Chapter 1
Lena
Yes, I had one of those epiphanies.
The epiphany where you thought you had met the one.
The keyword in that statement... thought.
And when you met the one, you wondered what the hell happened and what the bloody hell you were thinking.
That all started when I was six years old.
Apparently, you should never trust a boy who looks like a Ken doll – life lesson.
My story begins when I was six years old… that lovely ever-present girl meets a cute boy.
For my birthday that year, I begged for a sparkly pink bike with black tassels, and I wanted a hot pink helmet with a black sugar skull on it.
Thankfully, I got it, it was also the only thing I wanted.
It just so happened that while on that bike in the cul-de-sac where we lived, I saw him for the first time.
The day I fell hard for him makes me wonder what in the world happened to him in the following eight years.
I was riding my bike without a helmet. Yeah, I know. I’m a rebel. But really, it’s because the strap broke. But shh.
I tried to dodge a big boy who was coming too fast behind me on his skateboard. I oversteered and fell while the boy on the skateboard laughed at me.
My knees were scraped, and bleeding, and my hands had little black pebbles in them.
I didn’t know where the cute blonde-haired boy came from, but he got to that boy and knocked him off his skateboard with his body.
He then dragged that boy back to me by the back of his shirt and made him say sorry.
The cute blonde-haired boy lifted me and helped me walk to my house where he then proceeded to put my sparkly pink band-aids on my knees and hands.
When I noticed his knuckles were bleeding, I did the same in return. He just smiled and walked away.
Little did I know he was only doing that to impress my half-sister Karly, who was three years older than me.
I soon found out the boy’s name was Byron Adams, and he was ten years old.
So, this boy who looked just like a Ken doll, you know the perfect side-swept blonde hair, the perfect smile, the perfect name-brand clothes, and the perfect parents?
And as I grew older so did he. I often found myself trying to butt into whatever he was doing.
It never registered in my brain that he only let me play with him and his friends when a certain someone was with me.
When I turned eleven, I lost my mom to cancer, and this was when my world seemed as though it was titled on its axis but in ways that are unimaginable unless you’ve experienced it.
Byron was there holding my half-sister's hand and mine, letting us know he was there if we needed anything.
Later that night, after my stepfather, who I refused to call father any longer, not after the news my mother shared with me right before she passed, held a wake for her, Byron and I were sitting in the gazebo behind my parent’s house under the stars in the winter.
I’m not sure why he did it, but he kissed me right smack on the lips. Maybe it was the moment or heck maybe he was dared too; I would never know until it was too late.
Something else I noticed that had my skin crawling the following years, my stepfather looked at me differently.
Staring at my body for too long. Asking me to watch a movie with him, and when I started to get sleepy, he let me curl into his body and ran his hands through my hair.
… Or when I got ready for soccer.
I had started dressing in my bathroom because I had a lock on that door.
Why did I start doing that instead of dressing in my bedroom?
Well, he had a habit of walking into my room while I was getting dressed. And one too many times, he caught me in my underwear.
And no, I never missed him licking his lips every time he closed the door.
Yes, I had gone and bought a doorknob with a lock that first time with the lunch money I had saved up, but when I got home from school, I noticed it was taken off.
The reason for that, well, that was brought to light the day before my eighteenth birthday, but we aren’t there yet.
Now, back to Byron, I mentioned a Ken doll, here are some more reasons why.
He was seventeen and already six foot two at two hundred pounds with dark blonde hair that seemed all he had to do to it was run his fingers through it and let it fall where it wanted to.
The prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen and unblemished tanned skin.
You could even make out the cuts in his six-pack, washboard abs, how did I know that? Because he always wore tight-fitted t-shirts that showed it off.
Compared to my five-foot-one frame and weighing in at one hundred and eighteen pounds he could squish me like a pancake.
Where he had that dark blonde hair I had black hair, almost midnight black, he had these stunning blue eyes, whereas I had green eyes that my mom always told me looked like emeralds.
My half-sister always said she wasn’t jealous, but I knew she was.
See our mom had wavy black hair, whereas mine was pin-straight and couldn’t hold a curl to save my life.
Every time Karly walked by me in the house she sneered at me, well, not at me, but at my hair. She got her dad’s mussy brown and our mom’s hazel eyes.
