14. Fourteen
Fourteen
Vic
I finish my last tattoo of the day, a piece Rosie drew up yesterday for a female client who wanted a bunch of flowers around a mandala. It looks good, and the customer sat through it like a champ, which always makes it more enjoyable for me.
“Oh, it turned out great!” Rosie gushes to the customer as she leans over my shoulder to check it out. “Here are your aftercare instructions. I hope you love it as much as I do.”
I get a strange pull in the pit of my stomach at having her here working with me and not just sitting around like when she first came. I should’ve let her contribute from the start. But then she wouldn’t have taken the job at the bar that night, and we wouldn’t have taken what we have to the next level.
Whatever it is that we have.
I walk outside my tattoo shop with Rosie, basking in the chilly evening air. The sun is just setting, and the sky is a magnificent canvas of pinks, oranges, and purples. I stare at it for a beat with thoughts of Rosie on my mind even though she’s inches from me .
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she murmurs as she tilts her head back and looks at the sky.
“Yeah,” I say as I look at her. The sunset is nonexistent. What catches my eye is the radiant sparkle in her eyes, the captivating smile that graces her tender lips, and the lingering memory of her delicate neck beneath my touch.
I grab a stray piece of her hair flying in the soft breeze before placing it behind her ear. My hand lingers, not moving from her head. Rosie turns toward me, her eyes an intense deep green like the forest after a rainstorm.
“Wanna take a ride with me?”
“Where to?”
“Somewhere special.”
Taking her bag, I place it in my saddlebag so her hands will be free. Luckily, she’s wearing pants and a leather jacket. It’s been getting chilly at night.
With her front pressed against my back, she holds me even tighter as we fly down the highway, letting out a little squeal, which makes me smirk.
I want to take her to one of my favorite places when I’m craving solitude and silence.
Ever since I spoke to Gage last night, I feel like I’m on borrowed time with her. It guts me, and I don’t know what to do about it.
We get to our destination just as the sun makes its descent.
“Taking me out to the woods? Seems like the start of a slasher movie. Should I start running?” she asks, climbing off my bike and scanning her surroundings.
“Not yet, princess. Now’s the time to beg and ask for forgiveness.” I smirk.
“Not on your life.” She chuckles .
“It’s where I come when the world is a little too loud,” I say, helping her take her helmet off and pulling her along.
She’s thoughtful for a minute, studying the scenery again. I’ve been here countless times, but I try to see it through her eyes.
Enormous trees and mossy vegetation dominate the space with a small gravel and dirt pathway obscured by fallen branches. When you look up, you can barely see the sky from the overhang of all the tree branches creating a canopy. A light mist from the earlier rainfall drops onto the leaves, creating a calming tapping sound as we walk.
“Oh, it’s breathtaking,” she says as she walks through the clearing.
The lake dominates the center of the forest, and the trees create a serene backdrop. Dusk is here, and the lake glows with the reflection of the remaining light.
Rosie glances over at me as soon as I catch up to her. “This place is amazing. How’s it so empty?”
“We’re on private property.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
Her eyes widen. “For real? And you’re just now bringing me?”
“Better late than never, I guess.”
“You know, if I owned this land, I’d never want to leave,” she says with her eyes sparkling.
Be careful what you wish for, princess.
“Come on.”
We walk down the dock, and I take a seat at the end, patting the space beside me. She sits down and swings her legs off the side, letting her feet dangle just above the water .
I sneak a look at her and notice her eyes are closed, and she’s smiling.
I grab her small hand, interlocking it with mine. She looks down at our entwined fingers.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“Do you hear that?”
“Uh...no,” I say, confused.
“Exactly. It’s peaceful here. Why don’t you have a house on the lake?”
“I haven’t really thought about it.”
“I would. Then, I’d put my easel right at the end of this dock. The scenery is too magnificent not to render paintings of it.”
“Maybe I’ll bring you back, and you can.”
“Only if you do, too.”
“Only if you go out on a date with me,” I say without thinking.
Fuck. What is wrong with me?
“A date?” she repeats with wide eyes.
