Crash (Evil Dead MC 2)
“Yes, how?”
“Simple. I just don’t. I’m never here, and if I am, I listen to music and do metalwork or work on bikes,” he replied calmly, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter.
“So, what am I supposed to do all day?” she demanded, folding her arms, mimicking him.
“I don’t know. Hmm, what do maids do all day? Oh, that’s right, clean-up, laundry, dishes.” The corner of his mouth pulled up.
“I’m not your maid,” she insisted.
“Yeah, babe, you are. You agreed to this arrangement.”
“Not by choice,” she grumbled.
“Shannon, would it kill you to do something in exchange for a place to stay and someone to watch out for you? Something other than throwing money around? I know that’s a difficult concept for you to grasp, but try for once in your life to act like the rest of the population. Some good old fashioned hard work isn’t going to kill you.”
Turning her head away, she huffed out a breath, and then grudgingly admitted softly, “I don’t know how to do any of those things.”
Crash unfolded his arms and pushed away from the counter. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, his thumb moved over the keypad.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a panic, her arms coming uncrossed.
“Seeing if your fairy godmothers can help,” he replied, not looking up at her.
“Don’t you dare!”
He glanced up at her just before he pushed send. “Why not?”
“I don’t want them knowing I’m such a complete idiot that I can’t even make a bed,” she exclaimed.
“But you can’t.”
“But they don’t have to know about it!”
He shoved his phone back in his pocket in frustration. “Fine, Princess. Figure it out on your own, then. Maybe you can Google it.” Turning to the other two, he asked, “You ready to roll?”
They both nodded, giving Shannon a sympathetic look.
“I want these dishes done before I get back,” Crash ordered, turning back to her.
Shannon’s hands landed on her hips, and she glared at him. “Fine. Where’s the dishwasher?”
“I ain’t got one.” He snapped back, and then chuckled. “Like you’d know how to use it anyway.” He slammed a bottle of dish soap on the counter and tossed her a dish towel. “Figure it out, babe. I’m late.”
After the men headed downstairs to their bikes, Shane said to Crash, “Damn, bro. You were kind of hard on her. Especially after last night.”
“Gotta work the bitch out of her,” was the only response he would give him.
*****
About forty minutes later, Wolf pulled up outside Crash’s place. He pulled his phone out and dialed Crash’s cell number.
“Yeah,” Crash answered.
“It’s Wolf. Open up the Batcave.”
“Ain’t there, bro. Just pulled up at the clubhouse.”
“Christ, Cole made me ride all the way out here with a ‘lick ‘n stick’ seat for your girl.”