What had me snickering sometimes, was that Karly dyed her hair a midnight black color, but every week after she washed it, the color faded.
One night, I snickered when Byron pulled up to the house, ignored Karly, and asked me if I wanted to go see a movie with him.
Our first date in my eyes at least, he took me to see the new Transformers movie when I was fourteen, he then took me for a ride on the back of his motorcycle around the block, we didn’t go far.
And I even got a kiss on my forehead after he dropped me off.
Anyway, Byron sounds pretty awesome and drop-dead gorgeous; right?
And through the next three years, he did little things like kissing me on the forehead and chucking me on the chin when he passed by me at school. I thought he was biding his time until I turned eighteen.
What a crock of crap that was.
It was the day before my eighteenth birthday when I got home from school and checked the mail.
This is when everything in my world was tilted on its axis.
There was a letter there, it was from a summer camp for Soccer Players. I was extremely proud because people from all over the United States applied to the program in hopes of getting in. Only forty-seven people got accepted each year.
I was so excited to go tell Byron; he was the one to encourage me to go after my dreams. Therefore, I put my things down and started to race out of the house.
That was before I heard my stepfather call out from his recliner, “You better get all of your wild oats sewn between now and nine in the morning.”
Normally I wouldn’t reply to him.
Not when I saw the liquor bottle dangling from his fingers.
However, something in the words he used had me questioning him, “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’ll be legal then. Been biding my time. You look so much like your mother that you’ll make the perfect replacement. Wear something white. We leave at eight forty-five in the morning to head to the courthouse.”
And then I heard him let out a snore.
Okay, don’t freak out.
Don’t worry about what he said.
He was drinking.
Men say a lot of things when they’ve been drinking.
Right?
Deciding to go with what my head was telling me and not my gut that screamed at me to run up to my room, pack my stuff, and go to a homeless shelter.
I shook my head and then jogged down the street to Byron’s house with the letter clutched in my hand.
Then I let myself in like always. His parents had an open-door policy for me and Karly, because they adored our mother.
And who wouldn’t?
She was salt of the grain sweet, kind, passionate, and didn’t take anything from anyone.
Before I headed upstairs, I waved to his parents in their living room.
I don’t remember asking myself why his door was closed when he had a thing against closed doors or hearing the moaning coming from his room.
When I opened his door, the smile immediately fell off my face. I saw Karly on top of him, naked as the day she was born.
Once Byron opened his eyes and saw me standing there, he didn’t look away; he didn’t make any move, except putting his hands on her skanky hips and moving her in motion.
His eyes stayed locked with mine when he said to Karly, “Yeah, baby. Just like that. Grip my dick with your pussy.”
Karly was watching me with a smirk on her lips, and guess what she said to me?
“I finally beat you at something.”
She was so smug that she was able to finally beat me at the one thing I treasured above all else in this world and that was my friendship/crush with Byron.
I should have known. Freaking should have known.
My half-sister Karly was the meanest person on the planet. When I was seven, she didn’t like that my hair looked prettier than hers, so she tied me down in a chair by tricking me into playing a game.
She then proceeded to shave all my hair off, so what did my stepfather do? He just laughed.
Oh, I got revenge though, let me tell you.
My mom came home and let me loose, then she was about to head out to talk with my sister, but I asked her to let me handle it.
I walked up to her while she was still laughing and gave her an upper right cut. I slammed my fist so hard up into her jaw that I broke my fingers but guess what, I knocked out some of her teeth.
She didn’t try anything else with me for a while, now I see this is what she has been waiting on.
Shaking my head from those thoughts, I locked my eyes with hers and simply said, “Congrats. You did beat me at something. But when you're nothing but a whore, you’re not beating me at a thing.”
Then I looked at the Ken doll look-alike who was now dubbed as an asshole and said, “I hope you double-wrapped it. She had Chris Palmer in the house two days ago.”
And no, that wasn’t a dig at her, it was the absolute truth.
I ignored the growl, “What?” From Byron.
Then without another word, I didn’t let them see the tears fall; I didn’t make another sound after that. I turned around and walked down the stairs and out the door.
And thankfully, my stepfather was still snoring in his recliner.
That night as I curled into the quilt that my mother had sewn for me before she died that was made up of all our t-shirts, that was when I had a revelation of sorts.
