Fitz: Motorcycle Club Romance (Savage Saints MC Book 10)

by Hazel Parker

  “You had a fucking six-figure job, and you threw it away, why? So you could show how big your balls were?”

  “Oh, come on, Uncle, you know me better than that,” I said. “I hated that job. What fucking good is money if I have no time to spend it? Who do you think is happier: me, with only the once-in-a-blue-moon relationship, the utter lack of free time, and an inflated bank account? Or Marcel, who has his daughter, a lovely girlfriend, the club, and much less money than me?”

  “I am pretty happy right now, minus fucking Richard,” Marcel cracked.

  “Shut up, Marcel!” Uncle roared. “God...fucking damnit, Fitz.”

  To my surprise, Uncle just stood up from his seat, slammed the chair back under, and walked out the door. I looked at the rest of them and shrugged.

  “You are...serious, right?” Marcel said.

  “Yes,” I said. “I did seek Uncle’s advice, but I knew as recently as Tuesday that I was going to quit. It’s been on my mind for some time. I just needed to take the leap.”

  “Fuck, man, nice,” Biggie said, smiling. “When’s your last day at your job?”

  “Next Friday.”

  “Just in time for us to get butt-fucked by Richard and his cronies,” Marcel said dryly. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re joining us full force, Fitz. We could use someone with your brains to make sure you make up for the lack of ours in our skulls.”

  I smiled, but he didn’t give me a chance to respond.

  “I don’t have anything else. Biggie? Niner?”

  Neither said a word.

  “Uncle has made his feelings known. So, we’ll assume he left because he had nothing left to say. Meeting closed, see you guys at the party tomorrow.”

  With that, we rose. I hurried out, ignoring the pats on the back from Biggie. It was nice, and I was glad that most of the club supported me, but if I had a lifetime of dealing with Uncle’s harangues and criticism, well, the Savage Saints would just turn into a blue-collar version of Rothenberg Banking, complete with the bullshit politics and nonsense.

  I didn’t need to go far to find him. He was leaning against the garage door, smoking a cigarette.

  “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” Uncle said. “Or…”

  He took a puff of his cigarette.

  “Maybe I’m the sick fuck, and I just hate you for doing what I couldn’t do.”

  “Sorry?”

  He took another puff of his cigarette, shaking his head.

  “I don’t hate my job. I’m not going to bullshit you and say that I think you have a lot of courage. I think that you’re a goddamn idiot, and I’m not going to change my mind on that for as long as we live.”

  He chuckled at his own joke. I didn’t laugh.

  “But that world, that banking climate. I’ve never seen an industry chew up and spit out so many bright minds like they’re nothing. They say the most dangerous jobs are the ones on oil wells and out at sea, but at least you keep your mind and sanity in those jobs. You might get hit in the head and killed, but that’s it. The door is shut, the lights are turned off, and that’s it. It’s on-off. Banking makes it all a dimmer. You lose your grasp on reality. You forget there’s more to light than just the brightness of the light.”

  He shook his head, dropping his eyes before taking another puff of his cigarette.

  “I thought you were one of the few people equipped to both climb the ranks and maintain his sanity,” Uncle said. “Most people who get up to the top are kind of insane. And most people who maintain their sanity get the hell out after two years, maybe five if they’re too scared at twenty-four or twenty-three. But you seemed different. Still are, I suppose.”

  He threw his cigarette to the ground, finishing it, and grounded it.

  “I know you’re not insane, Fitz, but what you’ve done...you know that you didn’t have to prove to anyone that you were a legit member of the club, right? You know that none of us cared? We just gave you shit for the hell of it?”

  “I know, Uncle, but I didn’t quit to get recognition. I quit because I wanted to. Because I want to be on my bike as much as possible. Because I want to be with you guys as much as possible.”

  “Us?” Uncle said with a laugh. “You want to hang around us assholes?”

  “Better than Gerald and the rest of the guys at Rothenberg.”

  “Hah, don’t blame you for that.”

  Uncle pulled out another cigarette.

  “You know, on the one hand, I don’t feel bad about staying in that role. There’s no part of me that yearns to get out. But I’m a chain-smoking, drinking, woman-chasing, friend-fighting asshole. I lost a marriage, regularly piss off my nephews, and will go beyond the legal code to get what I want. Maybe you shouldn’t want to associate with people like me.”

  He lit his cigarette and took another puff.

  “But you need people like me in the club, people with the connections and the means to get shit done for whenever we need it. Without me, the club will falter, and everything will go to shit. I know you don’t like people like me, but—”

  “Uncle,” I said, exasperated. “Yes, the people at Rothenberg aren’t the greatest. But this was a me decision. That’s it. It’s a nice bonus to be away from those people, but it’s not the driving factor. The driving factor is the freedom to be on my bike and to be a part of the Savage Saints. I’ve wanted something like this for years. That’s it.”

  Uncle looked at me like I was crazy—which maybe I was—patted me on the shoulder firmly, and puffed some smoke away from me.

  “I really hope you made the right decision for yourself, kid,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. That’s an awfully heavy weight to carry around from now until the grave.”

  With that, he walked past me, not saying a word.

  If anything, Uncle’s actions had only made me feel better about what I had done. I had about six more days of work to get through Rothenberg Banking, but as soon as those six days were over and done with, I’d never have to deal with anything related to that lifestyle ever again.

  I could ride my bike. I could take Amelia places. I could do anything I wanted.

