Chapter 17 Blue
The scent of sweet dough frying in hot oil is a salve to my frayed nerves as I stand next to Babet in the kitchen. She’s teaching me the art of making beignets from scratch, her laughter rich and warm as she guides my hands through the motions.
“Don’t be afraid to get a little messy, chère,” she chuckles, pushing a stray lock of spiky white hair out of her face with her wrist.
“Who knew cooking could be such a contact sport?” I joke, wiping flour off my cheek.
I drop another piece of dough into the bubbling oil, watching it transform into a golden pillow of sweetness. The kitchen feels like a sanctuary compared to the tension that’s been coiling around the clubhouse.
Babet glances at me, her brown eyes twinkling. “How’re you holding up since that spat with Jolene?” Her voice carries genuine concern, but I can tell she’s trying to keep the mood light.
“Better, now that she’s gone for good. Can’t say I’ll miss her drama.” I let out a relieved sigh, feeling the weight lift off my shoulders just a bit. I flip a beignet in the pan, the sizzle syncing with my heartbeat.
“Sometimes we’re too quick to judge those girls, Blue,” Babet says softly, the laughter fading from her expression. “Many of them are just lost souls, looking for a place to belong.”
I frown slightly, knowing she’s right but still struggling with the idea. “I get that. But it doesn’t excuse—” I stop myself, not wanting to argue.
“You know, they do serve a function. Having them around keeps the boys level-headed, if you know what I mean. They have certain… needs.” Babet’s tone is matter of fact, yet there’s a hint of sadness there. I wonder if her needs are being met by anyone either inside or outside of the club. Women have just as much desire as men, sometime more.
“Needs that I don’t exactly want to think about,” I murmur, feeling a tinge of disgust curling in my stomach.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around this world. These bikers and their rules are so different from my old world. They’re nothing alike. The people in and around the club have so much more freedom than I did.
The other day, I came downstairs and had to walk past two people going at it on the couch. I was so shocked I stopped and stared. They asked me if I wanted to join them. God, no. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what it would be like to feel that free.
I can’t imagine having sex in front of other people. That’s not something I’d ever want to do, but there are other things I’d love to explore. Like other types of foods. Things I never got to eat before.
My father allowed me to have a beignet once or twice in the past, but there are so many other types of cuisine I’d love to try. Mexican food was always forbidden. Father called it ‘too fattening’. Maybe Vapor will take me to a local restaurant so I can finally eat all the tacos and enchiladas I can manage.
“It’s weird, being able to do almost anything I want now,” I muse.
“You can do whatever your heart desires,” Babet says as she places a hand on my shoulder. “You got more power than you realize. And your heart? It’s pure, even amidst all this chaos. Consider yourself lucky that what your father put you through didn’t turn you into a cold-hearted bitch.”
“I wish my sister had escaped that fate.” I sigh.
“Is she mean?”
“The worst. She only cares about money. Her heart as is black as they come.”
“That’s too bad.”
“In a way, I lost her forever the day she married Xavier.”
“We you close before that?”
“Before she married? Yes. After? No. Not at all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe you will find a different kind of sisterhood here.”
I nod, touched by her words. I don’t know if I’d ever consider Babet a sister, but maybe more like the mother I never really had.
Turning my focus back on the task at hand, I form another ball of dough before dropping it into the oil. There’s comfort in the rhythm of cooking—dip, fry, flip, repeat. Each beignet comes out perfectly puffed, dusted with powdered sugar, promising a moment of sweetness in a world that often tastes bitter.
The sizzle of dough hitting the oil is a soothing backdrop to the thoughts tumbling in my head. There’s one image I can’t get out of my head. It keeps clawing at the edges of my mind—Vapor, tangled up with those club girls. What’s stopping him from sleeping with any of them? They’re always around. Always half naked, if not fully nude. What man could resist all those nubile bodies?
“What’s wrong?” Babet asks.
“I can’t stand the thought of Vapor… with them,” I wave my tongs toward the living room, which is currently being occupied by three of the club girls.
Babet glances over at the girls before turning her attention back to me. “Blue, honey, since you walked into his life, Vapor hasn’t given any of those girls a second glance. Trust me.”
“Really?” The doubt lingers, but Babet’s reassurance feels like a balm to my frayed nerves.
“Cross my heart.” She waits until I free up the pan before plunging another batch of dough into the frying oil. “He only has eyes for you.”
The words wrap around me, a comforting embrace that I didn’t realize I needed. I focus on the golden-brown pastries, the scent of fried sweetness filling the air, letting the tension ease out of my shoulders.
“Did you know that Vapor claimed you at the last meeting? He said you were his and no one else’s.” Babet smiles.
“Claimed me?” My hand stills, a half-formed beignet dangling from my fingers.
“Yep, it’s official now. You’re essentially his old lady, and everyone knows it.”
“I don’t know about that. I thought being an old lady was more of a commitment, like being married.”
“It’s hard to know where the line is. But if one of the guys claims you during Church, then it’s serious. That kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.”
“Am I allowed to go to these ‘Church’ meetings?” I ask, curiosity piqued by the clandestine nature of it all. “I’m assuming it’s not actually at a church, right?”
“Definitely not. Church is just what they call their meetings. Only patched members are allowed,” she says, flipping a beignet. “And Vapor typically only lets the high-ranking ones into the library.”
“That’s where they meet?”
