Slingshot by K.L. Savage
Iam flying so high. I have my taco truck, a hot date, and now I’m getting ready to go out with Sunnie to get a puppy for Poodle. Life is so fucking good.
“You are oddly more chipper than usual,” Tongue drawls slowly over the Zoom video call we’re doing. We talk every day. He’s my bro-taco. It’s a bromance. It’s real.
Even if he might not know it.
“I don’ think I like it. Your happiness makes me itchy,” he growls. “Especially since my happiness isn’t talking to me.”
“That bad?” I wince as I shrug on my cut, then stare at myself in the mirror. I wouldn’t say I’m a super good-looking guy, I mean, not like Doc, who has those pretty-boy looks. I have black hair, blue eyes, a bit of stubble, but I have a whole lot of confidence because I have a good sense of humor.
It doesn’t stop there.
I’m fit.
Taco fit.
I run enough to stuff my face with all the taco goodness that I can.
“She’s confused, but I think she doesn’t like for me to be far. My presence comforts her, so I stay in the corners.”
“You’re stalking her? While she sleeps?” I stare at my phone for a minute in disbelief.
“Yeah, so? It’s for our own good,” he scoffs. “Oh, I gotta go. She’s leaving. What the fuck is she wearing? No fucking way. I’m going to spank her.”
A low baritone of a dial tone comes next, and I’m left more confused like I always am after talking to Tongue. I shrug my shoulders and then run my fingers through my shoulder-length hair. The messy look is what counts, and it takes some product and time to achieve it.
And then I do something I haven’t done in a long time. I take a mirror picture for Natalia. What the fuck am I doing? I’m thirty-five. I’m way too old for her, and I haven’t taken a picture of myself since the flip phone. What has she done to me?
“Maybe if I lean like this…” I press my shoulder against the doorframe and try to look effortlessly cool, yet sexy, yet natural.
I suck at this.
I smirk, tilting my lips to the side, and a few pieces of hair fall in my face. I press the picture and inspect, again wondering why I’m doing this, but I feel like this is a great way to communicate with her. “I don’t look too bad,” I say to myself, feeling a bit overconfident in my cut, and I’m having a great hair day.
I sound like a chick.
“Fuck, who cares? Just send it and stop being a bitch.” I click her name and type ‘I can’t wait to see you’ and then attach the picture. I hesitate for a second, but I finally press the send button. Tucking the phone in my pocket. I don’t want to look at it for the rest of the day. I’m too nervous.
I head out of the bathroom, attached to my bedroom, then head down the hall attached to the gym. I live in the additions Reaper added on to the clubhouse. I’m closer to the gym than I am to the main room. I’m okay with that. I like my privacy, and if I want to hang out, it isn’t a long walk.
My phone vibrates. It’s as if an earthquake is shaking my leg and tingling the tip of my cock. I know who it is, and I’m too nervous to know what the message says. She’s making me act like a teenager again, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing considering I’m skipping down the road to forty. It’s a happy skip, but a skip nevertheless.
When I come to the kitchen, Skirt is there, and he’s eating pie. Shocker. Bullseye is there too. He’s sitting at the head of the table with an exhausted, hypnotized look on his face. His hair is a wreck, standing up in different directions.
I snap my fingers in front of him, and he doesn’t even blink.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” I ask Skirt, who’s chewing around a mouthful of apple pie.
“I don’t know. He sat down and just…glared. It’s creeping me out.”
“Bullseye?” I whisper, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. “Fuck, is he dead?” I lay two fingers across his throat and sigh in relief when I feel a pulse.
“He’s asleep,” Doc says as he walks into the room. Shirtless. Always looking like a model. The fucker.
“But his eyes are open.”
“Yeah…when you’re exhausted, it doesn’t matter,” Doc says.
“Faith kept him up all night. He doesn’t want me up in the middle of the night, says I need my rest, and yet, he won’t rest himself.” Hope, Bullseye’s estranged daughter, who he thought died as a baby, says. “Dad? Dad, wake up.”
The sound of his name has him standing up so fast the chair slides back and clatters to the ground. “What? What is it? Are you okay, Hope? Where’s Faith? Is it Ruby? What’s wrong?” Bullseye panics, eyes wide.
“Dad, you need to go to sleep.” Hope presses her hand against his cheek, and Bullseye’s eyes soften as he leans into her touch. He’s become softer around the edges, happier, and not as fucking grumpy. “Have you checked your sugar?” she asks, something Ruby always does in the mornings too, but I think she’s at Ruby’s Rarities, her vintage store.
Bullseye shakes his head. “Haven’t gotten around to it. I will right now. How’s Faith?”
Hope shakes her head as she smiles. “The same as she was when you finally put her down so you could come out here. You have to rest, and you have to learn to let her sleep in her crib, Dad. She’s going to become too dependent.”
