Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (34 page)

Aiden’s blonde curly hair was just as bad as Emma’s was. You could tell he tried to tame it but it was still everywhere. He had no shoes or socks on and he was wearing Emma’s shirt from last night. But what really caught my attention was
because
he was wearing Emma’s shirt, and it was revealing about two inches of the curve of his hips, was the tattoo plastered across his lower abdomen that said: Mount Up.

I giggled.

Then I looked towards Spencer who came in behind Aiden. Again with no shoes or socks on
and
a mow hawk. He looked sick, his face was pale, he had dark circles under his eyes and his hands were full of
Rock Star
energy drinks.

And then came in Jameson. Besides the fact that his hair appeared to have the same pudding as mine once had in it, it didn’t look as bad as Aiden’s. He was just as pale as Spencer but was dressed a whole hell of a lot better in his black suit, the tie loosened from his neck with the top few buttons of his white button down shirt undone.

Holy Mississippi leg hound.

I don’t think Spencer ever saw her coming as Emma all but flew through the air at him. “You motherfucker!” she screamed jumping on his back like some kind of wild chimp. His
Rock Star
drinks crashed to the ground.

“What the fuck
...
” he yelled back at her. “Oh god, stop screaming, my head fucking hurts.”

Aiden
and
Jameson tried to pull her away but she never let up. She was like a Chihuahua that latched on and wouldn’t let up until it shed blood.

In his attempt to get her loose, they stumbled together into the kiddy pudding pool. She finally let go but sat there wiping pudding away and seething at him. “You’re such a fucking jerk, Spencer!”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped back at her while he too wiped pudding away.

Aiden was holding Emma back and noticed what she was yelling about when her make shift scarf of toilet paper fell loosely around her shoulders.

His eyes widened as he read it. “Holy shit,” He turned her around to look at him, his eyes wide with panic. “You’re growing your hair out.”

“No shit.” She snapped back and then pushed him. “Where were you on that one? You didn’t think to stop him from convincing me to do this?”

“Like I was in
any
condition to stop anyone,” He lifted her shirt that he was wearing. “If so, I would have never done this,”

Emma fell backwards into the pudding pool again in a fit of laughter while Spencer and Jameson finally noticed Aiden’s tattoo of “Mount Up” as well. Jameson had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over while his entire body shook with silent laughs.

I hadn’t stopped giggling since they walked in. I was like the Pillsbury doughboy.

Look, we have ridiculous tattoos, he he he! Look there’s pudding everywhere, he he he! Look, there’s a dick on the wall, he he he!

Still laughing, I watched as the boys surveyed the room. They too looked surprised by the kiddy pool, beer, and toilet paper everywhere but flabbergasted at the dick on the wall.

Seriously, I don’t think you can grasp how large it was. To give you a mental picture, the ceiling in this particular room has to be at least fifteen feet tall. So if you have never seen a fifteen foot tall spray painted dick complete with hairy balls and veins on a wall—you’re missing out.

Look, there’s a dick on the wall, he he he!

With my maturity level exceptionally low today, I couldn’t stop myself. I was actually crying at that point on the floor beside Jameson.

“Who drew that?” Emma finally asked pointing to it.

Aiden and Jameson both responded with, “Spencer,” at the same time.

Spencer just nodded his head arrogantly. “It’s pretty fucking awesome, huh?”

“No, what’s awesome is going to be watching you explain your new haircut and the tramp stamp on your back to Alley.” Jameson laughed.

“What tramp stamp?” Emma and I asked curiously.

Spencer started backing towards the wall so we couldn’t see but with the help of Aiden and Jameson, we managed to tackle him to the ground and pull up his shirt for a better view.

Right about his ass crack was “Insert coin to bust a move”.

This was all too much to really believe. We all had random tattoos, the room was trashed beyond believe, there was a fifteen foot tall spray painted dick on the wall, a kiddy pool full of pudding, and a bouncy house full of toilet paper.

I looked over at Jameson sitting against the wall still shaking with laughter. “How did you manage not to get branded in all this?”

Jameson’s eyes flickered to Aiden and Spencer and then back to mine.

Before he could say anything, Spencer laughed a loud booming laugh that had all of us covering our ears. “He didn’t. He got it worse than all of us.”

Jameson smiled once and looked away, panic evident in his features.

“How did he get it worse? Emma asked jumping on Jameson. “What does his say?”

