Changing Lanes (Devil's Knights 2nd Generation Book 4), page 9
Pie stood and shook his head. “You believe this?” he asked Frost.
Frost shrugged. “You know, my dad once said you can’t fix stupid. I’m starting to believe that he was right.”
I snorted and popped another fry into my mouth. I had heard all of this before. People weren’t nice to fat people. Same toxic words spewed at me, just delivered by some other person who thought they were better than me because of the way I looked.
Pie wagged his finger at Frost. “You know, I have heard Demon say that before.”
“Demon?” the girl piped up. “Is that his road name? Do you guys have road names?”
This girl was so clueless and dumb.
Pie smiled. “We sure do. Frost here got his name because he’s ice-cold to any woman that isn’t his ol’ lady.”
The girl glanced at Frost, and I saw her interest in him die. “Too bad.”
Frost shrugged. “I’m pretty damn happy about it.”
The girl huffed and turned back to Pie. “So what is your road name?”
“Pie,” he stated simply.
She tipped her head to the side. “Why do they call you Pie? You like to eat pie a lot?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Pie pointed at me. “Only her pie.”
I choked on my fry and sputtered. “What?” I wheezed.
“Why don’t you get out of here and try not to be so ugly and nasty?” Pie spat. “A pretty package means nothing, sweetheart, when you’re ugly as shit on the inside.”
The girl fell back into the car and yelled for her friend to drive. The four girls in the car shouted at each other, and I think I heard one of them yell that she didn’t want to leave until she got her ice cream.
My kind of girl. She knew the importance of Mr. Speed’s ice cream.
The car cranked up and shifted into reverse. Their tires squealed when they pulled out of the parking lot and into the road.
“Now that was fun,” Frost laughed. “I’m gonna have to tell Indy the new reason why my name is Frost.”
Pie shrugged. “I was shooting from the hip on that one.”
“Yeah, you were.” Frost nodded to me. “You okay?”
I shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
Pie growled. “Bullshit like that is something you should never have to hear once, let alone again and again.”
“I am what I am, and that makes people mad.” I grabbed another fry and popped it into my mouth. “They have a problem with it; I don’t.”
Frost tipped his head to the side. “If people are nasty to you just because of the way you look, honey, then they aren’t anyone to know.”
I reached up and bumped fists with Frost. “Amen to that. My circle is teeny tiny, but it’s a good one.”
Frost’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “That’s probably Indiana. I told her we were stopping at Mr. Speed’s.” He put the phone to his ear and smiled as he listened. “Yeah, baby. Just tell me what you want.”
He wandered back over to his bike and hit the button to call the waitress.
Pie leaned his arm on the top of my car and popped another fry into his mouth. “You sure you’re okay?”
I grabbed my spoon, mounded it with a scoop of ice cream, and shoved it in my mouth. I was hardly okay. It was one thing to be made fun of because of your weight, but it was another to have it done in front of two hot guys. One of those guys who had seen you naked numerous times and knew with his own eyes you were pleasantly fat.
“Never better.” I was only on day one of no Pie, and he was standing in front of me. Day one was not going well.
“I don’t believe you.”
I shrugged. “Well, whatever.” I cleared my throat and grabbed another fry. I swiped it through my ice cream and popped it into my mouth. “Did you follow me here?” I might as well get to it. I didn’t know how Pie could have followed me, but I had learned with the Knights, anything was possible.
“We were driving by, and we saw you. We flipped a U-turn and came back to talk to you.”
“About?” I drawled. I didn’t know what I had to talk about with Pie and Frost.
“We need a cook.”
I furrowed my brow. “Uh, what?” I had zero idea what Pie was talking about. “You have Meg. She’s an amazing cook. I don’t know what you need a cook for.” I leaned forward. “Did something happen to Meg?” I gasped.
Pie shook his head. “No, no. Nothing happened to Meg. We need a cook for Sultry Knights.”
