Reinventing Mel: A Hellion MC Novel (2 page)

I'd wanted to see if the backside view was as good as the front and didn't get that opportunity until we were in Brand's office.  But found that Mel looked just as fantabulous from any side and was absolutely my perfect fantasy-man come to life.

 Fanning myself, I opened the door to the stock room in order to get his work apparel sorted although I was having trouble keeping my mind focused on what needed to be done. 

I stood in the tidy supply closet and looked over the stock of HC wear available.  He looked to be either an XXL or in the three X range because of his massive guns, those arms that made my head spin in just thinking about them. 

Size-wise, he would fit right in at the construction company which had me wondering if being built big was a requirement in getting hired. 

But that couldn't be true because Trey Jackson's fiancé, Dallas, worked for Silo as a plumber, even led a crew, and wore a girl's medium.  She was the exception, though.  By and large all the men I encountered were at least an extra-large if not in the multiple 'X' range.

I found myself running my palms over one of the t-shirts I'd chosen for him wondering if I could talk him into trying it on before he left.  Or would that be too forward?  I could use the excuse of getting the size right, but even in my mind that seemed a little bit…cheesy.  And he'd seemed a little too reserved for something like that although he might have been just quiet.

Yep, the new hire had really revved my motor since I was a sucker for tall, beefy and green-eyed.  The type I'd never really even got to see back home, much less have the opportunity to talk with.  Although Mel seemed a little on the young side, a little bashful but that might have been because of being at a new job.  His application had said he was twenty-three, just two years younger than me.  But I'd be the first one to tell people not to believe everything on an employment form much less a resume.

Take for instance my own.  About the only thing completely truthful on it had been my name and social security number.  Everything else, while not an out and out fib was, well,
fudged
. 

But just by a little bit. 

Like giving my last address as L.A. and my last employer as Design, Unlimited.  Listing my cousin's address and work-from-home startup company added flair and a diversion to my whole work history.  And changing just one digit in the phone number of my old Albuquerque job was just a little misdirection.

From the way Mr. Bastian had tried looking down my dress during the interview, I hadn't been worried about my little white lies.  And when I'd aced all the tests he'd given me in typing, on the MS Office Suite programs and phone etiquette I knew I had it in the bag.  Although I'd been sure to turn super-professional when he'd asked me out afterward.

Although handsome and built, Bishop (as he'd asked me to call him) was entirely too old for me.

I went back to my desk with my arms piled high with Mel's new gear.  HC seemed to be unstinting when it came to their employees.  I wouldn't have had to pay for my clothes either but when given the choice between 'street' clothes or the unrelenting black and gold of the construction company's colors I'd just had to go with my own. 

Plus designing and sewing my own clothes was a hobby and something I was very good at even if I did say so myself.

"Hellion Construction, Miss Palmer speaking.  How may I help you?  Mr. Gentry?  Yes, sir.  Who may I say is calling?  Can you spell that?  Thank you, sir."  I pushed the buttons on my phone for Dare's office.

"Yeah, beautiful.  What's doing?"  Dare was the one of the funniest men at HC but had one of the filthiest mouths beside the president, Trey.  Not that I was adverse to dirty talk by the right man at the right time, but the managers all swore like they breathed—without thought or censor.

That was one of the drawbacks of the job in my opinion.

"There's a Mr. Simonson on line two asking to speak with you."

"Slam him into my fuckin' voicemail.  Now when are you and I…"

"Thank you, sir.  I'll put Mr. Simonson into your voicemail as requested."  I cut Dare off quickly having learned over the last five days to not allow certain questions to be asked or thoughts voiced.  Sometimes it was like fending off a date who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and yet was determined to get his goodnight kiss.

Going back to line two I explained that Mr. Gentry wasn't available and sent the call to voicemail.  I counted my phone techniques as one of my assets.  True, most people I'd met after speaking with were surprised by my appearance.  Mainly because I knew I sounded like something little, bouncy and very blonde.  None of which I was.  Except for the blonde.  Only mine wasn't in the 'very' category but was on the 'dishwater' side when it was natural.  But natural was no longer my style.  Neither was understated which I knew would've seriously ticked my dad off it he beheld the 'new' me.

