Thrash Read Free Page A

mess as I feel. I powder my
nose and then shove the compact back in my bag and rush out of the
house. I’m a total disaster with my bleached blonde hair as messy
as ever and my makeup half worn-off. The only thing worse than the
way I look right now is the way I feel.
    Jeremy’s going to be home
for the rest of the week doing God only knows what, but I don’t
have that luxury. I have to get back to work and explain to my boss
why I had another family emergency.
    I lock up the small ranch house Jeremy
and I share and take a look up at the sky overhead. The cool air
hits my exposed skin, leaving faint droplets of condensation
behind. Rushing to my car, an old Toyota Corolla, I yank the driver
side door open and slam it behind me before I get too wet. It can’t
be above sixty outside and I’m wearing a low-cut black tank top and
tight ripped jeans. I’d grab a sweater, but business has been slow
this week and I need the tips, especially after missing half of my
shift this morning to deal with damn teenage shit.
    The engine grumbles to life as
reluctant as ever. She’s on her way out, I can tell, but she’s got
to hang in a few more years until I can figure something out with
my brother. I make a mental note to take her by the shop in
Willits. Hopefully she makes it that far without issue. Backing out
of the driveway she practically wheezes, then makes a grinding
sound as I cut the wheel. I grit my teeth at the thought of having
to take her to the shop in town— the only shop in town— Forsaken
Custom Cycle.
    I haven’t been on Forsaken property in
almost two months— not since the night I decided it would be
totally cool to act like an idiot and sleep with Duke. Not since he
all but claimed me, something most Lost Girls pray for, and then
totally disappeared. Not that I give a shit-- or rather-- not that
I’m trying not to give a shit. He’s been back in town from wherever
he went for weeks now. I’ve seen him ride by Universal Grounds
enough times just like he always has. He never stops in, never
checks on me. I spent weeks making up excuses for why he’s been
absent-- weeks where I let myself think that bullshit where he
claimed my pussy was anything more than punishment for making him
wait so long. But now I’m done and fuck him.
    He knows where I live, and he knows
where I work, and still-- nothing. Like a moron, me believing him,
and him being Duke and being untrustworthy, I should have seen this
coming. But no. Like a moron I avoided the clubhouse because the
Old Ladies don’t spend much time at the clubhouse. It seemed like
the right thing to do, if I was going to take myself off the
market. And even though I knew it was going to hurt when he
eventually got tired of me, I set myself up for the prospect of
spending more time in Duke’s bed, and maybe even a little time on
the back of his bike. But he never showed up and now I’m left with
a bad case of embarrassment.
    I make the drive through the
straight-up blue collar residential side of town and into downtown
in less time than I’d like. I’ve tried to consider the best course
of action in explaining my continual disappearances to my boss, but
so far, I’ve got nothing. It’s not easy having to apologize for
your fuck ups again and again.
    Pulling up to Universal Ground, I check
my red lipstick in the rear view mirror, gather up my purse, and
pull my tits up high as I can in my bra. Downtown is pretty much
dead today, which doesn’t bode well for the next few hours. With my
purse over one shoulder and my long blonde hair pulled over the
other, I pull open the heavy glass and wood door to the front of
Universal Grounds. Inside, the air conditioning is on at a lower
than comfortable temperature— all a ruse to encourage patrons to
drink more overpriced coffee— and the place is spotless. Courtesy
of the two patrons inside and my co-worker Mindy, there’s light
chatter being thrown around keeping the shop from sinking into a
dead