“I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but I don’t think Sultry Knights can afford to pay me what I make at Wyndemere.”
Pie chuckled. “I know that, babe. I’m not here to ask you to come work for the club. What I’m asking is if you know anyone looking for a job. Any of your chef friends?”
I tipped my head to the side. “Uh, well, if I had chef friends, I would give you their names, but I don’t. Remember that teeny tiny circle of friends I have?”
“Come on,” Pie goaded. “You have to have a couple of friends from culinary school who need a job. The club is opening for three days a week, and we’re going to be doing themes for the meals.”
“Themes?” I asked. My interest was piqued.
Right before my eyes, Pie blushed. A light pink crawled up his cheeks. He looked to the side and blew out a breath. “Do I really need to answer that?” he asked.
I shrugged. “If you want me to ask one of my imaginary friends if they want to work at the club, then you’re going to have to give me more details.” Theme nights at the strip club made Pie blush? The girls took their clothes off for money. What else was going to happen that could make his cheeks turn girlishly pink?
“Tacos, pasta, and burgers.”
I cocked my head to the side. “There has to be more to it than that. Tacos, pasta, and burgers made you blush like a little school girl?” I jested.
Pie sighed. “Tacos and Titties, Boobs and Burgers, and…” He cleared his throat. “Pasta and Pussy.”
I snorted and slapped my hand over my mouth. “Please tell me you are getting those printed up on huge banners to put out at the front of the strip club,” I wheezed. “Those are brilliant.”
Pie shrugged. “I did come up with pasta and pussy.”
“Really? I figured you would have come up with pie and pussy.”
Pie scoffed. “You know…” He clamped his lips shut. “I’m surprised I didn’t come up with it either,” he laughed.
I ate a spoonful of ice cream. “Pasta is good, though. Sort of leaves things open to where you can do different sauces and stuff.”
“So, you know of someone who would be interested?”
I shook my head. “I told you I don’t have any chef friends.”
“What?” Pie growled. “I told you the themes because you said I had to so you could tell your chef friends what the job was.”
I shrugged. “I said imaginary friends, and I really just wanted to know what themes a bunch of bikers came up with.” I popped a fry into my mouth. “You guys did not disappoint.”
Pie sighed. “Then I guess I’m going to have to put an ad out and see who I can get to come cook for the club.”
“You’re not going to find a good chef to work only three days a week. That’s a part-time job at best. Maybe you could hit up the culinary program and see if there is anyone interested,” I suggested.
“They’re in school. Are they going to know enough to create and cook?” he asked.
More than likely not. “Well, probably not, but I could help with the recipe part. I could make up the recipes, and then whoever you find at the college would be able to cook them.”
“You’d do that?”
I grabbed a napkin from the glovebox and wiped my hands. “It would take me a day. Maybe two. I should come in and look at the kitchen at Sultry Knights to make sure I create the recipes that are able to be made there.” I loved creating recipes. Sure, anyone could make a basic burger or taco, but there was so much you could do with them. Things that could take them from basic to absolutely mouthwatering.
“You’re serious right now?”
I laughed and balled up the napkin. “Yes. I would actually love to do it. It would be fun. Pasta and pussy sounds like the most fun.”
“Yo,” Frost called. “I’m gonna get this shit for Indiana, and then I’m gonna head back to the club. You good here?”
Pie stood and talked to Frost. I was again staring at Pie’s waist.
“I’m good here. Bristol has agreed to help with getting the club’s kitchen going for the theme nights.”
Frost laughed. “With Bristol helping with Tacos and Titties, the club is going to be the most popular place in town.”
A waitress rolled over with two large cups and a bag.
“How are you going to get that back to the clubhouse?” I called.
Frost handed the waitress a twenty and told her to keep the change. He grabbed the bag and two cups from her and smiled. “Bag in the saddlebag, and these two ride with me.” Frost crouched down and stuck the bag in the saddlebag and then hoisted his leg over the motorcycle. He stuck the two cups between his legs and cranked up the bike. “Good thing it’s a short ride home. My balls are going to be ice by the time I get there.”
