Chapter 2
Taylor crouched next to a tree across the club grounds. A scream pierced the air, forcing her to squeeze her eyes against the tears. She longed to go to her friend, but she knew there was no use. Taylor’s life had taken a drastic turn a few years back and she had fallen deep into a world she had lost control over. And this woman she just watched be gunned down was the only friend she had made that she trusted.
Now what did she do? She had no home to go to. And she couldn't even return to the club where she had been living.
"Get up."
Taylor lifted her head from her knees and looked up through the stream of tears blurring her vision. Brick. Where had he come from?
"Up,” he demanded again.
Her legs trembled as she pushed to her feet, praying for them to hold her and swiping at her eyes. She hoped to appear stronger than she felt. But at this moment, she felt pretty hopeless.
"What's your part?" he barked.
"My part?"
He nodded & glanced back toward the small crowd.
"I had nothing to do with any of it. We were going inside to the restroom. That's all. We know not to talk to anyone. Much less someone from another club. I didn't hear what she said. Her voice was low. But apparently, he saw her though the window. He knocked her around for it. Then went after your friend. It's a blur, it happened so fast.” Taylor brushed a tear from her cheek and sucked in a breath. "That's when she jumped in front of the gun and…and went down.”
"Taylor!"
Taylor titled her head to peer past Brick. Nealy. They had worked together some time ago at the bank.
Brick's arm shot out, stopping his wife from reaching Taylor.
"You remember Taylor," Nealy snapped.
"I do."
Nealy cut her eyes toward him. "Well.” She pushed his arm away, apparently ignoring the low growl radiating from him.
"Are you okay?”
Taylor glanced down, following Nealy's line of sight. Blood. She had not noticed it until now. "It's not mine."
Reluctantly, Taylor relaxed against Nealy when she pulled her in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay. I hate this all happened but you're here now. You're alright. Come sit down. Can I get you anything?”
There was that rumble coming from Brick again. Louder this time. Taylor was positive he didn't approve and refused to look his way. "I should go."
"Absolutely not. Come with me. We'll get you cleaned up and something to drink. Then we'll figure out what to do.”
"I would appreciate a restroom. I could wash up.” Taylor finally glanced up toward Brick’s. "If that's alright."
He said nothing but turned away.
"Of course that's alright,” Nealy told her.
Taylor forced her feet to move as she studied this woman who had no reason to help her. Her smile defied her red and puffy eyes. "You knew Chelle, too."
"I did."
Taylor tried to look away but couldn't. As they neared the table where Chelle lay, her steps faltered. Maybe she'd misinterpreted the situation. She was across the grounds and not standing nearby. Her friend could have passed out. Or they could have given her something for the pain that made her sleep. Nealy's arm fell from her shoulder as Taylor eased toward the still body in front of her. Someone stepped aside giving her a path to move forward. Chatter met her ears, but her focus was so intent on her friend the voices were only static.
Hope clawed at her guts. The only person she had learned she could trust appeared so peaceful. Her eyes closed and her recently bleached hair splayed out around her head like a halo. Taylor knew Chelle was far from an angel, but she had become Taylor's angel as of late. If not for the blood-soaked clothes and the sobbing brunette clenching her hand, Taylor would argue she had only passed out.
Taylor’s hand trembled as she reached forward. Carefully, as if not to wake Chelle, she placed her palm on her leg. Warmth. Wasn't the dead cold? Her mind went to war again searching and clawing at reasoning. She eased forward and took the free hand from where it rested against her stomach and held it. Warm. Sticky from the blood, but warm. She gave a slight squeeze. Limp. Drugs. Drugs did that. She jerked her head up searching for answers. She didn't know these men. She had seen them from time to time from afar but did not know them. Her focus landed on one face. A kind face offering no judgement. The very one that brought her here. Slowly, he shook his head. No . This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want confirmation. She wanted hope. His face blurred. Her chest ached. Tears bathed her cheeks again and her body felt numb.