I can’t take that shit back now. “Yes. Let me take you on a date.”
“Maybe,” she says with a shrug before she smiles. Ahh, hard-to-get Rosie has now entered the chat.
“You’re the first girl I’ve ever asked on a date, and you give me a maybe? You’re breaking my heart,” I say, holding my chest as if I’m in pain.
“The first?” She sounds shocked.
“Yep.”
“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”
“Never. And I’ve never brought anyone here besides you.”
“Well, I feel special.”
“You should,” I say with a smile .
“You’re such a jerk,” she says with a laugh, then sobers. “Thank you for sharing your lake with me. It’s perfect.”
She’s right. It is perfect, with the crickets softly chirping, the moon illuminating the small waves, and her by my side.
We lie with our backs against the dock and gaze up at the sky. The stars are so easy to see without the lights of the town.
“I’ve always loved looking at the stars. Ever since I was a little girl, I’d stay out in my mother’s garden late into the night just staring at them. Sometimes she or my best friend Alexa would join me,” she murmurs sadly.
“You miss your family.”
“I do. I miss them so much,” Rosie says before clearing her throat.
“What are they like?” I ask, wanting her to open up to me.
“Well, you already know Gage. Probably better than me at this point.”
“Maybe,” I say carefully, not wanting to open that can of lies and deceit. I’ve already lied to her too much.
“So, you guys became friends after you tattooed him?”
“Yep. Your family?” I ask, wanting to change the direction of this conversation quickly.
“My mom is always so understanding and loving. Then there’s Marco, Gage’s twin. He’s intense and protective. I love him, but he can be overwhelming sometimes.”
“And your father?”
Rosie huffs. “My father is demanding. Very much to the point and no-nonsense. A total asshole, to be honest.” She shakes her head as if to remove the negative thoughts. “Enough about my family, though. What about your family? ”
I hold my breath, knowing that my asking about her life would open the line to talk about my life.
“Not much to tell. Both of my parents died when I was younger. I have no siblings or family left blood-wise. However, I consider the club my family. They’ve been around longer than my actual family was.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. It happened a long time ago.”
“May I ask what happened, if you don’t mind, of course?”
“They were druggies. Their desire to get a fix often overshadowed their role as parents. They got into a car accident on their way to score some drugs and never came back,” I say with little to no emotion.
I’ll never understand how they could have left a child alone. Their dependency on drugs and selfishness cost them their lives. It’s the reason I’ve stayed away from that shit and never got sucked in, but I can’t help but feel grateful. No matter how bad that might sound. Who knows where I’d be or who I’d be if they were still alive?
The puzzle pieces have finally fallen into place. I love my life now, especially with the current company I have.
“That must have been tough, especially for someone so young.”
Compassion bleeds out of her, which makes me wish I never opened up. I don’t want sympathy or the sad expression currently on her face.
“What do you say we get out of here?”
“Do we have to?” Rosie asks, and it makes my stomach dip with joy. She’s enjoying this time together just as much as I am.
As we fly down the road, my mood continues to soar when I feel the moment Rosie breaks free from her mental shackles and embraces the moment.
She’s usually stiff and almost uncomfortable on the bike. Not tonight. I can see the smile plastered on her face from my side mirror. Her hands are up in the air like she’s praising the bike gods for this moment of freedom. I can’t help but smile.
I hope this feels like flying to her, and she can cross this off her list. I can give her this, so she'll think of me every time she sees the list.
She really is special. Something I would be fucking stupid not to hold on to, and that’s what I’m struggling with the most.
I can’t lose Gage, and I can’t lose her. Because if Gage finds out that I’m not only thinking about keeping his sister, but that I’ve also been writing her behind his back for years, I lose him. If she finds out I lied to her, I lose her.
I’m fucked either way. The heart I’ve always considered vacant comes to life and bangs against my chest painfully at the thought of losing anyone I care for.
I pull into a small milkshake shack I often frequent after the lake. They’re known to have the most random-ass milkshake flavors, like matcha and avocado, but I always stick to the classic vanilla. It’s consistently good, and it never disappoints.
