Chapter 2 – Damara
Chapter Two
Damara
My life has always been a neverending movie with an indiscernible genre, yet seemingly nonstop action. I’m like if there was a main character that nobody gave a fuck about – but still had pink hair and that attitude.
The problem is… I don’t know when to slow down. I wish I did, but it just doesn’t come easily to me. I came out here to fix that with a little bit of adventure.
Tamiya warned me to stay away from the bikers tonight.
I promised her I would because… who wants to get up under a nasty white boy that smells like a car?
Please. I just had my hair done in Tulsa by the most famous black braider in the area on Instagram and I need a man who appreciates my hairstyles, not some funky white boy holding me up to an impossible standard that I have no interest in meeting.
I’m here to enjoy the start of a three month sabbatical to figure my shit out…
again. The daycare is doing just fine. I hired a few girls Oske freed from some fucked up circumstances to work and cover shifts for the next few weeks.
My sister Tamiya understands a good portion of my past, but there are some secrets not even that corn-shaped blond she hangs out with could pull out of me.
Tamiya doesn’t have to worry. I can handle any of those bikers.
As tough as they might be… let’s just say I handled tougher.
I just like to keep my past in the past where it belongs.
And I like to have a good strong drink at the end of the week.
Oske says the bar here has only top shelf liquor despite the biker aesthetic on the outside.
Despite my lack of sexual interest in the biker’s, I’m really having fun at this club meeting in the middle of nowhere.
I have major problems with the desert because of my past relationship and all the shit that went down in Utah, but this spot isn’t as hot as Nevada and the clubhouse feels more like a Western-style lodge than a sweaty den of bikers. I can’t even smell any ass cracks.
Just beer. There are so many black wives at this establishment that it’s easy to find people to talk to while Tamiya and her man get handsy in front of everybody playing pool together.
Then there’s Oske, my current BFF. She has issues with her two brothers – who sound like some fools – and seeks my advice because…
well, that’s just what you do when you’re at a bar.
“Wyatt wants to initiate Chitto and Nokose but… they barely know how to boil an egg,” Oske says with genuine concern.
“Maybe they need more time. Isn’t there a phase for that?”
“Sending them out to commit more criminal acts. I don’t know. I think they need to go back to high school.”
“Well, did they finish?”
Oske shrugs. “I had my own problems. I never asked.”
This girl has had a tough life marked by survival and trauma.
She clearly has a soft spot for her doofus brothers, which I can relate to.
If it weren’t for my younger sister, I wouldn’t be alive today, most likely.
We didn’t have our childhoods together either and I understand Oske’s guilt over that too.
“Okay. Maybe y’all need to start with the basics. Communication.”
“I yell at them every single day and explain how to do better and be better. They either have their stupid AirPods in or they’re playing some video game on the PS5.”
“Pause. How did they get a PS5?”
Oske shrugs. “They’re my brothers. I felt guilty and bought it for them.”
“Step one, we’re selling the PS5. Step two, y’all definitely need some communication.”
Before Oske can answer me, she scowls at some figure standing behind me and says rudely. “Can I help you, Sinclair?”
Who the hell is she addressing as “Sinclair” all angry like that? My guess is it’s Ryder – the one with the religious wife – and I flip my braids over my shoulder to see an entirely different man from the one that I expect.
Damn. That man is tall. He’s the tallest one I’ve seen out of all the bikers and none of them are exactly cutie patooties. Each of this man’s arms are ridiculously thick. Oske grows more visibly uncomfortable as he leans over the bar counter.
“You can’t help me at all,” he says, turning to face me, nodding like he’s actually talking to me. “But you, miss thing with the pink hair… You can introduce yourself.”
His eyes are a pure, grassy green color with flecks of blue around the black pupils. I’ve never seen eyes like that up close. He must be one of the older bikers based on how thick and easily his sandy beard covers his face.
“Miss thing?”
“Magnum,” he says, sticking out his giant meaty hand to shake mine. “I like the pink.”
“Damara. My sister is Tamiya, I don’t know if you know her.”
He smirks and I hate that his smile sends a little throb straight down to my coochie.
Not this big white boy making me feel something in my coochie.
After the situation with my ex, I swore off white boys forever.
Those cute eyes and that soft ass hair had me acting like one dizzy ass bitch out in the desert.
If I can’t keep a clear head around a white man, I don’t really need one around me.
“Gideon Blackwood’s old lady.”
“Yes.”
“You two look nothing alike,” Magnum says.
I raise an eyebrow. Is that supposed to be a compliment?
Tamiya has always been a thin mint. Dark skinned and skinny.
I have a similar, but lighter brown complexion and I have never met a man who thought I was skinny.
I’m thick. Curvy. Cushioned. Soft. I have to jump a few times to get into my jeans because of my butt.
“Is that a compliment?” I ask this strange, gigantic white boy.
“You’re a beautiful woman. That’s all I meant. Oske, get us some drinks. I’d like to have a conversation with this one…”
“What do you want?” Oske snaps at him. He finishes a beer he was already holding in one long sip. I watch him chug the whole thing in front of me, completely stunned. Oske’s attitude sours and I lowkey love seeing this side of her.
This queen with her long braids was giving me the full customer service experience but she sounds tired of this white boy before he even gets his question out. I have to respect the way she runs the bikers. I won’t lie.
“Beer. Nothing shitty.”
“I don’t serve anything shitty.”
“You know what I mean. Hunter has the good stuff on his special tap and I expect to drink from it.”
“So. Why did your parents call you Magnum?” I ask while Oske prepares the drinks. I glance down at the name on his cut. “CONDOM”. I guess it’s a simple play on his first name, but it would be terrible luck to have a name and nickname like that without the dick to match.
Not like I’m thinking about this giant white boy’s dick or anything. I’m just pointing out a fact here.
“They love guns.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup. Did Tamiya drag you along to this on some private investigation?”
“I don’t work for her business.”
“But you work somewhere,” Magnum asks as Oske returns with two beers. I don’t mind more beer, though I don’t know about sharing a drink with this big white boy and giving him the wrong idea about me. Oske rolls her eyes.
“Stop flirting with her Condom,” she says with a demeaning smirk on her face. “She doesn’t want you. Damara is thick in all the right places with a good head on her shoulders. She doesn’t need a dirty ass biker ruining her life.”
“Oske, do you hate me?”
“Yes.”
“After all I’ve done for you?”
She narrows her gaze. “You have done absolutely nothing for me compared to Wyatt Shaw and the majority of the men in this room. Even Deacon Hollingsworth treats me better than you have.”
Okay, so it sounds like there’s history there.
Magnum grins, trying to play it cool as he slides the beer over to me.
“Stop playing, Oske. We both know I’m like a brother to you.”
“Even my lame ass brothers are better than you,” she says as her cheeks darken with genuine anger. “I’m going to get clean glasses from the back. Damara, be careful with this one.”
“I can handle him,” I answer her, giving the big man in front of me a once-over. He sips his beer while I watch him, allowing some droplets to soak into his thick, but trimmed sandy-colored beard.
“You can, can you?” Magnum asks.
“I think I can. Now… Why did you come all the way over here and start talking to me? Oske has me a little suspicious.”
We both look at each other and sip from the mugs of beer at the same time, a choice we would both come to regret.