Bullseye snorts and waves her concern away, which makes me chuckle. He’s such a grandpa.
“She’s fine. And who cares if she does? I have a lot of time to make up for. I didn’t get to hold you. I don’t ever want to let her go when she’s this little,” he admits.
“Ah, shite. Yer making me emotional over me pie. I need me, Joey, now. What the fuck, Bullseye?” Skirt tosses his dish in the sink and runs out of the room, his kilt flapping behind him, which shows his hairy ass.
Good god. No matter how many times we see it, it’s just as disturbing as the first time.
Man, I don’t even have kids, and Bullseye is making me emotional. I need to go break or kill something.
“I’m going to get Sunnie.” I walk around the table and give Hope and Bullseye a wide berth. Doc pricks Bullseye’s finger while he’s talking to Hope, and I flinch. I don’t like needles.
Sue me.
I make a dash to the hallway right as I hear someone retching in the bathroom. I take a right and knock on the door. “Hey, you okay in there?” I ask.
“Slingshot?” she sounds miserable.
“Sunnie?” I try the doorknob, but it’s locked. “Hey, Mars!” I yell for him, and it isn’t long before I hear the pounding of his footsteps against the floor coming from the other side of the house. “Mars!”
“I’m fine,” Sunnie grumbles before I hear the terrible splash of puke.
“What is it?” Mars, also known as Patrick or Pirate, finally gets to my side.
“Sunnie. The door's locked. She’s sick.”
A dark cloud passes over his face, and he knocks softly on the door. “Sunshine, what’s going on? Are you going to let me in?”
“Am I going to let you in?” she sneers, and Mars takes a step back from the door. “And what’s wrong with me? I’ll tell you,” she gags. “I’m carrying not one, not two, but three of your kids, and they are punching me in every fucking organ, and it makes me feel sick. That’s what’s going on, or did you forget?” she snips, and a second later, the toilet flushes.
“I didn’t mean to give her three,” Mars whispers out of the side of his mouth. “How is this all on me?”
“What’d you just say?”
This time it’s me taking a step back. I pat Mars on the shoulder when the anger forming Sunnie’s words is enough to make the strongest man bow out and run.
“Good luck,” I whisper to him. “Hey, Sunnie? I’m going to go, okay? Try to rest. Want me to bring you back anything?”
She sniffles. “Some ginger ale?”
“I’m going to be awhile, but I’ll bring some back.”
“Sunshine, you know I’ll go get it for you.”
“I want you to stay away,” she sobs. “I’m so fat.”
Her words shake and come out broken while she cries, and Mars leans against the door. “Sunshine, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and even prettier pregnant. I love that you’re carrying my kids and keeping them safe and sound. Don’t ever call yourself fat again.”
I walk away, but the soft click of the lock tells me Sunnie is opening the door, which makes me smile. I want all that crazy with my partner. I want to wake up at one in the morning because she’s having cravings and needs pickles right at that moment. I want to comfort the love of my life.
If I even have one.
When I see Tyrant and Chaos on the floor lying next to one another, my heart squeezes a bit when I see them without Lady. This house just doesn’t feel the same without another dog, and that’s why I plan on changing that. I scratch behind Tyrant’s ear, and his pink tongue flicks out to wet the top of his nose.
“Good boys,” I praise them and take my other hand to scratch the top of Chaos’s head.
“Hey, Slingshot?”
I turn my head to see Doc with a diaper bag, a stroller, and he’s holding baby Dean. “What’s up?”
“I need to take Joanna to the doctor. She’s not feeling great, and I’m worried it could be an infection. I don’t know. I’m freaking out, and I was hoping you’d take Dean with you? I know you watched him earlier, and it’s a lot to ask—”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to. Come here, little man.” I take Dean without hesitation and hold him to my chest. “Just keep me updated on Jo. I’ll take care of him.” I’m a little nervous. Dean is brand new to this world, and it’s a big deal for Doc to trust me with him like this. We aren’t staying here this time.
“Thank you so much. All the bottles, diapers, everything you need is in the bag. I’m so sorry, Slingshot. I know it’s last-minute…”
“Don’t worry about it. You don’t even have to ask. Just hand him over to me.” I laugh as I sling the diaper bag over my shoulder.
“I didn’t want to ask Badge.”
I snort and open the door with my free hand while making sure I have a firm hold on Dean. Doc follows me out, and I press the unblock button to my truck. “I don’t blame you. I’m happy you came to me. I love the kids.”
“I know,” he says, folding the stroller before tossing it in the bed of the truck. “You know, I’ve never seen a guy so open and willing, happy even, around kids. You really want them, don’t you?”
