Beats of Life (Perception Book 5) (10 page)

Slater

“Oh, thank fuck,” I graciously declare when my baby turns up in San Francisco in one piece.

It nearly killed me asking Sonny to ride my bike to San Francisco, but he was the only member of the road crew that had a bike licence. Normally, I wouldn’t let my bike out of my sight, but Kylie was ill all night long that I had to pick between looking after her or riding my bike.

I choose her.

Once I managed to get my anger under control, I headed back into the bus and discovered her huddle in a ball in the middle of the bed. Big angry tears where streaming from her eyes, leaving black smears marks all over her face. She was sobbing so hard her whole body was shuddering. It tore my heart in half seeing her so broken that I sat on the bed and pulled her into my chest. She cradled in close while apology after apology spilled from her lips. Hardly anything she said made any sense, but the word sorry was used continually that I could easily tell it was an apology. By the time she had finished crying, my chest was saturated with her tears and she looked physically and emotionally exhausted. Her red rimmed and pained eyes looked up into mine.

“I’m sorry for everything I did,” she whispered, her voice sounding the clearest it had been all night. “Please forgive me, I need you to forgive me,” she continued, her pretty eyes begging me for forgiveness.

“Why did you leave?” I questioned quietly, trying to sound sincerer than I did the first time.

That time her eyes didn’t dart away, they stayed staring firmly into mine. “I did it for you,” she replied quietly. “Everything I did, I did for you,” she added, her voice sounding so small and weak, her pain and heartache clearly shown all over her beautiful face.

“Please forgive me,” she pleaded. I always had a hard time saying no to her, especially when she would stare at me with so much love in her eyes like she did last night. “Please Slater,” she whispered softly.

“I forgive you,” I said quietly. The burden of anger instantly lifted from my shoulders when the words escaped my lips. Her face morphed into a shy smile while fresh tears fell down her cheeks. I used my thumbs to rub away her tears, I had seen enough tears out of her eyes last night to last me a lifetime.

Suddenly, her nose scrunched up and her eyes opened wide in shock. “I’m going to be sick,” she announced, before her hand darted up and covered her mouth. I only just got her into the bathroom in time. I’m fairly certain she didn’t have any food in her stomach, as nothing but smelly bourbon liquid was expelled from her body over the next several hours. 

Kylie is tall for a girl, but she is tiny in size and I was shocked by how much she vomited throughout the night. But even more shocking than that was when I noticed she still has my name tattooed on her flawless skin. After she had vomited down the front of my favorite shirt, I removed it and replaced it with a spare shirt that I carry on the bus. When she lifted her arms to assist me, I noticed a small portion of the black ink sticking out the top of her panties. I was surprised, I had thought she would have had it removed or covered with another tattoo by now. 

I still remember how angry I was when she first got that tattoo………

“So no eye contact, don’t mention the word dog and only eat food directly out of the packet?” Kylie repeated, her concerned eyes staring up into mine.

“Yes,” I replied, trying my hardest not to laugh since she was fully believing the bullshit that was dribbling out of my mouth. “And don’t drink the water,” I continued, causing her eyebrows to pull together tightly.

Kylie and I were just about to do the dreaded meet the parent’s routine. She had requested to meet my family first and then I was going to meet hers. We had been dating for nearly three months and we felt that the timing was right to start introducing each other to our family and friends. We had just pulled over at a truck stop halfway between her college and my parents’ house to give our legs a bit of stretch. Kylie’s college was located seven hours from her parents’ home, but thankfully for me it was only two hours from my home town.

Her eyebrows were still scrunched together when I lowered her purple motorcycle helmet over her head and tied the straps tightly under her chin. I never wore a helmet when I would ride, but I always ensured that Kylie did. Especially considering the fact that she seemed to have no concerns for her own safety.

“Do they even have a dog?” she questioned curiously, making me chuckle softly.

“Come on, let’s get this over and done with,” I replied, throwing my leg over my bike and offering her my hand to assist her on the back.

Kylie was a dare devil wrapped in a wholesome country girl appearance. She lived her life to the fullest and even though she loved the thrill of being on the back of my bike, I loved that that she held on tight and moulded her body as close to mine as she could while we rode. Once she had her arms wrapped tightly around my waist and her cheek leaning against my back, I kicked the bike over and headed towards my family home.

****

“No, thank you,” Kylie said graciously when my mother offered her one of her famous red velvet cupcakes, her eyes remaining firmly planted on the wooden tabletop.

My mom’s eyebrows pulled together tight, her eyes flicking between Kylie and I. We were sitting at a large wooden table in the middle of my parent’s rustic kitchen. The cupcakes were the third home baked goodies my mom had offered and it was the third time Kylie had declined her offer.

“Are you a celiac?” My mom questioned Kylie. When my mom moved towards the walk in pantry to hunt for a gluten free product, I could no longer hold in my laughter. The instant my chuckles echoed around the kitchen, my mom finally clicked on.

“What did you tell her?” she questioned, moving out of the pantry and throwing a packet of wheat free biscuits at my head, successfully hitting her target. Kylie’s nervous and confused eyes darted between my mom and I. When they slightly narrowed, my chuckles gradually simmered.

“No eye contact, don’t mention the word dog and only eat packaged food,” Kylie informed, her eyes finally lifting to look my mom directly in the eyes.

“Did you forget about the warning not to drink the water?” My mom questioned seriously, her voice sounding panicked.

