Tats by Layce Gardner

In this episode of Book Clips we hear an excerpt from the audiobook for Tats by Layce Gardner.

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Tats by Layce GardnerSynopsis 

Lee Hammond’s girlfriend has moved on to other women. Deciding she’s done the last of her now ex’s laundry, Lee hops on the Harley, ripe for adventure. One thunderstorm, a brief stint as a funeral crasher, two ruined shoes and several cheerleaders later, she’s still planning to run away. Better yet, she’s got one of the cheerleaders along for the ride. Not just any cheerleader, either. Vivian Baxter is that cheerleader, the one that made Lee certain back in high school that she was never going to be like all the other girls. Destination? Someplace not Oklahoma. Possibilities? As many as the wide open road can offer.

Problems? None at all. Except perhaps Lee’s ex, a hopping mad stripper who wants her Harley back. Vivian’s feminine wiles prove invaluable in solving their transportation problem just as her own past catches up to them. And Vivian’s past has two legs, a lot of henchman and a very big gun. Lee and Vivian may never get out of Oklahoma, and Oklahoma may never be the same.

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please note this transcript has not been edited and is automatically generated meaning certain words will be incorrect.

you are listening to book clips a mini podcast in which authors and erasers do readings from novels check out the show notes for the synopsis and by links for this book tats written by Laci Gardner published by square pegs Inc narrated by Layce Gardner chapter one I’m a sucker for a nice pair of tits and this pair ranks right up there with some of the nicest I’ve ever had in my face the stripper teases me a minute longer before pulling her tits away i tuck another twenty energy string and she gives them back to me her long black hair blankets my head and shoulders and I used my teeth to tug on her nipple ring she jerks away surprised and offers me her ass instead it takes a couple of more 20s to get her tits back this time she’s no fool she plays keep away from me for the next three songs three songs is how long it takes to empty my pockets to grant every cent I have gone in the space of 15 minutes did I mention I’m a sucker for a nice pair of tits what’s your name I ask when she bends down near me again ginger she whispers ginger what time you get off I’ll get off right after you take me home she answers with a bump and grind aimed right at my face I’m sure the bump and grind seems like a good idea what ginger doesn’t know is that her answer gets me so excited I leaned forward just enough that my nose smashes into her bump and her grind make sure it’s broken but good i gush blood all over me all over her and all over the dance floor I guess the smell of blood gets her all excited because the next thing I know she’s pulling me by the collar out the back door I stand in the employee parking lot like a fool with two tissues shoved up my nose while she Yanks on jeans and a t-shirt she throws a leg over the back of a Harley Fat Boy fires up the engine and yells over the pipes get on your riding bitch ginger makes me ride bitch for the next six months I cleaned the house do the laundry mow the lawn wash the dishes I even reshingle the roof if I’m good she lets me ride her Harley if I’m really good she lets me ride her I haven’t been so good lately this morning ginger finally drags home about ten o’clock she’s wearing her favorite t-shirt it’s red with big letters across her tits that read I like to talk about your red flags where you been I asked last time you stuck your nose in my business I broke it she says crawling into bed and turning her back to me I catch sight of that little birthmark on the inside of her thigh and my thinking gets all cloudy I get in bed reach over and caress her ass just the tiniest bit and she turns and slaps the out of me what the hell I’m tired of being touched she snaps everybody’s always got their hands on me am I the only one who finds her t-shirt ironic I’m humble she whips a shirt off over her head wads it up and throws it in my face you like to so much you wear it she says burying her face in the pillow I think your idea of much and my idea of much are two different things I say crawling out of bed I slipped my jeans on over my boxers and a t-shirt over my wife beater I throw on my leather jacket in my boots I have my trusty pocket knife in my front pocket forty bucks in cash and my driver’s license I Pat my jacket pockets because I don’t go anywhere without my journal and my well-worn paperback zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance I’m walking out of the room when ginger leans up on one elbow and says if you’re going riding bring her back with the full tank I nod goodbye to her nipple rings and walk out the door there’s just something about the vibration and rumble of a motorcycle that lifts my spirits no matter how low they are I’m flying down the highway at 80 miles per hour with my feet only three inches off the ground the Rising Sun on my back and chasing my own shadow ain’t nothing sweeter I check over my left shoulder and swing into the passing lane I open the throttle to 90-plus and breeze right by the semi-truck in the right lane he honks at me as I whip by and I toss him a small wave before i edge back in his lane I’m not a speeder holic I just like to go fast I laugh a little at that thought I’ve met many a drunk who says I’m not an alcoholic I just like to drink who knows maybe I am a speedo holic speed jolts me full of adrenaline and when I hear my heart pounding in my ears I know for sure I’m alive besides speed limits are just that limits me and limits we don’t get along so good I like that ad that tells you to think outside the box life is too full of boxes as is you watch TV it’s a box you go on the computer it’s a box phones are boxes a car is a box on four wheels people go to work and sit in little cubicle boxes houses and offices and stores are just big boxes when you die they stuff you in another box a motorcycle is not a box that’s what I like about them riding a motorcycle is life outside the box I work on and rebuild old motorcycles I find old pieces of junk and restore them I don’t just put them back the way they were I make them better it’s not a great living but it’s living the way I want and how many people can say that I have a car too it’s a necessity of life you have to haul something somewhere or it’s raining you have to have a car I owned a 1976 black El Camino I named her hell Camino she looks like a beater but I rebuilt every little piece of her engine myself and she’s pristine two drops of cold rain splatter me in the face I dumped