I try not to be bothered by the question. I don’t understand why a man wouldn’t want to have a family. What’s more amazing than being with the people you love? Growing something special together? After Mom died, nothing was the same for me, and I miss that. I miss that connection, the sense of family…
Mine was gone after that. My perfect, suburban, picket-fenced life was over when Mom died. Dad couldn’t handle it. He lost his job, started drinking, started hitting me, and when I turned sixteen, I got emancipated from him and lived my life the best way I could.
I got a job working nights, went to school during the day, had my own shitty apartment where my only neighbors were cockroaches. When I graduated, that’s when I found the Kings. They were outside the bar I had somehow convinced the manager to let me work at when I was eighteen. I wasn’t old enough to serve alcohol, but he got me a fake I.D. because he liked me so much. He took a chance on me, and it took me a while to convince the Kings to do the same.
But I finally wiggled my way into their lives, and now they’re my family, but I want more.
I want an ol’ lady.
I’ve been alone since the day Mom died, and nothing has filled the void.
Not humor, not drinking, not smoking, not killing…it’s just empty space inside me, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m meant to be alone.
And yeah, I have a date with a beautiful woman later today, but she’s way too young for me. She’ll realize that we’re in two different aspects of our lives. She probably wants to do so many things with her youth that I just can’t do right now. One day, but not right now.
Why am I going on a date with her then?
Because there’s a part of me, the really dumb naïve part. The one that still believes that love is a fairytale, like the dumb idiot that I am, that maybe…just maybe…Natalia will want to be with me anyway.
“Yeah, I do. Kids are great. You guys are lucky.” I buckle Dean into the car seat and make sure the straps are correct over his chest. I installed a car seat when all the ladies got pregnant in case something like this happened with Doc, and I needed to be prepared. I mean, there are only four singles left. Someone will be asked to babysit or lend a hand, and no one will want to go to Badge, so really, that leaves just three of us.
No offense against Badge. I’m pretty sure Maizey is his limit. A very hard limit.
“Your time will come, Slingshot. You’re a good guy. Good guys don’t go to waste.”
I wink at him. “I have a hot date tonight, so I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
Doc crosses his arms and leans against the side of the truck. “No kidding? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go on a date. Who’s the lucky girl?”
My stomach somersaults with the truth. I shut the door to the truck, so the hot air doesn’t get in. I’ve had the engine running for the last fifteen minutes to get the air cool since it’s so hot out, and I want to make sure Dean is comfortable.
“Natalia,” I answer swiftly and run around the front end of the truck to get to the driver’s side.
I’m not quick enough.
Doc grabs my arm and tugs me back. “I only know one, Natalia,” he says with a slight warning.
“Really?” I act clueless. “Is she a little short, dark hair, and gorgeous Italian accent? It isn’t too heavy, not like Mateo’s.” I give a nervous laugh after I spill the beans, and he’s speechless.
Well.
I’ll take that over being yelled at any day of the week.
“Okay, then. I’ll catch you around, Doc. I’ll make sure that Dean is safe, don’t worry.” I pull up on the handle and open the door, and I’m about to slide into the leather seat when Doc yanks me backward again.
By my arm.
“Ow. Man, come on. You know I bruise easily,” I say, still trying to keep the mood light for the reaping I’m about to get.
“Don’t worry? I’m not worried about Dean. I’m worried about you. What the hell are you thinking? Out of all the women, you had to choose her?”
“Well, yeah,” I say dumbly. “I like her, Doc. I want to get to know her better, and Mateo isn’t going to stop me.”
Doc shoves a finger in the middle of my forehead, so hard I stumble back a few steps. “A bullet to your fucking head will. God, Slingshot. I know you like to goof around, and you’re young at heart but think this through. This could kill you.”
I push his arm away from me and shove a finger in his face. “And so will being alone and unhappy. You don’t think I want someone? Well, I want her. Don’t fucking talk to me like a child. I’m a grown man, same as you, and I’m not afraid to kick ass either. If Mateo wants a fight, he’ll get one.”
“And what about your injuries? You were shot in the chest and shoulder, remember? How does it feel?” He pokes one of the barely healed wounds, and I hiss. “Exactly. You aren’t ready for this.”
“Well, I’m not going to wait around either, and if trying to build a future kills me, I can die knowing I tried.” I climb into the truck and slam the door, locking it for good measure so he can’t try to interrupt me again.
I slam the truck into reverse and back out of the parking lot. The tires crunch, dust swirls into a mini-tornado around the truck, just like the rage building in me.
“You ready to get out of here?” I ask Dean, knowing he can’t talk back to me.
I’m glad he can’t. I just need someone to listen to me bitch, but as I think of what I want to vent about, my phone dings.
I stop at the end of the driveway and check it because no way am I driving and texting with a baby in the truck.