Kylie’s eyes instantly darted back down to the table, triggering both my mom and I to laugh loudly. My sister and I use to always pull the same prank with our friends. Most of my friends growing up were convinced my mom was the worst cook in the world, which suited me just fine. That meant there were always plenty of cupcakes and cookies left over for me and Serena after they returned home.

My mom looks like a hard core bikey chick. She has nearly as many tattoo’s as I do. She wears fifty style dresses and her dirty blonde hair is always pulled up with a bandana. I call her a bikey chick, she calls herself a rockabilly housewife with attitude. The funny thing about my mom is that she looks hard-core, but her insides are as soft as they come. I always joke that Martha Stewart somehow got trapped in her body. She loves to bake, she is the best friend anyone could ever ask for and she is one kick ass mom. But imagine being in the sixth grade and your friend’s parents arrive to drop off their kids for a sleep over? We have had a few that left before they even walked in the front door. My mom said, tattoos were a perfect way to remove judgemental people from your life.  The older I’ve become, the more her statement rings true.

My laughter only died down when Kylie grabbed one of the red velvet cupcakes off the table and shoved in harshly into my face. The white frosting smeared all over my cheek and some of it even lodged up my nose. My mouth opened wide in shock, my head turning to face her. She giggled softly, before she ran her index finger down the side of my face, popped it into her mouth and seductively sucked the frosting of her finger, causing my dick to instantly stand to attention.

“Yummy,” she whispered, quietly enough to ensure I was the only one that would hear it since my mom’s back was turned as she stirred dinner on the cooktop. I was about to pull Kylie’s sugary mouth towards mine when my dad strolled into the kitchen.

Now my dad is definitely the equivalent of a biker. He has dark short hair that is clipped close at the side and the top is longer in length. I joke that he has Elvis Presley hair. He hates when I say that, but my mom loves it. He wears a black leather jacket and jeans every day and rides a custom made chopper. He owns a tattoo parlour in town and every tattoo that adorns my body was placed there by my dad. He is a gifted artist who chooses to use people’s bodies as canvases instead of pieces of paper.  

“Kylie, this is my dad Elvis, Elvis this is Kylie,” I introduced, removing the frosting from my face with a tea towel. My dad’s dark eyebrows shoot up high into his hairline as he moved towards the table.

“Ryder, nice to meet you Kylie,” Dad informed, offering his hand to Kylie to shake.

“Ryder, Elvis, same thing,” I replied casually, causing Kylie to giggle softly.

We spent the rest of the weekend with my parents’ and Kylie soon learnt that she could be herself around my mom and dad. They are the cruisest parents’ you could ever meet. My mom told Kylie the story of how they met. Dad was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks and mom was the preacher’s daughter. They met when my dad was doing forced community service at her family church. He was there to paint over the graffiti he placed on the side of the church walls a few weeks earlier. Most people expected him to paint it back to its original white coloring, but my dad ended up doing a whole mural of Noah’s ark. The church was that impressed with his painting that it still adorns the church’s wall today. My mom fell pregnant with me just shy of her eighteen birthday. She was shunned by her parents and the church she spent her whole life growing up in. My dad knew there was nobody else for him bar my mom so he stopped his rebellious ways and got a job. To start with he was hired as a cleaner at the local tattoo parlour, then as the months went on they soon discovered his artistic talent.

Now, his clientele base is huge with only select and elite members of the public having the privileged of being tattooed by him. I even have to make an appointment. So you could imagine my surprise when Kylie and I went to the bed that night and I discovered he had placed a tattoo on her perfect untouched skin. My parents had gone to bed a few hours before us and after our make out session on the couch started to get a little hot and heavy, I carried Kylie up to my childhood bedroom. Her small giggles echoed around the room when she noticed my hello kitty bedcover and lamp on my bedside table.

‘Thanks mom,” I yelled down the hallway.

“Your welcome honey,” she replied laughing. I don’t know how many times I would come home from high school and find some type of girly bedspread on my bed. My mom always used the excuse that she hadn’t done any washing, but I’m pretty sure she just did it for a laugh. She is who I get my shit stirring from.

I lowered Kylie down onto my pretty pink bedspread and when I gently laid down on top of her, her face grimaced in pain. I held my weight off her with my arms, my eyes slowly roaming over her face. When I looked into her pretty hazel eyes, she was unable to maintain my eye contact. I shifted my hips to rub my erection along the seam of her jeans, triggering her eyes to instantly dart to mine. Once I had her eye contact back, I raised my eyebrow into my hair, silently requesting for her to tell me why she grimaced.

“Don’t get angry,” she requested quietly. I don’t know what it is about that statement, but every time someone says it, I get angry. I rolled off her and leant on my hip, my jaw muscle quivered as I tried to hold in my anger.

My angry was soon replaced with lust when Kylie stood from the bed and shimmied out of her blue jeans. Her eyes stayed firmly planted on mine when she pulled her shirt over her head. My eyes appreciatively roamed over her tight little body, causing my dick to stiffen in my jeans. It was only when I spotted a blue gauze poking out of the waist band of her lace panties did my dick soften. I instantly recognised the gauze that was covering her skin. My curious eyes instantly flicked up to hers. Kylie had perfect skin so why would she want to mark it?

When I asked her that, she smiled brightly as she lowered down the waist band of her panties, instantly triggering my dick to stiffen again. She carefully pulled back the gauze and my heart plunged into my stomach when I saw my name in thick black ink. Most guys would be happy that their girl gets their name inked on their skin, but she broke the ultimate tattoo rule. You never get another person’s name tattooed on you, EVER! I learnt that the hard way. It took my dad a lot of work to cover Nikki’s name on my wrist.