Right now it was a gorgeous pink underneath with lighter blonde streaks woven throughout the crown but I could change it to an full head blue tomorrow if I so desired.  I changed my hair color more often than some people changed their flavored coffee order.  I liked having the ability to alter my looks with just a box of hair dye and an couple of hours of my time.

"Yes, Silo?"  At first I'd felt uncomfortable calling all the big managers by their 'street' names but after getting more than an earful when I'd, as Trey had said, 'mistered them to fucking death', I called them by whatever name they wanted to be called.

"I can't fuckin' find the latest reports for the Caldwell job.  The one listing the goddamn expenses to date.  It doesn't look like I was included in the email," Silo rumbled through the intercom.  All the men I supported had deep voices but Silo's was almost as guttural as the tailpipes on his motorcycle.

"The reports are no longer emailed.  All documents can now be found on the shared drive under a folder with your name and a sub-folder by the job name," I explained.  The changes Bishop had given me approval to implement had not been accepted easily by the rest of the management team.  I walked Silo through the steps on how to access the shared drive and after making it to his folder, he seemed surprised.

"Damn, princess.  Pretty slick.  All my fuckin' reports in one place and easily opened by all.  Nice!"

"Aren't you sweet.  Will there be anything else?"

"I know this interesting little Mexican place…"

I quickly pressed the little device I carried on my keychain which I'd recorded with the ring of an incoming call on the main business line.  It was subversive and underhanded but really did the trick.  "I'm sorry, I have to get the other line."

Obviously there was no call but I still needed time to freshen my lipstick before Mel came back to my desk.

I was practically panting to see him again if only to give him the shirts, even as my brain continued to come up with excuses to have him try them on in front of me.  Which, in turn, led to a whole slew of deliciously naughty thoughts a girl shouldn't have in the workplace.

Chapter Two

Sitting in the Cutlass in the driveway of the new-to-them house, Mel watched Derek come down the sidewalk with two other kids that seemed to be about his brother's age.   It was, Mel decided a bad age for a boy.

Fifteen was not yet old enough to be considered for inclusion in the older groups and was still two years short of getting in to see the N-17 movies.  But it was too old to be with the 'little kids'.   At fifteen, a boy's body was still going through its changes and was something he had to re-learn how to use.  The register of his voice, the hair growing in places that made him itch and the new obsession with girls—or more specifically, the delightful
parts
of girls—all seemed to be co-conspirators to keeping a dude off kilter.

Mel remembered what that time had been like but he'd had Tom, his stepdad, to help him get through it.  Tom had been a patient teacher only jumping bad when Mel's attitude had gone too far.

And it was Derek's attitude more than anything else that had Mel at his wit's end. 

"Hey, Derry," Mel called, emptying out the car.  "Come help me with this."

"It's Derek, dick.  And get it your own damn self.  Me and my homies need some grub and chill-time in my room.  No interruptions.  Get it?"

Mel turned his face to the huge trunk of the car in order to not give his smart mouthed brother the smack down he deserved just for breathing.   This kid had taken over his formerly brainiac brother ever since they'd arrived in Missoula.

"Sorry, no visitors.  We've got stuff to do and Jules will be home soon," Mel countered and turned to look at his brother's so called 'friends'.   All three of the punks went for the baggie oversized look and some kind of cupie-doll hairstyle that had the top portion coming to a pointed ridge.  Mel hated it, but figured it was some kind of cosmic payback for when he'd gone through his own cowboy phase during his mid-teens.

"
Derek
will see you tomorrow, boys," Mel announced careful to pronounce his brother's name as requested.

"You are such a dick, Melvin!" the young man yelled over his shoulder as he slammed into the house.  Mel knew that in a year, maybe two, the language would get more raw and the epithets more virulent.  In that, Mel had been ahead of schedule learning how to swear with the zeal of learning a new foreign language when he'd been a year younger than his brother.  Since they'd been in Missoula with their new opportunities, Mel'd been trying to eradicate both the swearing and his East Texas twang.   And hadn't done so bad in his opinion.

