Chapter Seven
The party.
It was perfect timing. I mean, who doesn’t want a party on their birthday?
Of course, the crowds of people at the clubhouse had nothing to do with Cleo.
It was just another Friday night that happened to land on her actual birthday.
It didn’t matter much to her. Growing up, it had never been celebrated.
No presents, no party, and no cupcakes. Her mother used to say the gift of life was the only one she needed on her birthday.
Who the hell would say that to a six year old? My mom.
The only time she’d ever really celebrated was after she came to live in Killcreek.
Her brother made it special, taking her to Lawry for dinner.
It wasn’t anything fancy. He brought her to the same steakhouse each year, his favorite.
The food was great, the company was better.
Having one on one time with her brother had become her favorite memory.
That was all she had left. And her boots.
Her last birthday with Knox, he’d surprised her with a pair of boots for riding.
To this day, she wore them daily. And it showed.
The padding had thinned out significantly, and the leather was tattered, no longer the nice brown hue as when she’d first gotten them.
Still, she wore them all the time, even when it didn’t match her outfit.
She sipped her seltzer from the can, and ran her fingers over the beaded bracelets Ghost had given her. Instantly, they’d become her second prized possession. Her third would die in seven days, but she’d done some research on how to extend the life of flowers.
Cleo scanned the room from the corner near the bar. It was wall to wall people. It always amazed her how many people would flock to the middle of nowhere just to party here. It wasn’t as if they were drinking for free. Everyone paid except the members. And me.
Cleo inhaled a breath, wondering why she’d even bother coming downstairs at all.
She was never excluded from the parties, but what was the point, really?
She didn’t mingle, and on the rare occasion an outsider did try and talk to her, a member of the club magically appeared either giving her a task to do or silently intimidated the guy until he walked away.
The first few times she found it endearing.
It was like having a countless number of protective brothers. It quickly became annoying.
I’ll give it another fifteen minutes. She’d retreat to her room and straighten it up a bit. She’d need to clear off her dresser to make room for Taryn’s flowers.
Cleo stilled, glancing over at the table she’d left them on.
Her heart dropped to her stomach, and her fist tightened around the can, denting it slightly.
Her flowers. Gone! She rested her drink on the edge of the bar and weaved through the throngs of people.
It was a larger party and a bit rowdier.
She got shoved more times than she could count.
By the time she’d made her way across the room, true panic set in.
Where are they? Her chest tightened with her next thought.
Had Wraith thrown them out? He said he wouldn’t but…
She rushed past a group standing near the front door and raced down the hall, peeking inside all the open doors on the first floor.
She stopped short at what she’d always dubbed the game room.
There were two pool tables and a few dart boards.
From the doorway, she saw the vase of flowers.
She rushed in and grabbed it, cradling them against her chest.
There was an overwhelming sense of relief. Until it ended seconds later when she walked to the door.
She moved to the side, allowing two women to pass.
One of them grabbed a few flowers and sauntered into the room.
Who does that? Cleo gasped and spun around, swooshing the water to the point where some spilled over the edge of the vase.
There was now an obvious hole in the arrangement with three flowers missing.
For as beautiful as they were, Cleo couldn’t look away from the empty spot.
The flowers were hers. Meant for her, given to her. They’re mine!
Cleo tried to batten down her anger and calmly walked across the room, placing her vase on the cooler in the corner of the room.
She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile as she made her way to the girls.
Obviously, the one woman had shared with her friend, and they were both holding her flowers hostage now.
“Excuse me.” Cleo smiled and pointed to their hands. “Those are mine. They’re for my birthday, and I’d like them back please.”
Surely the women would understand what might have been a joke meant something more to Cleo, especially being her birthday gift.
“You have a whole fucking bouquet of them. Who the fuck cares about two?” The redhead laughed.
Maybe these girls had gotten flowers all the time, but this was a first for Cleo, and she wouldn’t part with any of them.
“It was three, not two. They were given to me, and they’re mine, so can you please give them back?” Cleo wiggled her fingers and stepped closer.
