Dirty Sex

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Vivian Cooper and Reese DiGiovanni have hated each other since the second grade. Too bad Reese’s twin brother, Ryan, is Cooper’s best friend.

  Cooper and Ryan will do anything for each other, even when it’s illegal, suicidal, or just plain stupid. Which is why, when Cooper and the twins stumble upon millions of dollars in gold bars, they take it and head for Las Vegas. Soon they find themselves running from some very angry and very organized criminals. Which turns out to be not nearly as sexy as it looks in the movies.

  Even if they manage to survive the pissed off guys who are chasing them, Cooper and Reese might kill each other for the hell of it. Or hook up. It really could go either way.

  First in the Dirty Trilogy.

  Dirty Sex

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Dirty Sex

  © 2012 By Ashley Bartlett. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-818-6

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: December 2012

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  Sex and Skateboards

  Dirty Sex

  Acknowledgments

  So many queer novels today speak of youth in terms of trauma. The trauma of coming out. The trauma of unsupportive families. The trauma of being alone. I won’t say I haven’t experienced heartbreak, but I was raised with the luxury of having parents who loved me no matter what I did or who I was. I never came out to my father; he informed me I was gay. My mother’s only concern was that she couldn’t hold my hand and protect me from those who might not accept me. And the blue hair; she was also concerned about the blue hair.

  These books, the Dirties, are cathartic for me. Not to exorcise familial trauma, but as a response to a world that took a brief look at me and wrote me off as queer in so many senses of the word. The story is also a celebration of those who didn’t write me off.

  To everyone who ignored my loud façade, thank you. To my stepmom who made sure I got into Prom in my suit and tie, thank you. To Mom for buying me the suit and to Dad for teaching me to tie the tie, thank you. To Mare, Jack, Jessica, Jonalyn, and Jean, who have never questioned my place in their lives, thank you.

  And to all those who made this book so much better than it was. Metal Dave, your knowledge about guns and drugs makes me question your morality, but in a good way. Thanks for answering my texts, even at two in the morning. Bruce, for showing me your insane collection. And for not making me actually touch any of the guns. My “brothers” for teaching me slang I didn’t know existed. Your dedication to smoking weed has clearly paid off.

  Everyone at BSB, you guys are all fucking rock stars. Really, all of you. Rad, for signing my books. My bestie, Carsen, without whom these novels might still be sitting quietly on my hard drive. Cindy, for explaining all the stuff I ignored in school. And for making editing painless.

  And to the readers. I can’t quite believe that you exist, but you do. And that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  All of you, thank you.

  Dedication

  For Meg.

  If I’m ever an ass like Cooper, you can totally be a bitch like Reese.

  Chapter One

  Girls. Booze. Girls. Fighting. Girls. In that order. Because girls are the beginning, middle, and end. They are everything that is terrible and sexy and perfect with the world, but you still need the other two. You need the booze to handle the girls and all that psychological bullshit. You need the fighting ’cause sometimes you just want to hit someone. I’m not talking martial arts. That shit is cool, but I never had that dedication. Same with boxing; too many rules. No matter what, though, you need to have honor, and I thought I had some.

  That was why I went to the pub. My almost, but not quite, ’cause I slept with other girls too many times girlfriend had dumped my ass. I deserved it. I also deserved a drink, or six. So Ryan dragged me to Streets of London and lined up shots on the bar. We raced. That was how we did it. Loser bought. He always lost. I let the warmth wash over me, through me. My throat, stomach, hands, eyes burned with each sharp crack of the glasses on the bar. We fell to our pattern of playing darts until it was dangerous for bystanders, drinking more when we started to sober up.

  When it got late, we stumbled out to the parking lot. We weren’t driving. That would’ve just been stupid. So we waited for our ride while staring at the dark buildings across the parking lot and trying to stay upright. These guys from inside followed us out. All night they’d stared at us, the type that’s too pathetic to say something when they got a problem. They looked young, just out of high school, and looking for a way to prove themselves.

  “Dyke,” was the first word they could manage. Ryan and I laughed. I could take it. People had called me that before, and I wasn’t going to get all worked up over some kid talking shit.

  “Good one,” Ryan managed to giggle. Neither of us was exactly eloquent when we drank.

  “Shut the fuck up, pussy,” the shorter one spat at him. He was kind of stocky, like a wrestler.

  “Yeah, fuckin’ fag,” the taller one contributed. Ryan wasn’t a fag, though, and he certainly wasn’t a pussy.