Derek's bedroom slammed as Mel set down the groceries before taking his new work clothes to his room.   He knocked on his brother's door.  "Don't get too comfortable.  We're leaving when Jules gets home."

"Screw you!"  Came the answering call.  Mel readjusted his timeline for Der's swearing, changing it to six months.

He had just finished putting the groceries away when he heard the squeak of the front door and his sister's voice call out, "We're home!"  Mel wondered which one of the Hell Honeys was responsible for Julie today since it seemed there was some kind of rotating schedule.  One that Miss Dee had said was almost fought over by the other women citing they hadn't had a young girl around for a long time.  Mel wasn't sure that having his ten-year-old sister being looked after by biker women was the best way to go but he didn't have any other options.

And Julie loved them.  Maybe it was because even two years after the fact, his sister missed their mom since the two of them had been especially close.  Or it could've been the feminine attention that she hadn't had in all the time they'd been held by Deschames.  Whatever it was, his little sister had a whole hive of women that loved to be around her and had her best interests at heart.

"Look what Reesie did for me!"  Jules held both of her hands out, fingers spread and Mel saw the bright purple nail polish on each finger.

"Looks good, Jules.  Hey, Mrs. Jovanovic."

"You need to call me Reese, Mel.  I know Brand probably gave you his 'our last name is too hard for Americans to pronounce' speech."  The pretty, young woman laughed and shook her head hard enough to cause it to move.  Mel thought her hair was cut really strange and wondered why the ends were a bright cherry red.  Maybe that was the style for women here in Missoula, having distinctive hair.  "I wasn't sure if you'd go get your boots before coming home so I'm prepared to stay if you want to make the run by yourself."

"We're good.  Thought I'd take them to dinner at the diner after hitting the shoe store."

Reese took a step towards him as Julie left to put her backpack away.  Lowering her voice she asked, "How's Derek?"

Mel tried to think of a way to answer without swearing.  "Full of himself."

"He's fifteen.  My brothers were holy terrors at fifteen," his boss's wife said.

"Yeah, well.  He's very good at being that age, then."  They exchanged rueful smiles. 

He and Reese shared a history since he'd been one of the guards assigned to her when her family had sold her to Deschames.  But Mel hadn't been able to stomach how the man had him hold her so the old guy could touch.  Soon those touches had turned to pinches and finally to bites which had Reese fighting back and her struggles had delighted the decrepit old man to no end.  It made Mel sick and rather than be a part of it, he'd traded his assignments with the other men sometimes pulling the worst of the jobs in order not to witness it.

Reese had been terrified when she'd first seen him at the HMC-Missoula compound where the Hellion's had held him after a botched attempt to get her back to Deschames.  But when he'd apologized, the young woman had not only accepted it but had hugged him in forgiveness.  An act that had rocked Mel to his core.

The subject of Deschames had never been brought up between them again.

"I'll get out of your hair and let the three of you get on with it," he heard her say, his mind still on the past and what each of them had gone through.  "Need to tell Jules good-bye."

"Thanks for taking care of her today."

"Your sister's a joy and is giving me practice for when Brand and I have our own," Reese called as she went to the door of Julie's bedroom. 

He heard the sounds of the two females as they said farewells and Reese even knocked on Der's door.  "See you later, kid."

"Not if I see you first."  It wasn't the kid's words that were bad, but the damn
tone
he used that had Mel wincing.

Reese gave Mel an eye roll as she waved before letting herself out of the house.

Mel bundled up his little family and went downtown only to discover that a Hellion discount was fifty percent at the shoe store recommended.  Sweet!  He'd been given a salary, even when he'd been in school, but after paying the utilities, car insurance and groceries there wasn't much left over at the end of a week.  Luckily, they were living in the house rent-free until he was pulling regular hours with a crew.

As he drove, Mel and Julie did a recap of their Mexican dinner, comparing it to the Mexican style back in Texas.  Which was when Derek decided to put his foot in it.  "So you can spring for dinner out but you can't buy me a computer or a game console.  God!  You are such a dick!"