“Oh, I love milkshakes,” Rosie says as she walks to the window .
I know she loves them. It’s part of the reason I brought her. The other is because I want answers, and the only way to accomplish that without bringing on suspicion is to tread lightly.
“Me too. I only get the vanilla, but I’ve heard they’re all pretty good.”
“Vanilla?” She looks up at me in horror.
“Hi, I’ll have the umm... s’mores mega milkshake, and Mr. Boring will take the vanilla.”
And here’s my cue. “Can you add potato chips to my boring vanilla, please?”
Rosie scrunches her nose in disgust before her eyes go wide.
Bingo.
As we walk toward the table to wait for our order, I tune into her body language, hoping to decipher her current mood. Her only tell of being in deep thought is the bottom lip she’s currently nibbling.
“You okay?”
“Ah, yeah. Chips in a milkshake seem pretty random.”
“Possibly, but it’s delicious.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Let me guess, you don’t like soggy chips?” I feel bad for baiting her, but I want her to talk about her pen pal.
I want to know what she thinks of me. The real me. After her pissed-off letter, I decided not to write her back. I wanted her to focus on me, not the letter me.
She nods her head before looking at me. “Yeah, I had a friend who liked to eat milkshakes just like that.”
Had.
She said had .
The server brings our milkshakes to us. Mine looks as vanilla as vanilla can be, while hers is more of a devious monster. Cookies, graham crackers, marshmallows, and a donut sit on top while chocolate overflows from the sides.
“Wow. I’m never going to finish this.” She takes her finger and runs it along the glass to collect the overflowing chocolate, then sticks her finger into her mouth.
She makes the same moaning noise as she always does when she eats, and it goes straight to my dick. Especially now that I know she makes the same noise when I rub my body against hers.
I clear my throat and attempt to stay on track. “What happened to the friend?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said had a friend not have.”
“He... we grew apart.”
“Was he more than a friend?”
She shrugs. Is it ridiculous that I’m jealous of her pen pal, who is actually me? Yes, yes, it is.
“He was the one I wrote letters to, but it doesn’t matter.”
“You held on to that letter I handed you like it was special.”
“It was.”
“Then what happened?”
She pins me with a look that shows she doesn’t want to talk about it. “Why do you care so much?”
“Just making conversation.” I shrug as if I don’t care when, really, I’m hanging on to every word she says. “Thought you might want someone to talk to. You don’t have many friends here.”
“Are you my friend?” she asks.
“I think I’m more than a friend after the other night, but we aren’t talking about that right now. ”
She looks down at her milkshake. “He left me when I needed him the most.”
A deep pain shoots through my stomach at her words.
“Friends, or whatever we were, don’t abandon each other without a word. So that’s that.” Standing, she walks back to my bike. She’s clearly done with the topic when I want nothing more than to dissect it, tear it into pieces, and eradicate it from her memory.
I’ve guarded myself all my life to avoid being abandoned, but it only resulted in making the person I cherish most feel deserted.
I’m a piece of shit.
We get back on the bike, and I take a right at the fork in the road and gun it. I let her enjoy the next couple of minutes before we head into the chaos I know will be present at the clubhouse.
The mile-long driveway is adorned with overgrown tulip trees, their branches reaching out to create a tunnel of greenery, guiding us toward the imposing metal security gate at the end. I catch the prospect’s eye, and he immediately guides us in. Nodding in acknowledgment, I carefully navigate my way through the bustling crowd of cars and bikes.
“Where are we?” she asks, a little unsure of her surroundings.
“This is the clubhouse, home base of the Demented Devil’s MC. A place I’ve spent most of my time over the years,” I say, looking around with fond memories from my past. I rebuilt my first bike in this hangar. This was the first place I walked into and felt at home.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to just walk in?”
“If it was years ago, no, but things have changed a lot since Trey became president,” I say as I guide her through the garage doors and into a flurry of commotion. “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me.”
“You sure about that?” I look over and see Ax. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin while leaning against the wall.
I roll my eyes at him as I pull her through the hall and into the industrial-sized kitchen, where things are in full party mode. Char is making food fit for an army while dancing to the music.
