at the shock that registers on her face. Yeah, I’m a dick. Sue me.
Her eyes narrow. “I said I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to fix my phone.” I thrust it, cracked screen forward, toward her face, just in case she forgot the shit she caused.
She recoils, her eyes pulling into tight slits. “It was an accident!”
“Accident?” She’s right, I wasn’t paying attention either, but I’m so sick of women fucking with me. Tired of being a doormat and feeling like a beaten dog. “Typical chick. Movin’ through life worrying only about yourself.” I step into her space and lean forward, intimidating her with my size, or at least trying to.
She doesn’t budge.
“Newsflash, sweetheart . . . it’s not all about you.”
And then she shocks the shit out of me and smiles. Smiles!
Her shoulders relax and she lifts one eyebrow. “Huh . . .” She taps her chin with one white-tipped, manicured finger. “You know what? You’re wrong. It is all about me.” She rips the phone from my hand and flings it back across the floor so it skids and lands just like the first time, but this time with a crack.
My jaw clenches. “What the hell is—?”
“I was sorry the first time; I’m not sorry the second.” She flips the long waves of her bi-colored hair and struts away like a black panther on heels.
I watch her go, drawn to the feminine sway of her hips and fixed on the perfect curves of her tight little ass. A tight little ass that deserves a series of firm swats.
“Bitch.” The word falls from my lips on a whisper before I move to retrieve my phone that, upon further inspection, is now in three distinct pieces.
Doesn’t matter if I’m the nice guy or the asshole; I’m always going to be an easy target for strong-willed women.
Well . . . not anymore.
Two
Mason
“Fuckin’ A, Mayhem! You made it!” Charlie wraps two beefy arms around me, pounding me on the back in a bro-hug.
“Charbroil, long time, brother.” I hug him back, oddly comforted by the familiarity of being around one of my old friends from back home.
Charlie and I grew up together, along with Birdman, Harrison, and Jayden. Drake and I were only a year apart in school, despite our two-year age difference, so we had all the same friends. When I went off to college on a full-ride wrestling scholarship, Drake stayed behind with these guys on the high-school-dropout plan.
“Get your ass in here, man. Drake’s been asking for you since we pulled into town.” He closes the double doors to the penthouse suite, and I’m immediately hit with the stench and smoky haze of chronic along with the rhythmic beats of Sublime.
Fuck, some things never change.
As I move through the Asian-inspired space, the cracking of pool balls and murmured curses of male voices get louder. We round the corner, and the room opens up to sky-high ceilings, glass walls, and furniture draped with the bodies of Santa Cruz’s most notorious surf gang, The Bone Breaker Brotherhood.
“Mayhem! You motherfucker!” Birdman calls the attention of the room, and I’m surrounded in hugs, back pats, shoulder punches, and fist bumps.
“Long time, brother.” Harrison rubs my head, messing up my semi-styled mop that I’d tamed for the wedding. “You clean up nice, little bitch.”
I shove him, but laugh. “Yeah, you’re looking more and more like your brother.” I slap his stomach just as his twin brother Jayden hooks Harrison around the neck. They’re identical twins, and although the joke is old and not even funny, it’s comforting to fall into our childhood ribbings.
“He wishes he looked like me.” Jayden flashes his golden-boy smile that contradicts his edgy look. With a shaved head and tattoos all over his neck, including a small cross on his cheek just below his eye, he carries the hardened look of a criminal.
We continue giving each other shit, and the few guys I’m not familiar with stand off and greet me with chin lifts.
“Well, well, well . . . our UFL all-star has decided to grace us with his presence.”
Just the sound of his voice makes my stomach clench with worry, but I shake off my unease and turn toward my little brother.
Drake struts out of a dark bedroom while pulling on a button-up shirt. He’s ripped in a way that doesn’t look natural, swollen muscles that are definitely bigger than they were the last time I saw him over a year ago. Inked across his chest and up to his shoulders are