Page 23 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I refuse to give up Widow’s car; I’m having far too much fun playing with him.
“Back to your place or …?” she starts, and I give her a look. Widow came here tonight for a reason; I need to make certain that he doesn’t get a chance to snatch his car back. My pride would be far too wounded. We’ll use our special hiding place instead.
“I’ll take you there.” Even though Jennifer knows where the lumberyard is, I’m going to guide her, utilizing some careful shortcuts and maneuvers to make certain that nobody follows us.
I look back over to where Bohnes is sitting, but he’s curled over, his hood up, arms crossed tight over his chest. Nobody will dare go near him when he’s sitting like that. I decide to ignore him. So what if everyone knows we’re fucking? What does it matter?
I take off for Widow’s car, climb in, and peel out of the parking lot with my crew behind me.
A. Kelly
I’m always attracted to the one place in the world where I’m not supposed to go. When I was younger, it was my brother’s room that I migrated to. I would slip in when he wasn’t around, sit on his bed, run my palms over his comforter and his silk sheets. I’d wonder why people didn’t flock to me the way they did to him.
Because I’m the better person between the two of us.
Today, it’s a place that my father would kill me for visiting.
I crouch down on a spot of bare earth, teasing my fingers across the wet ground, closing my eyes as I listen to the murmurs of the city all around me. This lot is empty, but only just for now. Soon enough, the foundation will be poured for the condominium that my father’s associate is building.
I won’t be able to come here anymore. Not the way I am now, where I’m the only person in a sea of humanity. I glance to my right, studying the recently condemned apartment building that still has people living in it.
The developer—same guy who owns the plot I’m standing on—gave the residents a thirty-day notice to vacate. Since most of them are low-income and living there on a week-to-week basis, it’s all he has to give.
So, it’s been thirty-one days and half the building is occupied. I wonder how Chet Archer—the CEO of Archer Realty Investments—is going to handle that?
I scoff and stand up, running my hands down the front of my shirt. I didn’t drive down here with the intention of coming to this place, but I ended up here anyway. Just like I always ended up in my brother’s room.
“Stupid,” I breathe, reaching up to pull at a hank of my hair. I yank on it so hard that it hurts, and then I turn and strut back over to my car, pausing for a moment to collect myself. I run my hands down my front, smoothing out any imaginary wrinkles.
I fix my hair.
Then I climb in and make my way over to the club. I don’t even bother finding a parking space. I just leave my car in the middle of the road, in the pouring rain, and I head for the front door.
The bouncer removes the velvet rope for me right away. He does, however, pause to give me a once-over.
“And you are …?” he starts, and I smile. The expression makes the man shiver, despite his superior size. Good. He should be afraid of me.
“Aspen,” I say, my smile very quickly turning into a frown. “Aspen Kelly.”
The man scrabbles like a rat in his pathetic attempt to obey. It’s enough to make me want to kill him. My hands itch with the urge, but I push past it, finding my way into the shadowy recesses of the club.
Almost immediately, I’m surrounded by girls.
“Do you need someone to play with tonight?” one of them asks me, but I’m already reaching down to grab her wrist. My eyes flare with a dark severity that I hope she can read. This isn’t a game. “I don’t want to be bothered by women tonight. Find another dick to ride.” I push through the throng of disappointed girls, well-aware that this move is going to get me in trouble tomorrow.
That is, if my brother finds out that I was here at all. My goal is to make sure that nobody mentions it to him. I make my way through the crowd to find my father seated behind another velvet rope, enjoying expensive bottle service, spoiled by his admiring constituents.
One day, old man, I think, feeling my quiet fury get the better of me. I force my expression into one of carefully practiced disdain.
“Aspen!” he says, waving at me with a single hand. I make my way past the next bouncer who carefully lifts the rope without question. My brother and I only arrived in this god-awful dump of a town two weeks ago and everybody already knows who we are.
