remember my number?” I asked.
“Six, one, nine, four, four seven, one, zero, three, five.”
“Good memory, huh?”
She laughed. “Like a fucking elephant.”
“What was so fuckin’ important that you had to come by the shop last night?”
She looked embarrassed for a split-second, but quickly donned a smile. “I was working on the piece, and realized I had no way to get ahold of you. I can’t effectively write something informative if my only way of obtaining information is by simply stumbling into you.”
“How many more times are we going to have to meet?”
After I asked the question, I realized sooner or later, the meetings between us would actually end. As much as I never would have guessed it, the thought of not seeing her again wasn’t something I looked forward to.
“I don’t know,” she responded. “Maybe ten or twelve.”
“Ten or twelve?” I snapped back. “Jesus.”
“Well, four installments.” She took a drink of coffee, then shrugged. “Three or so meetings for each article. It’s not that much.”
“Guess not.”
She pulled the recorder from her purse. “You want to do a little more now?”
I wondered what else she might ask, and was anxious to find out. “Might as well.”
She glanced over each shoulder, raised her hand to her mouth, and spoke. “For the record, I’m Peyton Price conducting my second interview with Nick Navarro, the president of the Filthy Fuckers MC. Today’s date is May 11 th .”
She placed the recorder on the table between us. “Are you single?”
I nodded. “Have been since, shit…for ten years.”
“Is your refusal to be in a committed relationship a result of not trusting women?”
“I didn’t say I refused to be in a committed relationship. I just said I wasn’t in one.” I said. “And it’s not about trusting women, I don’t trust myself.”
“You don’t trust yourself? Can you explain?”
I glanced at the woman seated beside us. Long, lean, and tan, she appeared to be in her mid-forties. Her fake tits were bulging from her designer top, and her hands were covered in jewels. Although she sat with who I suspected was her husband, her focus was clearly our conversation. Her eyes dropped to my boots, and slowly raised
“Here’s the issue,” I said. “I like pussy. A lot.”
She wrinkled her nose and stared. “So much that it’s a problem?”
“Prevents me being in a committed relationship, that’s for sure. I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar.” I shifted my eyes to the skinny bitch seated beside us, who was still ear hustling our conversation. “So I just fuck the shit out of every girl I meet, but make sure they’re well aware that all they’re gettin’ is my cock.”
She cleared her throat. “I think she’s with someone.”
I turned to face Peyton. “She’d take it if I was offering.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “Believe me.”
“Would you give it to her?”
I grinned a mischievous smile. “I sure would. And I’d make you hold her skinny ass down while I did it.”
“I don’t think so,” she snapped back.
I looked at the skinny bitch. She shot me a curious look while her husband poked his finger against the screen of his phone.
Peyton knocked her knuckles on the edge of the table. “See if you can stay focused on the interview.”
I shifted my focus back to her and chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”
“Have any kids?”
None that I know of.
“Nope.”
“Do you have a mode of transportation for foul weather days? Anything other than the sled ?”
“Nope.”
“Your thoughts on transgender bathrooms?”
“Excuse me?”
“A person with a sexual identity that differs from their assigned sexuality. Transgender. Where should they go to the bathroom?”
“Wherever they fuckin’ want to. People need to worry more about themselves and their fuckin’ kids, and stop worrying about what everyone else is doing or not doing.”
“Do you believe in equality?”
I
“Six, one, nine, four, four seven, one, zero, three, five.”
“Good memory, huh?”
She laughed. “Like a fucking elephant.”
“What was so fuckin’ important that you had to come by the shop last night?”
She looked embarrassed for a split-second, but quickly donned a smile. “I was working on the piece, and realized I had no way to get ahold of you. I can’t effectively write something informative if my only way of obtaining information is by simply stumbling into you.”
“How many more times are we going to have to meet?”
After I asked the question, I realized sooner or later, the meetings between us would actually end. As much as I never would have guessed it, the thought of not seeing her again wasn’t something I looked forward to.
“I don’t know,” she responded. “Maybe ten or twelve.”
“Ten or twelve?” I snapped back. “Jesus.”
“Well, four installments.” She took a drink of coffee, then shrugged. “Three or so meetings for each article. It’s not that much.”
“Guess not.”
She pulled the recorder from her purse. “You want to do a little more now?”
I wondered what else she might ask, and was anxious to find out. “Might as well.”
She glanced over each shoulder, raised her hand to her mouth, and spoke. “For the record, I’m Peyton Price conducting my second interview with Nick Navarro, the president of the Filthy Fuckers MC. Today’s date is May 11 th .”
She placed the recorder on the table between us. “Are you single?”
I nodded. “Have been since, shit…for ten years.”
“Is your refusal to be in a committed relationship a result of not trusting women?”
“I didn’t say I refused to be in a committed relationship. I just said I wasn’t in one.” I said. “And it’s not about trusting women, I don’t trust myself.”
“You don’t trust yourself? Can you explain?”
I glanced at the woman seated beside us. Long, lean, and tan, she appeared to be in her mid-forties. Her fake tits were bulging from her designer top, and her hands were covered in jewels. Although she sat with who I suspected was her husband, her focus was clearly our conversation. Her eyes dropped to my boots, and slowly raised
“Here’s the issue,” I said. “I like pussy. A lot.”
She wrinkled her nose and stared. “So much that it’s a problem?”
“Prevents me being in a committed relationship, that’s for sure. I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a liar.” I shifted my eyes to the skinny bitch seated beside us, who was still ear hustling our conversation. “So I just fuck the shit out of every girl I meet, but make sure they’re well aware that all they’re gettin’ is my cock.”
She cleared her throat. “I think she’s with someone.”
I turned to face Peyton. “She’d take it if I was offering.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “Believe me.”
“Would you give it to her?”
I grinned a mischievous smile. “I sure would. And I’d make you hold her skinny ass down while I did it.”
“I don’t think so,” she snapped back.
I looked at the skinny bitch. She shot me a curious look while her husband poked his finger against the screen of his phone.
Peyton knocked her knuckles on the edge of the table. “See if you can stay focused on the interview.”
I shifted my focus back to her and chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”
“Have any kids?”
None that I know of.
“Nope.”
“Do you have a mode of transportation for foul weather days? Anything other than the sled ?”
“Nope.”
“Your thoughts on transgender bathrooms?”
“Excuse me?”
“A person with a sexual identity that differs from their assigned sexuality. Transgender. Where should they go to the bathroom?”
“Wherever they fuckin’ want to. People need to worry more about themselves and their fuckin’ kids, and stop worrying about what everyone else is doing or not doing.”
“Do you believe in equality?”
I
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