"Let's go inside." Nealy wrapped her arm around Taylor guiding her away and toward the clubhouse.
Taylor followed, blindly scrambling for thoughts, for something to make sense. Better yet, that she'd wake up from a dream. Correction. Nightmare.
"Here you go." Nealy pushed open a door. "I'll find you something to wear so you can get out of that shirt.
Taylor looked down. Her shirt was most likely ruined. "Thank you." She closed the door and dropped the backpack from her shoulders as she leaned over the sink. The water was cool. She closed her eyes and scrubbed her hand over her face and neck. The water silenced and her fingertips dug into the edge of the lavatory as water dripped from her face. Slowly, she lifted her head and brought her gaze to her reflection. Her helmet. She would have laughed if she had it in her. How had she forgotten? She flipped the buckle and lifted it from her head. Quickly, she took care of business and removed her shirt. She grabbed the bar of soap and began scrubbing the stains under a flow of cold water. Furiously she scrubbed harder and harder. She squeezed her eyes and dropped the bar of soap into the sink. This was useless. But she needed what little she had.
The door eased open. "Here's a tee shirt, " Nealy said. "There's some vinegar under the sink but you may want to toss that.”
"Thank you." Taylor accepted the clean shirt and when alone again, she went to work once more trying to save her clothes. She had little to begin with and now she realized she could afford to lose nothing. She did have a sister nearby. It had been a while since she had talked to her, but maybe she would help her back on her feet. As she washed and twisted the water from her clothes the reality of the situation settled in. Taylor was free. She was on her own, but she was finally free from the club she had at one time trusted. And she was alone.
She draped the wet clothing over the edge of the sink and walked out to a large open space filled with women and kids. No men.
"Come sit down," Nealy called out.
Taylor eased into a seat next to Nealy and another woman at a table, dropping her backpack next to her feet.
"Taylor, this is Avery and Maeve.”
Taylor forced a smile. "Looks like we interrupted a gathering.”
"Just a family day. Nothing special.”
"What's wrong with Aunt V?" A little girl appeared next to Avery. Kingsleigh , Taylor thought her name was from hearing pieces of conversations.
"She's sad because something happened to one of her friends. She'll be happy again She just needs to be alone for a minute.”
"She's crying."
"I know sweetie.”
The little girl cocked her head. "You been crying too. And Aunt Nee.”
"You know how sad you get when your friends are upset? We're sad for Aunt V because we can't fix what's made her sad.”
"I can make her happy."
"You can?"
Kingsleigh nodded and skipped away. Moments later she walked past them with another young girl and a baby.
"Hold it little lady. What are you two up to?" Nealy asked.
"Babies make Aunt V smile. I don't have a baby to give her. And Mercy has tried to give her Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Grace but Uncle Brick always takes them back. Uncle Mac has two. He won't miss one.”
Avery laughed. "I don't think that's how it works."
"Never know until you try. That's what Daddy says,” the older girl, who Taylor recognized as Nealy’s daughter, stated and walked away with the baby, disappearing through a door past the bar.
Nealy shook her head. "I swear those two girls think they can pick and choose who they belong to.” She looked toward Taylor. "Taylor, do you have children?"
"No"
"If you ever do, be prepared to have your sanity checked regularly. They certainly test you at times," Avery told her.
"It worked!" Kingsleigh announced.
Avery twisted toward her daughter. "Really?”
"She even laughed,” Mercy added. "It's all good."
This was so different than anything that took place at the clubhouse where Taylor had been only this morning. This was refreshing. But was it the norm? Bikers. Old ladies. Kids. Spending time together in a wholesome environment? It could happen. But she had never witnessed it.
"I believe dinner is delayed so how about a snack for the kids?”
"How about a snack for everyone?" A petite blonde laughed as she joined them at the table.
"I'll round them up,” Avery announced.
Taylor watched as the room seemed to work in unison as children settled around tables and snacks and drinks were distributed.
"I'm making sandwiches. Who wants one?” someone called out.
