Chapter Six
Olivia
I paint the gloss over my lips and take one last look in the mirror before turning to Bria, who nods in approval. “You look amazing. Are you hoping to meet a certain man out tonight?”
I scoff. “I’m done with men. Bully hasn’t called all week. I think he’s finally seen it.”
“Seen what?”
“What I’ve been saying from the start, that we’re not going to work.”
“Or maybe he’s sulking because of the whole lunch date thing.”
His face flashes in my mind, tight with hurt, and I sigh. “I don’t blame him,” I murmur. “I lied to him.”
“He’s done worse,” she deadpans.
“I said that, and he looked at me like I was some nagging housewife.” The twist in my chest returns, familiar and sharp. “This is the longest we’ve gone without speaking since we got together.”
“Exactly why a night out is perfect,” she says, slipping back into her heels like she’s armouring up.
“You think a night out is the answer to everything.” I laugh, despite myself. “But, fine, you’re not wrong. I need to feel normal for five minutes.”
“Who knows, maybe you’ll see the guy from last weekend.”
“God, I hope not. He’s been calling and texting like crazy, asking me out.”
She frowns. “And you haven’t said yes . . . why exactly?”
“Because Bully would murder him.”
“I thought you said Mr. Hottie was a biker too?”
“He is.”
“Then maybe he’ll murder Bully.”
I shake my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “I don’t want either of them dead. Especially not over me. Can we just drop it? I’m not dating anyone. I’ve been on my own for five years. I’m good.”
Stacy places the tray of shots on the table. “Did anyone hear about that fire?” she asks, sitting down.
“Why do we always start on shots?” I complain, taking one. “Why can’t we be civilised and start with wine?”
“The fire on the High Street?” asks Laura, and Stacy nods.
“Apparently, it’s a gang war or something.”
“They always say that,” Bria states, taking a shot too. “It was probably kids.”
“So, why would they say it’s gang-related?” asks Michelle.
“Because they don’t want us to realise how bad kids are these days,” Bria explains. “They’d rather you think we have gang members running around waging war against each other than thinking our little cherubs of society are thugs, hell-bent on causing chaos and destruction.”
I laugh. “Coming from a teacher, that’s pretty harsh.”
“You think I’m joking, but they’re animals. And don’t get me started on the parents.”
“What happened anyway?” I ask Stacy.
She shrugs. “This woman who comes in the chippy regularly said it was gangs. Some turf war.”
“Please,” laughs Bria. “Where are we, America?”
“Ladies.” We all look up as Darren approaches, and I inwardly groan. “Nice to see you all again.”
“Is this your regular?” asks Bria, looking amused.
“I was hoping to bump into your sister, actually. She’s been avoiding me.” His eyes penetrate into my soul, and I shift uncomfortably.
“I wasn’t,” I mutter feebly. “I was busy with work.”
“Liar,” singsongs Bria, and I glare at her for outing me.
“Maybe we could get a drink together now?” he asks hopefully, glancing back at the almost empty bar. “Just one?”
Bria grins, nudging me. I give a stiff nod, and his smile widens as I slide from the booth and follow him to the bar.
“What’ll you have?” he asks.
“Lemon gin,” I reply, and he places an order. We wait while the barman pours a gin for me and a beer for him, then he leads me to an empty table where I can still see the girls.
“So, what did I do?” he asks. I almost choke on my drink at his bluntness, and he grins. “I like honesty, Liv.” I don’t like how he says my name. Just like Bully.
“It’s Olivia,” I correct. “And you did nothing. I don’t want to be a cliché, but it really is me and not you.”
“And the guy at the shelter?”
I think over my words. “An ex . . . I guess.”
“Husband?”
I shake my head. “Boyfriend. Long-term, but it’s all very raw, I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
“Relationships are hard,” he says with a shrug. “They take a lot of work and understanding.”
“Have you ever been married?”
He nods. “Yeah. She died. Well, actually, she killed herself.”
I gasp. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. She struggled after she lost her job, and things got messy for a while.
Sometimes, I think it was for the best.” I inhale sharply at his careless words, and he laughs a little.
“Sorry, that sounded way worse than I meant it. She was suffering, and sometimes when the suffering ends, it’s a relief to everyone involved. ”
“Was it long ago?” I ask.
“Coming up to three years,” he replies with a sad smile.
“You must miss her.”
“So,” he says, taking a breath and smiling, “seems we’re both new to this.”
Somehow, his words make me feel more relaxed. “I’m not looking for anything right now,” I admit.
“But there’s nothing to stop us just talking, right?”
