So Trashy (Bad Boy Next Door Book 2) (17 page)

How the hell did I make it through boot camp and Marine
Combat Training without crying, but Buck shows up and I’m a whimpering idiot?

I wipe my nose and dab my eyes. I sit under the old
trailer—the end that hasn’t collapsed. It probably isn’t the safest place, but
it’s where I used to hide when Mom went ballistic. And it was the only place I
could think of after I went into the house and Aunt Delores started asking
twenty questions.

I love her, but I needed a minute to myself. I have to end
this thing with Buck, repairs to do, or not. I can’t go on like this. It’s
unhealthy. And I haven’t spent the last few years rooting out the drama from my
life, focusing on bigger things than my pitiful childhood, to just sink back
into that pit.

If he’s still fucking around with Arianne, I don’t need that
shit. He says she’s not important to him, but you don’t shower with someone you
aren’t at least attracted to. Hollywood has gone to his fucking head if he
thinks that’s all right.

The weeds outside rustle. I hold my breath. Tuffy pokes his
head through the gap in the rusty underpinning.

“Hey, you.”

He wiggles into the space with me, licking my chin.

I sniffle and scratch him between his ears. “What’re you
doing here, Buddy? Shouldn’t you be napping in your cushy bed?”

A shadow falls over the opening. “Tuff? You in there?”

“Fuck.”

Buck peeks through the weeds. “Lou?”

I push on Tuffy’s rump to get him out of the space. Pulling
up my shirt tail, I wipe my eyes. Hopefully it isn’t too obvious I’ve been
crying.

“Lou? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Gimme a second.”

I crawl out on my hands and knees, and before my backend is
even all the way out of the crawlspace, Buck grabs me beneath my arms and pulls
me to him.

“Unless you want a knot on your forehead to match the one on
the back of your head, you’d best let go.” I push against him.

“C’mon, Lou. You wouldn’t assault an injured man, would
you?”

I scramble to my feet. “You bet your ass I would.”

“About Arianne—”

“I don’t want to hear about her.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand plenty, Buck. No matter what you’ve said, you
want your cock wet by two women. But that’s not me. I won’t be one of them. I
get it though. You’re paying me for sex. I can’t exactly expect you to be
faithful. It’s fine. But we’re done.
I’m
done.”

He grabs the sides of his head and grits his teeth. “Ugh.
Just
listen
for a second, would you?”

I wrap my arms around myself. “Fine. You have sixty
seconds.”

He reaches for me, but I step back.

“She was in the bathroom with me because she snuck in. I
wasn’t showering
with
her. That’s how I slipped and fell. I jumped out
of the tub onto the tile and lost my footing.”

I wait for a sign that he’s lying. But he doesn’t look away;
he holds my gaze and he seems completely at ease, though not too much so.

I gnaw on my thumbnail. “You’re sure? Because it’s really
okay. I mean—no hard feelings. You go your way, I go mine. We did it before. We
can do it again. Hell, we
will
do it again.”

He pulls my hand from my mouth, kissing the backs of my
knuckles.

“No. We
won’t
do it again. I love you.” He drags me
into his embrace. “Arianne was just a blip on life’s radar. I told you before, I
put up with her for this long only because of who her dad is. I don’t care
about her. She’s nothing but a pain in the ass.”

A loud bang echoes through my chest. I whip around,
expecting someone with a pistol. It’s just Arianne, clad in designer jeans,
stalking to us in high heeled wedges, ankles wobbling as she traverses the
uneven and overgrown yard.

Arianne has an old pot she must’ve picked up from somewhere
in the debris field surrounding the trailer. She slams it against the crumpling
siding again, her face pinched.

“Buck Wylder, how
could
you?”

He runs his fingers over the crease between his brows,
shaking his head. “Here we go. I’m going to fire the fucking Thugs—they’re
useless.”

She lobs the pot at him, missing by a yard. “After all we’ve
meant to each other. How can you just throw it all away on some—some prostitute
you’ve been paying for—for
services
?”

“Shit.” My toes curl in my sneakers as I shove my hands in
my pockets, heat coming to my cheeks, even though the last thing I should be is
ashamed in front of this bitch.

Buck rubs the back of his neck. “Arianne, you don’t know the
first damned thing about Lou and me, or our relationship.”

She props her hands on her hips, giving me the once over,
her lip curled. “Don’t try to deny it. She just said it. I heard her.”

Buck throws his hands in the air, turning away from her.
“Fuck it. So what? It’s none of your fucking business, Arianne. I don’t want
you, so it doesn’t matter.”

She tiptoes to him, her hands smoothing up his back.

“Stop.” He shrugs her off, spinning to face her.

“You don’t mean that. Or you won’t.” She turns her eyes on
me, crossing her arms, a smug grin replacing the sneer of a moment ago. “I’m
pregnant with our baby, Buck. You’re going to be a daddy.”

Buck’s color drains away as he shakes his head. “No. No way.
No
fucking
way.”

My mind spins, I blink as though that might make this whole
thing go away. Baby? Their
baby
? My core goes into a sudden deep freeze.
Oh, Lord. Why? Why
this
?

