The Outskirts (The Outskirts Duet #1)

“Because you’re the only girl I know in Logan’s Beach who still has two separate nostrils and doesn’t always look like you just got plowed in a gas station bathroom.” I explained.

As much as I hated my hometown when I was a kid, I’d grown to love it. It’s where I thrived. Where I was meant to be. If someone came along and offered me a shit ton of money to move out of Logan’s Beach I’d pass. The only place that’s ever felt like a real home to me was the house on stilts that I lived in with my buddy King– and sometimes Bear–when he wasn’t doing all his biker shit with his MC, the Beach Bastards.

More like Beach Bitches. His old man had turned it into a house of white trash thugs instead of an MC. A big bunch of leather wearing dick bags.

Who like, killed people and shit.

“How much does this pay again?” Dre asked, surprisingly still unconvinced even though my plan was pure fucking genius.

“How much do you need to pay off your student loans?” I asked, knowing which buttons to push in order to get the answer I wanted. Plus, she was cute and there was one particular button of hers I wouldn’t mind pushing.

With my tongue.

“Sixteen grand.” Dre sounded defeated.

Perfect. The more desperate she was the more likely she was to say yes.

Desperate I could work with.

“Then that’s how much it pays.” I said. “Plus, a grand for every time you have to attend a hearing or interview or whatever fucking hoop the ringmasters over at DCS want us to jump through. Plus, clothes. I’ll pick them out. You’re about a…four, right?” I leaning to the side of the table to get a better look at her. “Fuck your legs are killer.” Her calves alone made little Preppy twitch. I sat back up straight. “Can I lick them?”

“Uhhh…”

“I think green is your color. It goes with your dark hair. Green is conservative, but says you have style. Black pumps for sure. Not beige. That will make your legs look even longer. Shit, you’ll almost be my height in six inch heels. Tall chicks are so fucking hot.”

Dre sat back and just let me talk. She didn’t interrupt me. I liked that about her. Almost as much as those fucking LEGS! “I’ll throw in fucking you for free. That’s not negotiable. Or maybe it is. Shit, maybe you should pay me. Whatever you want.” I waved my hand in the air. “I’ll let you decide.” I winked at her and she looked at me the way I was used to girls looking at me. The way everyone looked at me. Like she was both intrigued and very fucking confused.

Exactly the way I liked it.

Dre shook her head and ignored half the shit I said, focusing on what was only important to her.

I knew I liked this non-whorey bitch.

“All this,” she motioned to all of the paperwork in front of her. “Because you want to be… a father?”

I tipped back my chair and rested my head back on my hands. “Sort of. My buddy can’t get custody of his kid. He’s got a little girl. He’s going to be–indisposed for a couple of years and can’t do all this bullshit. So I’m going to do it for him.”

And I would.

No matter what.

King needed his kid and I was the only person who could get her back for him.

“What about her mother? Where is she?”

“She is part of the one nostril club. I’m pretty sure at this point her entire body is one big whole from all the shit she’s stuck in it. But she’s also gone. Off the radar. I got a guy I know working on tracking her down to sign off, but even if he finds her I’ll need more than that.”

“This guy. Your friend? He must be one hell of a person for you to go through all this for him. It’s not like you’re loaning him your car or something.” Dre said, running the tip of her finger around the rim of her wine glass.

“I would never let that motherfucker drive my fucking car!” I snapped. I took a deep breath. “Okay.” I said, in a much calmer tone. I almost had her locked and loaded, I didn’t want to scare her off. “I would let him drive my car, but it would have to be for a really really fucking good reason. Like life or death shit.” I thought about it some more. “Or if we were out of weed or something.”

I shook my head to try and straighten out the jumble of thoughts taking up more space than I had available in my brain. I may have talked a lot but most of the shit I thought didn’t even make it out of my mouth. Coherent structured sentences were always a struggle for me. I took a deep breath and took my time before I spoke. “It’s not like he wouldn’t do the same thing for me.” I managed to say. “And he’s an alright guy. A bit moody. Like he’s aways on the rag. But I’d be pissy too if I was where he’s at.”

“Where is that?” She asked.

“State Prison.”

“Do I want to know?” Dre asked. This girl kept surprising me. I thought someone of her caliber would at least be shocked at the mention of the person I was asking her to help was locked up.

“Nope. You don’t. It’s complicated, but the truth of it is he’s done some shit that in the eyes of the law he should be locked up for, and so have I. But the reason why he’s in there now is complete bullshit.” Dre nodded and looked down at her lap as she fidgeted with her hands. I leaned forward and grabbed her arms, bringing them up to the table I took her hands in mine. “No more questions.” I said. I looked her directly in her beautiful brown eyes.

I’ve called bitches hot. Sexy. Fuckable. But this is the first time in my life that I ever thought someone was actually beautiful. She had full lips a few shades darker than her olive skin. Pale and tan was pretty much the extent of the diversity in Logan’s Beach, but I was thinking that Dre was some flavor of Spanish.

Maybe Cuban.

Shit, I really was getting a fucking chubby. Little Preppy loved the idea of those thick legs in heels.

“One more question.” Dre said. “How long do you think would all this will take?”

This was the question I was dreading the most. “I’m not going to lie. I got to fix a lot of shit in my life to make this work. The stiffs who make these decisions don’t fuck around. But my buddy isn’t going to be out for at least three years and we might need every second of that time.”

Dre hadn’t removed her hands from mine. A good sign. I kept going. “You’re going to have to spend a lot of time with ole Preppy here, and then meetings with lawyers and specialists, and a lot of people I’m going to have to hold my tongue around. That’s where you will come in. When I’m not talking, it’s because I can’t open my mouth, or I’m going to say something that could ruin everything.” I gave her hands a squeeze. “Besides, I don’t think these motherfuckers can handle full-on Preppy.” I gave her a smile and she squeezed back.