Bad to the Bones(14)
No doubt Montana would turn a blind eye to many of the Boners’ doings in his own backyard. He’d probably push referendums that were favorable to their business. Frankly, Knoxie paid little to no attention to politics. He wasn’t a brother in the club—yet. But he was a businessman. So maybe he should start caring.
When Slushy stood to thump the future mayor on the back, it gave Knoxie the opening he’d been waiting for. Again touching his fingers to Bellamy’s, he leaned forward so far his forehead nearly touched hers. “Bellamy. Yesterday when I found you on the mesa, you said something…strange. The last thing you said before you passed out was, ‘Oh, Master. Is it time to be penetrated?’ Not to be overly idiotic, but…is that something you normally ask?”
To Knoxie’s surprise, Bellamy didn’t appear embarrassed. “Yes, it happens quite often. It’s my master’s way of bonding with us chosen ones.”
Knoxie rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet.” He had to take her seriously, though. “Listen, Bellamy. I know you’re over eighteen and all, but did it ever occur to you this ‘master’ is just using you? That you deserve so much better?” He knew he was yammering hollow, empty shit, and Bellamy picked up on it.
“No. How can it get any better than what I have? I’m allowed to ride my own bike. I’ve got a beautiful vintage Sporty 883 bobber with a three point three gallon tank, no front fender, mini apes. It’s purple, Voodoo Purple Flake, which I know you bikers wouldn’t appreciate, but I don’t care. I did all the work myself.”
“I’ve got a Softail, blacked out.” Knoxie would have loved to see her ride. More than that, he’d kill to see her scooting in some fringed leathers, maybe flying a PROPERTY OF patch. But he had more important things to address. “You just don’t know any better, Bellamy. You haven’t been living in the real world. Do you still think it was an accident that you were bused out to the mesa with all those bums? Doesn’t your master see all, know all? Then he must’ve known what was happening to you. Has he called you looking for you? No?”
She pouted and seemed less sure of herself. “I don’t have a cell. How could he call? No, listen, why are you trying to downtalk my faith, my life? After I say hi to Madison I’ll get her to give me a ride back up the mountain.”
Knoxie wasn’t about to give up. He squeezed her fingers. “Bellamy. Sorry, sorry. That’s what I’m going to call you since I’m not currently in Merry-go-round Canyon wearing a purple toga. Listen, Bellamy. There’s a whole world out here with a wide range of people. Very few of them are going to hurt you the way your so-called master just did. He threw you out like a used condom, just slapped you right up against that wall, yes he did! I don’t want you going back there, Bellamy. Look at it from my point of view. I saved you from certain death. Would I want to see all my hard work go into the shitter?”
“What hard work? You picked me up off the ground.”
“Oh, so you’re an ingrate now? You would’ve frozen to death. It gets down to forty degrees up there in late October. As passed out as you were, you would’ve gone into hypothermia, the way you were knocked out. You didn’t stop to wonder why you were drugged?”
“Who said anything about being drugged?” Bellamy yanked her hands from Knoxie’s and pinned them under her underarms. “Sounds like you’re living in La-la-land the way you assume all of this whacked-out shit. What do I know about you? You took off my skirt and put me into your bed.”
Knoxie snorted. “Saved your ass, is more like it. Do I even get a f*cking word of thanks?”
Bellamy made a lip fart now. “Ppp. Thanks. I guess. But I don’t think I needed any damned saving. I was out there with Ted, a ski instructor from Aspen. I was hardly in any gutter snorting cheese heroin.”
“Cheese heroin? What makes you say cheese heroin?” As the father of a couple of teens, Knoxie was particularly sensitive to this trendy drug, a mixture of heroin, Tylenol PM, and additives such as sugary strawberry flavoring to make it attractive to kids. It was called “cheese” for its resemblance to grated parmesan. Knoxie had never busted Sage and Cameron dabbling in that crap, but he’d sure as hell lectured them anyway. “Did you hear someone talking about cheese heroin?”
“Now why would I tell you? You’re just pumping me for—oh!” Bellamy gasped and jumped when someone wearing a lavender T-shirt walked by. Of course it was only a regular civilian—the grill didn’t cater solely to bikers—but her reaction was very telling.
She was petrified.
Again, Knoxie took her hand. She had made a fist, and he covered it with both his palms. He whispered, “They threw you under the bus, Bellamy. Literally. Let me help.”
She said quietly, “I don’t need your help.” She wasn’t too convincing.
Knoxie fixed her with his gaze. He could practically see her resolve crumble beneath his piercing stare. He used this method on his kids, as he used to use it on Nicole and other women. Once he was sure he had her attention, he whispered, “I think you do need my help.”
It seemed to sink in. Knoxie didn’t mind so much when Slushy came staggering back over, laughing like a goon as he dropped several bills on the table. “Well, the thing is, she really believed I was Jude Law! Anything works if you believe in it hard enough.”