I shuffle backward, trying to hold my shit together long enough
to get the fuck outta here. “You two have a lot to discuss. I’m just going to
go.”

Buck purses his lips, shooting Arianne a frustrated look.

When he turns back to me, he says, “Wait. She’s lying. She
has to be lying. It’s been weeks. Weeks and weeks. She’d have known before
now.”

Arianne steps to him, sliding her hand over his chest. “Oh,
I
did
know, Bucky. I just wanted to tell you in person.”

Her news. She said something before about news.
This
news.

I turn and run.

I leave Arianne standing behind Lou’s old home. Taking my
phone from my pocket, I call my attorney first. He advises me to insist on a
paternity test. Well, no shit. I’ve never had sex with Arianne that I didn’t
use protection. Never.

Lou’s the only one I’ve ridden bareback. If
she
were
to tell me she was pregnant, I’d have a completely different reaction.

Fuck.

Lou.

How will I ever get her to admit she still loves me with
shit like this happening?

My foot hits the bottom step to Delores’s place when my
phone rings. I pull it out.

Bob. Great. I shouldn’t get a fucking rock in my gut just
because my manager calls, but with the way this day has been going…what now?

“Yeah?”

“Buck. What happened at the hospital, my man?”

The hospital? Oh, yeah. Damn. What a fucking day.

“I took a fall, hit my head. I guess I was confused.”

“Confused? There are pictures of you burning up the
internet. Luckily, most of them have blurred out your junk.
Most
of
them.”

“Listen, I don’t have time for this right now. Take care of
it. Hire a fucking PR team. Do whatever. I have other things that need my
attention right now.”

“So, you slipped? Head injury?”

“Yeah. That’s right. Hey, I’ve gotta go. Fix it.”

“Injury is good. We can claim you were delirious.”

I knock on the front door. “Sure. That works. Whatever.”

Hanging up, I knock again.

I steel myself, clearing my expression, and I open the door.
“What can I do for you, Buck?”

“You can come with me so we can talk in private.”

“I’m busy.”

He looks me up and down. “Doing what?”

I deadpan. “Spelunking.”

He cocks his head, his brow wrinkling. “Cave exploration?
That’s the
best
you can come up with?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. What the hell do you think? I’m
trying
to avoid you, Asshat.”

Buck holds out his hand. “Lou. Please.”

I swallow the tears trying to carry away my composure. “Just
go, Buck. Go back to your cameras, car races, and red carpets. You don’t belong
here anymore. You belong with your Hollywood girlfriend and your—your baby.”

His nostrils flare and he sucks in a deep breath. “That’s not
my baby, Lou. I’m telling you, it can’t be.”

“So say
how many
guys every year? Look, my dad split
before I was born. It sucks to grow up fatherless. Don’t be that man. Surely
you’re better than that. You used to be better than that.”

I close the door. Leaning against it, the pain from that box
I shoved deep inside years ago digs its way out through my tight throat,
leaving claw marks on my soul.

I slide to the floor, hot tears pooling in my eyes before
spilling down my cheeks.

He hollers, “This ain’t over, Lou. I’m telling you, it isn’t
my kid.
That
fuck trophy belongs to someone else.”

I wouldn’t expect any man to be happy about this kind of
news, but still, to behave this way? Calling a baby—maybe
his
baby—a
fuck
trophy
?

Maybe his leaving me behind all those years ago was a good
thing after all. Too bad he didn’t stay gone.

I step into the living room.

Sadie looks up, startled.

She immediately points the remote at the television, mashing
buttons and looking flustered. “Why won’t it turn off? What’s wrong with this thing?”

Aunt Delores snatches it from her. “Because it’s old like me
and just as broke-ass.”

“What’s going on?” I say.

Sadie jumps up and stands in front of the screen. “Nothing.
What’s going on with you these days, Cuz?”

Aunt Delores fans herself as she gets to her feet. “Lou,
would you be an angel and get me something to drink?”

I turn toward the kitchen, but stop when whoever’s on the TV
says, “Loula Fontaine, former U.S. Marine, appears to be taking money from Buck
Wylder in this photo outside of a hotel nearby Mr. Wylder’s childhood home.”

I push Sadie aside. “What are they saying? What
is
this?”

My heart rate trips into double time as a photo of Buck
handing me a wad of cash through my car window pops up on the screen.

“Holy shit.”

Sadie wrings her hands. “I’m sorry, Lou. I was trying to
turn it off.”

Aunt Delores raises her hands to Heaven as she walks from
the room, shaking her head. “I know there has to be some sort of explanation
for that. If not, don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know.”

I sink to the sofa, head in my hands, stomach continuing on
through the floor. “Damn it.”

It took less than twenty-four hours for that bitch to go to
the press. How the hell she got pictures is beyond me—fuck.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket. My stomach sinks even
further. If this is Buck…

Not Buck. Worse. It’s a text from Stephens.

Well, maybe they haven’t heard this shit yet. Maybe they’ll
come and go before they see it. If not, fuck them. I can’t care about this
right now. I had my reasons, and they can kiss my ass
twice
if they
can’t handle it.

