Porter (Dirty Misfits MC Book 2)
Porter: Chapter 2

Honk honk! “Get the fuck out of the way, you fat ass!”

Honk honk! “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

Honk honk honk! “Shit or get off the pot, asshole!”

I rolled my eyes as I pulled my rinky dink car off to the side of the road. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but I hated being rushed first thing in the morning. It was why I left my apartment forty-five minutes before I was supposed to be at work. Then I could take my time getting coffee, battling traffic, and sitting at red lights for far too long without actually being late.

Except this morning, it seemed as if everyone were running behind but me.

“Anyone think of planning ahead?” I murmured to myself.

I watched as a parade of middle fingers went by, flicking me off for not stomping on my gas pedal a fraction of a second before I had. I hated being the first to go at a green light. If I didn’t stomp on that gas pedal two seconds before the light actually changed colors, a symphony of horns honked in my general direction. What the hell did they think I was, anyway? Some sort of medium? Did they think I was psychic? Like I could predict the fucking future?

I rolled my window down. “Fucking clit lickers!”

Another horn honked at me and I flicked them off while taking a massive sip of my iced coffee. Cold coffee and creamer was all I needed to get my day started, and when I began chugging, I didn’t stop until I slurped up all the creamy goodness that settled to the bottom of my cup. I drew in a deep breath as I eased back into traffic, hoping and praying I’d get to work without another slew of curses being thrown in my general direction.

I wasn’t so lucky, though.

God, I’m getting tired of Los Angeles.

After I pulled into the music studio I rented by the hour in order to work, I made my way inside. With my hands full of my voice-over equipment, I unlocked the door and quickly got to work. The quicker I could get things done, the less money I’d have to foot over in hourly rent.

If I had my own room, I could save close to a grand a month.

I snorted with laughter before I sat in my chair. A soundproof room? In the middle of L.A.? I wasn’t sure who the hell I had to suck off to make that happen, but I sure as hell didn’t have the money for that. I mean I wasn’t hurting for money, but I didn’t make that kind of money doing voice-overs for video games. I’d done a few guest appearances in cartoons and animated movies, but nothing that ended up giving me recurring work. Still, it got my name out there enough for me to branch into the newest wave of voice-over recording artistry.

Books.

I pulled out the book I had been hired to start on and wrinkled my nose at the cover. I certainly wasn’t a high fantasy person, but apparently the author of the book “loved the sassy lilt in my voice” for her main character. I pulled out eight pages worth of instructions from the author that I had to peruse before creating the voices of all the characters in the books. And the more I read the list, the more I grew frustrated with myself.

I didn’t even need the fucking rented booth for my work today.

“Of course,” I sighed.

I packed my things up and called the owner of the studio, letting them know that I didn’t need the booth for today. I knew that would lose me the deposit I put down for the hours today, but at least I wasn’t out any more money than that. Then, I hauled ass back to my car so I could get home. The idea of curling up in bed to work today sounded amazing, especially since I had just stocked up on all my favorite snacks.

But as I drove back to my place, my mind turned to Brooks.

The last I had heard from my brother, he was having his parole meeting. I hadn’t heard anything else out of him, though. I figured if he had gotten out, he surely would have contacted me. So, the fact that I hadn’t heard from him sank my gut.

I knew my brother didn’t deserve to be in jail any longer than he’d already been there.

However, that wasn’t up for me to determine.

Still, it made me upset. I was his damn sister, for crying out loud. The last little bit of family he had on this planet. And yet, sometimes he acted like I didn’t exist. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if half of his little bike buddies knew I existed. It frustrated me as well, watching my brother get so wrapped up in his own world that he completely forgot about me.

Because it reminded me of how absent Dad was when we were growing up.

That ache in my gut churned as I pulled into my parking space. I lugged my shit back up the stairs and pushed into my apartment before dropping it all to the floor. I kicked my front door closed and locked it for good measure, then rummaged around in my coffee cabinet.

“Come on, I know I’ve got one le—bingo!”

My fingertips grace the joint and I eased it out of the back of the cupboard. I sniffed it deeply, feeling all thoughts of work falling to the wayside as I walked into the living room. I flopped onto the couch and dug out my lighter from beneath the cushion before lighting the damn thing up. And as I inhaled as deeply as I could, I forgot about everything.

Except for Porter.

With every puff I took, my mind flew back to him. His honey-streaked, shaggy hair and his deep brown eyes. The way his massive muscles pulled tautly against his broad bone structure and how he always used to sweep his eyes up and down my body as if I were a meal ripe for his taking. I shivered as I held my breath. I let out the smoke, my body feeling as if it were melting together with the couch.

I never could deny my attraction to Porter.

But he was my brother’s best friend. Which meant he was off limits.

Not like he made a move on you, anyway.

I sucked down the joint and quickly forgot about work and the lost money because of my ignorance and negligence. I let my eyes flutter closed before my hand roamed for the remote control and mindlessly turned on the television. The Hallmark Channel came to life in the background and I laid down on the couch, listening to two random voices talk back and forth about their hobbies or some such nonsense.

And it was then that I made a decision.

Whenever Brooks got in touch with me and he was out of prison? I’d move away from this wretched place and go back home to Santa Cruz. That was the best part of my job. I could technically work from anywhere so why not take advantage of it? If I had family out there, I needed to be around them. And the mobility of my work meant I could go wherever he landed. We still had Mom’s house, too, under Brooks’ name.

That is, unless he sold the place off or something.

I don’t know why he stays in that stupid apartment anyway. I’d much rather be in a house.

The more my thoughts ran away from me, though, the more I wondered what Brooks was really up to. It had been a few weeks since I’d heard from him at all. I figured I would have at least gotten a phone call in prison from him by now. He always called whenever he got so lonely he started thinking “alternative thoughts.” I wasn’t sure how many times over the past five years I’d talked him off a suicidal ledge while he was locked up in that place. And as all of those thoughts swirled around in my hazy mind, worry pooled in my gut.

Can’t hurt to at least try his cell. What’s he gonna do? Not pick up?

I rolled off the couch and stumbled into the kitchen before I looked around for my phone. I drew in a deep breath and shook my head a few times, trying to sober myself up a little bit. Brooks hated it when I smoked, but I didn’t really care what he thought of it. Some days, my joints were the only thing getting me through my fucked up days and my fucked up ways. So, who the hell was he to judge me when he ran with some biker gang that got him tossed into prison?

You lost the high road, brother of mine.

I practically fell back to the couch before I tried focusing on my phone. I giggled as I swiped through my contacts, entertained by the fact that I literally had no friends whatsoever. I had Brooks’ number in here, Porter’s for emergencies—which I had never used—and my both my parent’s numbers.

I still had my dad’s numbers in my phone, even after everything that happened.

“I lead a sorry life,” I whispered.

Still, I didn’t let my thoughts deter me. I pressed Brooks’ number and held the phone up to my ear. Already, I was surprised by the fact that it rang. If he was still in jail, shouldn’t it be dead or some shit like that?

“Hello?”

The sound of my brother’s voice hit my ear and it took me a second to process things. Was I really hearing him on the other end of the phone?

“Hello? Someone there?”

And when I drew in a deep breath, anger poured forth through my words.

“What the ever-blessed fuck is wrong with you, you selfish bastard?”