“Hey, sugar,” Char says, looking at Rosie.
“Hi, how are you?”
“I’m good, sugar. You’re more than welcome to food and drinks. Make yourself at home,” she says with a wink before looking up at me with a knowing smile that says I’m fucked.
I’ve never brought anyone here. She knows I don’t get close to women. She’s always said it’s a symptom of my childhood or some shit. I trust her, and even Jess, so that can’t all be true.
We walk through a long corridor and into the great room, which has multiple leather couches placed throughout. A bar sits off to the right, and a small room off to the left has vintage pinball machines and pool tables.
The clubhouse, nestled on a couple of acres, offers a secluded haven for its visitors and boasts a spacious interior akin to an industrial building. It has two stories, not including the basement. From the second story, you can gaze down and take in the expansive great room below. Not only does the ceiling feature skylights, but it also houses surround sound speakers for an immersive audio experience.
I grab two plates and pile them with food, then grab two waters before leading Rosie to the stairs to sit so we can eat.
“This place is pretty cool,” she says, looking around the open area as I hand her a plate .
Some people are milling around, but not as many as usual.
“I like it. We renovated it a couple of years back to bring it up to date.” I peek over at her digging in. “I can give you a tour after you finish eating.”
“Sounds good to me.” Rosie looks around. “So, why don’t you wear an outfit like them?”
“That’s called a kutte, princess.”
“Okay, so why don’t you have one? They’re your friends. You have a bike and tattoos. Your whole aura screams that this is where you’re meant to be.”
“Are you feeling me up spiritually, princess?” I ask with a grin.
“No.” Her cheeks go that rosy shade of red I love so much. I want to rub my thumb against the color and see if it’s as heated as my body feels.
I bump my arm against hers. “Tell me what you see.”
“Not on your life.”
“One day?”
She gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe.”
Another maybe...it’s not a no. I’ll take it.
“This was once my home,” I say absentmindedly as I look around, feeling the nostalgia hit me. I went from doing homework at these tables to drinking with the guys. This is where I felt full after years of going hungry and feeling empty. “And I was very much a part of this club.”
“What happened?”
I blow out a deep breath. “I was a new patch on my first run when something went wrong. I went away, and the only way I could be free again was to let the club go.”
“So you did?”
“I did. Mostly, anyway. ”
“What do you mean?”
“This is still my family, but I’m unable to hang out with them as I used to, and club activities are off-limits.”
“Did it hurt? When you lost all of this?”
“More than you know... or maybe you do.”
“I do,” she says, looking down at her plate.
“As you can see, I still have pieces of my old life, and you can, too.”
“What if I don’t want my old life back?”
Does that include leaving me behind? Me in the letters and me now? The thought fucking hurts, but her happiness means more to me than my own. It always will.
“Then, you start a new life.”
“Does that mean you’ll lighten up on me?”
“Not a fucking chance.”
“You know, you really know how to ruin a good moment.” She scrunches her nose.
“Don’t I know it.” I sigh.
I point to the rooms above us, explaining we all have our own, then help her stand.
“What do those doors go to?”
“Church.”
“Church?”
“Yeah, it’s where patched club members gather to discuss important club business, cast votes, or implement changes. Everything important that’s club-related takes place within those walls.”
“And this door?” she asks as she points at a room with a dead bolt on the outside.
“Just storage,” I say with a shrug .
Definitely not for storage unless you want to consider torturing a storage room. I guess we store the dead bodies there until we get rid of them, so it’s a half-truth. Our little buddy from poker night is still in there, gradually transforming into a liquid substance.
As we climb the stairs, I move closer to her. It’s surreal having her in my space. My home. I’d give anything to wrap her in my arms, but I hold myself back.
Pinging and knocking from the pinball machines assault our ears when we enter. Her eyes light up as soon as she sees the pool tables.
“You wanna play?”
“Sure, let’s make this interesting. If I win, you give me a tattoo,” she says as she grabs a cue stick off the wall. Wasting no time at all, she chalks the tip.
I grab my own and dismiss her wager.