  “You guys should try for some originality.” Damn, that was hard to say when I was plastered. Seriously, though, we were in El Dorado Hills, a breeding ground for Republicans in California. Ryan and I were EDH born and raised. We were used to botched gay slurs. He was too pretty to be a boy, and if you couldn’t tell I was gay by looking at me then you were blind. EDH wasn’t a fan of pretty boys and handsome girls. Last time George W. had been in California for a fundraiser, he did it at our fuckin’ country club. That’s the best way to explain El Dorado Hills. So dyke or pussy or fag wasn’t going to get our heart rates going. We’d heard it all before.

  “Yeah, originality,” echoed Ryan. “Hey.” He turned to me. “Where the fuck is Austin?” I’d been the one to call our ride.

  “Fuck if I know.” We were dismissing the idiots. If they didn’t catch on, it was the
ir issue.

  Two hands planted on my back and shoved me forward. “You got a problem, bitch?” It was the wrestler.

  I was fine with leaving them to their ignorance, but no one, and I mean fuckin’ no one, touched me. Slowly, I turned around. Ryan tugged at my shirt, telling me to leave it alone. Shorty was up in my face, looking pissy.

  “Kiddo, you can walk away. If you don’t, I’m gonna drop you like a bad habit.” Ryan stopped pulling on my shirt. He knew what followed that line.

  The kid just laughed. So I placed two hands on his chest and shoved him back a couple steps. When he came at me again, I punched him in the face. That totally pissed him off. He lunged at me and we ended up on the asphalt. That’s no good. If someone’s a wrestler, don’t let him get you on the ground. I was only down for a couple seconds though before I felt hands, four of them, grab and pull me up. The tall kid was holding his buddy back. I struggled a bit before I realized it was Austin and Ryan holding me. They didn’t let go when I stopped resisting. Instead, they dragged me and tossed me in the backseat of Austin’s car.

  “Watch your back, little boy,” I screamed before Austin shut the door. From the confines of the backseat, I watched Ryan stumble around the car to climb in the passenger seat. Austin got behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot.

  “Honey, I’ve dragged your ass away from more fights than I can count on two hands,” Austin said in his singsong voice. “And, sweetness”—he looked at me in the mirror—“one day I won’t be there to save you.”

  “My hero,” I managed as I dragged myself upright and found my seat belt.

  “What did those guys do?” Austin turned to Ryan.

  “They deserved it,” Ryan replied. He always sided with me. “One of them pushed her.”

  “Learn to walk away,” Austin said real slowly to me.

  “I’ll work on that.”

  “Thanks for picking us up, Aus.” Ryan reclined his seat a bit. “What time is it anyway?”

  “Just after one. You’re lucky you’re hot,” Austin told Ryan. “I don’t leave my warm bed for just anyone.”

  “You know it, girl.” Ryan didn’t say girl normally. Just with Austin. The alcohol might have contributed too.

  “So what’s the occasion?” Austin talked a lot. He didn’t like silences. “Your girlfriend dump you again?”

  Ryan shook his head. “No, that was two weeks ago. This time it was Cooper’s.”

  Austin gave me another look in the mirror. “That hot little butch number? She finally did it?”

  “Yeah. Got a hold of my cell phone.”

  He grimaced. “Text messages?”

  “Yeah. Never let them get the cell phone,” I half told him and half told myself.

  “You could just stop cheating on them,” he offered sagely. Ryan started laughing.

  “I don’t.” They turned in their seats to gawk at me. “They assume we’re exclusive. None of them ask me.”

  “Yeah. They’re the ones with issues,” Austin said.

  “Shut up, Aus,” I said like I almost meant it.

  A few minutes later, we stopped at the gate of Serrano, the gated community they both lived in. The security booth was empty, but the gate recognized Austin’s car and opened automatically. Austin decided to take it easy on the wide, curving roads, which was nice because I really didn’t feel like puking.

  Ryan clumsily extracted himself from the front seat when we stopped in front of his house, a beige monument to suburban monstrosities. He leaned back into the car. “You coming in, Aus?”

  “No. I have work in the morning. I’ll see you at Streets though, right?” Ryan nodded and started weaving toward the front door. I followed him until we were upstairs where we collapsed on a couch.

  “Are we going back to Streets?”

  “Already? We just left.” He sort of fell off the couch and started setting up the Super Nintendo. We were old-school like that.

  “No. Aus said he’d see you at Streets.” I caught the controller he tossed me and righted myself so I could see the screen.

  “Yeah, tomorrow night.”

  Tomorrow night. There was some meaning there. It was hard to think through the drunken haze.

  “Shit.” It hit me. Reese was coming back, and everyone was going to the pub to welcome her home. “I hate your sister.”

  “She hates you too.” Ryan’s shoulder brushed mine as he leaned. The player on his half of the screen did the same thing. Ryan was the type to move with his characters, as if that helped.

