Chapter 1 #2
Or maybe she just doesn’t care about the way she looks.
Her red hair is always piled messily on top of her head, strands flying everywhere like they refuse to be held.
She stands out next to Donovan with her fair skin, I’ve never seen anyone in this State as pale as her before.
Even white people tend to at least have a tan of some kind, but Elizabeth is practically luminescent .
“No,” she says, “I was just noticing how everyone’s bike shows off their personality, you know, artistic, cultural, strong.” She points at each of the bikes in turn, before pointing at mine. “And yours… simple.”
The smirk on her face purses her full lips, and her brilliant green eyes shine with smug laughter.
And this is why I don’t like her.
She thinks she’s better than all of us because she’s rich and lives in Radbury Heights, and I know she’s using my brother; I just can’t figure out why yet.
Part of me thinks she’s leading him on so she can share stories with her friends about hanging out with the biker gang, using us to gain some sort of street cred with them.
I ignore the laughs from where Tank, Pretty Boy, and Slim, sit behind me, and continue to stare at her.
They all love her, none of them understanding my problem, but that’s because of how sneaky she is.
She has this ability to make everyone like her without even doing anything, and it pisses me off.
And she comes across as all sweet and friendly, but every now and then, she bites back, and that’s the real her.
That’s why I love jabbing at her so much. Usually she keeps quiet, staying close to Donovan, only joining in the conversation when it’s appropriate. But every so often, there’s this spark in her that comes out, fiery like her hair, and that’s the Elizabeth I want other people to see.
Donovan loves her, he might even be in love with her, but I know that she doesn’t feel that way.
She barely interacts with him; they’ve been dating for at least six months, but you wouldn’t think it from how she is around him.
They never kiss, they never hold hands—all that shit couples do, they don’t. He deserves better.
“Ouch!” Donovan laughs as he gently pushes her. “I’d better go get my brother some aloe vera for that burn. ”
They walk towards the table, and she follows Donovan to some empty chairs that Tank has pulled up. I sit next to Slim who’s lost in his cigarette.
“Thanks, Tank,” she says, sitting next to him.
“No worries, how was college you two?”
“It was good,” Donovan says, “classes are winding down and everything is ready for my semester exchange, I can’t believe I go this weekend.”
It’s great to hear him so excited; I hate the thought of not seeing my little brother regularly, but I want him to have the opportunities I never had.
Shit, I barely made it through school, let alone college, and the only reason I’ve ever left Tynerston was for club business, but now we’re legit that happens even less.
“It’s gonna be weird not seeing you around here,” Pretty Boy says, in his southern drawl which girls seem to fall over themselves for. He winks at Elizabeth, “You too, darlin’.”
“She can still come and hang out with us, can’t you?” Tank says, as he puts his arm around her shoulders.
I don’t like it, it’s not cool for him to be touching Donovan’s girl like that, and the fact that my brother just sits there and lets it fucking happen.
“Please,” I scoff, “like the princess would lower herself to see any of us if it wasn’t for Donovan. She’ll probably spend the next three months crying in her castle until he comes home.”
The others laugh, and Tank removes his arm from her shoulders; but I can’t read the expression on her face.
Donovan replaces Tank’s arm with his own and pulls her to him with a smile. “Beth probably won’t even notice I’m gone.” He looks at her. “Think how much reading and writing you’ll be able to get done without me disturbing you all the time. ”
She laughs. “It’s true, this will probably be the most productive three months of my life.”
I don’t understand how they’re both so casual about him going away.
I don’t date and don’t do relationships, but if I did, there’s no way in hell I’d be away from my girl for three months.
And if I had no choice, it would break me to hear her being so casual and laughing about it.
I must be channeling these thoughts into my glare as when we make eye contact, she quickly looks away and shrugs out of Donovan’s arm.
We’re interrupted by the clubhouse doors opening and some of the girls walking out with beers.
They’re all dressed similarly, tight denim shorts and low-cut crop tops, leaving very little to the imagination.
Not that it matters, we’ve all fucked each of them and seen everything; it makes it so much easier not wanting to date having all these willing women around.
And they just want to fuck a biker, not caring who it is or when, so it’s a win-win for all of us.
Imogen looks at me flirtatiously and I figure she’ll do for tonight; I pull her to sit on my lap, thanking her as she hands me one of the beers.
A couple of the other guys have done the same, but where they haven’t, the girls squeeze themselves onto the bench next to them, so they’re practically on top of each other anyway.
The only people left with any personal space are the couple, and people question why I think Elizabeth’s stringing him along.
“Sorry,” Imogen says to Donovan, “I didn’t know you were here, so I didn’t bring you a drink.”
She completely ignores Elizabeth which annoys me; she’s meant to be a hostess, it’s her job to serve drinks, not ignore people.
“That’s okay, I’ll grab us drinks,” Donovan says, heading into the clubhouse .
Before anyone has a chance to say anything, Elizabeth speaks, and it’s directed at me.
“While he’s gone, I need to ask you a favor.”
“And what exactly do you think I could help you with, princess?” I ask.
She ignores my jab at her and continues.
“I was wondering if we could throw a leaving party for Donovan here on Friday night. A lot of our college friends want to arrange something at the dorms, but I know he also wants to spend his last night with you, so I was hoping we could have the party here and do both.”
I take my time, pretending to think about it, finding it amusing to see her get more stressed as she glances between me and the door, scared Donovan will return before I answer. I decide to have some fun.
“Hmm… I’m not sure that’s something I can answer,” I say, “you’ll need to take that shit to table, get El Jefe to lead a vote.”
I sense some of the others smirking, they know I’m fucking with her, but they’ll let me have my fun.
