Chapter 3
The Girl
Some people might not know this, but a large part of being held prisoner was learning to manage your boredom. Once you got over the terror of being held captive and whatever pain your jailers might dish out, it was really just a waiting game. Lucky for me, I was the best at games. Growing up, I had to be. I was born in captivity and have been inside one prison or another my entire life. I didn’t remember a time when I wasn’t at the mercy of Uncle Roark, being tortured and trained until I became useful to him and the family. If Duke thought leaving me all on my lonesome in his discount dungeon tied to a chair was a hardship, well, that was just adorable. I played along for a while so I didn’t hurt his feelings. I didn’t want him to think he was a bad captor and get performance anxiety! So, I spent some time pretending to cry, and I threw in a few dramatic pleas for help or mercy just to really look like I mean it. That got boring really quick, so I took a little nappy-nap. When I woke up, I sang a few of my favorite songs .
I was in the middle of crooning some old Frank Sinatra standards to the security camera when I heard the dungeon doors open. A man sauntered into the room like he was King of the Dungeon, placing a bottle of water on the steps. I stopped my song and was about to politely offer to start from the beginning so he could experience my melodiousness from the top when he walked close, too close , to me and leaned down to peer into my face. Up close, I could see that this guy was very unfortunate-looking. His poop-brown eyes were red-rimmed, his nose a bit too long and bulbous at the tip, and he had a huge wine-stain birthmark covering his left cheek. His lank black hair looked greasy, and it flopped into his eyes as he looked me up and down. Looks weren’t everything, though; maybe he was an absolute delight of a person, but somehow, I doubted it. I squinted my eyes and tilted my head a bit to try to decide what his birthmark reminded me of. It was kind of like finding shapes in the clouds, but not as fun.
“What are you lookin’ at, bitch?”
So…he wasn’t an absolute delight, then.
“Well, Sir Snarls-a-lot, since you asked, I was looking at you. You know because your face was so close to mine.”
“I had to come see for myself what all the fuss was about. You ain’t much of a looker, are you?”
I snickered. “Says the pot to the furnace.” Sir Snarls-a-lot looked confused. Maybe he wasn’t used to witty women like me? “Plus, if you hadn’t bathed in days and spent who knows how long strapped to a chair, I doubt you’d be runway-ready, either. Now sashay away, meanie.” I turned my nose up and my face away from him, indicating as well as I could that I was done with this conversation. Jerk face.
Apparently, Sir Snarls-a-lot didn’t like being dismissed. He raised his hand, and I caught a swift backhand to the face. Bright, manic eyes caught mine as I turned my head to spit the blood out of my mouth from my teeth catching on the inside of my cheek. I bared my bloody teeth in a vicious smile and said, “Oh, Snarls, that’s one.” If he expected tears or pleas for mercy, he had another thing comin’. Sir Snarls-a-lot widened his eyes and backhanded me again on the opposite cheek. “That’s two.” Sir Snarls-a-lot lived up to his name as he growled at me, landing a punch to my stomach. Every hit he landed was counted, and my refusal to cry or beg seemed to infuriate him as his tantrum continued.
Once he realized his beating wouldn’t get him the reaction he wanted, Snarls changed tactics. He grabbed a handful of my dirty hair and pulled my head back, bringing a lighter dangerously close to my eye. “You wanna keep running that mouth now, whore?” Before I could respond, the dungeon doors burst open, and Sir Snarls-a-lot suddenly flew back from me. He hit the wall with a thud but was up again in a flash with one of his signature snarls. Bones stood before me, breathing heavily, and looking very miffed. Mr. Fancy Bat was with him, and I noticed he was walking just fine, which made me upset with myself. I must not have kicked his knee as hard as I thought I did. Bummer.
“I’m sorry, chica loca, I came as fast as I could,” he puffed out.
“What the hell, Bones! She’s a prisoner, and I want my turn to play with her.” Sir Snarls-a-lot still had a vicious gleam in his eyes, and he started flipping his silver lighter lid open and shut. I blew him a cheeky little kiss. Turd.
