Chapter 7 Laura
SEVEN
LAURA
Rose Ridge had a few perks.
And I really do mean few, not that I’m complaining. I didn’t regret moving to this tiny slice of Virginia. I meant it with my whole heart when I came here, even if part of my reason for coming had to do with a man who had a penchant for breaking my heart.
I’d hitched a ride with Red into town after spending six agonizing hours poring over the files.
All of which made my stomach churn and left me nauseous.
One, I had the hangover from hell, and no amount of greasy food or coffee had helped, but two, the content of the files should have come with trigger warnings—because holy shit.
Blood. Body parts. Gunshot wounds. And other things I couldn’t bring myself to name.
The only solace I had was knowing the red mark meant the club was no longer working with that person or club. It wasn’t just varying clubs listed in those files. There were politicians, gang leaders, cops, and CEOs for reputable companies.
Disgusting, all of it. And I still had several piles of folders to go.
But, I desperately needed a break, which was why I was now walking away from the market where Red dropped me, and veering for a nearby neighborhood. She wouldn’t have minded taking me all the way to my destination, but I liked keeping my secrets.
Not even Callie knew about my little hobby, and it wasn’t like I expected anyone to keep their mouths shut. It was just that for six weeks, for whatever reason, no one had spilled the beans yet. So I was riding this tiny thrill of secrecy until someone did.
Cutting around the corner and down a side street, I tucked my arms closer, thinking over what had happened last night.
My face burned with the suspicion that I had done something truly regrettable.
While I knew Killian had driven me home, I was fuzzy on what took place in between.
I had these flashes of being in his lap, and possibly lowering my dress, but I inspected my skin and there wasn’t a single mark, bruise or any other identifier that Killian would have left behind.
If I had offered myself up like a meal to the wolf, he would have taken a bite.
With his fingers, teeth and nails. I’d never fucked him, but I knew him.
I knew how he made me feel that one time we nearly went too far.
A brief lilt of laughter spilled from the open doorway ahead of me, forcing my face up and a smile to spread across my face.
The Hollow was a simple house at one point. It was tucked in between other residential homes with a wide porch and a chain-linked fence. During the day, you’d mistake it for another random house, but during the night—not a chance.
The trees were lit up with glowing lights, stretching to the porch, where vines intertwined over the gaping arch and roof.
Entering The Hollow, you’d think you stepped inside a children’s book.
Once used as a library, there were artificial trees built inside the living room, archways built to make it feel like a kingdom, with transitioning rooms, and even fake stone making up most of the inner walls.
Oversized chairs and couches were scattered around the top floor, along with a few misplaced trays and tables.
A feisty woman named Heidi, and her two sisters served coffee upstairs, while running a used bookstore.
But downstairs, the sound of a stringed guitar danced in the air, beckoning me deeper into the house. The metal, winding staircase led to cement floors and more stringed lights, with various tables and chairs littering the open space in front of a raised platform.
A lone musician sat atop the wooden stage, holding his guitar while he sang a moody melody into the microphone. There were at least thirty people squeezed in between tables, while at least fifteen others were hanging out at the bar, which stretched along the back wall.
I took my coat off and hung it on a hook reserved for participating artists and wandered to the bar.
“Hey, Jack!” I waved at my favorite bartender. He was old and cranky, but I loved him.
The best part, he had no club affiliations whatsoever.
At least that’s what he told me while we bonded over organizing a huge shipment that came in, half of which busted all over the floors.
It took us hours to clean up all the glass and liquor.
He vowed to never charge me for a drink for the rest of my life after that night five weeks ago.
I left him tips instead.
“I’ll get your usual ready, but you better go set up.” Jack called over the noise of people clapping for the singer who had just wrapped up his set.
I nodded, then ducked around a few people standing and drinking, walking along the wall until I was able to get into the back of the stage area. It wasn’t large, at all, just big enough for two people to stand, but it helped me with my nerves before walking out on stage.
“Up next we have a local favorite, Daisy White!”
The crowd erupted with cheers and applause. I smirked at the stage name I gave myself and pushed through the curtains.
The house lights nearly blinded me as I waved and headed toward the Yamaha piano set up near the edge of the stage.
It took me back to when I was a kid, and my mom had entered me into a thousand different beauty pageants, and how when I was old enough, I started singing, which was not what my mom had intended.
She had planned on me playing the violin or classic piano pieces, nothing contemporary and certainly, no singing.
Not when it cast a spotlight on me instead of my father.
Not when it stirred crowds, and clogged emotions, moved people in a way that had them straying from certain political platforms my father stood upon.
My life had been lived in a cage, and singing was the door I carved open to escape.
I sang for fun, never wanting to make an actual career out of it. I was too zealous for a life lived without parameters to ever chase singing professionally. It was just something I loved doing.
The piano gleamed under the house lights. Sometimes I sat in front of it, but tonight, I was feeling the need to stand. I adjusted the microphone until it was just the right height, and then I smiled at the audience.
“Hi everyone, thanks so much for coming out tonight. Be sure to order a drink and leave a fat tip for my man Jack back there.”
