Crazy B!tch (Biker Bitches 5)

Damn, she hated it when men pouted. She was terrible at pandering to a man’s ego.

Tomorrow was her day off; she might as well start searching for a cruise.

They spent the first part of the movie in silence.

“You want a popcorn or a soda?” she offered when Sam never offered to go to the concession stand himself.

“No.”

Crazy Bitch squirmed out of the back seat so the speaker wouldn’t fall, tempted to get back in the driver’s seat and leave. If she wanted to spend her Friday night with an asshole, she could spend it at the club.

The concession stand wasn’t busy. She wished it’d take longer, already planning on leaving as soon as her snacks were gone. There weren’t many cars tonight. Some families had spread blankets out, letting the children play as the movie was projected onto the large screen. Even fewer couples were sitting in the back seat like her and Sam were. She hoped they were having a better time than she was.

She awkwardly maneuvered herself back into the back seat and had just managed to take a couple sips from her drink and a few bites of her popcorn before she saw Sam’s eyes glittering at her in the darkness.

“Mind sharing?”

Crazy Bitch wanted to tell him to fuck off. Instead, she raised the popcorn in offer.

Her date was becoming a pain in the ass. She promised herself that, once it was over, she wouldn’t see him again.

She sat there thinking, not watching the movie. Was it because Calder had come into the shop tonight, highlighting the difference between the two men, that she was now reevaluating her decision to give bikers up? Nah, she was done with bikers. Just because Sam was a wuss didn’t mean that all men who weren’t bikers were.

“Would you mind getting me a drink? This popcorn is making me thirsty.” Sam stared at her.

Crazy Bitch didn’t mind sharing popcorn, but there was no way she was going to be trading spit with him when she had decided to give him the heave-ho.

“Why can’t you go get it yourself?” she snapped.

“Come on; I’m tired. I had to be at work at six this morning.”

He might have been at work, but she could guarantee the jerk hadn’t been standing on his feet all day like she had been. At this point, she just wanted to go home.

Handing him her drink, she sidled out of the car again, berating herself along the way for not asking for the money to pay for it.

Every single fucking time she bragged about something, it bit her on the ass.

Taking out her money from her jean pocket, she paid for Sam’s drink then went back to the car, giving him a harassed expression as she got back in.

The walk to the concession stand had her thirstily taking a sip of the soda she had just bought.

“That one’s mine.” Sam tried to take it from her.

“I’ve already taken a drink out of it; you can have the other one.”

“I haven’t drunk that much out of it. You have a problem drinking after me?”

She narrowed her eyes on him suspiciously. She only had one rule with men: she never left her drink alone, no matter how well she knew them.

“Never mind, you can have them both. I’m not thirsty anymore.” Sam tried to hand her the first soda she had bought.

“You think I got cooties?”

“No! I said I’m not thirsty anymore.” Sam’s tried to explain at her caustic tone.

The fucker was lying.

“Take a drink,” Crazy Bitch ordered, as Sam tried to shrink away when she tried to lift the soda to his lips.

“Fine! What’s your problem?”

She might not be able to get a clear look at his expression, but she could hear the worry in his voice.

She rose up, pressing the button on the overhead light so she could see better.

“What are you doing?” Sam stared at her owlishly at the sudden light.

“Watching you take a drink.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’ll apologize after you take a couple of sips.”

As Sam lifted the drink to his lips, her eyes stayed on the tip of the straw, seeing the jerk had squeezed it closed so no soda could get up it.

“You bastard, you tried to roofie me?” She snapped her hand out, knocking the cup out of his hand. The top came off, spilling soda all over him.

“You’re crazy. Why would I roofie you when any man in town can have you?”

The spineless little weasel was getting brave, knowing he had been caught.

“Cocksucker, there’s one man I haven’t given it to, and that’s you! How many women have you done this to?”

“No one! I wasn’t trying to roofie you. You need to go to a psychiatrist; you’re just as crazy as everyone says you are.”

“Let me show you how fucking crazy I am.” Angry, she punched him in the nose, soda still in hand, splattering both of them. Then, furious that he had tried to roofie her, she started whaling on him in the backseat.