Slingshot by K.L. Savage

Present Day

Ihave my hands on my hips as I stare at the biggest piece of fucking junk I’ve ever seen.

I love it.

“I’ll take it,” I say with a big smile on my face.

Spud, the junkyard owner in the next town over, loses his grin and scratches the back of his head. I’ve known Spud for a long time now. I always come to him for any bike or car parts I need, or even when I just want to fiddle with an old car, Spud is there letting me in the gate.

“Slingshot, ya sure? It’s a piece of shit. I’ve sold better donated rusted tricycles than this thing.” He kicks the back tire, and it flies off, rolling down the dirt road until it hits another battered car in the junkyard. The piece of said shit collapses to the left, and the wheel axle digs into the ground.

“Nope, still perfect. Nothing a little tender, love, and care can’t fix, am I right?”

Spud shakes his head and pulls out a cigarette. “You’re sure? I mean, I don’t even know if the engine works. It’s been sitting in the yard for years. I don’t know how you haven’t seen it.”

“Well, I haven’t been looking until now,” I say honestly, but now that I’m healed from the gunshot wounds I took about a month back, I want to look forward to the future more than anything.

Okay, I’m not fully healed. I just don’t like to listen to Doc. He’s so annoying, blabbering on and on about rest and how I need to be careful. Life is too short to be careful. Fuck it. I’m going to drive this piece of shit into the sunset and eat all the damn tacos I want.

“You’re batshit crazy, but that’s why I like ya. Alright, well, I’ll give you a hundred bucks for it.”

I whip my head around and gawk. “Spud, that makes zero sense. I pay you, remember?”

“Yeah, but just you getting it off my property will be great. It takes up room. I’m sick of it. It’s an eyesore.”

“How about when I’m up and running for business, you get free tacos for life?”

Spud holds out his hand. “Deal.”

“Ah, shaaa-weeet,” I cheer, slapping my palm against his. “Thanks, Spud. I appreciate it.”

“I hope like hell you do something good with it. I bet it has a lot of stories to tell.”

“Oh man, yeah. I bet.” The longer I stare at her, the more excited I get.

I know nothing about starting a food truck. I mean fucking nothing, zip, nada, I don’t even know how to cook.

But tacos can’t be too hard, right? I’m going to practice beforehand, obviously. Plus, it’s going to take me months to get this baby into shape.

What am I going to call her? I don’t know. Every food truck needs a name, but I haven’t got that far yet. I just want the truck. After that, I’ll have plenty of time to do whatever I wanted.

“Help me get her on the trailer?”

Spud cracks his neck. “Ya know, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Horse shit. You can’t be a day older than Reaper. Stop bitching and help me push her on.”

“She’s missing a tire now, genius. How can we do that?”

“Well, Spud. We have to put the tire back on.” Duh. Did the man get dropped on his head? “Surely you have a tire?” Fuck, I didn’t plan on it falling apart before I even got it back to Kings’ Garage. Poodle, Mars, Tool, most of the guys have decided to help me with my project.

Well, the ones that don’t have newborns.

Jeez, I feel like the odd man out. I want all that, but honestly, I don’t know a woman that could deal with me.

Natalia’s face flashes in my mind briefly, and I shake it away. The last woman I need to be thinking about in the entire world is that one. Mateo would string me up, cut off my dick, and then kill me.

Out of 7.9 billion people in the world to want, I only seem to want her.

Fuck me, why do I make life so hard for myself?

I should dig my grave early; I’ll carve my own tombstone because that is what Mateo will expect of me, and then I’ll bury myself. I’ll save him the trouble.

Lordess, cause my God is a sexy woman, please have tacos waiting.

“Hey, I don’t have all day. I have a date at Flimsy’s,” he says, rolling an old tire to me, then tosses a carjack.

“You have a date?” I ask, not because I’m surprised, but because I’ve never seen him with anyone or talk about anyone. For a dude, he’s a good-looking guy. I’m not gay or anything, not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. I like gay people; they’re cool. I’m just saying, I can appreciate a guy’s looks without being afraid to admit it.

