She makes a gesture that could be a nod or just an embarrassed little twitch. That’s better than an outright no. Judging by her body language, she wants to say yes, even if she can’t admit it. I smile up at the green tiled ceiling. She ran away, but she would have missed us. And maybe she wouldn’t have come back to us by choice, but she would have regretted it for the rest of her life. She is ours and when all the Parker bullshit is over, we can figure out some way to share her sexy little body. I just want her to be mine first. I want her virgin cunt. Which means it’s high time to salt the earth, as far as my competition is concerned.
I know she’s got a crush on Bobby, and she’s all googly-eyed for Morelli, and Adriano took her to see her Zia, but she almost fucked me on that scratchy motel couch and she’s right here with me now. I swim closer. “Remember before you ran away, you were gonna be our little servant girl? Suck us off and serve us dinner?”
She turns her face away. “That’s not true.”
“It’s pretty true. But that was back when you couldn’t be seen in public because we kidnapped you. But now your name is gonna be cleared—”
“How will my name be cleared?”
I ignore her. “Things have changed. Which means you need to decide who’s gonna be filling out your dance card around here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, believe it or not, Tits, the four of us generally don’t make a rule of sharing pussy the way we’ve been quadrupling up on yours.”
It’s a lie, I’ve been looking forward to running a train on January Whitehall since the day she showed up at Velvet House, but when she’s nervous she pays more attention.
January’s eyes go wide. “I don’t… I couldn’t…”
“Sure,” I say, cutting off her puritanical sputtering. “Who do you think’s the better cherry picker? Me or Bobby—”
“What!?”
“—you need to choose a removalist for those V plates, Tits. Your options are me, Bobby the love bug, Richie Rich, or Freddy Krueger. That’s it.”
She stares at me like I’m talking Greek.
“Lemme give you a hand. If you choose Bobby, he’s gonna drag you off to Ohio and keep you barefoot in his homestead. And there’ll probably be pigs nearby.”
January nibbles her lower lip. Bad sign. She’s into the whole farm boy fantasy.
“Here’s the thing about Bobby,” I say. “He’s terrible at fucking. Just ask his ex-wife.”
January’s face falls. “Bobby’s been married?”
No.
“Yup. Actually, he still might be. I don’t think the papers’ve come through. Something about FedEx prices…”
January looks like someone’s punched her in the stomach. I kick back in the water so she can see my nice, never-been-married body. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Tits.”
“Why did he and his wife break up?”
“I dunno. She did mention him not being able to fuck her because he couldn’t stop thinking about baseball scores…”
“Oh my gosh!”
“Yeah,” I say sympathetically. “And Morelli’s no better. I mean, his dick works allegedly, but he’s cheated on every girlfriend he’s ever had. Six months in and he starts telling them he’s at work when he’s off dicking some fashion week model. He wouldn’t be my choice for a first time, probably riddled with venereal disease.”
January looks at her folded hands. She had no trouble believing that one. Morelli’s a dumb fuck for approaching her with all that mistress bullshit. Practically salted the earth for himself.
“Then there’s Adriano…”
Her head jerks up. “Are you guys going to punish him for taking me to the hospital?”
I could joke about tying him to a chair and spanking him but she doesn’t seem to be in a joking mood. “Not really. We’ll probably fine him and give him shitty jobs for the next year.”
“That’s all?”
