“Sweetness, you have to go on the pill,” he groans into my hair. “I can't take this condom shit much longer.”
I gasp as he thrusts inside me again. My hands skid along the bottom of the wet sink. Grant grabs me around the waist with one strong arm and stabilizes me. Outside the kitchen window I see our neighbor Karen watering the low bushes that line her drive. If she looks over here… Grant reaches around the front and presses against my clit and I stop thinking about who’s watching and what's right and wrong. I grip his wrist in one hand and hang onto the sink edge with the other while he pounds and grunts, plucks and circles until I'm out of my mind. He follows close behind, pulling out at the last minute and spending all over my back.
“I can't say that I mind marking you with my spunk,” he says. He spins me around, out of sight from the window and neighborly Karen and crushes me to his mouth. We tangle like that for a few minutes, getting hot and bothered again. Somehow I find the energy to push him away.
“You better get up to the shop,” I pant.
“Yeah.” He reluctantly hitches up his jeans. “Love you, Chels,” he says as he kisses me goodbye.
I stand there with my pants around my knees for a long while trying to figure out what to do.
At around noon at the Cut-n-Curl, Danilo Peterson, Bang Bang's old lady, comes in for a fill and a request for petty cash.
“Must be good to have your brother back,” she says, settling into the chair opposite me.
I wish I could pretend like I didn’t speak English but Danilo was Korean so that probably wouldn’t work anyway. Not to mention it would be insulting to her.
Danilo comes in regularly so this won’t take long. I put on the mask so I don’t have to talk and I start my drill. She talks as I sand, prime and apply the fill.
“What’s Wrecker like to eat these days? He’s been gone so long I barely remember him. Bet Judge enjoys having both you kids at home.”
I can’t be mad at Danilo. She isn’t saying anything the previous customers haven’t already asked in various incarnations of how’s your brother all morning. I’d started off correcting them and saying Grant was my stepbrother but half of them didn’t know who Grant was given that they were associated with the club and folks are only known by their road names.
The other half seemed to forget or not care that he was my stepbrother and gave me a look like I shouldn’t use those petty distinctions either.
But those distinctions mean a lot to me, not because I don’t love Grant enough but because I love him too much and in the wrong way for him to be a brother to me.
“Heard Sara Ellerby is interested in being his welcome home companion,” Danilo says. My hand jerks and takes off a little skin. “Ouch. Careful there.” She gives me a look of well deserved reprimand.
“Sorry,” I mumble behind the mask.
“Judge must think she’d be a good fit for Wrecker given he brought her over to the granary last week. I think she’s desperate to get into the club given her brother’s constant fuck ups.”
Sean Ellerby, Sara’s twin, enjoyed sticking far too many things up his nose but as much as Sara’s situation is a sad one, I can’t keep hearing about her without my head blowing off.
“You coming to the homecoming party?” I ask, in an attempt to get Danilo off the subject. She and Bang Bang have a rocky relationship. I never know when it’s on or off.
“You inviting me?”
Apparently they are off.
“Sure, but bring your noodle dish. It’s pot luck.”
She laughs, her hand jiggling a bit. “You are so tight with the club’s money, Chelsea. Helen told me she’d been instructed to get food money from the petty cash.”
“There’s no reason to put out money for food. Everyone brings something which means we get good dishes and a lot of variety. I’m making the bacon wrapped weenies.”
“Is that what Wrecker wants?”
“Shit, that boy would eat a cow if it was put in front of him,” says Macy, the manager of the Cut-n-Curl. She doesn’t own the place, the club does. Rumor is that Judge bought it for his first wife—Wrecker’s mom who died of breast cancer when he was four—and that it reverted to the club when she passed. I never ask about Julie because it’s still painful for both of them. “Your brother called, wanted to know if you’d be done soon. Said he tried your cell phone but you weren’t answering.”
“I’ll call him when I’m done,” I say sourly.
Fortunately, Danilo and I spend the rest of our time talking about our favorite potluck dishes instead of Wrecker, the Ellerbys or Bang Bang. When she’s done, I step out the back and call Grant.