“Aw…” The dark-haired girl wearing too much makeup picked off a petal, tossing it on the floor. Then another. “He loves you, he loves you not. He loves you, he loves you not.”
Cleo had been teased and mocked most of her life.
It was something she’d been trained to endure.
But I want my goddamn flowers! She lunged forward trying to grab it from the girl’s hand.
It was probably the most aggressive move she’d ever made.
And she failed. She was too far away and stumbled to the side.
Dammit! She spun around, eyeing everyone in the room.
Most had taken an interest in the interaction, and no one stepped in to help.
She noticed Oak near the pool table. He seemed oblivious to what was happening with his sole focus on taking his next shot.
She rushed over to him, and when he straightened, she tapped him on the shoulder.
“Oak?” He must not have heard her and started to round the table. Cleo followed him, twisting her fingers and glancing over at the women, who tauntingly picked off another petal and dramatically threw it on the floor. It was torture watching it all unfold.
She was so focused on the women, she hadn’t realized when Oak stopped, and she slammed into his back. He spun around, “For fucks sake, Cleo.”
She held up her hands. “I’m sorry, but can you make them give me my flowers back?”
Oak scowled, looked over at the women then turned to Cleo. “Half the shit is on the floor.”
“Yes, but they have two others. Can you get those back?”
“When I’m done with this game.” Oak rolled his eyes, nudging her out of his way. When Cleo inched closer to his back for yet another plea, Oak jerked his head. “Move, Cleo.”
She flattened her lips, fighting against her tears.
She nodded and backed up, glancing over to the two prospects in the corner.
Neither one would help, nor would she ask.
Cleo knew the rules. They followed the members’ orders and requests, no one else.
She bit her lip, watching more petals land on the floor.
“Hey!” A man she hadn’t seen before lifted his hand, gaining everyone’s attention. “Got a brilliant fucking idea. They should fight it out.”
His friend beside him raised his bottle of beer. “Yeah, and they should do it topless.”
The joke seemed to amuse everyone. Except Cleo.
When Gent walked to the middle of the room, she thought he might shut down the ridiculous and disgusting suggestion. He looked between her and the two girls, then his sinister smile emerged. “Good old fashion fistfight. Winner gets the flowers.”
Was he serious? Fighting wasn’t an option. If she lived the rest of her life never getting hit again, it wouldn’t be enough to dissolve the pain she’d suffered at someone else’s hands. Her stomach twisted and a thick knot formed in her throat. Old memories coming to the surface had Cleo retreating.
The dark-haired girl sauntered over to Gent, wrapping her arm around his waist, curling into his side. “I’m game.”
“What do you say, darlin’?” Gent slapped the girl on the ass and winked at Cleo. “Love a fucking girl fight.”
He was serious. Pure panic had set in. Cleo ran from the room and down the hall. The main area was a packed house, but she was desperately seeking out help. Maybe she should’ve let it go. Most people would. But they’re mine!
Ghost would’ve been the best ally in her position, but he rarely stayed long at parties, opting for solitude.
He could’ve been in his room, on the roof, or out for a ride.
Cleo didn’t have time to go looking. It would be too late.
She hiked up on her toes scanning the room.
Her next best option would be Cypher. A quick glance and she didn’t see him.
Cleo raced up to the bar, wedging herself between two groups.
“Joker!” she shouted.
He glanced over his shoulder and immediately rolled his eyes when they made eye contact. For a brief second, she thought he’d ignore her. If Joker had a shit list, she had no doubt she was on the top of it. Begrudgingly, he walked over.
“What?”
“Have you seen Ghost?”
He shook his head, continuing to grab a few beers. She scanned the room, but it would be impossible to find him in the crowd, especially if he was out back. Plan B.
“What about Cypher?”
“Before…” Joker turned, and she reached out, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.
“Where?”
Joker glared down at her hand, but Cleo refused to let go and tugged him a bit. “Please, just tell me where he is.”
“Upstairs, I think. Don’t bother him. You got enough violations walking in on people fucking.”