That’s all.

“I will by the end of the night,” he chuckles, cranking the jack.

“You dog.” I shove his shoulder, then roll the tire in place and tighten the bolts.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

It doesn’t take but ten minutes, and we’re ready to load her up on the trailer. I slide under the truck and cringe when I see how rusted it is. I knew it was bad but had been hoping it wasn’t. I have so much work ahead of me.

“Can I ask you something?” Spud asks.

The tips of his boots are all I can see while I place the hook. “Yeah, man. Go for it.” Stupid fucking rust. The damn hook won’t latch cause the metal is so weak.

“Why don’t you buy a new one? I know you have money,” he says, his tone lilted with sorrow.

He knows that I have a ton of money. My Mom had a pretty fucking great life insurance policy, and I got it when I turned eighteen.

I haven’t touched it.

I don’t want anything to do with it.

I’m a millionaire, which, yeah, it’s no billionaire like Mateo, but I’m set for life, and my kids, if I have any, will be set too. I’ve invested most of it, and it’s grown into more millions. I don’t know why I did, but one can never be too careful.

“You know why, Spud.” I have plenty of hard-earned money too from doing jobs for the club, and whenever the club gets paid from bigger jobs, everyone always gets a cut. I could afford more, but I have a soft spot for things that need to be fixed.

“Yeah, but come on Slingshot. She would have loved it if you invested in yourself.”

I shake my head and forget he can’t see me. “No, man, I can’t. I won’t. Plus, with a little love, this beauty will be up and running in no time.”

“Not everything has to be a project. Not everything has to be fixed.”

“If it’s up to me, everything will be.” I’m bound and determined to care for things that miss the chance to be saved.

“That’s―”

I finally slide out from under the truck after the hook is in place. “Stop. Okay? I’m not fucking touching the money. I want this food truck. Enough.” I stand up and dust off my jeans. It isn’t often I get an attitude with people. I’m a pretty laid-back guy who likes to be the comedic relief because serious shit brings back a shit ton of horrible memories.

One with my Mom dying in my arms, so yeah, being serious isn’t something I like to do.

“Okay, sorry. It wasn’t my place.”

No, it fucking wasn’t, but I let it roll off my shoulders and give him a smile anyway. I slap his shoulder and grin. “It’s alright, man. I understand what you were trying to do.” I step over the chain, climb into the driver’s side, and put her in neutral. Spud walks to the front of the trailer and presses a button that pulls the chain.

And finally, this piece of rusted fucking shit is on the trailer.

“Alright, Slingshot. I just…I think you deserve a little more credit than what you give yourself. You’re a good dude. There’s plenty of ways to spend money without it feeling selfish.”

“Me spending money to just feel good about myself is selfish. I appreciate doing business with ya, Spud, but I got to get back. I’m on babysitting duty.”

“Oh yeah, ya guys got a bunch of little spawns running around these days, right?” He blows out a cloud of smoke.

“Sure do, and they’re all fucking cute. I don’t regret offering to babysit at all.” I actually can’t wait. I’m watching Dean, Doc’s little boy, and then Sunnie and I are going to a local animal shelter to try and look for a new puppy for Poodle. It’s supposed to be a surprise for him, and I’m terrible at keeping surprises.

Sunnie had to hit me on the back of the head a few times when I nearly spilled the beans. I can’t help it. Poodle is so damn sad lately. I haven’t seen him smile or maybe think about killing someone like how he used to. His edge is gone. All he does is stick to Melissa’s side.

I want to make him happy, so when Sunnie came to me with the idea, I was automatically game. I didn’t even need to think about it.

“Have fun with that,” Spud says and begins to walk away toward his office. “I’m going to get ready to go to Flimsy’s.”

“Hope you get that date.” I cup my hand over my mouth and shout after him.

He flips me off and disappears into his rundown office he built out of scrap metal. The door slams shut, dinging in the wrong places as the loud, high-pitched ringing has me hurrying over to the driver’s side of the truck to get away from it, but it’s too late.

