Earning the Cut (Riding the Line Series, Prequel) (6 page)

Dax felt his emotional defenses, ones that he had thought were weakening, going back up with a vengeance. Even though he knew he could never trust Trish again, he would always want her in that primal, possessive way that a man wants the first woman he fucks. He would never admit it, to her or to himself, but if Trisha Wagner changed her mind, he would take her back in a second.

***

Without Trish as his anchor, Dax felt like he was spiraling out of control. First, his motivation to do his homework disintegrated. Then, he stopped attending class altogether. Morosely, he dragged his old, waterlogged board to the beach and repeatedly surfed the small break right in front of the hollowed out spot where he had lost his virginity. Dax let himself get held down again and again, letting the air bubble out from his lungs until the black nothingness crept in and took away his pain for a few seconds. A big part of him wished he could just let it happen, let the awesome force of the ocean take him all the way to the point of no return, but the part of him that wanted to live always stepped in at the last second, clawing his body to the surface to take big lungfuls of air.

Dax had never known who he was. For a brief moment in time, he had a chance at a different life, a life that had been defined and dictated by Trisha Wagner. That life was just a faded memory now. He had woken up from the dream and his reality was now ever more harsh and bleak. He nipped into Mrs. Bodecker’s wine nightly. The alcohol helped him sleep. He was pretty sure she knew about it, but she didn’t say anything. He didn’t care if she did.

Even though he yearned for his first love, and missed the pleasure of a female’s attention, Dax promised himself that he would never let another skirt dictate his behavior, ever again. Women were more trouble than they were worth. He still ached for and desired the feel of soft skin and hair. He had tasted the sweet ambrosia that lay between a girl’s legs and he was seriously addicted to fucking. What guy wasn’t? Of course, he craved sex because sex distracted him from his own feelings of self-loathing and worthlessness. When he was balls deep in a female, feeling the unique way she responded to his touch, and learning the secrets that allowed her to find her way to climax, he was able to forget the pain of his current reality.

Dax met some of the bad girls from school, the girls who were so very like him in their method of using sex to distract themselves from their inner angst. He fucked them, yes, but he also made sure they enjoyed themselves immensely. He was all passion and dominant male possession when he fucked. His aggressive, yet passionate technique made for a lot of broken hearts, but he had grown too aloof to care about anyone else’s feelings. He left them, every one of them. Even the super hot ones. ‘Cause the last thing he wanted was another girlfriend. He had a lot of sex. He smoked a lot of grass. Before he knew it, he hadn’t been at school for a month.

***

Just like the first time, it was wholly unexpected to find an ally in Maxwell. Dax was surprised to find out that his principal could catch a wave. Usually, there was no one else out that early. He had figured out how to ride his bike while securing his board under his arm. After it became more and more weighted from the water trapped inside, Dax just found a place at the beach to stash the behemoth. It was there every morning, waiting for him, like a silent partner in crime. The Bodeckers thought he was at school so no one was the wiser. Usually, the sun was barely rising as he paddled out. Despite the frigid water, he was drawn to the early morning hours, seeking the solitude and power that could only be found in the ocean at that time. When Dax came ashore an hour later, exhausted and sated, too tired to deal with his own turbulent emotions, he became aware that he wasn’t the only one on the beach that day.

The lone figure paddled out on a longer board. Most of the other guys on the surf team had scoffed at longboarders. Dax recognized that the other surfer was an older guy, though. As he watched from his vantage point on the sand, the old man caught several waves, walking his nose like an expert. Dax had to admit it; he was impressed. Until the other man rode a nice wave to shore and then made a beeline for Dax’s towel.

“Daxter.”

“Maxwell.”

“Haven’t seen you around in school.”

“Haven’t been there.”

“I noticed. Dax, is everything okay?”

Dax could feel that the man genuinely wanted to help him, but even so, he let his distrust and melancholy take over. “Everything is as it always has been.” His voice sounded gruff and harsh to his own ears. He fumbled in his backpack for his lighter.

“Look, Dax. I know things have been rough, okay. I want you to know that…well, that I believe in you, kid. I think you could really be something. You know, overcome your circumstances.”

“How’s that?” His affect was bored and aloof as he rummaged in his ripped, blue bag. “What exactly do you see me becoming? Doctor? Lawyer? Engineer?”

