Page 40 of Dirty

She leaned forward. “Tell me about him.”

“It’s really nothing. Yet.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay. Fine.” I let out a sigh as if I didn’t want to say anything, but I really did. “He’s one of the Filthy Fuckers. But. There’s nothing going on yet. I just kind of like him.”

“Which one?”

“The one you said you didn’t know.”

She couldn’t hide her excitement. “What’s his name?”

I considered saying Adam, but knew he preferred Cholo, so I stuck with his preference. “Cholo.”

“Mexican guy?”

“Half. He’s half Hispanic and half Irish.”

“What color are his eyes?”

“Blue.”

“Tattoos?”

I nodded. “From his knuckles to his shoulders.”

“What about his hair?”

“His head’s shaved.”

“Tall? Skinny? Muscular?”

“Tall. Really, really muscular. Built like a weightlifter.”

“Oh God.” She breathed. “I bet he’s hot.”

“He’s pretty easy on the eyes, that’s for sure.”

“How’d you guys meet?”

I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth. At least not the complete truth. “Some uhhm. Some guys were beating me up, and he stopped it. He saved me.”

“What?” She gasped. “Guys were beating you up? Like hitting you?”

I nodded. “I was being attacked.”

Mrs. Kelly said it would feel good to talk about it, and she was right. Even though I wasn’t talking about it specifically, finally sharing the event – even partially – with someone out of the group was a huge relief.

“Oh my God.” She covered her mouth. “And he saved you?”

“Yeah.” I grinned. “He sure did.”

“That’s awesome. Bikers are bad asses. I’ve always dated douchebags from the bars. An insurance salesman. A mechanic at the Chevy dealership. A guy that worked construction and was freaking married. And, there was another guy that was worked for the city’s landscape crew. He was a dick. Asshole had like five girlfriends.” She took a drink of beer, let out a sigh, and leaned on the edge of the table. “I wanna trade places with you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do, too.”