My ears are fucking ringing. I place my index fingers inside my canals and give my ears a good shake, but that doesn’t help.

Damn it, why won’t he get an actual office building? His is a fucking transformer and has twelve doors on it, and the roof is made out of an old tin roof he plucked off his cabin. The slamming of metal against metal is going to bust my ear drums.

I crank the Ford, and the engine grumbles to life, then flip the radio on in hopes it will distract me from the ringing in my ears.

My hands grip the steering wheel, excitement boiling up inside me like a kid who just got a bike for Christmas.

And then I get nervous too―just like that kid―about falling and hurting himself in front of his friends.

What if that’s me? Only when I fall, I fail.

And then there’s the stupid sadness that’s lingered in my chest ever since a damn bullet nearly killed me. It hurts to go home these days, not because I don’t love it, I do, but because everyone has someone, and I’m starting to think I never will.

I guess I’m not like most badass bikers. I’m not wanting to fuck a different woman or get in bed with a cut slut, which at this point, having whores around is pointless. Eventually, we’re going to get prospects, and Reaper has talked about bringing the whores back.

Sarah and the other ol’ ladies? They will kill them—one by one.

So I think Reaper will make another clubhouse for the singles maybe, have the whores there, or maybe start a strip club. It’s easy enough, but what I do know is that they aren’t coming to the main club house. Sarah won’t allow it, and to be honest, I wouldn’t trust the sluts around the kids. It would be dumb. Most are jealous girls looking to do anything to get a property patch. Even I wouldn’t risk it, and I know Reaper won’t either.

And while warming my bed for a night sounds good, maybe some temporary relief for the ache in my cock, I’d still feel lonely. It didn’t use to be so bad until every member started to find the fucking love of their lives, one by one.

Hell, the only singles left are me, Badge, Tank, and Braveheart. What are we going to do? Herd the whores together? Tank is too shy, Braveheart has to be a virgin because he blushes too damn much at everything, and Badge is too fucking cranky to get laid.

My phone dings disturbing my depressing train of thought.

It’s Natalia.

“Oh, fuck. What do I do? I don’t know what to do,” I say out loud to myself, hoping that it somehow jogs my ability to have her fall in love with me.

But come on, she’s what, nineteen? Maybe? I have no business being with her. I’m in my thirties. Damn, just thinking about how fucked up that is turns me on.

What’s wrong with me?

I toss the phone in the passenger seat, throw the truck in drive and slam on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. I can’t talk to her. It’s bad.

No…no, it isn’t. Reaper is with Hawk’s daughter, and it can’t be more forbidden than that, right? I just have to get around Mateo. I have to earn his trust. I really like Natalia, she’s smart and brave, shy and quiet, but she lets down her guard a little with me.

I see it. I love it.

And I want to crumble the rest of her walls to prove to her that she’s safe with me.

Thinking about her and how to handle my next move preoccupies my mind until I pull into the gates of the clubhouse. I honk the horn and wave at a few of the guys standing on the porch. I hope they can see my excitement.

I’m fucking pumped.

I pass the bikes and the front porch, nearly a dozen men in leather following me as I pull behind Kings’ Garage. I grab my phone and tuck it in my pocket before getting out, reminding myself to message Natalia back. I don’t know how she got my number, but I’ve had hers since the day I met her, trying to work up the nerve to message or call.

Obviously, I didn’t work up the nerve.

I hop out of the truck, and the guys are hanging around the back, staring at it slack-jawed, but I’m more entertained with Reaper, Skirt, Doc, and Bullseye wearing baby slings.

“What do you think?” I asked, hurrying to the backdoors. I don’t let them answer because I know what they’re going to say. The back doors groan open, and Knives cringes while Reaper covers his daughter’s tiny ears. “Sorry.” I hop inside the food truck and spread my arms out. “Okay, I know what you’re thinking. It’s a piece of shit. I know.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Skirt’s eyes close when he hears Aidan, his stepson, who is actually his brother’s child but he loves Aidan like he’s his own.