Maxwell sighed. “Look, kid. I get it. You were dealt a bad hand. But you’re smart, Dax. Don’t let Wagner and his influence fuck you out of your chance for a better life.”

Dax had never heard the principal swear before. As he regarded Maxwell somewhat suspiciously, Dax realized suddenly that of the two of them, he was the more dominant. “My life is perfect, Maxwell.” Dax sparked up a joint, taking a long pull and exhaling right in the principal’s face. To his credit, Maxwell didn’t react at all, other than to shrug away the look of disappointment that appeared fleetingly on his face.

“Shouldn’t smoke, kid. Causes cancer.” Maxwell stood then and looked up the cliff, presumably to where he had parked his car. “Look Dax. If you want to come back to school, “I’ll look the other way in terms of the last few weeks. You can still graduate. Okay?”

Dax shrugged again, welcoming the numbing sensation that his hand-rolled chronic wrapped around his brain. He stared out into the horizon, getting lost in the mesmerizing blues and greens coupling with the shards of sunlight that glinted off of the murky depths. After a time, he checked back in and realized that he was alone. Maxwell was gone.

***

Dax was barely keeping himself in check at home. He snuck out every morning and either hit up the beach or the park during the day. He had his two strikes and Mr. Bodecker had made it very clear that if he fucked up again, he’d be out on his ass. The thing was, Dax just couldn’t make himself follow the rules anymore. He bent them, stretched them, and eventually he blatantly ignored them, but he managed to avoid getting in trouble for a while. Report card time had occurred when he had actually been attending school. All that was left was the end of spring semester and then graduation. Fuck it. He could never picture himself walking across the stage in that ridiculous cap and gown, smiling and shaking Maxwell’s hand like he had done him a good fucking turn.
Fuck that!

Dax made a point to return to his place of residence before his fake folks got in from work. He showered the sand and lingering aroma of weed from his shaggy, white-blond hair and tried to look presentable at dinner. Luckily, the Bodeckers weren’t much for conversation, at least not with him. Mr. Bodecker spent lots of time discussing Michelle’s college aspirations and Kathy seemed to avoid looking at Dax altogether, choosing to direct most of her attention on the twins. Dax was like a stranger in his own home. Not that it felt like his home. These were feelings that he had always had.

Despite all the pot he smoke during the day, The feelings of restlessness that seemed to pervade his soul prompted him to develop a serious case of insomnia. Dax smiled ruefully. His meager allowance from mowing the lawn was recycled into more grass. He quite liked the irony of that. As was customary, Dax waited until it was lights out. The house became quiet and still around 9:00 p.m. Like clockwork. So, like clockwork, he stowed his journal back in his desk and slipped out into the night, seeking anything to soothe the frustrating disquiet in his soul.

He knew that biker bar was bad news but something about the place felt familiar. Dax found himself loitering in the alley in the dead of the night. The faint smell of trash and a lonely meowing noise emanated from a nearby dumpster. He tilted his head back, leaning against the cold brick and sighed. He was looking for trouble and he found it with an ease that suggested the trouble had been lying in wait for him all along.

“Well, well. Look who’s back.” Her voice was laced with obvious irritation, but interest too.

Dax fired up his joint and regarded the broad with cool indifference. It was the same chick from the first night he had ended up here outside of
Lenny’s.
She was older than him, but actually Dax saw that she wasn’t as haggard as he had originally thought. Nope, actually the broad was kinda doable.

“Share a toke?” She reached out for his doobie. Her nails were painted black.

He shrugged, offering her a drag. She exhaled slowly, letting the white smoke out in a practiced breath. A rumble signaled the arrival of a bike and Dax watched as a stocky guy with a goatee parked it and unstrapped his helmet. Then, he helped his female passenger dismount, sweeping the girl into his arms for a lusty kiss. They headed for the front door and the guy smacked the chick’s ass, making her squeal. He slipped his arm around her, and they entered the bar together. A stifled sniffle redirected his attention to the girl next to him.

He offered her the joint again, wondering what had occurred to make her cry. She wiped a lone tear from her cheek and smiled gratefully, taking the hand-rolled joint from him. “Am I-am I really that used-up looking?” she asked softly, echoing his comment from several weeks before.

