Owned (14 page)

“
Eatin’ my fuckin’ lunch. I got to eat it
all
, this shit don’t stick with me too long,” I said over the top of the bowl.

Every time Doc was allowed to choose where to eat lunch, we ate it at the same place.
My Tho
. Back in the day, it was a Vietnamese billiards hall and soup house. They served soup. That’s it. Soup and bread, take your pick. The people that ran the joint were friends of Doc’s, and were two of the nicest men I had ever met. You could tell by lookin’ in their eyes that they weren’t afraid of creatin’ trouble. They rode in a Vietnamese bike club, and they always acted respectful. It really didn’t matter if we were eatin’ in here, or out ridin’ on the road, these fellas were top-notch.

The place had always been a Vietnamese gang hangout of sorts, until about ten years ago. It wasn’t that the fellas that ran the joint were in a
gang, it was just that the gang bangers ate and shot pool there.

At
that
time, about ten years ago, the Fed’s made a mad sweep through the city, and arrested about thirty Vietnamese gang bangers for runnin’ an Ecstasy ring. They gave ‘em the RICO Act because they was gang members. Average sentence for each of ‘em was about twenty years. One of the disadvantages of being in a gang is that if you ever get caught doing anything contrary to law you get about four times the legal limit on your prison sentence. Motorcycle gangs years back started calling themselves
clubs
. As far as the Fed’s are concerned, it don’t matter what you
call
yourself, you’re a gang.

After the
y made their sweep, the place remodeled, removed the pool tables, and was converted to a restaurant – no pool hall. The new food options were soup and bread.

Some things never change.

“I don’t know if you’re supposed to pick up the bowl and drink from it, Teddy,” Doc laughed.

“What you mean,
supposed to
? I’ll tell you what I ain’t supposed to do. I ain’t supposed to be eatin’ with sticks, I ain’t supposed to be tryin’ to ladle a half gallon of soup out of a bowl with a goofy assed spoon, and I ain’t supposed to be goin’ hungry,” I said as I put my empty bowl on the table.

“There. You ain’t gotta worry about it no more.”

“I don’t believe it’s tradition to pick up your bowl and drink from it,” he said as he poked a wad of noodles in his mouth with his chop sticks.

“Look at me, Doc. You see my eyes?” I said as I leaned onto the table and looked his direction.

“Yes, Teddy. I see them,” he said in a smart-assed tone.

“You know why you see them?” I raised my eyebrows.

He shrugged as he picked up a piece of meat from the soup.

“Because I ain’t
traditional
. I got a news flash for ya, Doc. I ain’t a gook. Ain’t got nothin’ against ‘em, but I ain’t one of ‘em,” I laughed and sat up in my chair.

Doc pushed his bowl to the side and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He squinted like he was thinking, so I let him alone. He put his hand in his chin, rested his elbow on the table, and started.

“Well, we put the purse in your saddle bag at the bar.”

“Yep, I saw ya,” I said.

“And everything we bought on the run,
I bought
. I got her a bottle of water in El Dorado and a hot dog in Augusta. That’s it. So, we never got in the saddle bag, and we never touched the purse. We left our bikes for a few minutes each time we got our cards punched, but there was never really anyone around them,” he squinted and rubbed his chin.

“Doc, someone was with our bikes on the run. Every time we stopped. Think about it,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sat up and rolled his shoulders.

“Pretty much, someone had to do it at the end. At the bar-b-
que,” I rubbed my beard and thought.

“You and baby girl didn’t see anyone around the bikes when you left to get air did ya?” I asked.

“We didn’t go get air. We were behind the dunk tank fucking,” Doc laughed.

“You sum bitches. I’m gonna get her little ass for
lyin’,” I laughed as I sat up in my chair.

“Fifteen pounds.
That little shit,” I laughed again.

“Well, I don’t know. I suppose we should tell The Bone. We owe it to him to be forthright on this deal. He can decide how he wants to handle it. You know, really….well, it’s just a simple theft. It’s
not
a club issue. Someone stole Kelli’s purse from your saddle bag. I don’t know. Yeah, we should just tell Bone out of respect and leave it at that,” he pushed himself from the table.

“We
leavin’?” I put my hands on the edge of the table and started to stand.

“Well, I’m thinking. I’ll tell Kelli, and she can report it - make it official, I suppose. If she wants to that is. I don’t know what she had in there. Could be nothing, could be thousands, knowing her. Yeah, let’s tell Bone. We’ll just ride to his shop and tell him,” Doc stood and straightened his jeans.

“Let’s ride,” I said.

“I got
this
, I’ll meet you outside,” Doc said as he motioned to the cash register.

I looked at the cash register. A “CASH ONLY” sign was hung over the register. Now
that
ought to be criminal.

I walked out to the bikes, sat down on mine and waited for Doc.

“So what’d they say?” I asked as Doc threw his leg over his bike.

“What’s that?” he looked over his shoulder as he stuck his key in the ignition.

“Those gook boys. I know you asked ‘em about me drinkin’ that soup. You either apologized for it or asked if it was
tradition
, one or the other. So What’d they say?” I asked over the rumble of my exhaust.

“It’s respectful. It’s a sign of good soup,” he laughed as he fired up his bike.

Doc might be a lot of things, but if he was nothin’ else, he was predictable.

KELLI.
“I’ll just go file a report tomorrow. I doubt there will be any people there today, it’s Sunday. It’ll let me get away from work for a while,” I shrugged my shoulders and tried to smile.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I know
it’s tough losing stuff like
that
. Someone steals from you and you’ll feel…well, you probably
do
feel violated,” Erik opened his arms to hug me.

