9. Jameson
NINE
The clubhouse was too loud.
Which didn’t normally bother me, hadn’t since I patched in and started shadowing my dad to replace him as president when the time came. Dad was getting all sorts of negative reports from the doctors lately, and my mom worried. She gave zero fucks about the club, or what it would mean for us to lose our leader. She cared that her husband was alive, and so far, we weren’t sure how much longer that would be the case.
It had taken me years to master being around the members of the club without wanting to tune them out with my headphones or digging into a book. Prospects were watching me, seeing as most of them were my age or older. Luke scrutinized me like a hawk, just like his old man, Tuck. The fucker was cruel and not happy about the fact that my dad had recently announced that I would be taking over the club, not his vice president. Tuck wasn’t close with my dad; he was just loyal and reliable. He made a good VP, much like I knew Luke would, but he was petty as hell.
So I kept my attention on the scene in front of me, as a few members jumped into an arm-wrestling match, drunk off their asses and laughing like crazy. I smirked, watching as the men fell over, but were too far gone to care. They’d feel it tomorrow though, especially after Dosser fell on his arm at the wrong angle.
The kitchen doors swung open, and I expected Gene to walk in and yell at us about dinner being ready. But it was Wanda who walked into the room…with Penelope.
My stomach dropped out as I watched her midnight hair bounce against her back. She wore a leather cut too big for her frame and it barely concealed all the skin she was showing with her small tank top and leather pants.
She held a serving tray with beer on it and started smiling at the fuckers in the club.
As if she hadn’t spent the last four years hating this place, and these men. Her mother did the same, and the two of them worked the room, going from group to group.
I narrowed my focus on the piece of leather on Penelope’s back, my anger surging so painfully high that I started to see spots.
Why the fuck was she doing this?
She would not become a Sweetbutt, a bunk bunny, or any other fucking thing in this club.
Not her.
Hicks grabbed Pen’s ass, letting out a whistle, and I jolted off the stool. I had to remember Pen wasn’t mine, no she was dating Ryker, one of the newest prospects. No, she’d opted to date the fucker, and was very much not mine, but it didn’t stop me from walking over and kicking Hicks in the back, so he stumbled out of his chair.
“Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
Pen paused, gaping as she watched Hicks splayed out on the floor. The other men were laughing while more were still watching the women work the room.
Phillips and Diggs had hands roaming, mouths already lowering to Wanda’s neck and a quick peck on Penelope’s lips. Pen looked shocked; her blue eyes were wide—her steps faltered back a step.
“Get the fuck off of them. Now.” I stepped through, grabbing both Wanda and Pen’s wrists and pulling them free. I tugged them behind me until we were in the kitchen.
“What the fuck are you two doing?”
Wanda let out a heavy sigh as she pushed her fingers into the corners of her eyes, likely to hold off tears. She wore an outfit similar to her daughter’s, only with a lower heeled boot, but more cleavage showing, and her property patch, showing she belonged to Miles was missing. She’d dyed her black hair blonde, which made her look younger, but it also made her look less like herself. Like she was hiding within her own skin.
Penelope was crying, with fat tears rolling down her flushed face. Gene wasn’t in the kitchen at the moment, so the overhead lights were only half lit, over the pantry and fridge, making the room feel smaller, more intimate.
“I was told to do this, and to teach her how to serve the men,” Wanda finally explained through a shuddered breath.
Panic swelled to unmanageable heights.
“Who told you to do this?” I searched the space between the mother and daughter, catching the nervous glance Penelope gave her mother.
Wanda was staring at the ground until she finally heaved another sigh and glared.
“Tuck Holloway.”
As in my father’s vice president…the second highest ranking member in the club. The man who would not be inheriting the title of president, thanks to me.
“He told you to train Penelope to serve the men?”
Wanda glanced at Pen again, but her daughter’s head was hanging down.
She surprised me by speaking up instead of her mom. “Luke tried to fight him on it…he argued with him, which is why I’m wearing Ryker’s cut. Luke thought it might protect me. But Tuck said I wasn’t going to get a free pass without learning the meaning of serving the club first. He wants me to learn it before Ryker patches me.”
I let her words hit me and then slide off just like they always did. I schooled my expression so she’d never know that hearing she was going to be patched to Ryker didn’t hurt. I couldn’t afford to care that she was choosing him. It was an inconvenient reality.
“Wanda, why didn’t you tell Miles? Surely, he isn’t okay with members groping you.”
I watched as her over-styled hair was flipped to the side, her red lips wobbled as she focused on the floor.
“Miles knows. Says Tuck’s word holds more weight than his own.”
I brought my thumb and pointer finger to the bridge of my nose to rub out the stress.
“So both Ryker and Miles are aware that other men are touching you both, and everyone is just going along with it?”
“It’s Tuck’s word. His word is nearly as solemn as your dad’s…” Wanda tried to explain, but I was shaking my head.
“You should have brought this to my dad.”
Penelope glanced between her mom and me. “But your Pops is sick…we didn’t want to bother?—”
“Then you should have told me!” My voice echoed in the empty kitchen; my fists curled so painfully tight that I wanted to break something.
Anything. Fuck, this hurt.