“Are you serious?” she asks, “For a party?”
“Well, we don’t just let anyone into our clubhouse, we’ve gotta think about security and shit.”
“Oh… I guess that makes sense. So how do I do that? Please, I really want to do this for Donovan.”
I’ll admit, I like the way the word ‘please’ sounds from her lips. Shit, I know I’m being an asshole, but honestly any chance to bring her down a peg or two is worth it.
“It’s easy, princess, he’s in there now with Tipo. They’re not talking about anything serious so you can just go on in and ask them, the door will be open.”
Her shoulders drop in relief as she exhales .
“Great, thanks. You’re sure they won’t mind me disturbing them?”
“Not at all.”
The door to the clubhouse opens and Donovan returns, a beer for himself and a bottle of water for Elizabeth.
I guess she won’t be staying to drink with us tonight, she usually leaves early when she only has water.
Probably has more exciting plans with her rich little friends—she definitely thinks she’s too good for us.
Elizabeth
“Not at all.”
The door to the clubhouse opens and Donovan returns, a beer for himself and a bottle of water for me, knowing I have to leave for work in a couple of hours. I suppose I should go and ask El Jefe now.
I lean into Donovan and whisper, “I’m just going to use the restroom.”
Diablo gives me a nod of encouragement.
Here goes nothing…
The clubhouse is a separate building from the main garage; it should look out of place, a log cabin amongst all the concrete and metal of the industrial estate lot, but it doesn’t.
Whether it’s the dust that covers the floor after being dragged in from the lot, or the club memorabilia that hangs in both the clubhouse and the garage, it fits.
The clubhouse is empty, the tables and chairs waiting for patrons, and no one is behind the bar, all the available girls must have come out with the beers.
It’s a shame Ana isn’t here today, I’d hoped to ask her to help me with the party. She’s always nice to me and we sometimes hang out when I’m here; and if I’m with her, the other girls speak to me too, otherwise I’m basically invisible to them.
To the left are some stairs leading up to the bedrooms, some of the guys live here permanently, Diablo included.
Whereas the guys who have wives or girlfriends live away from the clubhouse.
I still don’t get how the whole relationship thing works with these guys, and the girls hanging around all the time.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for casual sex; it’s what I do, there’s no way I’d have the time for a boyfriend on top of studying and my job.
But when it comes to relationships, I’d be a monogamy girl for sure.
But each to their own, if their wives and girlfriends are aware of it all and happy, then who am I to judge.
Ahead of me is the door to the private room where the club members talk business. I’ve never been in there before, and none of the girls have ever mentioned going in either. Diablo was right, the door is slightly ajar, and muffled voices come from inside.
“She just had the divorce papers out there on the table, waiting for me.”
“Shit. How did you leave it?”
Even though Diablo told me it would be okay to walk in, they’re clearly having a private conversation, so I knock.
“What?” The voice isn’t muffled anymore, it’s El Jefe.
I slide open the door and walk in; the room is large, but the space is filled with one giant table.
The club emblem of a wolf framed in a tribal pattern is carved into the center, with words below it: El que con lobos anda, a aullar se ensena.
My Spanish isn’t great, but I think it translates roughly as, ‘He who runs with wolves, will learn to howl’.
I guess that explains why their club is called Lobos Aulladores—Howling Wolves.
Enough seats for each of the members surround the table and I’m slowly taking it in until my gaze reaches El Jefe, and the furious expression on his face.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Tipo, the club Vice President, asks, “This is for club members only.”
Shit. Diablo has played me.
“That fucking asshole!” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
I leave the room but stop outside the door when El Jefe calls out.
“Wait.” His voice is firm, but not as angry as Tipo. “Come in, sit down.”
Great, and now I’m in trouble. Fucking Diablo. I pull out the chair furthest from them both and sit, keeping my eyes low.
“Let me guess,” El Jefe says, “Diablo put you up to this?”
My inner voice starts spiraling. Snitches get stitches… this is a test… keep your mouth shut. I freeze, choosing to say nothing.
El Jefe chuckles. “Never mind, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he did. Is there something we can help you with?”
“Um… I’m not in trouble?”
“No, Beth, you’re not in trouble,” El Jefe says, “now come on, how come you’re here?”
I sigh. “Please will you let me use the clubhouse to throw Donovan a party with our college friends on Friday night? I know it will mean a lot to him to see his friends as well as everyone in the club on his last night here.”
“Of course you can,” El Jefe says, “and I’m sure you know this by now, but Diablo could have agreed to that too.”
“That fucking asshole!” Tipo chuckles .
“Yeah, I figured that part out when I saw your face,” I say, “I really am sorry for interrupting you. In my defense, he told me to walk straight in, but I couldn’t, so at least I knocked.” I shrug, and they both laugh.
“What do you need for the party?” Tipo asks.
“Nothing, just the space. Most of the college guys will bring their own kegs and drinks, and it’s supposed to be a nice night so we can stay in the yard and keep the garage and the bikes all locked up.”
“Sounds good to us,” Tipo nods, “if you do think of anything you need though, let us know.”
“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
I stand up to leave, but El Jefe stops me.
“Beth, do me a favor?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Feel free to rub Diablo’s face in it when you get out there, that pendejo needs to be bought down a notch.”
I’m still grinning as I make my way outside to the table where everyone’s sitting.
“What’s so funny?” Donovan asks, and I can sense everyone looking at me, of course they were in on Diablo’s joke too.
“Oh nothing, just something El Jefe said to me,” I say, making sure to flash a smile Diablo’s way, showing him that his prank didn’t work.
His angry expression is totally worth it.