T.A. (Biker Bitches 6)

Moving the phone away from her ear, she firmly pressed the End button. Opening the door, she walked back into the front of the salon, seeing that Train and Shade had both left. Crazy Bitch had finished with her customer and was complaining about the weather.

“I told you not to buy those suede boots. They’re already covered in spots, and it’s the first time you wore them.”

Sex Piston peered down at her spotted boots before glaring at Crazy Bitch.

“You’re the one who talked me into getting them, and you’re the one who said I didn’t need the suede protector.”

She glared back. “I was tired of waiting for you to decide whether to get them or not. I told you ten times not to get them, but it only took me one time to tell you to go ahead and get them. If I hadn’t, our asses would still be in the store.” Hearing her footsteps, Crazy Bitch swiveled her chair.

“Who called?” she asked bluntly.

“A telemarketer.” Her phone rang again had Sex Piston’s chair swiveled in the same direction as Crazy Bitch’s.

Aware they we’re watching her intently, she punched the Accept button.

“Hello.”

“Have you calmed down enough that I can tal—” Dalton began.

T.A. ended the call again.

“The fucker won’t shut up. Says if I don’t pay a five-hundred-dollar IRS bill, the police will come and arrest me.”

Crazy Bitch’s face turned red. “Someone called me last week with the same scam. If the fucker calls back, let me talk to him.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before her phone rang again and Crazy Bitch held her hand out for it.

T.A. gripped her phone tighter. “I can handle it.”

Accepting the call, she put the phone back to her ear.

“Hello?” she said politely.

“Will you let me get two words out before you hang up the phone?” Dalton’s voice was no longer amused. Well, neither the fuck was she.

“That’s fourteen.” Pressing the End button, T.A. was regretting telling the small fib when Crazy Bitch looked like she was going to rip the phone from her hand.

“That motherfucker trying to get you to pay fourteen hundred now?”

Sex Piston, to her credit, didn’t appear as convinced of her innocence. “Do you owe fourteen hundred to the IRS?”

Trapped in the fib, she tried to make it more believable. “Of course not. He’s trying to get me to buy gift cards to send him.”

“Shady motherfucker. Next time he calls—”

This time, she swore she wouldn’t answer if he called and was smart enough to know herself that she needed the choice taken out of her hands. Her fingers were still on the button to turn the volume down when she saw the green line scrawling across the bottom of her screen.

“What?!” she snapped, answering the phone.

“Will you go out to dinner with me when I come into town?”

T.A. held out her free hand to keep Crazy Bitch from taking her phone.

“I would love to.”

Accepting the invitation, she pushed the button to end the call while trying to fend off Crazy Bitch.

“Stop! It wasn’t the telemarketer.”

“Who was it?” Sex Piston eyed her suspiciously. “Did you agree to send him pictures of your tits to keep him from having you arrested?”

“Of course not! I’m not that stupid. Just because I got suckered that one time, you’re never going to let me live it down,” T.A. snapped.

“Pfttt.” Sex Piston blew out the long sound of disbelief as Crazy Bitch nodded her head in agreement.

“Make that twice that we know about.” Crazy Bitch held out her hand demandingly for the phone. “Prove it. Let me call the motherfucker back and make sure there isn’t some shady shit going on.”

“No, I’m not a child who needs you watching over me.” Warily, T.A. started backing away when her friends rose from their chairs. Seeing the determination in their eyes, she stopped. The worst thing she could do was show fear when those bitches were about to attack.

“Okay, okay. It was Dalton,” she finally admitted.

“Dalton who?” Sex Piston asked.

“Dalton Andrews. You know, Grace’s father,” she added when they seemed perplexed.

“Bitch, I know who he is. Why would he call you?”

She had only told Killyama that she gave Dax her phone number for him to give his father. “He asked me out on a date.”

Both friends stared at her disbelievingly.

“It’s true.”

They turned to stare at each other. It was Crazy Bitch who spoke first. “She agreed to send another titty picture.”

“I did not. It was Dalton Andrews, and he asked me out on a date.” Turning on her high heels, she strode back behind the counter. Determined to get back to work, she started to lay her phone down, nearly fainting in humiliation when she saw it was still on.

Blanching, she gingerly raised it back to her ear.

Her aghast eyes met Sex Piston’s and Crazy Bitch’s.

“Please tell me you’re not still on the line,” she whispered into her cell phone.