Frost took off with a wave to Pie and me.
“Is that really safe to drive with two cups between your legs?” I asked.
Pie shrugged. “I mean, probably not, but Frost can handle it.”
I looked at my melting sundae. “Well, I better get going if I don’t want this to turn into soup.”
“Headed back to Wyndemere?” he asked.
I nodded. “That’s where I’ll be as long as Marco and Royal are there.”
“You think you could use some company?” he asked.
I bit my lip, and my eyes connected with Pie’s. “Pie, I just…”
“Just what?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know just what,” I sighed.
“We could watch a movie, and I could help you eat that giant sundae.”
I grabbed the sundae and shook my head. “I don’t need help eating this. If anything, you just gave me a reason why you shouldn’t come because you’re going to eat my ice cream. I’m a fat girl, Pie. I like to—”
“Don’t,” Pie growled. “Do not fucking say that word.”
Fat? He didn’t want me to say the word fat? “Uh, I don’t know what is going on right now,” I whispered.
“I never want to hear you call yourself a fat girl again; you got it?” He leaned in my window and hooked his finger under my chin. “You are smart, beautiful, lush, and fucking perfect.” He moved closer. “You hear me?” he whispered. “You’re fucking perfect, Bristol.”
I nodded dumbly. “Sure.”
“Can I come back to your place or not?”
I gulped and nodded my head. “Yes, but under the condition that you bring your own ice cream.”
“That’s the only condition you have for me?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. I very much like Mr. Speed’s ice cream, and I don’t want to share it with you.” And Pie just told me I wasn’t fat. If that wasn’t a fat girl speaking, I didn’t know what was.
Pie pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “Deal.”
He stepped back and reached out to press the call button for the waitress.
“Can I help you?” the waitress called over the speaker.
“Yeah,” Pie called. “Can I get a caramel sundae with pecans, marshmallow fluff, and extra cherries?”
“Anything else?” the waitress asked.
“Two double cheeseburgers with the works and a large fry.” Pie lowered his voice. “You and I are about to work up an appetite, babe.” He winked and pulled out his wallet. “And there’s a good fucking tip if you can get that out to me quick.”
“Uh, yes, sir,” the waitress stuttered. “Give us five minutes, and we’ll have that all out to you.”
“You’re crazy,” I called.
Pie shrugged and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “I’d pay a fucking million dollars if it meant I could be in bed with you.”
“That’s prostitution, Pie.”
Pie busted out laughing. “Yeah, you may be right, Bri, but I’d only pay that for you.”
“Selective prostitution,” I quipped.
“Call it what you want, but from where I’m standing, it just means I’ll do anything to get time with you.”
Those were the words that made my heart swoon and my stomach flip. Pie was so good at saying the right thing, but I always wondered if he actually meant what came out of his lips. It was easy to say nice things, but actually meaning them was something different.
“You want me to bring your stuff back to the house, or are you going to get frostbite on your balls like Frost?” I asked.
“It would probably be in the best interest of both of us if you brought it back to Wyndemere for me.”
“I can tell you, with all honesty, that there might be a couple bites missing from your ice cream by the time I pull into the driveway.” Remember, fat girl.
“And I can tell you that you could eat the whole damn thing, and I wouldn’t care as long as you let me in your bed.” Pie winked and grabbed a fry from my try. “Stop trying to think of ways to stop me from coming over.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I insisted. “I’m just telling you the realistic outcome of what might happen when I’m left along with Mr. Speed’s ice cream.”
Pie chuckled. “Well, I guess the same thing can be said about me and a pie.”
“Hence the reason why they call you Pie,” I sighed. “I figured you had to be obsessed with pie.”