A few people applauded, and I used the sound to help me focus.
“Tonight I had a special song I wanted to play for you, so I hope you enjoy it.”
Closing my eyes and moving my hands over the keys, I slowly began to play “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis. It was one of my favorite songs, and it always managed to soothe me whenever I started feeling stressed out or worried.
Sure enough, as I allowed the emotion of the song to cut into me, and the lyrics to swell along with the keys on the piano, my stress from the day began to wane. My worries over Killian, the files, the apartment. It all just melted into every single word I sang into the microphone.
Once I was finished, I sang two more songs and ended with the crowd begging for another.
I had sung “Paint it Black,” and Sia’s “Chandelier,” both of which always felt heavy to deliver, especially when I allowed myself to get lost in the music.
So I thanked everyone, soaked in the cheers and shouts, then exited back through the curtain where I came from.
I was practically floating on a cloud when my eyes caught on a familiar face.
“Hey!” I walked over to Natty and threw my arms around her.
She squealed. “Laura, you are so incredible! I can’t believe this is the first time I’m seeing you perform.”
Untangling from her, a tiny tendril of worry worked itself into my stomach.
“Do you come here often?”
She shrugged, turning toward the bar with me. “Not as much as I'd like, but tonight I was over at the coffee shop, prepping some ingredients for tomorrow, and decided I’d stop in.”
“What are you drinking?” Jack asked Natty, flicking a concerned gaze at me as though he was silently asking if I was okay. I didn’t make friends here, and I never usually talked to people, so he was probably worried I’d had an aneurysm or something.
“Just a shot of crown and a diet coke, please.”
Jack turned away, and Natty tucked a piece of hair behind her hair.
“Kinda nice that no one from the club is here, huh?”
I laughed, my eyes wide. “I know, right?!”
She crowded closer to me. “It’s part of why I like to leave the club so often…sometimes I just need a break from them.”
Jack slid a Moscow mule in front of me, and an amber liquid shot in front of Natty, followed by a can of Diet Coke.
“Honestly, I assumed you didn’t mind it.” I sipped my drink, loving the bubbly feel of the ginger beer against my tongue.
Natty tipped her head back and swallowed the shot with a hiss. “I don’t…I mean, honestly, I really don’t. But every now and then, it just feels too repetitive. I think it’s why they ride.”
I watched her sip her Diet Coke and we fell into easy conversation, learning new things about each other.
“You knit?” I asked, my brows hitting my hairline. A new singer had taken the stage, and this time, everyone was clapping as he belted a Matt Maeson ballad in a deep, melodic voice.
Natty nodded. “I do, but for some reason I can only knit these tiny squids. It was the tutorial I had initially used to learn how to do it, and I know I can simply try a new one, but for whatever reason, it always ends up resembling a squid.”
“I have to see these for myself.”
Natty suddenly slid off her stool. “Let’s go back to the club, I’ll show you.”
We were laughing again when Jack came back over with a small envelope in his hand.
“For tonight.”
The cash was likely close to one hundred dollars, which is about what I made out in tips every time I did a set here. I flipped open the white tab on the envelope and pulled out half the cash and tucked it into Jack’s tip jar.
He clicked his tongue, but I ignored him, shoving the rest of the money into my pocket.
The cash would help me save up for a new place. I flicked a hesitant gaze at Natty as we wandered to the coat rack.
“I won’t say anything about you singing here.” Natty vowed as we pulled on our coats and began ascending the staircase up to the first floor.
“I’m shocked more people don’t already know I sing here.
” We walked through the bookstore and then pushed outside.
The fog was cold against our faces, and off to the side of the house was Natty’s one-seater, motorized moped, which I knew she’d be driving home. It wasn’t big enough for the two of us.
“I don’t mind if people do, but I don’t want them to think I need to focus on the club job. It’s a good job; I just like the extra money.” I talked to keep my teeth from chattering. I was also determined to cut ties with the club once I was able. I didn’t care what Killian thought.
Natty unhooked her moped and walked back over to me.
“You okay to get back?”
I waved her off. “Of course, I am.”
She turned toward her transportation. “We could try to both fit.”
I snorted first, then Natty followed with a full bellied laugh.
“How do you ride that and live in a motorcycle club?”
She shrugged, then began stroking the pastel yellow handlebars. “They would never make fun of me. At least not to my face.”
We both began laughing again, and then she finally grabbed her helmet, bid me goodbye and zoomed off.
I inspected my cell and saw the time.
Shit, it was nearly eleven at night. While I didn’t mind walking, and I knew Natty would have walked with me, I didn’t want her to because I knew how early she had to get up for work.
The fog thickened, and I realized I didn’t want to walk back. My thumb hovered over Killian’s name, the text thread with him was still untouched from three months ago. His last text still unanswered.
Because I’d shown up in person.
Regret from last night flushed through my chest, forcing my thumb to click out of his thread, and open another.
One that was less complicated, less frustrating and altogether less.
Exactly how I wanted it.