I laugh. “Okay.”
“What do you like to do, Olivia?”
I frown. It should be an easy thing to answer, but instead, my mouth opens and closes but no words come out.
“Let me guess, you forgot how to be you,” he says, saving me from the awkwardness of lying.
I give a slight nod. “Is that pathetic?”
“Not at all. When you give yourself over to someone so freely, you lose yourself.”
“I spent so long waiting . . .” I trail off, realising I’ve said too much.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to explain.”
I take a breath. Why shouldn’t I speak from the heart? After all, it’s not like Bully wants to listen. “He was in prison,” I confess, “and I waited.”
“Wow. That’s such a hard thing to do.”
I like that he gets the magnitude of what I gave up for Bully. “Right.”
“How long?”
“Five years.” He gives a low whistle. “I put my life on hold for the first few months, and when I got used to him not being there, I forced myself to get a job and a place to live, things that had nothing to do with him. I think I always knew deep down that I’d need my own life to fall back on.”
“So, he got out, and you broke up?”
I nod. “More my choice than his. I don’t feel like he really appreciated how I’d waited. He got out and the first thing he did was go and see his stupid cl . . .” I trail off. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear this.”
“It’s fine. You need to talk about it so you can move forward.”
I smile. “You sound just like my sister.”
“She speaks wise words.”
“What about you? What do you like to do?”
He grins. “I like bikes. Always have. So, riding is my passion.”
My heart sinks a little. “Are you in a club?”
“And animals,” he adds, ignoring my question. “Mainly pigs.”
I frown. “You like pigs?”
He laughs. “I grew up on a pig farm. Dad was a biker too, but he was also a good pig farmer.”
“Wow, that sounds different.”
“We lived out in the country.”
Bria comes over. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to steal my sister for a quick minute,” she says, grabbing my hand and dragging me a few steps away. “Taz called me. Bully knows you’re talking to this guy. I think he’s watching the bar or something.” She glances around nervously.
“Taz called to warn you?” I scoff. It’s not something he’d usually do.
“They’re on their way. Apparently, this guy is bad news.”
“Of course, he is. They’d say anything to ruin this.” I go to walk back, but she takes my arm and tugs me back again.
“I’m serious, Livvy. You know I don’t listen to what they say usually, but this guy is the president of a rival club in the area. It sounds serious.”
I glance back to where Darren is watching us closely, and suddenly, I feel nervous. “What do I do to get away without raising suspicion?” I whisper. The last thing I need is a fight breaking out between the bikers.
“Tell him your kid woke up and the babysitter called.” I laugh. “I’m serious, it’ll scare him off.”
My smile fades. “Is he really that bad?”
“Do you want to find out?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and go back, offering a weak smile. “I’m so sorry. The babysitter called, and my daughter woke up screaming for me.”
He narrows his eyes in amusement. “Daughter?”
“Didn’t I mention her?” He shakes his head. “She’s three and a real drama queen. She’ll never settle now.”
“What’s her name?” he asks.
“Erm . . .” My mind goes blank, and I stare at the bottle of beer. “Bud . . . e. Buddy.”
He openly laughs. “Buddy?”
“Nickname,” I mutter. “Sorry.” I spin on my heel and scurry off to where the rest of the girls are waiting for me.
I breathe a sigh of relief the second we step out. “Jesus, you made me panic,” I say accusingly at Bria. “He now thinks I have a three-year-old daughter called Buddy.”
The women break out in fits of laughter. “Buddy? What the hell?” asks Bria.
“It was the first thing that came to mind. I’m not good at lying on the spot.”
“Why did you tell him you had a daughter again?” asks Stacy.
“Because Bria told me to say it,” I cry.
Bria gives an unapologetic shrug. “We all know men run a mile at the sniff of responsibility.”
“It’s a shame,” I mutter, glancing back at the door longingly. “He was turning out to be quite nice.”
The rumble of bikes fills the air, and I groan. “Great, now I’m going to get an earful from the man who’s ghosted me all week.”
They slow by the kerb, and Taz removes his helmet. “Get on,” he barks in my direction.
I frown at his tone, waiting for Bully to remove his helmet, but he doesn’t, instead remaining on his bike and staring straight ahead. “The rest of you get on anyone’s bike,” he adds.
I grab Bria, halting her from making a move towards them. “We’re good, thanks.”
Taz fixes me with a glare. “It ain’t a request, Liv. Get on the fucking bike.”
“I think we should,” whispers Bria.
“I thought you hated them?” I hiss back.
“Yeah, but they seemed pretty worried about the guy back there. I want us to get home safe.”