“You’re lucky I’m not shoving that lighter up your ass, Pyro. Duke and Priest aren’t done with her yet, so hands fucking off. Get back to the clubhouse. I’ll deal with you later.” Bones glared at Sir Snarls-a-lot/Pyro until the latter finally turned and exited the murder basement. Bones turned to me, his expression softening a bit when he saw my bruised and bloody face. “Again, sorry about that, chica loca. He didn’t have permission to question you, and as a rule, we generally don’t hurt women. If you permit, I’ll clean your face up a bit.”
I sighed, realizing that I now had a second problem. Not only was I captive in a slaughter cellar, but now one of my captors seemed to be falling in love with me. He wanted to give my face a sponge bath, he was giving me cartoon heart eyes, and he threatened to ram a flammable object into someone’s rectum in my honor. If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was. How the hell was I supposed to let him down gently now?
One problem at a time. First, free myself from my physical restraints, then I could free Bones from the shackles of unrequited love. I nodded my head magnanimously at Bones, who took a white cotton handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans and wet it with the water bottle Pyro had left. After the blood was gently dabbed away, Bones held the bottle for me so I could get a drink.
“No worries, Bones. I owe Pyro ten, and I’ll make sure he gets his. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mr. Fancy Bat?”
The man in question smirked a bit before he replied, “The name is Cricket, actually. I was monitoring the security feed when I saw Pyro wailing on you. I got Bones and thought I’d come and see what you’re like when you’re not trying to cut me.”
A wide grin spread across my face. “Oh my BOB, you’re Cricket? Like Jiminy Cricket!” I was bouncing in my chair as much as my binds would allow. I gasped, “Are you my conscience? Where’s your umbrella? Or is that what the bat is for? ’Cause I gotta tell you, that bat won’t help you float around like in the movie.” As he listened to my very interesting observations and thought-provoking questions, his gray eyes got wider, and a polite smile spread across his face. The kind you smiled when you weren’t sure what to say, so you just decided to be quiet and civil.
Despite his conversational failings (he hadn’t answered any of my questions yet), I had to admit he was quite good-looking. He was handsome in the way shirtless models in fancy cologne commercials were attractive. Not really my type, but hey, he wasn’t ugly. Not like that human hemorrhoid, Pyro.
Cricket muttered to Bones under his breath, “Jesus, you’re right, Bones. She is bloody madder than a hatter.” I chuckled to myself; man, I wish I was as cool as the Mad Hatter. Guy knew how to carpe the diem. He also had a wicked fashion sense and tons of snacks. My kind of guy. Since Cricket brought Lewis Carroll into this, I decided to roll with it. Maybe this could be our conscience/human thing? I gave him my biggest Cheshire cat grin and said, “We’re all mad here.”
“Si, chica loca. In our own ways.” Bones helped me finish the bottle of water, and right as I was about to say thank you, the phone in Bones’s pocket buzzed. He took it out and quickly read the text message he had received. Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he turned to Cricket. “They’re back. Duke is calling church.” Without another word, Bones and Cricket stormed out of the torture basement and left me all on my lonesome. Church, huh? These guys didn’t really strike me as religious. Maybe Priest was converting them to his church of Scientism or something…
Hours later, I was still strapped to the chair. I had to pee so bad, my entire body was doing the peepee dance. Right as I was about to say screw it and release the tsunami inside me, the dungeon doors opened. “Thank Bob, I’m going to die if I don’t get to pee in the next five seconds.”
Bones walked over to me and drew a switchblade from his jeans pocket. He grabbed me by the hair, close to the nape of my neck, and pulled my head back roughly. “Listen closely, chica loca. I’m going to untie you now, and you’re going to be a good girl. You behave, no one will harm a hair on your head. You act a fool and carry on… you and I are going to have a very different conversation. Maybe you’ll find out why they call me Bones, comprendes ?” I nodded as much as I could with my hair in his grip. He slowly released his hold and knelt to cut the zip ties around my ankles
“Come on, come on, come on, I’m about to burst!” Seriously, I will lose all my street cred if I pee my pants on camera! I heard the snap of the zip ties breaking and was up and running toward the stairs. Bones grabbed my arm and ran with me out of the cellar. And it really was an old cellar converted into a cell. I didn’t have time to admire the scenery as I ran toward a building in the distance screaming, “IT’S HAPPENING!” over and over. Bones wrenched the door open and basically shoved me into a small powder room. After taking the longest piss of my life and sending up prayers of gratitude to Bob, I washed my hands and exited the bathroom .