I always thought I was special.
Years ago, he had even stopped only letting me play with him when Karly was there.
I didn’t know he was only doing things with me while trying to impress my half-sister Karly who was three years older than me.
Byron was the boy that promised everything under the moon, that whole best friend forever line. Well, guess what, his words didn’t mean shit.
He said he needed a ride-or-die chick. He said he wanted to be mine forever. He told me he’d have my back.
Well, you know what; he must have been dropped on his head when he was a baby.
But that wasn’t it at all, far from it.
I hadn’t realized until just then, that when he told me that stuff, he was looking at my half-sister.
Byron Adams is a lying, cheating, dirtbag that could make a nun curse.
He was my first crush, my first kiss, and my first date as I called it.
And he would be the last person I would ever allow to hurt me.
That was when I looked up and into my closet, straight at the light pink box that sat there.
Recalling what I had walked in on, and thinking that maybe, just maybe, my stepfather’s words weren’t just from the alcohol, I tossed the quit off my body and scrambled out of bed.
Then I walked to my closet and pulled the light pink box down from the shelf, took it to my bed, and sat down.
After I moved through things that I treasured, and some of them were from things I had done with Byron, I tossed them all in the trash.
After I did that, that was when my eyes landed on an old receipt.
Then, I flipped it over and stared at the number that was scrawled there.
And the name that was written on it.
When the doctors gave my mom only a few weeks left to live, she had made it to where my stepfather and Karly were at the store, and that was when she handed me this receipt and told me a story.
That was when I found out the man, I had thought was my father, wasn’t.
And I found out that Karly wasn’t my full sister, but only half.
“Red?” I asked her as I read the back of the receipt. “Why would you have the name of a color on the back of a receipt?”
I was eleven. Sue me.
She laughed softly and then smiled a tired smile at me, but I would take it, and treasure it for all time, “It's not a color baby, it’s a road name.”
“A road name?” I asked her softly.
“Yeah, sweetie. You see, when Daryl upset me years ago, I ran. I didn’t know where I would end up, but I just knew that I couldn’t be near him any longer.”
I gasped, “What did he do to make you of all people run?”
“I walked in on him and another woman.”
I sighed, “Yeah, that would do it.”
She laughed softly, and I missed her boisterous laugh, “Yeah, anyway, back to the road name because that is what’s important. I ran to a little town in South Carolina. And I happened to find myself in a clubhouse on a Saturday night.”
She took in a breath, and then kept talking, “A clubhouse is what you call the place that members of a motorcycle club hang out, and some of them live there.”
But something came to the forefront of my mind, “Mom, why did you call him by his name and not my dad?”
She let out a sigh, “Because, he isn’t your biological dad.”
Okay, well, now that I thought about it, I didn’t have anything in common with him.
Nothing.
I just always thought I got everything from my mother.
And that was when she further explained, “Your Dad was a biker when I met him. He used to be a part of Wrath MC. Not sure if he still is or not, but that’s the only number I have for him. I never got his real name. They didn’t give that to anyone except their significant other.”
She didn’t give me time to process her words before she continued, “He’s the one who gave you those eyes of yours. I’m so glad you got them, baby. But I always thought red genes were dominant, you didn’t get his red hair.”
I took in a deep breath, not letting the tears fall for a second time for someone who didn’t deserve my tears.
No one did.
I looked at the clock above my white dresser and saw it was nine at night which wasn’t too late, then I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Sucking in a deep breath, I tagged my phone from my nightstand and had to use muscle memory to know which buttons to press.
I had Karly’s old cell phone because heaven forbid, I ever got a new cell and outdid Karly.
Once I punched in the numbers, I placed the phone to my ear and hoped that who I was looking for was there.
The phone rang five times, and I was on the verge of hanging up when some bubbly voice came across the line, “Can I help you?”
I pulled the phone from my ear, checked to make sure that I had indeed typed the numbers in right then put the phone to my ear, “Umm, yeah. I’m looking for Red. Is he there?”
The bubbly voice was still there, but I detected a hint of wariness in her tone, “May I ask who's calling?”
“Umm, he doesn’t know me. But he knew my mom.” I closed my eyes, at the headboard that was now banging against my wall and asked, “Is he there?”
