Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Allora
The rest of our time in Denver is busy. I work long hours photographing the models wearing Alexa’s designs and then get roped into shooting candid shots at the after party as well.
Alexa also wants me to shoot her upcoming catalog, something new she’s doing, and it will mean a week in New York, where she’s based.
Spending time with friends and industry colleagues is such a nice distraction I almost forget about everything that happened to me.
Almost.
Until I wake up crying early Sunday morning from another nightmare.
But Landon is there, strong arms around me, his voice soothing in the pre-dawn light.
“I’m right here, baby. You’re okay. Breathe. You’re safe.”
“Fuck.” I hiss out the word, angry at myself for being so weak. For not getting past my ordeal even though I know that’s ridiculous.
“It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “This is your brain dealing with the trauma. It will pass.”
“I hate it. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“You don’t know what’s going on in my head.” I’m a little salty about all the people telling me what they think I should be feeling or saying or doing. Can’t it just go the hell away?
“Honey, I do know. I thought I was fine after Iraq and I wasn’t.”
“But you lied to your therapist so you could go back to work and you got past it.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t easy. I’m telling you, if Courtney hadn’t intervened, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Honestly, I might be dead.” His voice is firm but sincere, and deep down I know he’s right. I just might not be ready to admit it.
“Talking about it feels like ripping off the band-aid,” I mutter. “We talked Thursday night and I was okay. Why now?”
“You’re starting to deal with it. Just in an unhealthy way.” He strokes my arm. “Tell me about the dream.”
“Ugh.”
“Come on.”
“It wasn’t actually about the rape. At least, not this one.”
I feel him stiffen. “What?”
“It almost happened once before. But Pete saved me.”
“At the club.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“That’s why I’ll never go back there.”
“Tell me.”
I sigh, a bit frustrated, but this is easier to talk about.
“I was sixteen. My parents were going on a short weekend trip for their anniversary. We lived in a house in town but Dad wouldn’t let me stay alone so he made me stay at the club house.
He wasn’t President then, he was VP, and the club’s president promised he’d keep an eye on me. ” Oh, the irony of that statement.
“Anyway.” I clear my throat. “It was Saturday night. I was in a little apartment in the back, listening to music and working on a project for school, texting a couple of my friends. There was a party going on, but I really wanted a soda, so I figured I could slip down to the kitchen, grab one, and be back without anyone seeing me. Boy, was I wrong.”
He doesn’t say anything, merely continues to stroke my arm. “Right here,” he whispers when I don’t continue right away.
“The club’s president was young. I mean, not for a sixteen-year-old, but in reality, he was around your age.
Maybe thirty-six? His father was the president before him and he was killed.
Razor stepped right over my dad to take his place.
They never liked each other anyway, but that’s another story.
And Razor liked me, if you know what I mean.
It was always masked in that way adults treat teenagers when they’re trying to pretend they’re cool?
Like, asking about my grades, congratulating me for passing my driving test the first time, teasing me about whether or not I had a boyfriend.
“As luck would have it, he was in the kitchen when I got down there. And he was wasted. When he saw me, there was something in his eyes…it’s hard to explain. I didn’t know anything then, I was still a virgin, but I knew he was dangerous.”
“I already want to kill him,” Landon growls.
“Don’t worry—my dad already did. But not that night.”
“You okay talking about this?”
“Yeah. This story will explain why I started dating Pete. Because Razor walked over to me and ran his fingers down my arm. You know, innocent, but not. He asked if I still had my cherry. And of course, I turned red and got all awkward and stupid because I was a kid. Then he laughed and yanked me up against him, said he’d make me a woman tonight.
My parents had coddled me too long and this was part of the life.
He threw me over his shoulder, walked through the middle of the party and whistled for his brothers.
Yelled that they were going to take the VP’s daughter’s cherry and she was going to pull the train.
If you know what that means.” Basically, screw all the guys in the club. A gang bang style initiation.
Landon tenses again and for some reason I feel the need to soothe him this time.
“It’s okay. Everything worked out. Pete was in love with me and he saw me fighting and screaming.
Him and Metal yelled for a couple of the older guys, guys who were also family men, and they got involved.
A huge fight broke out, and Pete got me out of there.
He took me home to my parents’ house and him and Metal stayed all weekend, until they got home. ”
“Please tell me your dad was pissed when he found out.”
“Beyond pissed.” I manage to chuckle. “Know what’s funny? My mom is the one who grabbed her gun and jumped in her truck. Dad had to physically stop her from going to the club and shooting Razor.”
Landon chuckles. “I think I would have liked your mom.”
“You would have. And she would’ve liked you.
” I pause. “So yeah, Dad talked to Pete and Metal about what happened. Then he got my version of events. Then he went to the clubhouse Monday morning and got in Razor’s face.
He denied it, of course, but there were witnesses.
Even a few of the bunnies corroborated my story.
Dad brought it to a vote, which is a big deal, and he won.
They were going to strip him of his position and his cut—he was being excommunicated.
But Razor wasn’t giving in that easily. He and a couple of his buddies showed up at our house one night that week, Dad shot him. Self-defense. End of story.”
“Jesus.”
“Now you know how I wound up with Pete and why I won’t go to the clubhouse.”
“You have a lot of trauma, don’t you, baby?”
I rest my head on his chest and sigh. “I guess I do. I didn’t think that was traumatic beyond scaring me, but it led to a toxic two-year relationship with Pete. If I knew then what I know now, I should’ve dated Metal. He’s a genuinely nice guy.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asks slowly.
“Back then it was because he was dorky and Pete was hot. As I got older, I realized he’d never pick me over the club and that was non-negotiable. Kind of why my relationship with my dad is difficult. He’ll always put the club first.”
“Seems to me he’s trying to respect your wishes.”
“He respects my wishes because I’ve never made him choose. It would be a different story if I did.”
“You’re an adult now. The two of you should find a way to work past that stuff and come up with a new kind of relationship.”
“He’ll still the President of the Renegade Demons and I’ll never want to be part of it.”
“What if you have kids someday?” he asks. “You don’t want them to have a grandfather?”
I shrug. “That will be up to him, how much he’s willing to sacrifice for that relationship.
Lots of the guys have kids and some of them run around that clubhouse like it’s their own personal playground.
My kids won’t, though. That’s how little boys get sucked into following in their fathers’ footsteps and little girls learn their place. ”
“We’re not all lucky enough to have family,” he says. “I wish I had a dad who was willing to compromise. To even have a chance at being a grandfather, but that’ll never happen. At least your dad tries.”
“And that’s why I haven’t cut him off.” I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
“It’s hard to explain the dynamic to an outsider.
Until you’ve lived it, seen it all firsthand, you can’t understand the depth of their loyalty to each other.
It would be admirable if it extended to the rest of us but it doesn’t. Not really.”
“Your father didn’t hesitate to come to the hospital the night you were attacked.”
“In an emergency, of course. But try asking him to Sunday dinner. Or to go on vacation together like normal people. He won’t go anywhere without his cut unless he absolutely has to. Usually for safety reasons. That piece of leather defines him.”
“Did you ever think about therapy?” he asks. “You know, to talk through these feelings about your dad and the club?”
“I did for a while, and that’s why we have the tenuous relationship we do.” I turn onto my side. “Do we have to keep talking about my dad?”
He rumbles out a laugh. “What would you rather talk about?”
“I’d rather not talk.”