Wanda’s eyes were solemn as they found the floor. Shame hung around her features, tugging them down so far, she looked like she was fighting off tears.
“If Luke couldn’t do anything, then how could you—” Penelope started, but I cut her off with a dark laugh.
Stepping closer, I stared her right in the eye. “Luke is a coward, which the men of this club know. It’s why his suggestion did jack shit for you. If you were mine, I’d kill anyone who told me to let another man touch you. I’d burn down the club before letting someone feel what’s mine. Within the club, the only other thing that is sacred is our women, the ones we claim, the ones we choose. If you were mine, I’d tell Tuck to go fuck himself and if he tried to hurt me, then I’d welcome the carnage.”
Wanda sucked in a sharp breath next to us. Penelope’s thick lashes were coated with tears. Her blue eyes searched my face like I had just stepped out of a story book and she couldn’t believe I was real.
I moved back so I didn’t have to keep smelling that intoxicating honey and pine scent from her.
Shaking my head, I warned them both.
“Miles fucked up; he’ll be hearing about it too. He has rights that are protected, especially because Tuck isn’t president. You’ll have a chance to leave him if you so choose, Wanda.”
My eyes snapped back to Penelope, she was sniffing and swiping at her face.
“You’re worth more than this, Pen. Get the fuck out of this club and do something with your life.”
With that, I turned and left them standing there. Furious and hurt.
Later that night, I was using my knife to shape a chunk of wood into something smooth. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to accomplish, I just kept chipping and shaping away as my mind spun. Images of what could have happened to Penelope if I hadn’t been there, the worst possible scenario of her being taken against her will, which wasn’t against current club code. It made me sick.
My stomach churned as I came up with different talking points to have with Dad. I planned to go to him straight away, but he was asleep when he got back home, after his chemo, he was tired.
It was nearly three in the morning when someone started up the wooden staircase in the back of the garage. The loft was the only place I had that was just mine; a small cot was up there, along with a lamp and a small bookshelf. It sat above the entire garage, but the stairs were so narrow, very few members even noticed them.
I watched for who was coming up and wasn’t surprised when I saw Penelope’s dark hair come into view. Her blue eyes searched the space, only relaxing when she finally met my gaze, almost like she was worried I’d tell her to leave. Instead, I just watched her as I smoothed my knife over the piece of wood.
She took the seat next to me on the cot, cradling something in her hand.
“What’s that?”
She gave me a small smirk, blushing before holding her hand up.
“Chocolate pudding cup. Wanted to say sorry.” She set the snack down between us.
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Sorry for what?”
“For scaring you. I could tell you were worried…I shouldn’t have agreed.” Her face dipped, making her hair curtain around her. “I don’t know why I did it.”
“Because your mom told you to, and Luke didn’t stop you.” It was an easy enough answer for me to assume. Penelope was close with her mom, and honestly would likely do anything to protect her. She was likely worried about Tuck lashing out against her mom if she didn’t go along with it.
Pen merely nodded, toying with the hem of her shirt.
“I just want you to know that I heard what you said. I’m graduating next summer…and my plans were to stay, but maybe I should go.”
My chest squeezed tight at her words, but I continued shaping the wood into something I wasn’t even sure of yet. It was starting to look like a bird. If she was considering leaving, that meant she wouldn’t be patching with Ryker…
“Do you—do you think I should go then?” she asked, pushing her hair behind her ears, her face flushing the smallest bit.
“Doesn’t matter what I think, Pen.”
She twisted her hips, so she was facing me.
“Yours is the only opinion I care about. It matters what you think of me, Jamie. I care if you hate me or have a low opinion of me. I can’t bear to think you’re ashamed of me.”
A sigh left my chest as I shook my head.
“I’m just a no one in your life, Pen. Live for you.”
She wet her lips, her eyes frantically roaming over my face.
“You’re not no one to me…surely after all these years, you understand that.”
I paused, dropping my knife and the piece of wood to look at her. Every time I saw how pretty she was, it was an invisible hit that would land, reminding me of something I’d never have. Having her this close was starting to become painful.
“I am no one to you, Pen. You stopped talking to me after last year. We hardly speak anymore.”
She let out a small sound of surprise. “Jameson, you kissed me and then went off with someone else at the bonfire. You broke—” She pushed her eyes closed, as if she were stopping herself from speaking. “You confused me…”
I picked up my knife and the wood. “You said you were there for other people, Pen. I wasn’t going to get in the way of that.”
She shook her head. “Then why kiss me?”
My heart raced, desperate to hide my reasons. I shrugged instead and continued shaping the wood.
“You were there…figured you’d need to know what it was like to kiss so some asshole didn’t ruin it for you.”
She stood, glaring down at me, her eyes red rimmed from unshed tears.
“No, that would have been horrible for another jerk to ruin my first kiss for me, wouldn’t it? Instead, I got stuck with you.”
Her chest heaved, and my eyes trailed down to the swells of her breast showing from the low cut of her tank. I wasn’t paying attention, so I didn’t expect it when she reached forward, grabbed the piece of wood from me and tossed it clear across the garage.
Without another word, she stormed out of the loft and ran down the stairs.