Four shot glasses clink above the fire pit behind Aunt
Delores’s house. We down our drinks.

Sadie sits on Russell’s lap, smiling like she’s won a
fucking lottery.

Stephens winks at me. “So you miss us, Fontaine?”

“Sure I do. Like you’d miss those crabs, if you could ever
get rid of them.”

Stephens digs at his crotch, his tongue hanging out like the
dog he is. “Is it that obvious?”

I bump Stephen’s leg with my bare foot. “You know, Stephens,
you’re kinda cute. You might get laid more if you weren’t so fucking weird.”

“Oh,
now
you think I’m cute.” His brown eyes reflect
the flames, his skin yellowed in the firelight.

I slosh another shot into my glass, tossing it back and
savoring the bitter burn it brings. It’s good to let the liquor smooth out some
of the wrinkles in my spirit for a little while. “Don’t get too excited, you’re
still not getting laid.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anyone want to place a bet? I’ve got
fifty bucks that says Fontaine here will suck my cock before the night’s over
if I can get another three or four shots in her.”

I spew my Cuervo and kick at Stephens’s gut. “Suck your
cock, my ass. There isn’t enough tequila in Louisiana for that to happen.”

Sadie raises her glass. “I’ll take that bet. My cuz is a good
girl. She don’t do that shit no more. Except for Buck.”

His name works like a wet blanket over my mood.

I let out a deep sigh. “Ain’t
that
kinda girl anymore
either. No more Buck. No more fuck. No more Suck. Just a whole lotta trouble is
all that shit gets me.”

Sadie hops up and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry,
Lou. Here, let’s turn up the music. We’ll dance away your blues. I’mma give
these here fine Marines lap dances for free.”

Both of the guys whoop and holler. “Oohrah!”

I sink into my camp chair while Sadie does her best to fuck
the guys while they’re all still fully dressed. She looks over to me after a
couple of minutes and frowns.

She sashays my way, wiggling her ass. “C’mon, Cuz. Let’s
dance. You need to cheer up. This sad shit sucks.”

Russell pours another round of drinks.

Three more shots.

My brain’s a bit numb, and I’m not sure I can feel my toes.
But the area of my chest that was hollowed and achy is full of tequila, and I’m
feeling no pain. Actually, I’m doing pretty fucking good.

Sadie and I bump and grind against each other while the guys
tuck dollar bills in the waistbands of our shorts. What the hell is it about
guys liking girl on girl action, even when it doesn’t involve anyone getting
naked? They’re probably hoping it will
lead
to someone getting naked.

Sadie laughs. “You guys should stay a couple more days. I’ll
be working tomorrow night.”

Buck steps into the flickering circle of light, his stupid
face all frowny. “You guys having fun? Sure sounds like it from next door.”

Sadie puts her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she
sputters a laugh.

She whispers, without actually lowering her voice. “Oops. We
woke the neighbors!”

I hold up another shot, and the ground shifts beneath my
feet. “Turn it up loud and
fuck
off the neighbors.”

Buck’s arms come around me as he stumbles past me. Wait.
Maybe I’m the one who’s stumbly. Bumbly. Tumbly.

I try to slap away his hands. “Don’t touch me, Asshole.”

His arms tighten at my waist. “I think the party’s about
over, Lou. You’ve had enough.”

Stephens stands and runs his hand over his high and tight
hair cut. “Dude. This is a private party. We’ll take care of Fontaine. Don’t
worry.”

“I just bet you will.” Buck’s voice is steely and hard. “I’ll
take her up to bed. You guys have a good night. Sadie’ll make sure you get what
you need to bed down.”

I elbow Buck. “Leave me ‘lone,
Buck
. These are
my
pleoples.
You go back to your persons. You have your popells call my peoples tomorrow.
Tonight we’re having drinks. And dollars.”

I pull a few ones out of my pockets and waistband and hold
them up in his fucking face. “See? You jus’ thought you could kleep me from dampcing.
I’ll do whatever I wanna. I don’t need you noooo more, Buckner Wylder.”

Buck snatches the ones from my fingers and tosses them to
the ground. I dive for them, because somehow they’re important right now, though
I can’t remember why.

His arms come around my waist, pulling me to my feet.
“C’mon, Lou. Let’s get you to bed before you hurl. You never could hold your
liquor.”

I splutter. “I hold my lick—lock—
drinks
jus’ fine.
Fuck you for caring.”

“I do care, Lou. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Why does he have to smell so good? Why can’t he be a
different guy? Why can’t I be Hollywood skinny and be gonna have his baby?

I let out a big sigh. My eyes sting.

Russell stands, putting his hand on Buck’s arm.

“Uh oh.” I cringe.

Buck’s fist flies. And then, it’s all knuckles and pops and
groans.

Two Marines and Mr. Hollywood.

This can’t end well.

* * *

Buck tucks the sheet around me.

I sniffle. “Go ‘way. You don’t care ‘bout me. You never
cared. You only wanna boss me.”

He leans in and kisses my numb forehead. “I love you, Lou.
We’ll talk tomorrow when you sober up.”

I put my finger on his split lip. “Who won?”