SIX by Ker Dukey Page A

Everything out of her mouth sounds sexual in an indirect manner.
    “You look thirsty.”
    “It’s bedtime.”
    “Are you staying back for a drink?”
    “It’s so hot, I’m soaking.” She was talking to Parker about the heat at the time, but I was there and she was looking straight at me.
    She’s trying to make me chase her words for the true meaning behind them, but I don’t need to, I know she wants me to take her, so I’ve been avoiding her like the plague.
    “Don’t zone out,” Lucky scorns me.
    Wiping off the ink and blood from a new tattoo I’m putting on his calf, I don’t bother responding.
    “So, what do you think—to make me jealous?” he asks.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Parker going on a fucking date,” he clarifies.
    “Do you want to date her?” I ask, bored of having this same conversation over and over.
    “I want to fuck her,” he huffs.
    I dig the needle in further than I should and make him yelp.
    “Asshole,” he snaps.
    “Bastard.” I point the gun at him.
    “Why don’t you find an easy girl to put it in?”
    “Because I want to put it in Parker.”
    “Then man up.”
    “You can talk.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” He goes back to playing with his cell and I finish up his leg.
    He wanted some of his own work tattooed on his skin and drew a lifelike dragon with its tail curling down his leg. Detailed, intricate scales span the entire length and bring it to life, making it look 3-D so the top half is taking flight off the skin.
    It’s impressive.
     

     
    “Swix!” Emma shouts as I enter the rec room.
    She’s playing with some dolls and has chocolate around her lips.
    “Hey, little lady. Who’s watching you?” I ask, checking outside the door, but no one’s back here. She stands up and hands me one of her dolls.
    I study it, a frown marring my forehead.
    Why is the doll so out of proportion? This shit is why women think they’re fat.
    I had a plump foster mom once.
    She used to spend the whole day exercising and then binge eat all night, complaining about her body to anyone who would listen. She had these huge tits, a round stomach, stocky legs that were rock solid from all the working out, pretty features, and long curly brown hair—but she couldn’t see all the beauty she possessed, just that she was heavier than what society deemed right.
    Men looked her way, but she was blinded to it.
    If she just listened when her girlfriend told her men like women of all varieties, and most men, if a woman is naked in front of them, don’t see fat, skinny, imperfections, cellulite—we see pussy and tits.
    We’re carnal.
    Our body is designed to fuck, and the sight, smell, or hint of pussy is all it takes.
    And when you love a person, nothing about them is imperfect.
    She could have saved herself a lot of turmoil if she embraced her beauty.
    A small crunching sound alerts me that I’ve broken the doll by accident.
    It’s so flimsy, the head popped right off in my hands.
    I was only twisting it to see if it was posable. Emma stares at me wide-eyed and her bottom lip begins quivering as she shakes her head no.
    Argh, don’t cry…don’t cry.
    Pushing the head back on doesn’t work and her quiver turns in to a full-blown sob. Reaching down, I pat her shoulder.
    “Don’t cry, please. I’ll get you a new one.”
    She shakes her head no.
    “A better one,” I try with a smile, but she’s hard to please.
    “Two. I’ll get you two—three…and a house for them to live in.”
    “Wreally?” she sniffles, her tears subsiding.
    “Really.” I nod, feeling the panic at making this little girl cry ease.
    Now I just need to figure out where the hell I buy shit like that.
    Misty will have to get it.
    She’s not working.
    “Lucky,” I shout as he passes the rec room moving toward the kitchen.
    He pushes open the door.
    “What’s up?”
    “Wait here with Emma.”
    “Who’s Em—wait, no, Six…Six!” I ignore his calls and bound the stairs up to Misty’s