Home > Sly : SBMC Maryland

Sly : SBMC Maryland
Author: Erin Trejo


Chapter One

 

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” my best friend Deb says.

“I didn’t ask you.”

“I don’t give a shit if you asked me. I’m telling you, this is a bad fucking idea.”

I turn to face her, seeing the unease in her eyes. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I’m a grown woman and I can do what I please. Ignoring her, I turn back to the table that I’m currently setting up. My life was headed in one direction until it wasn’t. Things happened. Plans changed. I had to adjust to what this world threw my way, which is what brought me to the Ocean City, Maryland Bike Fest. This wasn’t my first choice as to destinations, but it was the smartest. This will get me where I need to be.

“Fab, this is stupid. You don’t know them,” she whines again. I understand her reasoning, I truly do, but she understands mine too.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” I ask looking over my shoulder at her. Her anger is valid. I know this isn’t the smartest thing to be doing but I also know it’s the only way to get the information I need. It’s something I have to do, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Ignoring her stare, I go back to setting up my vendor table. I paid good money for this table. My life’s work sits for sale in the middle of the blazing sun.

“You make all this?” a deep voice asks.

Raising my head, I come face to face with a man that could snap my neck and break me in two. I’m going for the second one.

“I did.” He nods his head as he picks up a few of my pieces. I make leather goods. Purses, belts - hell I even hand craft whips. The man looks impressed when he looks over his shoulder and calls out to another guy.

“Hey, Prez! Come look at this.” He turns back to the table and picks one of the whips up running it between his fingers. Deb is standing next to me, her mouth hanging open as thoughts no doubt run through her mind like they are mine.

“What the fuck, Gauge?” the guy asks as he looks at the whip in his hand.

“Thought Dezzy might like it,” the man laughs.

“You sick son of a bitch. I don’t wanna know what the fuck you’re doin’ to my kid in the bedroom,” the new guy hisses before punching him in the arm.

“I’m buyin’ it!” the guy he called Gauge says.

“Yeah? I’m buyin’ one too.”

“For what?”

I watch as they go back and forth in front of me. It’s almost amusing to watch if they weren’t so goddamn hot. My eyes trail over the cuts they have on when I read the name. Sly, Soulless Bastards’ President.

“To beat your fuckin’ ass with, you sick bastard.” I stifle a laugh when he looks up. His eyes lock with mine and fuck me, do I want nothing more than to get lost in those eyes. “You made these?” he asks.

“I did. I make them all by hand,” I tell him. He grunts, reaches out, and grabs my hand in his. He slowly runs his fingers over the palm of my hand, down my fingers and over the tips. He doesn’t let go when his eyes come back to meet mine.

“Never met a woman that makes them all by hand,” he says.

“You just did. I’m Fabiola.”

“Fab. Yeah, I can see that. Keep this one put up for me, darlin’. I’ll be back by later.” He winks and passes me one of the whips but still keeps my hand in his free one. The other guy, Gauge, chuckles under his breath. When he finally releases my hand, he turns on his heel and walks away. His friend pays for his and leaves behind him as Deb drools.

“God, I didn’t know they would be that hot,” she grumbles.

“Me either. That seems to be a theme with some of them.”

“Not that one,” Deb adds, pointing to a man who dances shirtless. He has a beer belly with an American flag painted on it singing a song that is not what’s playing over the speakers. Deb and I share a glance and laugh.

“That… I don’t have words for that,” I tell her as I wipe the tears from my eyes.

“Me either. Thank God they aren’t all like that. I’d have to soak my eyes in bleach.”

I laugh again before reaching down and grabbing another box to unload. It doesn’t take long for us to get into a groove. We sell tons of items, which makes me happy. The day rolls on, and the more I sell, the happier I become. I knew this would be a good place to make sales but the initial contact with the men I was looking for was the best part of my day.

It seems like we have only started when it’s time to pack up. There isn’t much left and for me that’s a plus. I brought a good bit of my stock with me today which means time to assemble more.

“You Fab?” I look up from the box I was packing and nod.

“That’s me.”

“My Prez said to give you this,” the guy says, holding out some cash. I take it from him and eye his cut. He must be picking up Sly’s whip. I turn and grab the whip, slide it in a bag and pass it to him but he doesn’t take it. He smirks at me and shakes his head no.

“This is what he bought. At least, this is what he said he wanted,” I tell the guy.

“Yeah, I know what it was. He wants you to bring it to him.”

I narrow my eyes, confused as to why I need to hand deliver it. “I don’t deliver, sorry.”

“I think you will for him,” the guy says with a smirk on his face. I look at his cut once more and read his name.

“Look, Wolf. I get it, I do. I’m an easy target in this little game, at least in your eyes, but in reality? I’m not.” His eyes brighten as he chuckles.

“Yeah, you ain’t no easy target, darlin’. Prez wants you to meet him over at stage three.” Wolf turns on his heel and walks away as I stare after him.

“Holy shit,” Deb whispers. Yep, that is exactly what I was thinking, too.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Whips. Of all the fucking things I would find here, and she makes whips. I tip my beer to my lips and take a long pull. The thoughts of bending her thick ass over and testing that whip has crossed my mind more than once throughout the day. Something about that sweet caramel colored skin, deep dark eyes and that ass that was begging to be spanked have fucked me up. I sent Wolf over there to pay her and give her a little message. If one thing is for certain, I will be having her under me tonight.

“Where the fuck is your head at, brother?” Smokey, the So Cal president, asks me. Yeah, those bastards came all the way across the fucking United States to party with us this weekend.

“On a hot little chick that makes whips,” I tell him with a smirk.

“Whips, huh?”

“Yeah. She makes all kinds of leather shit, but when I picked up the fuckin’ whips, I saw the look in her eyes.”

Smokey laughs before downing the rest of his beer. “I could have gotten you whips, brother. Fuck, even a belt would work.” Yeah, I’m well aware of the sick shit Smokey is into.

“Heard that. How long you stayin’?” I ask looking over at him. The show hasn’t started yet, which means it’s still pretty quiet over here.

“Not sure. I got some shit to take care of back home, but this is a fuckin’ rally. Everything else can wait, yeah?” I nod my head. I do agree there.

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