“No, baby. You don’t say things like that.” I watch as Aidan runs behind the line of guys naked and poor Dawn is chasing after him.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he screams louder, running behind the house, and Dawn has her arms out, ready to catch him.

Skirt exhales a breath when Aidan’s cursing finally stops and opens his eyes. “I’m listening. Continue, please.” His large hand is on the back of Joey’s head, and he kisses the top of her head.

Knives snickers. “Your kid is going to be a biker with a mouth like he has.”

“Aye,” Skirt agrees. “It’s this one I’m worried about. What if she wants to be a biker too? God, why did I have to have a girl?” He chuckles. “Prettiest Lass in the world.”

“Another thing you should be worried about….” I point it out as a joke, but it earns me daggers from Skirt. I lift my hands. “Sorry, I’ll just…continue the tour.”

“Slingshot, I love your enthusiasm, but what the hell are we going to do with this?” Reaper asks.

“It’s poorer than a piece of shit, buddy. It’s hopeless,” Doc adds, bouncing his newborn, Dean, as he fusses.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Aidan runs around the house again.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Skirt grumbles. “Hold my baby.” He tugs her out of her sling and hands her to me.

“Gladly,” I whisper, taking the precious sweet thing in my arms. “Oh, hello, pretty lady. How are you doing? You’re so sweet. Yes, you are,” I can’t help but coo at her. She smiles, it’s wet and gross with spit all over her mouth, but she’s happy to see me.

“Ye little shite, come here, Aidan!” Skirt yells, and once again, Knives chuckles.

“Shite, shite, shite!”

I look up just in time to see Aidan dashing around Skirt, but Skirt grabs him by the arm and throws Aidan over his shoulder.

“Go to yer, Mom. Now.”

Dawn comes around the corner of the house, sweating, gasping for air. “Thanks, baby,” she says. “I just…” she swallows. “I need a minute.”

“Look what ye done did to yer, Mom. Ye better go apologize.”

“Sorry for being a little shite,” Aidan says with a pout.

All of us burst out laughing at this point.

Ah, kids.

My attention is brought back down to miss Joey when she squirms, and her eyes start to grow heavy from being sleepy. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking cute I can’t take it.” I just want to squeeze her so hard.

“I think someone has baby fever,” Doc notices.

“Yeah, Slingshot. I think you want a baby.” Knives rolls his ninja star across his knuckles.

“I do. My time will come,” I say, wishing like hell the time was now.

If I had ovaries, they‘d be fucking exploding right now. That’s how much I want a baby, a family.

“Anyway,” I bring the attention back to the food truck. “I know she isn’t much to look at. She needs a ton of work, but I think she can be something one day.”

“Ye better not be talking about my daughter.” Skirt ambles back into the line and reaches for Joey.

I reluctantly let her go, missing her already. I would kill anyone for these kids, and it makes me wonder what I’d do for mine. What’s more than killing? I don’t know.

“I’m talking about the truck, Skirt. I’d never talk about Joey like that.”

“Better not. I’d fucking kill ye.”

Yeah, no shit.

“Anyway, this will be my project. I just wanted to show you guys.”

“I think it’s great, Slingshot. I’m proud of you,” Reaper says.

“Thanks.” I puff my chest with pride as I stare at my rusted adventure. Even the inside walls are rusted.

“What’s her name?” Knives asks.

“I don’t know that yet.” I sit down on the floor of the truck and swing my feet over the edge and let them dangle.

“You, definitely have a great project ahead of you, Slingshot. Let us know if you need any help. I have to go. Dean’s getting hungry, and if I’m not careful, he’s going to start latching onto me.” Doc is the first one to walk away, and an excruciating shout on his way to the door tells me it’s too late. His nipple has become the victim of a hungry baby.

“Yeah, me too. Proud of you, Slingshot. Keep us in the loop,” Bullseye says. He’s the next one to leave, and everyone else follows suit.

I’m left all alone with my new endeavor, and I have a good feeling about it. “Shit,” I curse when I remember I need to check my phone. I tug it out of my pocket and turn on the screen, seeing her name pop up.

An image.

I gulp.

God…what could it be?