Bones stood across from the door with his tatted arms crossed over his chest, silently shaking in laughter. I raised an eyebrow in question, and Bones took a calming breath before saying, “Sorry, chica loca. I’ve never heard anyone thank God for toilet paper before.”
I brushed past him and down the hall, muttering, “Well, you obviously have never been homeless and in the throes of post-dumpster curry diarrhea.”
Bones snorted. “You got me there.” He grabbed my elbow and steered me to the left and down another hallway. The door to my right opened, and Bones towed me inside. Releasing my arm, he went to sit in the last empty chair at a long rectangular table.
At the head of the table sat Duke. To his right was Priest, and to his left was Bones. I scanned the room, recognizing Cricket, Pyro, the guy I Xena warrior kicked, and noticed a few strangers. I wasn’t sure if the royal protocol was in effect or not; I’d never met with a president in a non-murder basement capacity. I decided to play it safe and curtsy. Rising and smiling magnanimously, I gave the room a queen wave. Priest looked disgusted, Bones and Cricket looked slightly amused, and everyone else looked confused. Well, except for Duke. He just looked sad.
“Someone care to explain what’s going on?” This came from the victim of my flying ninja kick. He looked at Duke and then back at me, confusion all over his face. “Since when do we let people go after they attack the club?” Priest was doing that jaw clench–muscle tick thing again. Why is that so hot?
“Bard,” Priest said in answer, “you’re looking at the woman who killed the Southwestern Strangler.” Every eye in the room was suddenly on me. I felt like I was the new kid in school, and my teacher had just instructed me to introduce myself to the class. Or that was at least what I thought this feeling was. I had never been to school, so I was kind of going out on a limb here, metaphorically.
“Hey. Hi. Uhm, President Duke, I don’t know who the Southwestern Strangler even is, so unfortunately you have the wrong girl. The only guy I’ve killed lately was Hoodie Guy. And he had it comin’.”
Duke looked at Priest and heaved a heavy sigh. “There’s no doubt in my mind, Girl. Turns out your Hoodie Guy was a serial killer known as the Southwestern Strangler, one Roger Slyzec by name. He’d been active for about ten years, maybe more. He’s been suspected of over a dozen murders, but the law could never get enough evidence against him. Los Cuervos have been hunting him for the past two years.”
“Oh, well he’s deader than a doornail now. Thanks for your hospitality and everything. Can Sheila and I go now?” I mean, to be honest, their hospitality left a lot to be desired. I was smacked around, almost peed my pants, and saw nary a chocolate or a pillow to place it on.
Duke cleared his throat. “Well, that’s the thing, Girl. It’s us who should be thanking you. Two years ago, my daughter Ellis went missing. Eventually, they found her body in Carson City. She had drugs in her system, sedatives, and she had been… violated. A lock of her hair was missing. The police already suspected Slyzec, but they could never get enough physical evidence to pin it on him. We’ve been trying to find him, to get justice for Ellis and all the other poor girls he hurt. We hoped we’d be the ones who ended the bastard.” Priest glared at me while Duke explained. Duke looked devastated, but Priest’s expression was one of fiery rage. I didn’t know why he looked so mad; he should be happy he no longer had to hunt Hoodie Guy. I bet his weekends just opened up! I gave Priest a thumbs-up, encouraging him to find a new hobby.
Apparently, Priest didn’t appreciate my gesture. He sneered, “You also did a piss-poor job burying a body on our land. If someone else had come across the fucker, Los Cuervos could have taken heat for his murder. The cherry on top of this shit sundae is your attack on us over a van of all things.”