the throttle to 65 and scanned the streets for any familiar landmarks I really have no idea where I am I’m not lost as far as general directions go but still I don’t know exactly where I am I take the next exit and plan on working my way back on surface streets and that’s when the rain blasts me from about three different directions all at once that’s Oklahoma for you if you don’t like the weather just wait a minute because it’ll change right now half of Tulsa sunny but the half I’m unlucky enough to be in is like being under a waterfall and when you’re on a bike going 60 miles per hour it feels like a swarm of bees stinging you all at once I knocked down the gas even more and the wind blows me three feet to the left I lean into the wind guide the bike back over and hug the white stripe before it throws me back to the middle of the road I must look like that toy the weebles I keep wobbling but I don’t fall down I scour the road ahead looking for a way to get out of this battering I slide into the nearest parking lot and of course it turns out to be a Walmart I kicked the bike down right near the front in one of those spots where you’re only supposed to park if you have a sick kid and you’re getting them medicine but who’s going to argue with me over whether I have a sick kid or not I unzip my jacket and hold the sides up scrunch my head down like a turtle and run right through the double doors of big blue I stand over by the carts and shake myself off like a dog huddled directly across from me is a troop of green clad Girl Scouts behind a folding table that’s loaded down with boxes of cookies all their little faces are shut down and miserable looking they all stare at me with their little lifeless eyes and this one Girl Scout the biggest boldest one waddles over to me looks me up and down and asks in a dead voice you a woman are you a man I hold out the sides jacket showing her my boobs but she has the gall to look at my chest and make a face like she considers my wares negligible okay so my boobs aren’t even big enough to be called tits but being insulted by a 10 year old still pisses me off by some Girl Scout cookies she orders now it’s my turn to look her up and down and wonder wounded little kids start getting so fat if you ask me she’s not a very good advertisement for cookie sales looks to me like you’ve been eating all the profits I say lo she sticks the toe of her brown and loafer in the puddle around my feet and smears the streak across the floor she cooks her head up at me and orders again I said buy some Girl Scout cookies do you all take credit cards I asked feeling guilty about my earlier remark she snaps her head back real sassy like and does that neck roll thing that black women are so good at and says what am I gonna do with the credit card swipe it my ass crack she snaps her fingers at me for emphasis I laugh good for her she may be as white as she is tall but ain’t nobody gonna push her around i buy $40 worth of Thin Mints 10 minutes later the Sun is beating down bright and I’m back on my way 40 dollars poorer but cookie rich of no more than ridden a couple of miles before the floodgates open back up and the water is gushing out of the sky I’m in the middle of open country on the outskirts of town and there’s nowhere to hide even the cows are circled together with their back ends pointing to the storm finally I see a scraggly stand of trees alongside the road and figure I might as well hunker down there until the storm passes I ease the bike over under the trees cut the engine and slip the key in my front pocket I uh Nass and peer through the sheets of water damn I’m in the middle of a cemetery I don’t like cemeteries probably because there’s always dead people in them I catch sight of a pole tent whipping in the wind about a hundred yards away a bunch of people are herded under the tent shoulder-to-shoulder backs facing the wet I unbunch a the boxes of cookies from the luggage rack stuffed them as best I can under my jacket and work my way through ankle-deep mud all the way to the tent the people all watched me approach with big eyes but none of them dare say a word I have to nudge and poke muttering some plight scuse me before I make some room for myself I’m about a head taller than everyone else here what’s new and a few people glanced nervously at my dreadlocks which is exactly what I like about my locs they give me a cushion of space around myself that most people are afraid to enter well this is about the last place I thought I’d be when I started out this morning teetering on the edge of an open grave my boots sliding in the mud clutching the damn Thin Mints under my jacket with all these social climbing golf-playing country club martini drinking fat-asses boggling me like I’m the weird one I scanned the crowd of faces and realized most of these people are my age they just look way older I don’t get it why do women in the Midwest hit 30 and automatically lose all sense of style it’s like hormones or lack of kick in and create an insatiable appetite for polyester flowers and capri pants I pride myself on not having much fashion sense but I don’t have to read any fashion magazine to know that capri pants do not make fat legs look thinner and somebody should pull these women aside and tell them that more makeup doesn’t mean more beautiful I once saw lipstick on a pig but that didn’t make it pretty I’m just wet and cold and pissed off these people don’t deserve from me I remind myself that these people are actually out there running in the rat race I’m just sitting on the sidelines watching besides somebody they love died and Here I am making fun of their damn clothes I take a deep ragged breath and try to think respectful thoughts I overhear snippets of the conversation whirling around me plop plop fizz fizz instant implosion homecoming queen a paunchy man about half my height Lear’s at me and for a moment I think he’s eyeing my boobs before I realize he’s actually drooling over my cookies I edge over and nonchalantly hide my cookies behind the closest large woman I glanced toward the sky looking for a break in the weather and hopefully a break in my future and just like that the rain stops the clouds part and a golden spotlight of sunshine illuminates the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen well okay not really it’s still raining and the woman I left behind in bed is actually way more hot but there’s just something about this one tats written by Lacey Gardner published by square pegs Inc narrated by Lacey Gardner you have been listening to book clips check out the show notes for the synopsis and by links for this book if you are interested in showcasing your novel then check out the show notes for more information [Music]