“When I win, I want complete obedience from you for a week, and every meal served to me on a platter,” I say, giving her a smirk.
“When I win, I will expect my tattoo on your first available, and now I want a week to do anything I want, too,” she says, her head held high. It’s adorable that she thinks she’d win against me. I’ve been playing for years.
“You won’t be winning, so there’s no reason to even call it, but sure, you can have whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want, huh... probably not the best choice of words.”
She’s right because I’m supposed to be a loyal friend to her brother. Trustworthy, but right now, I’m willing to give her anything and everything she wants if she keeps talking to me the way she is with that sparkle of mischief in her eyes .
“So, what do you say? You ready to play?”
“More than ready,” she says with a determined expression.
“Ladies first.” I watch and wait for her to fumble and miss. “You need help lining it up, princess?”
She gives me a look before leaning her deliciously delicate body over the table. After lining it up, she sinks two on her first shot.
“Solids,” she says as she looks up at me from beneath her lashes. Motherfucker.
“You know how to play?”
“Never said I didn’t, princess ,” she says with a smile.
As she goes to sink another one, Trey, Marcus, and Julian walk in.
“What are we playing?” Trey asks as he looks at Rosie’s ass. I walk over, effectively blocking his view. This motherfucker has a death wish. All he does is smile at my unspoken protectiveness.
“We’re playing pool.”
“You guys can play. We just started.”
“Actually, the table is full. You fuckers go find a different one,” I say, not wanting to share my time with her.
“Don’t be silly. They can play with us.”
“Yeah, Vic, what she said.” Trey grins.
I take a long breath. “I hate you guys sometimes.”
“Perfect. Let’s start with some shots,” Julian says with his ever-present smile.
Marcus polishes his drink off the second it’s handed to him. Then, he ignores the whole situation by going back to his phone.
“I heard shots.” Axl walks in with a big-ass smile, trailed by Jess. Interesting.
“Yay,” Rosie says as she runs over and wraps Jess in a hug.
Trey gives one to Rosie and Jess with a grin before shooting his own back. This fucking guy. He’s about to be buried six feet under.
Rosie hesitates with the shot in her hand. I wait to see what her next move will be. She turns toward me as if she senses I’m watching her, gives me a grin, then shoots hers back as well. She shudders as the alcohol goes through her body, and I can’t hold my groan in.
“Okay, that will be my one and only. I have a bet to win.”
In need of something to occupy my hands, I reach for mine and gulp it down like water. Then, I take another, never taking my eyes off her. Feeling the burn go down my throat and into my stomach does nothing to calm the raging fire I feel for her.
“What bet?” Jess says as she downs hers.
“I want a tattoo, so I need to know who is the best, and you’ll be on my team.”
“I’m not really good at playing games,” Jess says as she jumps on a barstool.
“Could have fooled me,” Ax mutters behind his shot.
“I’ll be on your team,” Julian says as he stands beside her.
“Are you good?” Rosie looks over at him with a critical eye.
“I’m good at everything, baby,” he says as he moves closer to her, which makes the pool stick groan from the tight grip I’m giving it. He’s always been the pretty boy peacemaker of the group, the spokesperson, since he’s the most approachable, and I might just have to take his ass out.
“Does that actually work?” Rosie laughs, completely unaffected.
“Always,” he says with a grin .
An arm wraps around my waist before I see a face. “Hey, Vic.” Samantha attempts to hug me. She obviously isn’t getting the hint after multiple unanswered calls and texts.
“Ah, hey,” I say, completely thrown off.
I glance over at Rosie and notice the sour expression etched on her face. She’s jealous or disgusted. Let’s hope it’s the first and not the latter since it’s taken what feels like forever to get her to look at me without disgust on her face.
I immediately untangle myself from Samantha’s grip, but the damage is already done. I can tell from the cold shoulder Rosie’s giving me that feels more like a subzero blizzard.