“Chelsea, you busy today?”
I wrap my arms around me to quell the shiver. It’s so good being able to pick up the phone and talk to him after all this time.
“Some. Got done doing Danilo’s fill. Apparently she and Bang Bang are off.”
“Yeah, I heard that too.”
That means he saw something at the party because Judge doesn’t like people talking about club activities outside the club and Grant hews pretty close to Judge’s preferences.
“Anyway, we done gossiping about Danilo and Bang Bang?” he says.
“Depends on what you called me about.”
“Dad wants me to run up to Ortonville and see a guy about some old Corvette parts. Thought you might want to come along. We could camp near Big Stone Lake and spend the night. Just the two of us.”
The next shiver I couldn’t suppress. Grant and I away from the club, his dad and the town? We could fuck and sleep and wake up together?
“When you picking me up?”
His low laugh curls around my belly and makes my muscles tighten—all of them. “Let’s meet at the house in an hour and we can take off as soon as we’re packed.”
I do one more set of nails that could not harden fast enough for me and run out of the salon as if it’s on fire.
At home, I grab my backpack and throw in a pair of panties, jeans, knit tank, and my skimpiest swimsuit that happens to be three tiny pieces of white fabric held together by string and gold rings. I bought it at the Mall of America on my sixteenth birthday. Grant wanted to have it burned and Judge wasn’t much of a fan either but it was my money and neither of them dared to tell me to put it back.
I ended up buying another one at Walmart in black—with a little more fabric— to get them to stop whining about it. I kept the white bikini and would wear it with girlfriends from time to time, mostly to rile up Grant more than anything. It’s the perfect item for our getaway.
A few toiletries and my toothbrush round out my overnight kit. I run downstairs and pack a few things for Grant. When I reach the top of the stairs, I hear the throaty growl of Grant’s bike as it roars down the street and up the driveway. I meet him in the garage and throw myself at him almost before he’s off the bike. Instead of pulling me against him though he sets me aside.
“Grouch is coming,” he murmurs, adjusts himself and then moves toward the back where the camping supplies are kept.
Grouch is the club treasurer. He arrives not a minute later. Climbing off his low rider, he holds open his arms. “Where’s my big hug, girl? You only give those out to your brother?”
I scamper forward into his arms and then dance away. “You been gone to prison for three years? I must’ve been sleeping that entire time because I swear we had barbecue at Rowdy’s a few weeks ago.”
My voice is shaky because of my near miss. If Grant hadn’t acted quickly, I’d have been climbing him like a tree and exploring the inside of his mouth with more dedication than a dentist. That would’ve been hard to explain to Grouch.
“Your dad wanted me to pick up the books for the Cut-n-Curl.”
“Sure. They’re inside on the kitchen table.” I follow Grouch in. “Is something wrong? Macy wouldn’t take money from the club.”
“Nothing’s wrong, darling,” Grouch says and pinches my chin like I’m a child. “Just reconcili
ng everything. We need to make sure our tax estimates are on track. Don’t want the IRS after us. They brought down Capone.”
“Right.” I don’t believe him. Grouch knows those books inside and out. If they aren’t worried about Macy then they’re using her books to move some cash around which is one of those things I’m better off not knowing anything about.
Outside Grant is lashing down the tent to the top of the handlebars.
“What’s with the tent?” Grouch asks.
Grant straightens. “We’re going to camp at Big Stone Lake tonight. Dad wants me to pick up a couple Corvette parts.”
Grouch frowns and shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like a solid plan to me. Thought you said you were taking your sister with you.”
“I am.” Grant picks up the sleeping bag—the one sleeping bag—looks at me and then at Grouch. My heart is thumping loud and I press a hand over it fearing that they could hear it. Grant tosses the bag aside and makes a big production of going back to get a second sleeping bag. He unrolls it and then re-rolls the first bag inside. He fits everything on the back and waves a hand at the setup. “Everything fits.”