st june.
Tig and the prospect, Juice, pulled up to the duplex colored sage green in downtown Lodi, exhausted from the ride. The commute from Charming to Lodi seemed about ten times longer in the cage-a van labeled Swanson Energy. Juice had farted and laughed about it like some little ass kid for half the ride, sometimes replacing his flatulence with burps and trying to coax him into competition. Little bastard exited the car, little Latino body awkward in that powder blue jumpsuit. Tig followed close in tow, putting on his friendliest smile as Juice rapped his knuckles against the door.
A couple moments and four clicking locks later, a pretty little bitch stood in the doorway, clad in a sheer, ivory blouse that showed off her lean stomach and ample breasts hidden beneath a blue lace bra. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders in thick raven waves and her incredibly full lips were glossed a berry pink color. She was hot and her complexion was a beautiful caramel tone, and Tig wasn't sure if they had the right chick.
"Jules Teller-Foster?" Juice inquired, voice oozing with professionalism as he looked down at his clipboard from dramatic effect.
"Just Foster. How can I help you?"
"I'm Juan Carlos, and my associate and I here are from Swanson Engery and would like to check out-"
"Oh, sure, sure, come in. I got the call earlier today." she smiled warmly, opening the door wide enough for the pair to step inside. Her house was nice. Real nice. Taupe walls, white and black furniture, clusters of light blue and purple flowers standing tall in their vases. Her hardwood floors were sparkling, and Tig almost felt bad for wearing shoes in the house. "Can I get you guys some lemonade? Looks like you've had a long day."
"Please," Juice grinned, watching her ass as she left. Tig swatted him on the head, telling him to get on task. Immediately, Juice pulled out his little prepaid and took some snaps of the house. Tig searched frantically for some personal pictures of this bitch and her family, but found none.
All the pictures in her house were of the sun setting on the ocean shore, flowers, and nature shit. Nothing of her. Nothing of her Ma'. No old man. Bitch was a loner.
"We got the right chick?" Tig asked, making sure the Foster bitch was out of an ear shot.
"Yeah, that Cadence girl? The junkie? She was black and Mexican, real cute, just like her baby girl. All woman-"
"Alright, alright, back to work, ya' little shit."
Juice offered Tig a grin before taking more pictures of the home. Tig was entranced by the only picture he'd found of the Foster bitch, where she stood topless, arms covering her breasts, a long white skirt billowing in the coast's ocean breeze, when Juice nudged him. He waved him off, looking at the photograph intently. Bitch was gorgeous. Juice tapped his shoulder, and this time he turned around, angry. "The fuck do you-oh." he saw the Foster bitch with a long, slender finger on the trigger of a silencer and put his hands up.
Tig felt his cock jump in his jeans. Bitch was hot with a gun.
"Now, listen here," she seethed, eyes wild and ablaze with something that could only be described as fury. "I'm not afraid to pull this trigger-wouldn't be the first time. In fact, I want you alive 'n kicking when I send you back to your little club," she sneered. "to tell them they best keep their fucking distance. Alright?"
"Yes, ma'am." Tig said, trying his best to look unfazed and not as turned on as he was. The Foster bitch pursed her lips, pointed the gun at his feet and pulled the trigger. "Ow, oh, fuck me! What the fuck was that for?"
"I gotta message to send." she said nonchalantly. Foster bitch turned to Juice. "Prospect," she demanded, once sizing him up. "Get the fuck out of here and take the trash with you."
To say Clay was unhappy about the pair coming back empty handed was the understatement of the year. "The fuck do you mean she was unattainable? She's a twenty-something year old girl, for Christ's sake."
"She shot Tig in the foot-just to send a message. Had this crazy look in her eyes. Seen it before, but never like that, not on a chick." Juice said quickly, regretting it as soon as she said it.
"You let this little bitch get the best of ya', Tiggy?" Clay asked, obviously disappointed. "I'd expected that from the prospect, but not you."
"Bitch's fierce." Tig offered his excuse, and sat down, as standing hurt him a whole lot.
present day.
Bitch was cute, real cute. Long hair, remarkably full lips bitten a deep red, flushed cheeks, nice eyes framed by a fan of lashes. She was dressed up more than usual, clad in a black dress with dark crimson heels and a Tiffany & Co. bracelet.
Happy watched intently as she sucked the heart from a cocktail olive, only after dismissing another prick wanting to be hers for the night. She put down her martini, leaving a temporary red kiss on the brim, making every man in the room wish he were that piece of glassware. She stood and left, leaving a hefty tip for the ogling bartender.
Jules-a name Happy had to get used to saying-walked out into the night, keys in hand, along with a small vile of mace. Good girl.
She stopped momentarily, fishing a cigarette from her purse. Must've been a long day at the office. A martini and a smoke? Bitch was cutting loose. The thought made Happy's lips catch the curve of a wicked grin. Maybe she needed a nice fucking, too. He thought to himself. He wouldn't mind pinning her hands above her head, hearing her cry out as he -
"You gotta light?" she asked in her sweet, husky voice. Happy pulled out a nondescript silver Zippo and flicked it open, igniting a small flame for the - Jules. He watched as smoke flooded her lips just before she sucked it all back in. Fucking hot. "Thanks."
"Sure."
Jules expelled a stream of smoke from her lungs and eyed Happy closely. He saw her sizing him up-or checking him out. She looked from the snake tattoo on his head, to his toned arms and fit abdomen. She looked up into his face, and then into his eyes, unfazed by the story they told. "Where do I know you from?"
Been watching you for three and half weeks. Seen your sweet ass running every morning at the Capitol. Seen you walk out of work all angry and shit. Seen where you live, sat on the bed you fuck yourself in almost nightly. You pick, princess. "Dunno." he vaguely replied, "Gotta go."
Jules stood and watched him, Hap felt her eyes on him, as she smoked her girly-bitch, filtered, menthol cigarette and as he sat on his bike, he turned to look at her, and the cancer stick was on the ground, jaw slack. He looked at his kutte and back to her and grinned wickedly. Yeah. Bitch got his message.