We play for an hour; me holding myself back with every stupid-ass comment the guys make. No, she doesn’t need hands-on help to play, and no, she doesn’t need more shots even though she takes them anyway because she’s irritated with me. They’re doing it to rile me up. That much is clear. And worse, Jess eggs them on. This adds fuel to the fire for Rosie, who is now flirting with Julian as they play.
I will get them back for this when they least expect it.
On the flip side, Rosie holds her own and fits in perfectly. Not that I ever had doubts, but it’s nice to know with one hundred percent certainty that my family approves because, for a second, I can imagine this going further than a couple of months of her being under my watch.
I can imagine her being here forever.
I decide enough is enough when I see her glossy, bloodshot eyes and a seductive grin I’ve never seen grace her lips. A grin meant for my eyes only.
I make my way to her in a couple of strides. My fist winds into her hair, and I angle her head back to look up at me. Her eyes go wide, and her plump lips part. I take the thumb of my free hand and rub it against her bottom lip. Her eyes never leave mine. The second her tongue sneaks out and licks my finger, I lose it.
“We’re done here,” I say, not wanting to wait any longer. I throw her over my shoulder and walk out as quickly as I can.
“Wow, dizzy... bye, guys,” Rosie’s muffled voice comes from behind me.
“Bye, beautiful. We’ll see you soon,” Julian says.
“The fuck you will,” I say with my back against them as I leave. Three graves, six feet deep, it is.
I walk toward the stairs, her hands clutching the back of my pants tightly. We’re getting a bunch of catcalls as we walk by, but I don’t care.
“No spanking this time?” she asks as we walk down the hall.
I pause, my steps faltering. “You want me to spank you?”
Silence.
Dead fucking silence.
She’s killing me.
Once we get to my room, I flick the switch and close the door with my foot. It leaves us in relative silence besides small thuds of noise coming from downstairs.
“All the blood is rushing to my head.” She’s a little breathless and slurring slightly.
Shit. I bring her down, putting her on her feet gently before I make her sick.
She sways as if she hears music while she gives me a grin. Obviously feeling the last shot, she took as much as I did.
I pull my phone out and put a song on. She smiles up at me as she pulls me close. Her body moving against mine feels like foreplay. Rosie knows how to use her body. I realized that the first time we danced all those months ago. I don’t think she grasps how alluring she was, and is now. She does it unknowingly, which makes her that much more special.
Rosie burrows her face into my chest and moans. “You always smell so damn good.”
I decide at this moment that drunk Rosie is supreme to any other version of herself for the sole reason of her honesty. I can’t help but eat this shit up.
“What else do you like about me?”
“How you make me feel.”
That... I wasn’t expecting.
“And how do I make you feel?”
“Alive,” she says before bringing her head up to mine. Our lips touch. It’s not rushed or even slow. It’s somewhere in the middle, somewhere I can imagine staying forever.
I grab her by the ass and pick her up. Her legs wrap around my waist, and she begins to grind against me. I let out a groan of pleasure. Sweet, torturous pleasure.
She kisses me like she dances. Sensual and enticing. Pulling me deeper under her spell.
I shake my head and pull away. This can’t happen. I won’t be able to stop if I start.
“You should get some sleep. I’ll crash in another room.”
“Don’t leave me in here by myself. What if someone comes in?”
“No one will come in here.”
“How can you be so sure? There’s no lock.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead fucking serious.”
“Why? ”
“We can’t have a repeat of the other day.”
“Scared you’re going to dry hump me to death?” she asks with a giggle. “I’m sure you have more self-control than that. Look, we’ll put a pillow wall between us.” She throws a couple of pillows in the middle of the bed before plopping down onto the mattress. “See. My virtue you’re so worried about will remain intact.”
She’s fucking mistaken if she thinks her little pillow wall will keep her safe. The Great Wall of China isn’t tall enough to keep her away from me. I walk with tentative steps before lying on the other side of the bed.
She pops up from behind the barrier and looks at me with a sweet smile. “See, not bad at all.”
“Yeah,” I say as I clench my fists at my sides.
I will not touch her.
I will not make this harder on myself.
She isn’t mine to keep.
