Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I lean back and intently watch Poster Boy’s face.
Poster Boy nods his head and seems to think about what I said.
Then a slow smile creeps across his lips and his blue eyes glitter with amusement as he starts to say, “I’ll send Hammy—”
“Well, shit. If you need a tampon, ma’am, I got one you can have,” Steve cuts in.
What?
I blink in confusion as Steve’s face lights up and he reaches around to his back pocket. Then he whips out an actual tampon and thrusts it at me excitedly. “You can have this one.”
“I don’t want your tampon,” I say, aghast, and recoil as he waves the thing at me.
“Da fuck, man?” Hammy asks, equally as aghast.
Steve’s brow furrows at our reactions and he starts to pull the tampon back as if he’s unsure now. “What? I have seasonal allergies and sometimes my nose bleeds…”
Hammy slaps a hand over his face and shakes his head. “Fuck… man… That’s fucked up.”
Steve frowns, shoves the tampon back in his pocket, and says defensively, “It works, dude.”
Hammy shakes his head again in disbelief.
Poster Boy starts laughing. “You know we’re all going to start calling you Tampon now, right? What a way to earn your road name. Fuck, I can’t believe it. You offered the Pres’s ol’ lady your fucking tampon…”
All the color drains from Steve’s face as Poster Boy’s words sink in. “Nah, that’s not true. You brothers wouldn’t do me like that, would ya? Tell me you won’t let everyone call me Tampon…”
Hammy groans like he’s in pain.
And Poster Boy doubles over, laughing and clutching his stomach while he enthusiastically nods his head. “Yes, yes, we will.”
I roll my eyes in disgust and then feel Levi tug on my hand.
When I glance down at him, he asks, “Mommy, what’s a tampon?”
Lord save me…
Poster Boy bursts into a fresh round of laughter, laughing so hard he has to gasp for air. He even has to slap his hand against the open door to keep from falling over.
And it’s just the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
I shove right past Poster Boy and march out the door with Levi.
“Shit!” Poster Boy curses behind me, his laughter cutting off as I tug Levi toward the minivan.
Rushing as fast as Levi’s little legs can keep up with, I take quick stock of the area. I’m a little surprised that Coy’s house is in the middle of a rather nice neighborhood, but it definitely works to my advantage. We’re surrounded by other houses and neighbors.
Neighbors that probably wouldn’t take too kindly to three bikers harassing an innocent mom and her young child.
Parked at the top of the driveway in front of the garage, the minivan is so close I make it to the driver’s side before Poster Boy finally catches up to me.
“Allie,” he pants like he can’t catch his breath, “you can’t leave.”
Ignoring him, I hit the clicker to unlock the sliding back door then frown when nothing happens.
Did he mess with my car?
Poster Boy slaps his hand against the door. “I’m serious, Allie. You can’t leave. The Pres will fucking kill me.”
I think for a moment then I slap his hand away and shove my key in the lock.
If he messed with my car, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to stop me.
“Allie… please…” Poster Boy pleads as I pull open the sliding door and help Levi into the backseat.
Once I have Levi safely buckled in, I yank the door shut and turn to face Poster Boy. “If you don’t want that bike parked behind me wrecked, I suggest you move it.”
Then I shove him out of my way and open my door.
“Fuck,” Poster Boy groans and takes a stumbling step back, looking genuinely distressed as I slide behind the wheel.
Shutting my door, I don’t bother to do my own seatbelt as I jab my key into the ignition.
Through the windshield, I can see Hammy and Steve pacing in front of the garage, looking just as upset as Poster Boy.
“Move the bike!” I yell at them, giving them one last chance to do it.
Realizing I’m not fucking around, Hammy and Steve start jogging for the back of the van.
Twisting the key in the ignition, I try to start it up, but nothing happens…
The stupid thing only clicks.
What the hell?
I try again, twisting as far as the key will go and even push down on the gas. But again, the van only makes a clicking sound.
My heart drops to my stomach and I glance over to Poster Boy.
His head perks up as he notices my attention and a hopeful expression appears on his face.
Confused, and still believing he didn’t mess with the van, I try one last time to start it up.
And it only clicks…
“What the fuck!” I yell and start pounding on the steering wheel in frustration.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.