“Nah. You’re pretty hot, actually.” The lazy, flirty grin he shot her felt so comfortable on Dax’s face that he was hardly aware that it was a new expression.

“You’re pretty cocky for a kid.”

“Do I look like a kid?” he countered, straightening up to his full height. He was at least a head taller than she was.

She looked him up and down, sizing him up. He caught the appreciative widening of her eyes as they roved over his muscled chest and finally settled on his face. She looked into his eyes for a second before flushing and looking away. “No. Not at all, actually. You could pass for 21, easy. But, if you weren’t a kid, wouldn’t you be inside the bar, instead of lurking around in the alley?”

“Hot and smart. What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Penny.”

“Dax.”

They shook hands, and she giggled awkwardly. “I like your name. It’s different.”

“You’re even prettier when you smile, Penny.” It was weird-how natural it felt to assert himself with chicks. Lately, Dax felt older and more self-assured…more confident all around when it came to girls. Maybe his masculine assertiveness was limited to his dominant sexuality, though. Deep inside, he couldn’t deny that he still suffered from a shitstorm of insecurities.

Penny blushed. “Um, thanks.” She looked at him again. “Yeah, you definitely don’t seem like a kid, Dax.”

“Not a baby then, huh?” he teased, letting her know that he also recalled the comments that were made several weeks before.

She blushed harder. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. We were kind of drunk, I was being a bitch I guess.”

Dax shrugged. “So, Penny. You’re no kid, either. Why are you out here in this alley with me when you could be inside yourself?”

Penny’s shoulders sagged. “I guess you could say I’ve been demoted.” At his confused look, she continued. “I used to be an old lady. I guess now I’m just a
Phantom
stalker.”

“A what?”

“You know,
The Phantoms?
They’re the crew that hangs out at this bar. I used to be with one of them.” She sighed heavily. “Listen, Dax, you’re easy to talk to and you seem pretty cool. But, you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t get mixed up with these guys. It seems like a glamorous lifestyle, but it isn’t.”

Dax raised an eyebrow as she straightened her shoulders and pulled her jacket more closely around her cleavage.

“Thanks for the toke. See you around…kid.”

He smiled at the affectionate way she said
kid
. “Later, Penny.”
Yeah, definitely doable.
She wasn’t that old. Not old enough to be called an old lady, anyway.

The Phantoms.
The name sounded easy on his ears. Dax looked at the row of bikes lined up neatly outside the bar. Compelled and slightly high, he wasn’t really aware of what he was doing until he was standing in front of the first Harley in the row of gleaming metal and reaching out a fingertip to brush the steel handlebar. What happened next changed the course of his whole life in a transformational way that was not to occur again until his late twenties.

***

“Daxter Jamison! Wake up! You are in some serious trouble here, young man!”

Dax groaned. He had gotten in so late it was practically considered early, and it was no surprise that he had overslept. At first, he thought he could feign illness. His head pounded and his stomach clenched, the stench of alcohol and cigarettes rolling off of his own body making him feel slightly ill. Even as Kathy Bodecker’s panicked voice grated on his hungover brain, a smile settled on his lips. Man, last night had been fucking crazy! He still couldn’t believe that he had ended up
in
the bar. Kathy’s voice droned on in the background of his hazy recollection like an annoying gnat as he sat up, the sheets falling away from his lean torso.

Dax had been lingering near the bikes when the door to
Lenny’s
flew open. Expecting a bunch of half-drunk broads like the last time he had been hanging around, Dax was taken aback when three men approached. They wore leather vests and cocky smiles, giving him no notice at all. Of the three, two of the guys didn’t look all that threatening. Yeah, they were rough and hardened, but Dax knew instinctively that they had good hearts underneath their gruff exteriors. Something about the way the two carried themselves told him that.

Dax had to fine-tuned his ability to judge a person’s character given the shit he had endured as a kid. Who he trusted was a matter of life or death. The skill was still useful, as he would come to find out. The third man—he gave Dax pause. Growing up in total instability, without the security of a real family, Dax had learned to trust his gut, and his gut told him that the guy on the left was bad news. Nervous at being caught too close to their bikes, he tried to slink back into the shadows as the trio conversed heatedly. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go but there; any other path leading away from the bar would draw attention to himself, thanks to the streetlights.