“Hang on,” she said, and then she was gone.
My fingers were playing with a loose thread on my quilt that I needed to fix. I wanted to keep this quilt for all my life.
It was a terse few minutes before I heard a man growl and ask, “You’re looking for Red. Why?”
I was almost at my breaking point, almost.
After the day I had and the past couple of years, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, so I tried not to snap, I really had tried not to.
I failed.
I snapped, “Look, my mom handed me this number on her deathbed seven years ago. I won't be telling you anything about it. I will tell Red, though. So, please. I need to talk to Red.”
I heard the man sigh, then he muttered, “Fuck.”
Then, an angry voice came across my phone when I heard, “Who the fuck is this?”
Wanting to make sure I was talking to the right person, I asked, “Red?”
The man growled then and said, “Yeah. What the fuck do you want? And how the hell did you get this number?”
I swallowed, suddenly wondering just what my mom had gotten not only herself into seventeen years ago, but me as well. “My name is Lena Daniels. A little over eighteen years ago, you spent some time with my mom. She was separated from her husband and had a wild night at your clubhouse.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then I heard, “What’s her name?”
“Her name was Colleen Daniels. I believe you called her… umm… oh… this is embarrassing… umm… you called her Hoover Baby. Umm… you told her that her pussy sucked your dick in like a Hoover vacuum sucked up dirt.” My cheeks were flaming. I could feel them.
I heard the man chuckle, and that chuckle sounded like he smoked a pack a day, “Ah. Now I remember. Damn. She was a great lay.”
“Umm, yeah, I didn’t need to know that.” Could I get some medicine that could rewind that entire conversation and then bleed my ears out?
He scoffed through the speaker, “Well, the truth hurts darlin’.”
Recalling what I had just walked into, I sighed, “Yeah. It does.”
Then he asked in a somewhat softer tone, “So, why are you calling me for?”
“My mom told me that you’re my dad almost seven years ago before she passed away. Apparently, she tried to tell you once she found out she was pregnant, and you were in prison for assault. She tried to go to the prison, but you rejected any and all visitors. So, she said she wrote a letter and handed it to a man named Storm. He promised her he would give it to you.”
“Fuck. Never read that letter. Fucking forgot about that until you said something.” At least I could make out regret in his tone.
Then he surprised me, when he somewhat apologized, “Now I feel like a motherfucker for talking about your Mom like that.”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me, “It’s fine. It’s not the worst I’ve heard. Trust me.”
I heard him chuckle, “Okay, darlin’. So, what do you need?”
I closed my eyes shut, and said, “Umm, I know this is hitting you way out of left field so to speak. But I turn eighteen tomorrow. And well, I walked in on my stepsister and the boy I’ve had a crush on since I was six. And I just don’t think I can be here anymore.”
He was quiet for a beat, then he said, “Darlin’ from what you said, you’ve held onto this number for almost seven years, and you haven’t used it yet. Right?”
I nodded, “Right.”
“Then what the fuck happened to make you use it this time?” Well damn, I see where I get my tenacity from.
Like a pit bull that wouldn’t let go of something it wanted.
Or like a pit bull when it loved, and it loved fiercely.
I bit my lip, and then told him the real reason I was calling, “Well… I’m not sure how viable this is. He was drinking when he said it. But… My stepfather intends to take me to the courthouse tomorrow and marry me. He said that since I looked so much like my mother, I would be her replacement. And that…. That… that it’s been hell on him to see me every day and not react since I was underage.”
That was when I swore, I could have felt an emotion blasting through the speaker. Nothing but vibrant rage, then he growled, “Pack your shit darlin’. Need your address. Now.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, then I gave him my address.
He called to someone, rattled it off then said, “I’m six hours from you. Did that sumbitch give you a time? You know what, never fucking mind that shit. I’ll be there in six hours, probably five.”
I could feel a tear trail down my cheek that I hadn’t caught, my voice cracking with emotions when I whispered, “Okay, Red. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me darlin’. We’ll talk about all of that later. You got a lock on your door or something you can block it?”
That was when I stupidly told him about me trying to put a lock on my door and him taking it off.
Because Red growled, “Be there in four and a half hours.”
I moved my dresser in front of my door and started packing my things.