Taylor remained silent. How could she eat while her only friend lay outside dead? Not to mention the fear of her stomach rejecting anything she managed to force down.
"Two here," Nealy spoke up.
Minutes later, Taylor was looking down at a plate of food and a bottle of water. She managed to nibble on a few chips, but her stomach churned at the thought of more.
The little boy in Nealy’s lap, she had called Jeremiah, threw back his head and patted Nealy’s cheek. “Go outside."
"Not until Daddy says we can. Finish your snack and we'll find a movie you can watch.”
“Okay,” the three-year-old said and hopped to the floor and ran off.
The room bustled around Taylor. Most of it a blur. Her thoughts were lost outside. What was happening? Chelle was gone. What would they do with her? Did she really want to know that? Maybe not. What she was sure of was that she was alone now. She touched the rising bump on her cheek from Drifter’s ring. No more backhands or swollen eyes. No more bruises to hide.
The chatter around her returned and she wondered how long she had been there. The tables began to clear and Taylor carefully wrapped her sandwich in a napkin and placed it in the front pocket of her backpack. She stood and began helping clear the tables. She managed to retrieve plates with untouched food. A moment's hesitation and she gathered a bag of chips and a couple of cookies. Wrapped in a napkin she added those to her backpack. She grabbed an empty water bottle and filled it from the tap before slipping it into the side of her bag.
"Come join us. The kids will doze off in a few minutes and we can catch up,” Nealy suggested.
"I want to thank you for today,” Taylor said. “At least allow me to wipe down the tables for you. Then I'll wash up and be right there.”
Nealy’s smile was sweet and genuine. "Alright."
Taylor hesitated a moment taking in the scene across the commons. Old ladies filled the couches and overstuffed chairs, chatting quietly. Children from toddlers to teens were sprawled across the floor, their attention focused on the movie filling the big screen TV. A beautiful sight. This was what she had expected when she met Drifter. But how wrong she was. The clubhouse was usually filled with club girls hoping to score some action, money, a ring, or whatever their goal was for the week. But old ladies? There were few and they were hardened toward the unmarried girls who were permanent fixtures like she had become. She was with Drifter and only Drifter. The thought of marriage had crossed her mind. At least in the beginning. They had even discussed it. Only now she was thankful it never fruited into a ceremony.
Her heart sank as she studied the warmth of the scene. She didn't belong here. She turned and slipped quietly into the restroom. She lifted her shirt from the edge of the sink. Still a bit damp, but not bad, it would dry. And it looked much better. No one would imagine what she had experienced this morning. Quickly, she changed shirts, placing the borrowed shirt next to the sink. She lifted the helmet she had left next to the sink. The memories it held. They had begun with adventure and excitement filled with laughter and joy. Happiness turned into love. Or so she had thought. At what point did it all change?
Taylor shook her head. None of that mattered now. She dropped the helmet into the trash can and walked out and toward the door. One last glance back and she grabbed her backpack and eased outside.
She scanned the area. Three club members. One stood at the picnic table spraying it down with a water hose while another scrubbed the top. The third was erasing evidence that had dripped onto the ground with a shovel mixing up the gravel. She eased further away from the building. No one else in sight. No men. No Chelle. It was now or never.
She gripped the straps of her bag tight and ran toward the tree line away from the men. She didn't know if she could reach her sister's house before dark, but she'd make it there as fast as she could.
***
Taylor's steps had slowed tremendously. Her feet ached and the effort to push forward was straining. She recognized the neighborhood. She was almost there. She pushed forward, and within a few minutes the familiar blonde brick home was in front of her. She pulled in a deep breath and pushed out all her anxiety of facing her Tenley and asking for help.