  “Why doesn’t she just stay at Yale for the summer?” Reese went to Yale. Of course, she went to Yale. Me and Ryan, state college all the way. My parents couldn’t afford a school like that anyway. Not that I could get in to one. Most days, Ryan and I were proud if we both managed to get out of bed and to class almost on time. Maybe that was pathetic, just like playing video games in the middle of the night while drunk sounds pathetic, but we weren’t stupid. We just liked to party. Reese always told me and Ryan that we were like stupid frat boys without the frat.

  “You think she should just stay at Yale?” he said like I was being an asshole. “That’s nice of you.”

  “It’s not like I’m her favorite either.” I paused the game and tossed my controller to the ground.

  “I don’t care. I’m pumped. I haven’t seen her in over a month.” He slid to the floor in front of me. His back was propped against the couch, and all I could see was the smooth, dark hair covering the back of his head.

  “Do you miss her when she’s gone?” I asked even though I already knew the answer. With twins, they’re always connected even if they’re a million miles away from each other. Or maybe not. But those two were.

  “You coming with me tomorrow?”

  “To the airport?” I knew someone had to go with him to help Reese carry all her crap to the car. That girl brought so much shit to college and back home it blew my mind.

  “Yeah.” His head dropped back against the cushions so that I couldn’t tell if he was tired or if it was the booze.

  “I guess.”

  A slow grin spread across his face. “I love you.” Yep, he was still drunk. His pure cacao eyes, so dark they were almost black, fluttered closed. The long lashes fanned across his creamy, tan skin. Ryan had eyes that were almost sunken in and ringed in shadow, making him look perpetually sleepy. Chicks always said he had bedroom eyes. I just thought he looked stoned.

  “You want to get some sleep?”

  “Mm hmm. You crashing here?”

  I didn’t bother answering. We both knew I was staying. Ryan stumbled toward his bedroom and I headed for mine. Technically, it was a guest room, but the drawers had my clean underwear, and I’d picked out the sheets on the bed. They were Transformers. So we just called it my room. It infuriated his sister.

  “Good night,” I called before he shut his door.

  “’Night.”

  *

  “Get up. Get up. Get up.” Ryan fell onto the bed next to me. He took my blanket and wrapped it around himself. Then he tried to take my pillow so I pushed him onto the floor.

  “Five more minutes,” I said as I curled up with the pillow.

  “No, I woke up late,” he said from the floor. “We only have an hour.”

  “That’s plenty of time.” It wasn’t. From El Dorado Hills to Sacramento during rush hour took almost an hour. To get to the airport added another twenty minutes. I rolled off the bed taking care to step on him.

  “Oww. I hate you.” He pulled the blanket over his head.

  “We’re gonna be late. If you want a shower, get your ass up.” I headed down the hallway and shut the door of the bathroom behind me. When I was done showering, I towel dried my hair as much as possible, found my hair product, and pushed my hair up into a faux hawk. Ryan started pounding on the door.

  “Let me in. I want a shower too.” So I opened the door.

  “Calm down. Does it really matter if we’re late?” I didn’t see w
hy Reese’s plane was coming in so early in the first place.

  Ryan just rolled his eyes and said, “You can borrow some of my jeans if you want.”

  It would have been logical to have more than T-shirts and underwear at Ryan’s. Too bad I wasn’t logical. At least we pretty much wore the same size.

  *

  We were only five minutes late to the airport. Traffic had been kind. As we approached the correct terminal, Ryan handed me his phone.

  “See if she’s here yet.” We couldn’t stop and wait at the curb. Obviously. So we just had to circle until Reese showed. That was where I came in. I texted Reese to see if she had landed. She said she was going to baggage claim.

  “Let me out. She’s here.” Ryan stopped, let me out, and immediately pulled away.

  I waited on the sidewalk for her. I wasn’t going to wander around until I found the right baggage claim. She could come get me. Ryan drove past once, twice before I saw her. If not for the familiar haughty stride she’d maintained since childhood, I wouldn’t have recognized her. Her face was different. It was all wrong. The chubby cheeks were slimmer, giving way to the kind of perfect cheekbones and jawline that models were paid serious cash for. For the first time, I saw why women became silent and stared when Ryan looked at them with those eyes. Except hers were more elegant, not quite as shadowed, and contrasted starkly against her light brown skin. My initial urge was to let my jaw drop, my tongue hang out, and start panting like a dog. Instead, I clenched my teeth and summoned the most predatory and bored look I could.

  “Buttercup! I’ve been waiting for you.” She turned and glared disdainfully. “Well, come on. Give me a hug.” I held out my arms as if she couldn’t wait to throw herself into them. The small bag she was carrying hit me hard in the chest. I barely had time to catch it before she spun and walked back toward the building. Her tight little ass twitched in her short skirt with every step.