Chapter Thirteen
Marchella
I slid the kitchen chair next to Aunt Trista out a bit and planted my ass in it. I wanted to follow Blaze so badly, but I wasn’t born into this life yesterday. When my father or a disciple said to do something, people generally obeyed.
It didn’t occur to me to object, especially with Easy being the president.
My father remained on the floor for several long moments after Blaze and May had left. No one said a word. The constant maddening tick of Trista’s oversized clock was only interrupted by the sound of my father coughing and gagging at random intervals while struggling to regain his breath.
I was in a daze of sorts. It wasn’t the violence that shocked me. I was used to that. I was stunned by everything I’d heard and now witnessed. No one had ever stood up to my father. No one.
Ever.
He was the only god most of my siblings and I had ever recognized, and he was a tyrant on his best days. A monster and a bully. Not even the women who loved him were safe from the demons he carried with him. He was a creature capable of a level of coldness that permeated the bones of his prey and could be detected by everyone in the room when he unleashed it— And yet, Blaze was either immune or ignorant to it. He didn’t hesitate a minute to slide over me and march off to battle.
I was still reeling at the imagined brawl I’d thought was coming.
I was certain my father was going to kill him, maybe he would have, if Easy hadn’t been there.
Trista slurped, as lazy as she pleased, drawing me from my thoughts. Her mascara coated lashes weren’t blinking and those big eyes were locked on me.
“That good, huh?” She grinned and nudged my arm.
My cheeks flushed and she laughed, causing my father to haul up to his knees and thrust a finger in my direction. The sound died on my lips, and I tried to look away.
I wasn’t quick enough, Easy slapped his finger so hard I heard a joint pop.
“Stop pointing and get up. I got bigger fish to fry with you, mother fucker,” he scoffed, taking off his Disciples kutte and tossing it at Aunt Trista.
She caught it like it was something her husband did every time he walked through the door. I didn’t know where to look, so I watched her fold the damn thing and lay it over her lap. She idly teased her nail along the bottom rocker and stared at her husband and brother across the table.
My father laughed and hauled himself to his feet.
He turned his attention silently toward me and stared like I was the lowest thing he’d ever been forced to look at. When I didn’t take the bait or look away, he focused on Easy, his head cocking, like some wild animal looking for the best angle to charge from.
“Outside!” Trista roared, slapping the table.
“Fuck off,” My father tried to growl. “Ain’t no skirt tells me wha–” Easy abruptly slapped him, grabbed the front of my dad’s face, and didn’t stop the momentum. He charged down the hallway, steering my father dome first and at a backward trot toward the back door.
Trista sighed and looked at me with an apologetic grimace of a smile.
“Brothers and husbands,” she grumbled.
I gave an amused huff, only to realize she’d returned to staring at me in that odd way.
“What are you doin’?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.
I squinted at her, not really understanding.
“Easy told him to fuck off, I figured I’d better let him.”
Trista snorted like I’d told her the best joke she had ever heard.
“I meant with your life, girl. You’re doin’ a circle and there ain’t nothing wrong with it. I’m talking about you going to work and hanging out with the club, looking out for these assholes like somebody's mother. It’s okay. There is nothing wrong with it–but how much advancement and satisfaction are you going to get out of being a nurse’s assistant? It’s backbreaking work, March. I know. I did it, too. Granted, I only did it until I finished nursing school, but I had a taste. My question is– what's in all of this for you?”
I shrugged and smiled, “I’m alright.”
“I know you are. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You have a sense of loyalty that shouldn’t be wasted on watching over a club that will never give you a patch. Go party. Meet people your age. Make shopping friends. Travel. Go to college and get a career that won’t put so much wear and tear on your body. You’re still young enough to do it. You only get one life honey– I just want to know that you’re living it. Every fuckin’ minute of it. Your mother would have wanted that for you.”
I stared at her, my gaze shifting from her to the door like I expected my father to come charging in to confront her.
She snapped her fingers drawing my attention back to her, and I realized her other hand was holding out a set of keys.
“Wh–?”
“Last time I checked women weren’t allowed a patch and Blaze ain’t a Disciple— So, which of you takes orders from that asshole I call a husband, anyway?” Trista smiled, and her eyes lit up. “You can still ride, yes?”
My face scrunched and I gave her a half-insulted nod.
“Good.” She wiggled the keys, making them jingle. “Blaze hasn’t even gotten a chance to ride his father’s bike. See that he has a memorable one, hmm?”
My father and Easy’s heated voices were rising, growing closer to the house again. I didn’t give it a second thought. I snatched the keys from her hand and tore out the opposite door. He’d be in a shit mood after being tossed around like that. He didn’t like authority, either, and I knew Easy was chewing his ass about May and all that had happened in jail last night. I wanted no part of those aftershocks. I uncovered the bike the rest of the way and rolled it out of the shed. I didn’t even bother climbing on it and starting it until I was down the block.
I’d forgotten how much I loved riding. Coasting through the side streets wasn’t cutting it, even if Blaze was my intended destination. I couldn’t help it, the vibration, and the sound both soothed me and called to something I couldn’t explain. I needed to blow it all off. The stress of everything. Work. The events of the last few days.
All of it.
With no real direction, I aimed it toward the highway. Once I turned onto that blacktop and all I could see was bean fields, I knew I was in my element. I started to let it go, my smile growing and the stress melting as the speedometer climbed to a century and the world whizzed past.
I got about five miles out, before I realized I hadn’t even checked the fucking gas.
“Goddamn it,” I was afraid to look, and the moment I let off the throttle, I realized my cheeks were wet and chilled from the wind.
I swiped my tears and turned onto a country road, hooking around to start back the way I’d come after composing myself a bit. It was funny, once I let it all out, the only one I wanted to let in was him.
I didn’t want to deal with my father’s raging about me spending time with what he would no doubt call a fuck boy. I didn’t want to listen to Isabella slam the cabinets and fuss with him once I’d fled to my room, and I damn sure didn’t want to be alone.
I couldn’t get back to town quick enough.