I’ve said all the offensive things possible,” he said, scrubbing at his jaw. “Um, oh wait. Here’s one more.” He paused, staring at the ground. “I miss you.”
She gritted her teeth. Fuck you. Of course he’d throw a wrench in everything like that. Of course. “You’re right. That’s the most offensive one of them all.”
He met her gaze hesitantly. Past the veneer of gritty biker, she saw a vulnerable boy who’d attempted to be real with her. “But it’s true.”
She scoffed. “How can you miss me? You don’t even know me.” The second the words left her mouth, they rang tinny and false between her ears.
“I don’t know.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Just do.”
Kit pouted, feeling a wave of emotion threaten. Fuck this guy. She slammed the door shut before she could think better of it, screaming with satisfaction as she did. She stormed back to the dressing table, collapsing in her seat.
She let her head fall to her hands, drawing deep, ragged breaths to calm herself. What the hell is going on with you? Being pissed was one thing. This outburst was another. Clarity returned to her and she leapt to her feet, tugging the door open again. Bastard was still there in the doorway, looking hesitant.
“Come in.” She tugged his hand, pulling him inside. She shut the door and then shuffled back to her seat in front of the vanity, heart racing. Why was she doing this? She didn’t know, except that Bastard made her do silly things, feel silly ways. He looked around the small dressing room, looking comically out of place in her feminine hideout.
“How did you find me?” Her words fell like axes in the quiet of the room. She met Bastard’s gaze through the mirror.
“Business.” He chewed on the inside of his lip. “The club delivers here.”
She nodded. She should have figured. The owner had made mention of being on good terms with a local biker club. She just hadn’t assumed it would be the Damned Devils, and hadn’t asked out of pure stubbornness.
“You never went back to Olympia,” Bastard said quietly.
“Very observant,” she said with a smirk.
“I’ve been wondering,” he added.
“Well you found me. Not that you were looking.” She fingered the edge of her compact, unsure where to begin. How could there be so many emotions associated with someone she’d shared so little time with? “Why did you even bother saying anything?”
“I told you. I miss you.” He stepped closer and her skin prickled. Not a good sign. If she was supposed to keep up her defenses against this man, to resist whatever supernatural attraction she had for him…he needed to stay away.
“So? Bastards don’t miss their fuck buddies.” She narrowed her eyes, daring him to sass back.
“Well this one does.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Annoyance surged through her again. “Real sweet. So that’s what it is, huh? You just wanted a quick fuck again? A month has probably been too long for you without this pussy, huh?”
His eyes flashed. “It’s not like that.”
“Well it sure seems like it.” She gritted her teeth, popping to her feet as a new surge of confidence bolstered her. “Here, Bastard. Go ahead. I’m all yours.” She gestured to her body. “Maybe you see me as a piece of meat. After all, your first comment was about my fake tits.” She grabbed his hands, bringing them up to her breasts. She placed his big palms over the cups of her bra, mashing them against her. “See? You feel them? Feel how fake they are?”
Bastard visibly wilted. “Jesus, Kit. Stop it.”
She dropped his hands, spinning on her heels. She plopped down in her chair, fighting tears. If this was how the new Kit responded to heartbreak, she barely recognized it. Nothing made sense anymore.
“Well, is that mystery at least solved?” She snatched a makeup wipe from the container, resuming her work from before.
Bastard’s jaw flexed. He came up behind her, his heat sinking into her.
“I’m not here because I’m trying to fuck,” he said. “But you should know you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. In my life.”
She swallowed a knot of tears, thankful for the makeup removal as a convenient distraction. “Well, thanks, I guess.”
“Your tits do feel different though,” he said. “Maybe it’s just been awhile.”
Kit pouted a little as she wiped off her eye makeup. “How would you know? You’ve probably felt so many. I’m surprised you even remember mine. A month is probably like five years in biker time.”
He cocked his head. “You tryin’ to ask me something?”
Her heart hammered inside her. “No.” But she was. She wanted to know if he’d been with anyone else. She certainly hadn’t. Which made some of her – calling them symptoms made it feel way too real – as of late a little more worrying.
He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t normally do shit like this.”
“Like what?” She tossed a used wipe into the garbage can and reached for another.
“Like…show up.” His words came out so hesitant and strange that it seemed like someone else altogether had said them. She looked at him through the mirror, only one eye rimmed with eyeliner. Her face looked lopsided.
“So you’re saying you normally just bail on a girl and that’s it.” She resumed removing makeup from the other eye. “Well I must be pretty special then.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You are.”
His words sunk through the air, like sediment settling at the bottom of the ocean. She listened to the echo of his words so many times she lost track of how much time had gone by. When she finally dared look at him through the mirror, his expression was so raw it nearly prompted another round of tears.
“That’s nice,” was all she could say.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bastard said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I just…I wanted to see you. Say I’m sorry. Probably too much to think you’d want to talk or hang after this, but…”
She straightened her back, tossing another spent wipe. Her mind made weak circles around his comment about her boobs. They’d been so tender recently. And her period was definitely on the verge of starting. Unless it was late by now. She didn’t normally keep track. But if they looked big enough to be fake…
“I think my period is late,” she blurted, zipping up her makeup case.
Bastard blinked a few times, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Okay. Have you…you know…”
“What?”
“You think you might be pregnant?”
Hearing the words from his mouth made apprehension slither through her. She hadn’t even dated to think the words. “I don’t know.”
“Did you take a test?”
She shook her head. “I kept thinking my period would start. But it hasn’t. I’m not sure how late I am. I might be really late, actually.”
Bastard nodded slowly. “Do you want to?”
She deflated a little, looking around at her makeup bags scattered on the vanity. “I mean…I guess. But also…” She drew a long sigh, barely able to wrap her mind around the idea of a positive test result. What then? In the midst of all this change and upheaval…a baby didn’t seem like the best next step. It was partly the reason she’d chosen to trudge onward as though everything was normal. Ignoring the painfully large, swollen evidence attached to her chest.
“You should take one,” Bastard said, his tone softening. “Just so you know.”
She nodded, reaching for her duffel bag. “Okay. Well, I guess I will then.”
An awkward silence settled between them. When she looked up, Bastard’s gaze was fierce on her. “I’ll get it for you. We can go whenever you’re ready.”
“Uh…thanks, I guess. But I don’t need your help. I can—”
“I’d like to help.” His voice was firm, final. “You can come back to the clubhouse. We’ll do it together.”
She could only meet his gaze for a split second before the tears came. She bit back a sob, struck by the tenderness of his offer, the sweetness behind his words, and the very real and very warm sense that she should at least do this one last thing with the potential father of her child.
“Okay then,” was all she could say before she stood, offering her back to him, sweeping her hair off to one side. “Unzip me then and we’ll hit the road.”
Bastard unzipped her dress in one long, reverent hiss of the metal. It crumpled to the ground around her, a glittering pile of sequins, and she slipped quickly into her street clothes. His eyes burned on her, reminding her of the dangerous chemistry between them.
“No peeking at my huge boobs,” she warned jokingly as she tugged her sweatshirt on. “Or else I’ll really kick you out this time.”
“Too late,” he said, picking up her duffel bag once she was packed and ready. “Already caught my fair share when you were out on the stage.”
She bit back a smile, following him out of the dressing room. She locked the door behind her, a strange cocktail of emotions frothing inside. Though she wasn’t eager to take the test, there was something sweet about doing this with Bastard.
Even though he’d been a dick, maybe he could redeem himself after all.
The part of her that was desperate for him had never stopped rooting his name.