“Partly.” Pie leaned against my car. “It also has to do with the fact that when I was eleven years old, Meg made me a pie for my birthday. As soon as I saw the pie, I knew I didn’t want to share it with anyone. So, while everyone was busy eating dinner, I snuck away with the pie and ate the whole fucking thing in ten minutes.”
“No,” I gasped. “How did you eat a whole pie in ten minutes? That gives you no time to savor each bite and just enjoy it.”
“Uh, I was eleven and only knew that I didn’t want anyone else to touch it.”
“What happened when everyone found out what happened?” I asked.
“Well, Mom and Dad were pissed, but Meg knew.”
“She knew?” I asked.
“She knew my mom was a horrible cook and that as soon as I saw the pie, I was going to go ballistic on it. She had two extra pies left in the truck.” Pie chuckled. “So not only did I get to eat a whole pie by myself, but I also got to have a slice from the two pies she hid.”
The waitress came rolling over with Pie’s order.
“I know I said five minutes, but Bill was having trouble getting the marshmallow fluff off the spoon.” The waitress rambled.
Pie handed her the hundred-dollar bill and grabbed the sundae and bag from her. “No worries. Keep the change.”
The waitress' eyes lit up. “Wow, thank you,” she gushed. She bustled back to the restaurant with a huge smile on her face.
“You ready?” he asked.
I grabbed my fries and sundae off the tray and set them on the seat next to me. “Uh, yeah.”
He handed me his food and leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll be right behind you, babe.”
I nodded and set his food next to mine. “Sounds good.”
Pie winked at me and walked over to his bike. I waited ‘til he had his motorcycle started, then backed out of my spot.
Knowing the light in my rearview mirror as I drove back to Wyndemere was Pie held a comfort I had never felt before. He was behind me, making sure I was okay, but also because he wanted me.
So he may not want me forever or want any of his friends to know, but he still wanted me.
For tonight, that was enough, because I wanted Pie, too.
*
Chapter Thirteen
The phone call…
Pie
“We need a towel or something?” Bristol licked her finger. “I’m all sticky.”
“If you wouldn’t have gotten all squirmy on me, I wouldn’t have made such a mess.”
Bristol rolled her eyes. “Pouring melted ice cream and fudge all over my boobs isn’t something that can be not messy, Pie,” she laughed.
I bent down and swiped my tongue over a rogue drip of ice cream. “Hey, it was your idea. You said you didn’t want the ice cream to go to waste. And I thought I did a pretty good job of cleaning it up.” I spotted another drop of ice cream I had missed and lapped it up with my tongue.
Bristol delved her fingers into my hair and sighed. “I’m not saying I regret that at all; I’m just saying you’re going to need to get me a washcloth.”
“Or we could test out your shower,” I suggested.
She laughed and shook her head. “I’m pretty exhausted from the two rounds we just did. I think I need to nap for about ten hours.”
“A ten-hour nap, huh?” I laughed. “I think you could just call that sleeping, Bri.”
She relaxed into the pillows. “I suppose.” Her face sobered, and she sighed.
“What’s wrong, beautiful?” I lifted my head and brushed her hair back from her face. I pressed a kiss to her lips and rolled onto my back. She moved to cuddle into my side and rested her head on my shoulder.
“Nothing. Just tired,” she whispered.
Something was wrong. Bristol and I had just had mind-blowing sex. Twice. Nothing should be wrong. “Something is on that mind of yours. Tell me what it is.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Nothing, Pie. I’m just tired and sticky,” she whispered.
“You want to shower, or should I just get that washcloth.”
“We can do whatever you want,” she mumbled. She laid her hand on my chest and traced circles with her fingertip.
“Let me up, babe. You’re tired.”
Bristol rolled onto her back and threw her arm over her face. “I can’t guarantee I won’t be asleep when you get back.”
I chuckled and slid out of bed. “I’ll be quick.” I jogged into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth she had hanging in the shower. I ran it under the faucet and wrung it out. “No sleeping,” I called.
