The front screen door bangs against the porch as one of the guys I recognize from the club gets shoved out by a petite woman with a dark bob that frames her face.
“I can’t believe you. Asshole. Get out.”
“We were on a break,” he shouts back.
“Fuck,” Kevlar mutters, swinging a leg over his bike.
I slide off after him, unsure if I should follow him as he stomps toward them.
“Back up.” He puts a hand to the other biker’s chest.
“I want him gone,” the feisty woman shrieks.
“Go inside, sis.”
She scowls, but does as her brother asks.
“What’d you do?” he growls.
“He slept with that skank-ass stripper,” gets shouted from inside the house.
The front door swings open again, and she flings clothes out.
“Get out of here, man.” Kevlar pushes him back when he reaches for the door.
“She’s fucking crazy.”
“I’ve not shown you crazy yet?” She screeches.
I stand on the walkway, afraid to get closer.
“You’re both fucking nuts,” Kevlar deadpans. The annoyed expression he wears tells me this isn’t his first rodeo with these two. He grabs a hoodie off the steps and presses it against the guy’s leather cut. “Give her some space, Graves.”
He shakes his head and picks up the rest of his clothes, stuffing them into a black backpack. “She’s lost it. Damn nutter,” he grumbles.
“Candyce,” Kevlar barks, grabbing her under her shoulders as she kicks and lashes at Graves, trying to scratch him with her pointy red fingernails.
“See. Crazy,” Graves says as he scrambles outside of her reach.
“You’re one to talk. You’ve got two brain cells fighting for control of your tiny dick.”
“You sure loved sucking it last night. I didn’t ask her to send me nudes this morning. It’s your fault for looking at my text messages.”
“Just go,” Kevlar warns.
Graves sees me as he struts past me, having the decency to look embarrassed as he gets on his bike.
The front door slams shut.
“Come on,” Kevlar waves me forward.
I’m hesitant but follow him into the house that smells like vanilla candles and bleach. Clean.
We find his sister in the kitchen, chugging a bottle of water. She’s barefoot, wearing denim shorts and a white tee that hangs off her shoulders. Her dark hair spikes around her face like tiny knives. She looks nothing like his other sister.
“Can you believe that tool? God. I’m so stupid. I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different from the last five.” She shakes her head and slams the bottle onto the counter. “She the chick that lost her memory?”
“Yeah. This is Lacey.”