She looks around my room. It’s pretty sparse. Just a bed and a few dressers. Nothing personal to show who I am as a person. I keep most of my things at home because I only stay here occasionally. I told Trey he could give my room to someone else, but he refused. Sometimes the fucker is sappy and sentimental.
She lies down, and I can feel the tension growing between us. I rub my hand over my face and try to calm my racing thoughts. I shouldn’t have brought her here, especially now that we’re in bed together and drunk. It would be so easy to lean toward her and pull her to my side, the dark side. Then fuck her until the sun comes up.
There’s complete silence on the other side of the bed, so I close my eyes and inhale deeply, then exhale slowly in an attempt to find enough tranquility to drift off .
“Why don’t you guys have names?”
My eyes bolt open, and I look up at her, looking down at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Every motorcycle club has nicknames for its members.”
My lips part, and a small chuckle exits as I listen to her explain. “The older members did, but we decided not to.”
“Why?”
“It’s just not what we wanted, although I understand why clubs do. It’s a tradition, helps with anonymity, and creates a shared connection among the members.”
“Oh,” she says thoughtfully as she looks around. “What made you decide to be part of the MC?”
It’s both bewildering and endearing for her to ask me questions about myself. She’s trying to get to know me, and for that reason, I answer.
“After my parents died, I was in and out of foster care until around ten. Then, I ran away and ended up coming here. Trey, Marcus, and Julian were friends from school, and they welcomed me with open arms. The rest is history.” I leave out some pieces she doesn’t need to worry about. A dark past formed the foundation of the club. One that we don’t ever discuss.
All of us have lost something precious because of this lifestyle, because of the club. Trey lost his mom, Julian lost his dad, Marcus lost his mom and sister, and I lost years of my life.
I contemplated going nomad while I was in prison. Not being affiliated to one charter in general, but still being part of the brotherhood. It wasn’t something I wanted, but I was tempted as fuck to go through with it.
Trey’s father, our old prez, brought us down a dark, twisted road, and many lives were lost. It was careless and heartbreaking. Trey’s promise to be better than his father was the only thing that kept me around. They’re still one-percenters and do the shit that needs to be done, but greed, power, and vengeance don’t blind Trey so heavily that he will sacrifice anyone and anything to get it.
Then, I had another hearing and reached a plea deal for early release. It was either take the deal or serve out the rest of my fifteen-year sentence.
The bargain made me lose what felt like everything at the time, but nothing felt better than walking out those doors and knowing I was free.
She seems thoughtful as she looks over at the chair in the corner, spotting my kutte. “I know a little when it comes to your world. Mostly from shows. The patch right there tells me... things,” she says, pointing at my one percent patch on my kutte.
“I would never hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about. Your brother entrusted me to protect you, and I promise I will.”
“But you’ve done bad things.”
This isn’t a question but rather a statement. I grab her hand, needing her to not only hear me but also feel me. “I’ve done bad things. Some may even say horrible things, but I’d never hurt you.”
“Too bad you can’t protect me from my future,” she says with a long sigh. I can feel the sadness radiating from her.
“Maybe I can.” I have no right to make that promise, but I will. Anything to get that dejected look off her face.
She shakes her head, resigned.
“I won tonight, by the way. I expect my tattoo sometime next week.”
“Barely. I’d hardly call that a win. ”
“It don’t matter if you win by an inch or a mile. Winning’s winning.”
I look at her adorably serious face. “Did you just quote Fast and Furious?”
“Possibly,” she says with a giggle that gets me straight in my gut.
It’s so satisfying to hear her laugh so freely in what you’d think is just an ordinary conversation, an ordinary moment. However, she is anything but ordinary. It’s special, and it makes me unsteady in the best and worst way.
I laugh with her. “I love that movie.”
“Definitely not shocked.”
“Let me guess... my aura tells you?”
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Nope.”
“Whatever,” she says as she attempts to pull her hand from mine. She forgot it was there, but I didn’t. I hold onto it tighter.
“I’ll give you a tattoo, but I want all your firsts .” She blushes and I can’t help the smile that tugs my lips. She thinks I’m talking about sex. “Trust me, I want that, but I want every other first, too.”