I shook my head; he could never understand the bond between survivors like Sheila and me. Life dented us, but we kept rolling, turning those blemishes into beguiling facets of our effervescent personalities.
I sighed, praying to Bob for patience, and explained, “I don’t mean to interrupt your sermon, Priest, but you and me need to get a few things straight. First of all, I don’t appreciate your tone regarding my best bitch, Sheila. You don’t know how long she was stuck with that Slyzec monster, and I shudder to think of the things she witnessed. We made it out of there together, and she’s mine now. Second, I know how to bury someone so they stay buried. It’s really not that hard. Even you could do it. Second subsection A, I chose to bury him in a shallow grave because I hoped the coyotes would get after him and turn him into literal shit because that’s the least of what he deserved. In summary, fix your face. Your Honor.” I turned to Duke, “I rest my case.”
Priest narrowed his eyes at me and opened his mouth, but before he could congratulate me on my breathtaking defense, Duke interrupted. “I think we’re getting off topic. Girl, Los Cuervos MC owes you a debt of gratitude. If you ever need help, come to the clubhouse or any of our places of business and tell them you need to see Duke. We won’t forget what you’ve done for our family. Now, Bones will take you to get cleaned up and fed, then someone will take you and Sheila home. Where do you live?”
“Well, I was living in my first favorite alleyway in Reno. It’s behind this little Greek restaurant and a pawn shop. Creepy Steve tried to snag my primo spot by the dumpster, but I threatened to cut off his thumbs, so he backed off. And I’d have done it, too. My garbage kitties like to have enrichment time in that dumpster. Now that I have Sheila, though, I guess the world is our oyster. Maybe we’ll go on a road trip!”
A frown turned Duke’s lips down in the corners. “So you’re homeless? And you plan to live in your van?”
Priest snickered cruelly. “Just look at her, prez. Of course, she’s fucking homeless. She’s batshit crazy, and she looks it. I say we let her go. She’s not our problem.” Rude. I looked down at my clothes. I mean, they weren't the best or the cleanest, that was true. To be fair, I was almost fucking abducted , so I felt like I deserved a pass on the rat’s nest my hair was imitating. And I couldn’t help that my face was mangled. His asshat friend smacked me around.
“Wow.” I slow clapped. “All that from a man of the cloth? You try living in an alleyway and getting abducted by a killer and tell me exactly how effortlessly beautiful YOU look.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Priest snarled, standing up so quickly his chair was shoved backward. “My name is Priest. I’m not A PRIEST.”
“ENOUGH.” Duke was standing now too. “I didn’t ask for your damn opinion, Priest. Keep running that mouth and see what happens.” He looked at me and softened his tone. “You got any family, Girl? Someone we can call to come collect you?”
I didn’t have any family, except the family… and I definitely didn’t want them coming to collect me. My heart started to beat rapidly, and my palms were beginning to sweat. My panic must have shown on my face, a moment of weakness I regretted when Priest sneered.
“Uh-oh, prez, looks like you struck a nerve. Dumpster-diving Barbie doesn’t want you to call Daddy to come fetch her. What’s wrong? Did you drop out of college, or did you just snort your allowance up your nose, and you’re afraid he’ll find out?” Priest looked at me like he hated me; I could have been dog shit on his shoe, judging by the look on his face as he tore strips off me with his eyes. I knew that look. Uncle Roark gave me that look every time I angered him. It was the look that preceded pain. I could feel the blood draining out of my face, and my heart felt like it was trying to run away from its home in my chest.
“You,” I started, but my choppy breathing kept me from being able to get the panicked words out of my mouth. My thoughts flew through my mind like frantic birds, terrified and desperate to get free from the cage of my mind. “I…no. I can’t—” I felt like I was trying to sip air through a straw when what I needed was to chug that shit. I couldn’t seem to get enough air into my lungs. “You don’t know…I can’t…” I heard a high-pitched noise ringing in my ears. Blackness ate at my vision, and I was vaguely aware that for the second time in as many days, I was getting ripped from consciousness. It wasn’t nearly as pretty this time.