“Get off me,” Jameson grumbled running into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

All of us looked towards Spencer for an answer but he shook his head. “I’m not saying, after the morning he had
...
he
can tell you what they say.”

“What do mean
they
?” I asked curiously.

“Like I said,
they
, now ask him.” Spencer turned towards his masterpiece on the wall. “
Goddamn
, that’s talent.” He nodded pleased with himself and his art ability.

I heard the shower running so I decided to sneak in the bathroom to find out for myself what his tattoos said.

“Jameson?” I asked inching the door open hesitantly.

“Yeah,” his voice muffled from the spraying water. Steam drifted in loops around me when the door closed.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Making sure it was locked, I asked, “Are you okay?” as I leaned against the counter.

“I’m fine.” Without seeing his expression, I knew by the tone, he was rolling his eyes. “Get in here with me.”

“I already took a shower.”

“Sway, I wasn’t asking.” He sighed. “Get in here.”

Of course, the pit lizard in me started striping away her clothes and stepped inside the glass shower—no need to ask twice.

Jameson was a sight to see with no clothes on and soapy water running off him everywhere.

He smirked, his own eyes wandering. When our eyes finally met, he winked. “Come here, honey.”

Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist pulling me against his chest.

After a few moments, my curiosity got the best of me. I had to know what those tattoos said. “Jameson?”

“Yeah,” I watched as the water ran down his stomach.

“What does your tattoo say?”

“Which one?” he chuckled a nervous chuckle.

“All of them.” Pulling back, I snuck a glance up at him.

His nose scrunched. “Well, one doesn’t say anything but strangely resembles these beautiful lips.” He placed two fingers to my lips.

“I already know about that one.”

He nodded. “All right, well the other ones
...
let’s see
...
” he pulled away from me, stood there and then looked down to the promise land. “That one,” he pointed to his right hipbone not more than two inches above his camshaft. “says: Sway’s property. And this one,” he pointed to his left hipbone in the same position. “says: Hands off. And this one,” he turned around and pointed to his ass where my lips were. “says: I told you hands off. I bite.” his eyes dropped. “I think that’s all of them
...
that I can see.”

The one on his ass was the funniest because the letters were placed right above the lips.

I started giggling. “What have we done?”

“
Obviously
, we weren’t thinking last night.”

“Well, that debatable.” I suggested trying to imply I wasn’t too upset about my branding.

He grinned widely. “What does yours say?”

“I didn’t get one.” I lied with a sly grin.

“Yes you did,”

“No I didn’t.”

“Turn around, Sway.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sway,
turn around
.”

“No.”

He shook his head slowly. “You really shouldn’t have said that.” And he lunged for me. I was flipped around in his arms before I even had time to react.

He’s a quick.

With my ass pressed against his camshaft, he examined my new branding.

Sure enough, he burst into laughter. “It actually looks like they used an iron.” His fingers traced the outline lightly—I winced. “Sorry,” he mumbled moving his hands to my hips, pushing forward against me. “I like it though.”

“I kind of do too.” I admitted shyly looking down at my feet.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Look at me, honey.” He asked when I kept turning my head away. His hand caught my cheek forcing me to look at him. And though I resisted out of embarrassment, when I finally did look at him, he smiled. “You can get it removed if you want.” His stare was laced with vigilance as he gauged my reaction.

Shrugging, I told him. “I’ll keep it.”

He winked. “I’m
definitely
keeping mine.” He actually looked proud.

“Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Now he actually looked offended.

“What are you going to do when you have girlfriend? Don’t you think she might have something to say about this?” I hedged.

He hesitated for a second before he spoke, his eyes dropping from mine. “It won’t be a problem.” His words didn’t match his expression. He looked upset, maybe even uncomfortable that I said that.

Offering me a quick smile, he turned away to rinse the shampoo out of his pudding hair.

Fearing my own expression would falter, I decided to change the subject.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” I washed his back for him, running my fingers up his long lean lats and over the sharp defined muscles of each shoulder.

His breathing caught when my hands reached around and followed the lines of his hip and down the inside of his thigh.

With my chest pressed against his back now, I could feel the quick rise and fall of each one of his strained deep breaths as though they were my own.

Jameson’s hands moved from his hair to rest against the shower wall, his head fell forward against the tile when my hands found his camshaft and stroked it once.

This was the only distraction I could come up with.

“Huh?” he finally asked.

“What do you remember from last night?” I repeated in a low seductive whisper.