"Der, we just can't afford that stuff right…"

"Save it!  It's the same song and dance every time I ask for anything!"  Mel glanced and saw his brother was pouting in the seat next to him like some two year old.  "You won't even get me a handheld game.  God!  It's so unfair!  Jules gets anything her little heart desires but not me.  Not
me
!"

"The Honeys buy me stuff, not Mel and they'd buy you things too but you won't even talk to them, Derek,"  Julies voice sweetly explained.

"They're nothing but biker whores!" Der screamed, his face almost purple with the effort. 

Checking the mirrors, Mel yanked the Cutlass to the curb and threw it into park before grabbing his brother by the back of the neck.  "I'm fuckin' tired of you and that goddamn 'tude you've got goin'!" 

He saw his brother take an indrawn breath as he parted his mouth.  He squeezed the skinny neck and gave the kid a warning shake.

"Shut it, Derek!  Or I'll fuckin' shut it for you."  Mel was so angry, his temper so full he was panting.  "Yeah, they're women and they're part of a motorcycle club but if I ever hear you call them whores again I'll give you an ass whippin'  you won't ever forget!"

He allowed that to sink in before he continued.  "That fuckin' club saved us.  Understand?  We have a nice house, wheels and…"

"But back in Texas…" Derek whined.

"We had shit in Texas!  Nothing!  No place to live, no job after Deschames died and no fuckin' hope.  The Hellions gave us a chance, Der.  Do you know what would've happened to you and Jules if we'd stayed in Texas?  No?  Child services would've gotten involved and placed y'all in homes.  Pro'lly separate ones.  We wouldn't have been able to stick together 'cause I sure as hell couldn't support you.   Get it?  So if I were you, you fuckin' piece of wasted shit, I'd be on my fuckin' knees in thanks to the Honeys and the Hellions for offerin' us a hand!"

He could hear Jules sniffling in the backseat and felt his anger dissipate.  She hated fighting and yelling of any kind and he knew him and Derek getting into it upset her.  Mel sighed and released his grip on his brother.  "I'm doin' the best I can to make a life for us, bro'.  And I need your help, not your complainin' to do it."

Derek ran a hand over his eyes and Mel was shocked at the gesture.  His brother wasn't prone to crying.  Maybe he was finally getting through to the little punk.

"So, you got more you wanna say or can we just get the hell home?"

Mel got a headshake in reply which was good enough for him.

*.*.*.*.*

I'd established a sort of a routine since I'd arrived in Missoula and gotten my job, going straight to the diner for dinner on my way back to my motel room.  I'd chosen the small eatery because of their varied selection of available menu items but even more so for the company. 

I was just about to enter my restaurant of choice when I caught a glimpse of the object of my latest crush across the street.  But when I was ready to call out, I saw an adolescent golden-haired girl grab Mel's arm.  He tilted his face down to her with a smile and shot a glance behind him to the sullen faced, teen-aged boy who trailed behind. 

Huh.  I could only guess that the kids were a part of his family and was surprised by the knowledge.  His W-2 had shown he was single and claiming three but I hadn't given it a thought.  I watched the little group until they turned a corner tucking both the sight and the new info into a corner of my head before turning back to the doors of the diner.

"Lulu!"  I heard called from the various voices of the staff.  At the time of day I chose to eat, customer traffic was thin and being a friendly person I'd gotten to know the different people that worked there.

"Hi, Marty!" I called sitting myself in my favorite booth that faced the large windows and gave a view of the street.  "Hello, Chico.  Hiya, Bob."

I loved that I could now talk to whomever I wanted whenever the urge to chat hit.  Something that been frowned on the whole of my life and gotten me in more trouble than I cared to remember.  As a young girl, my chattiness would earn me a pinch but as I got older, as I'd stuffed the real Lulu away, the only rebuke had been glares or a growled, "behave, Lucille."

It was heaven to be free of the constant criticism and just be myself!

Marty brought me a large glass of water, never forgetting the lemon, as she leaned on my table and whipped out her pad from an apron pocket.  "What'll it be tonight, Lu?"

I'd memorized the menu after the first week so dispensing with the formalities I ordered a Cobb salad and an ice tea.  After running the order to the kitchen, Marty came back to my area to wipe down and refill the different bottles on the empty booths around me.