Evening shadows hid the welcoming sight she recalled of plants and figurines framing the front door. As she eased closer, she noticed the figurines had disappeared and the greenery had taken over the small space. A deep breath and she quickly pushed the doorbell button, jerking back her hand as if it were on fire. Her heart raced. She hadn't seen her sister since she left her apartment and moved in with Drifter. What a mistake. But too late to fret over that now. Would Tenley be mad? Would she turn her away for not contacting her sooner? She would have, if she'd had a phone. She had lost her phone one day when Drifter was drinking, and she had forgotten to silence it. He jerked it from her hands and dropped it to the floor, crushing it with his boot. She had been devastated at the time, but decided not to waste money on replacing it. Her funds had been dwindling too fast for her liking.
The door swung open, and a man filled the space. "Good evening.”
"I'm looking for Tenley Arison.”
"I'm sorry. You must have the wrong house."
"213 Moss Creek Lane.” Taylor recited what she knew was the correct address.
"Right house. Wrong name. Hold on.” The man leaned back and shouted, "Thelma!”
Instantly a woman appeared next to him. "Hello. Can I help with something?"
"I'm looking for my sister, Tenley.”
The woman smiled. "I only met her a handful of times, but you do clearly resemble her. She moved nearly a year ago. It'll be a year in May. But I believe I still have her new address. Let me check."
Taylor's heart plummeted. "I'd appreciate that. We've been out of touch for a while, but I'd love to reach her.”
The woman scurried away, returning quickly with a small sheet of paper. "This is the address she left for me. I hope you two connect. Family is special.”
"Thank you."
“Good luck."
Taylor turned away and waited until she stood under one of the streetlights beginning to flicker to take a look at her new destination. Hopefully she hadn't moved far. Knowing Tenley, she would have upgraded, as she would say, to a larger home. Not that she would have needed more room. That's just how her sister was. The bigger the better. Or she could have dug her claws into another man, who brought her into his own home this time instead of just throwing money at her.
She held up the address and instantly her arm fell limp and she squeezed her eyes. Kansas City. She had not only upgraded, but she had also moved to a larger town far from here.
Now what? Taylor stared blindly at the road. Who could she contact? No one. She never really had friends. Not anyone she could trust anyway. She could walk to the clubhouse and when they were asleep sneak in and take her car. Her shoulders fell. Drifter kept the keys. That was hopeless. Well, which way to start walking? The park. The short road next to her led to the park. It was a nice place and safe. And close. If she hurried, she could sneak in as it closed its gates for the night.
A burst of energy quickened her pace as she jogged the short distance to the city park. The parking lot appeared empty from where she stood at the fence. The ticket booth was dark. Two trucks sat nearby. She slipped in and ran into the security of darkness behind the ranger station. Safely behind the building, she slumped against the brick wall, catching her breath.
Muffled voices reached her moments before motors came to life and faded in the distance. Cameras. Were there cameras to spy on her? She looked around taking cautious steps as she examined the area surrounding the building and entrance. Didn't appear to be security. Oh, well. If there were and she was arrested for trespassing, she'd have a place to stay for the night.
Taylor set out toward the playgrounds. She settled onto the first picnic table she reached and dropped her backpack onto the bench next to her. Her stomach rumbled as she removed the water and sandwich she had taken from the clubhouse. She divided the sandwich in half, wrapping one half to go back in her bag. Mmm. The best sandwich she had ever tasted. Or maybe it was so good knowing her meals may be scarce for a while. There was a small grocery store near here. That would be her first stop in the morning. How perfect would that be? She could work nearby and stay here at night until she made enough money to rent something.
It felt so good to be off her feet and she was tired, but she needed to make it to the restroom. One last sip of her water and she stood, scooping up her bag and setting out toward the small building across from the playground.
The place was clean. She tossed her bag next to the sink and took care of business and washed her hands and face. She stared at the strange woman looking back. She looked rough, same as she felt. Not that she expected to sleep well tonight but maybe some rest would help. She climbed onto the counter, pulling her backpack up her arms where it rested against her chest. Her feet in the sink, she inched toward the corner next to the mirror and leaned her head against the wall.
Tomorrow was a new day. A new journey in life. Mixed emotions warred at this revelation, but all soon faded as sleep won her over.