“It’s just
stuff
,” I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him.

Smelling him made me wet. He smelled so unique. I hope I never encounter anyone else that wears his cologne. The way Erik smelled, to me, was unique
to Erik
. I didn’t want anyone else to have it. I pressed myself closer to him and buried my face in his shirt.

“You alright?” he chuckled as he looked down.

“Just getting closer to you. I can’t get close enough to you, ever,” I said as I looked up.

I buried my face in his shirt and inhaled.

“What’s today?” Erik breathed into the top of my head.

“Sunday?”
I responded.

I didn’t want to move. I wanted him to either fuck me or shut up. I didn’t want to
talk
. I wanted to hold him or fuck him. One or the other. Sometimes listening to him made my head hurt. Not because he was mean, or stupid, or didn’t make sense…it was because the more he talked, the more I wanted to fuck him. Fucking him was so much better that listening to him.

I wanted to give him what it was that he wanted, but not
too
much. I wanted to provide it, but only when
he
wanted it. How he wanted it. Over time with him I had learned not to talk too much, and spend more time listening. In time, and by making the right choices, I wanted to reassure him that I was the one.

The only one.

“What day of the
month
?” he moved his mouth to my ear. The hot breath made me shiver.

“I don’t know, the fifteenth, I think?” I responded, looking at my watch, “yeah, the fifteenth.”

“Oh shit,” he said as he pushed me away from him.

No, please no. Hold me.

I didn’t want this to end.

I remembered the dunk tank, and how he asked me
what I wanted
. Maybe every now and again he
did
want me to make decisions. Even the boss at work wants a relaxing day from time-to-time. I wish sometimes that I was the one that made the decisions. Maybe for a day. Maybe one day a year. Or two. Kelli gets to make the decisions, and she doesn’t get in trouble or anything - no matter
what
she decides. Nobody gets mad. Nobody yells. And no one argues or fights about what happens, no matter what.
Fuck me, Erik.

Again.

Fuck me, and not outside or in a restaurant.

Hold me.

Tight.

Lay with me, in bed. Don’t get up and ride anywhere. Leave your phone in the car. No, throw it in the fucking trash.

Take off your boots, socks, and that holster off your ankle when you fuck me. I don’t want to see your pants around your ankles when we fuck.

Kiss me. No. I said kiss me. Yeah, like that. Now, don’t you dare stop….
ever.

And. Please.
Above all.

Love me.

Always.

“Kelli?” he blew in my face as he spoke.

“Huh?’ I blinked my eyes.

“Did you hear me?” he asked

“Uhhmm, yeah, you asked me what day of the month it was?” I was daydreaming and not paying attention.

He asked me something else and I wasn’t listening He’s going to be mad and use this against me…

“You didn’t hear me, did you?” he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I was daydreaming,” I held my hands up and smiled.

“Take off your pants,” he pointed to my waist and turned toward the couch.

Thank God.

As he sat on the couch, I kicked my flats across the room and unbuttoned my jeans. Trying to act like I wasn’t excited, I pushed them to my ankles and pulled one leg through them. Using my foot, I picked the jeans up and kicked them to the doorway of the bedroom.

As I stood there naked from the waist down, he sat and smiled. He raised his eyebrows and rotated his wrist like he was winding a toy.

“More?” I asked.

He nodded.

Yaaay!

I unbuttoned my top and slid my arms through. I wadded it up in my hand and tried unsuccessfully to toss it toward the bedroom where my jeans laid. About a third of the distance, it opened like a parachute and fluttered to the floor. He laughed as he watched the shirt fall, and rotated his wrist again.

I pulled my sports bra over my shoulders and around my head. I held it in my finger and twirled it in a circle, smiling.

He held his hand in the air, and curled his index finger back and forth toward his palm. I walked to his feet and stopped, facing him.

“You are fucking gorgeous baby girl. Just fucking gorgeous,” he slowly shook his head and tried to hide a smile.

You can never say that enough.

“Now, undress me,” he pointed to his chest with both hands.

I dropped the bra where I stood and knelt down.

I unlaced his boots, and tried to pull one off.

“Pull hard,” he laughed.

I pulled as hard as I could, and as the boot came off, I almost toppled over. I tossed it beside the jeans, and grabbed the other boot. I opened the laces a little more and pulled it off without as much effort. I tossed it toward the growing pile.

I scrunched my nose and pulled his socks off his feet. I threw them to the pile.

He pointed to his waist and smirked.

I stood, leaned forward, and unbuckled his belt.

“Raise your arms please,” I pointed to his hands.

As he raised his arms I pulled his shirt over his head. I remained bent over, close to his chest, and stared at his tattoos. I squeezed his shirt tight in my hand and pulled it to my face. I inhaled slowly, smelling him. I lowered my arm to my side and smiled.

He raised an eyebrow and didn’t speak.

I straightened my knees, stood, and admired him. He flexed his muscles, making his chest jump up and down.

Who, in their right fucking mind wants a man on a horse with a bouquet of flowers when they can have a tattooed Erik fucking Ead?

“
Uhhmm, stand please,” I said as I stood in front of him with his shirt in my hand.

He stood, placed his hands behind his head, and flexed his biceps. The muscles on his abdomen rippled.

Six-pack my ass, he has an eight-pack.

I dropped the shirt at
his feet. As I knelt down and unbuttoned his jeans, I looked up into his eyes. I pulled the zipper down, hoping he wasn’t wearing any underwear. As the waist of his jeans cleared his bare cock, I smiled.