Natalia: I can’t wait for tonight.
She sent a picture of herself, and she’s grinning from ear to ear, wearing a white dress with pink flowers all over it that hugs her body. Her skin is this beautiful light caramel color, a deep olive tone that speaks of her Italian heritage.
Her long chocolate-colored brown hair cascades down her shoulders in silky waves, and her eyes are twinkling with mischief and shyness at the same time. I lean over the middle console and show Dean. “How does she expect me to focus when she’s looking like that?” I ask him.
He spits, kicking his feet in the air.
“Exactly,” I say in agreement. “I can’t.”
Gorgeous. I can’t wait until tonight either. Wear comfortable shoes.
I have the entire night planned, and with what we’re doing, she’s going to need to be comfortable.
I tuck the phone in the cup holder, and I’m about to turn right on Loneliest Road when a tightening in my chest begins to form. I rub my hand over it, thinking it’s just reflux, but the tightening gets worse. The truck jerks forward when I place it in park, and I begin to gasp for breath.
I wrap my hands around my throat, thinking about anything I could have eaten or come into contact with that could give me this reaction.
The last time I had issues breathing was when I had cancer in my early twenties, but this can’t be it. It’s hitting me out of nowhere. Sure, I’ve had shortness of my breath over the last few weeks, but doesn’t everyone get that every now and then?
“Fuck,” I strangle to get out and fumble for my phone. The struggling croaks to breathe are giving me anxiety, and Dean begins to cry, knowing something’s wrong. I manage to press the number three and put the phone on speaker.
Doc answers on the second ring. “Regret taking him already.”
I try to speak, but I can’t. I can’t fucking breathe. My face is getting hot from the blood rushing to it.
I’m fucking scared. Tears are brimming my eyes when the thought ‘I’m going to die’ repeats itself in my head.
“Slingshot? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
I shake my head and pat the steering wheel until I find the gear stick and throw it in reverse. My vision begins to turn dark along the edges, and the air I have left is becoming less and less. I barely remember the gate in my oxygen-deprived stupor. Still, I do remember Dean, which makes me reach above and press the button.
I don’t want him to get hurt, but I don’t know how much longer I can wait.
“Slingshot!” Doc yells at me. I slam my foot on the gas, and the truck jolts backward. The tires spin across the dirt, and all I can hope is that we’re going straight back. I glance in the rearview mirror, my head against the steering wheel, when I see the gate coming into view.
We’re going to clip it. I’m moving too fast, and the gate is moving too slow. I reached behind the driver’s side seat, using the last of my strength, and grip the car seat right as the truck clips the gate. My temple hits the steering wheel. I take my foot off the gas as the truck slides to the right, and the passenger side hits against the security shed where Braveheart used to be all the time.
Dean.
He’s crying. That’s good, right? Fucking hell, I can’t breathe; I can’t move. I’m going to die here. Right in this truck out of the blue because I ignored shortness of breath symptoms. I thought it was from my gunshot wound.
Fucking idiot.
I’m never going to find that love I always wanted either.
My eyes hood and the creaks of air trying to get down to my lungs don’t scare me as much as I thought they would. Death has been more of a greeting I know I’ll have one day, but it’s the process of dying that scares me.
The waiting, the misery, the last thoughts of the things I’ll never be able to do. I’ll never eat a taco again, I’ll never be with my brothers again, I’ll never have my own kids, and I’ll never kiss a woman again.
Natalia.
The chance of happiness that was ripped right from under me.
Doc and Reaper are at my door, and Doc is pulling on the handle. It’s locked, but I can’t reach for the button. I’m too tired.
“Slingshot! Keep your eyes open! Hey.” Doc’s voice is getting further away, and so are Dean’s cries.
But I don’t want to keep my eyes open. I’m tired. My chest hurts, and my head feels like it’s about to explode.
“Slingshot. We’re going to break the glass,” Reaper warns me. He throws his elbows into the window, and when that doesn’t work, he uses his fist next.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
His efforts are so loud.
Please, stop.
The glass shatters, and a few pieces nick my face.
“Okay, we got him. We got you, Slingshot.” Doc drags me to the ground, and I grip his cut and mouth his son’s name.
Dean.
“I got him. He’s fine. He’s okay,” Knives says, cradling the baby against his chest.
I’m sorry. I mouth.
“Don’t. It’s okay. God, Slingshot. He’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about. You can’t breathe?”
I shake my head, and I try to take in one last gulp of air, but I can’t.
I can’t.
“Slingshot. Hey, keep trying to.” Doc yells over his shoulder. “I need help carrying him downstairs now. I’m losing him. His pulse is weak.”
Trying to breathe is like swallowing a cement brick right now.
I just can’t.