“Yep.”
“It’s all so fascinating.” I nod, understanding the hierarchy but feeling an odd pang of exclusion. “I guess it makes sense. If you’re not a club member then you shouldn’t know about club business.”
“Does it bother you?” Babet studies me.
“No,” I lie, tossing another beignet into the oil.
Maybe it does, just a little. But I’m learning that in this world, some things are sacred, and I have to trust Vapor. I’m trying to find my own place in all this chaos, but it’s not easy.
“Before all this, before Vapor, I didn’t know a thing about motorcycle clubs,” I admit. “My father never let me or my sister anywhere near guys like that. We were only allowed to hang out with other kids from wealthy families.”
“Honey, it’s a whole new world for sure,” Babet says with a knowing smile. “But you’re strong, like us. You’ll get used to how things are.”
“Will I?” I ask, not just to her but to myself.
Before she can answer, the kitchen door swings open and Vapor strolls in. His presence fills the room, sending a firestorm of desire throughout my entire body. His raven-black hair is slicked back, still damp from a shower. His piercing blue eyes zero in on the plate of golden pastries like a hawk spotting a field mouse.
“Damn, that smells good,” he says.
I’m about to set a freshly cooked beignet onto the plate to rest when his large hand swoops down, snatching it up. He yelps as the heat bites him back. I can’t help but laugh at his impatience.
“Vapor, you numbskull, those are fresh out of the pan!” Babet scolds, shaking her head but with laughter in her eyes.
He grins, unabashed, rubbing his thumb and finger together where the burn singed him. “Can’t help it, Babet. Your beignets are worth a little pain.”
“Careful with that tongue,” I tease. “I’ve got some plans for it later.”
His grin turns wolfish as he steps closer, the heat from his body mixing with the warm kitchen air. Swiftly, he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against his solid chest. “Oh yeah? What kind of plans?”
The question, low and suggestive, sends a shiver through me, but before I can reply, Babet clears her throat pointedly, reminding us that we’re not alone. For now, the beignets need our attention, but later, well, I’m going to make sure Vapor puts that tongue to good use.
“Simmer down, you two,” Babet warns, wagging a flour-dusted finger at us. “Don’t you think about sneaking off. Not until all this dough is fried up.”
I nod, a smile playing on my lips as I watch Vapor devour another beignet, powdered sugar dusting his beard like a light frost. He’s inhaling them faster than we can make them. I shake my head, amused by his boyish lack of restraint.
Babet clicks her tongue, hands on hips. “Vapor, you’re gonna give yourself a belly ache if you don’t slow down.”
“You’re probably right,” he concedes with a sheepish grin, wiping his hands on a dishtowel before cleaning the remnants of sugar from his lips.
He pours himself a cup of chicory coffee, the rich aroma mingling with the sweet scent of frying dough. I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest watching him—this towering, history-loving enigma who has turned my life upside down.
“Babe, I need to talk to you about something,” Vapor says, his tone shifting from playful to serious. He sets the empty mug down and looks directly at me. “We need to get out of here for a few days.”
“Get out? Why?” Unease slithers through my belly.
“Your dad’s stirring up trouble with the local cops,” he explains, his jaw setting firm. “They’ve been sniffing around our businesses. A couple of pigs went down to the bike shop, but Tank told them that he had no idea who you were. He texted me the second they left.”
“When was that?” Babet asks.
“An hour ago.”
“They could be coming here next.”
“Yeah. We need to lay low until it all calms down,” Vapor says.
“We can’t let my father find out that I’m here.” My voice falters as goosebumps skitter down my arms.
“It’s nothing we can’t handle,” Vapor assures me. His hand finds mine, and he squeezes gently. “Ever been camping?”
“No. My parent’s idea of roughing it was staying at a four-star hotel instead of a five-star. I can’t imagine either of them traipsing through the woods.” I shake my head and laugh at the images I conjure in my mind. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be closer to nature.”
“I was thinking we could take a trip over to Mississippi. We can charter a boat from Biloxi to Horn Island and stay there for a few days. Just you and me.” He smiles until I can’t help but do the same.
“Is the island wild?”
“Very. There aren’t any staff to cater to visitors. There isn’t any shelter on the island, so we’d have to bring a tent. We can camp on the beach, but we’d have to bring drinking water and pack out our trash. It’s rugged, but also, there’s no way he’ll find us. It’s the last place he’d ever look for you.”
The promise of solitude away from the chaos sounds tempting, but it also sounds risky. “How will we get there?”
“We’ll charter a boat. The guy will drop us off and then come back in a few days to pick us up.”
“So, we’d be stranded?” I frown.
“Yes. All alone on a wild and untouched island,” he murmurs, leaning closer. I can tell he’s already envisioning it—us alone, surrounded by nothing but nature.
“Okay,” I agree. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Horn Island.”
“Are you sure it’s not Horny Island?” Babet asks, smirking.
“Oh, it will definitely be that.” Vapor grins.
His sexy smile sends a wave of warmth through me. But then his gaze hardens. This isn’t just a vacation for fun. We’re running away. At least temporarily. Until the danger passes.
I don’t know if a few days will be enough, but if Vapor thinks we should go, then we’re going. I trust him to lead me into the next phase of my life. Even though I don’t understand everything about his world yet, in time, I will. As long as I follow his lead, I’m confident that he’ll show me the way and keep me safe while he’s doing it.