  And that was the point underlying what I had told Uncle. The freedom to be on my bike could have just been simplified to “freedom” in general. As far as I was concerned, I’d support myself on my mechanic’s hourly pay, using the money I had saved from my time at Rothenberg as a sort of emergency fund.

  Life was looking pretty goddamn great. I had the support of the club. I had a girl that I had a budding relationship with. And soon, I would have my freedom.

  It was time to combine all of them. I reached into my phone and texted Amelia.

  “The club I told you about has a party tomorrow. How would you like to come and meet everyone?”

  Chapter 14: Amelia

  That sounds terrifying.

  I looked at Fitz’s message to me, having just left work. Fitz may have felt like he could have found a place in that world, but I didn’t see how I would ever get the chance to fit in there. I was a banker through and through; I was a type-A personality to other type-A’s, I was someone who liked to wear nice clothes, and I was someone who avoided people who couldn’t keep up with me intellectually like the plague.

  And now I was supposed to go to his party with him tomorrow? I didn’t think it could work. And, unfortunately, as I thought about it, I began to wonder if that statement would apply to more than just the party invite.

  At least I had a job that I could use as a legitimate excuse for why I couldn’t make it.

  * * *

  I woke up realizing that I had never actually responded to Fitz despite not falling asleep until a couple of hours after I had received that message. I had gotten off work at a decent hour—anything before ten was considered a decent hour—but it mattered little. I still couldn’t unwind and pass out until around midnight, and when I woke up just a minute or so before my alarm went off, I kne
w that I would never again know what it was like to sleep eight hours.

  But I sure would know what it was like to have a message hanging over my head, one that I knew I needed to respond to.

  I hurried into work, getting there just before seven o’clock. I grabbed a bagel on the way and ate it on the way, not wanting to stop in the cafeteria. I got to my desk, stole a glance at my personal phone, and finally wrote back.

  “Play it by ear tonight? Going to be busy.”

  That’s so unlike you, Amelia. You don’t beat around the bush. You tell the truth.

  You must really like this guy. He must really be something to make you act this way.

  Or you’re just so exhausted that you can’t even do that.

  “Amelia?”

  I jumped at the Aussie-accented voice. Ben stood over me, smiling.

  “Can I see you in my office?”

  Shit, what now? I nodded and followed him without a word, curious to see what would happen now.

  “The past few days,” Ben began as soon as the door had shut, before he had even gotten to his desk, “I’ve noticed that you seem to be spacing out a lot more. You don’t seem as focused as you usually are. I know that you are one of our highest-performing employees, certainly someone on the verge of becoming executive director.”

  He smiled when he saw my eyes go wide. But he didn’t elaborate on that tantalizing statement.

  “But if you’re going to reach that position as soon as you would like to and as soon as I believe you are capable of, you need to be a little more focused than you currently are. Tell me, is anything going on that might distract you from work?”

  Shit, shit, does he know? Does he know?

  “Nope,” I said.

  “No?”

  Does he know?

  “I have a life outside of this company, but I do not let it affect what goes on here,” I said, gaining the confidence to be more forceful with my words. “I have been fatigued like hell since returning from Shanghai. You know that I suffered a bit as a result. Maybe that’s what you’re referring to. But otherwise, no. Nothing will distract me or prevent me from doing my job.”

  Ben smiled, leaned back in his seat, looked out the window toward the rising sun over New York City, and turned back to me.

  “As I said, Miss Hughes, you are one of our strongest performing employees. It would be a shame if things were happening to you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said.

  As soon as he said that, accompanied by an acted shrug, I knew that he didn’t know what was going on. He was acting too much the part of a suspicious boss to actually have something to pin me with. He didn’t know about Fitz, nor did someone he had talked to know about Fitz.

  Maybe a coworker of ours had seen Fitz in my apartment building, but it wasn’t like that meant anything. I had informed the front desk that he would be coming, and the front desk kept secrets better than anyone else.

  “It could be one of many things. A family issue, a boyfriend, drama at the workplace—”

  He doesn’t know.

  “With all respect, Benjamin,” I said, using his full name to drive the point home. “We all have things happening to us that we don’t enjoy. As you say, families get sick, partners break up with us, and we get in fights at work. But these things come and go. I am not distracted; I am simply still recovering from Shanghai. As soon as I get home this weekend and sleep in, I will be refueled and recharged.”

  “Very good, then,” Ben said. “Have a productive Friday and make us some money, won’t ya?”

  I smirked as I rose, opening his door and shutting it behind me.

  I’d fooled Ben.

  But I hadn’t fooled myself. It was probably true that I still had some leftover fatigue from the Shanghai trip, but Fitz’s situation was driving me crazy. I liked him a lot, but I had a bad feeling that the Fitz I’d be around for the next three months—if I kept him around—wouldn’t be the kind of man I’d want to be around. He was about to be essentially jobless.

  But on the other hand, hadn’t I had those same fantasies of quitting? Hadn’t I also thought about leaving the banking world behind? Why would I suddenly be different?

  I wasn’t. Fitz had just had a different mindset than me.

  It made me both jealous and fearful.

  * * *

  When eight o’clock came that evening, Fitz hadn’t sent anything more than “sounds good, keep me updated” around lunch. The offer still very much stood, and the more I had tried to push it away, the more I had hoped that my mind would come around to an answer.

  Well, it had.

  But the answer wasn’t the one that I was expecting.

  Maybe there was something to be said for seeing what this alternative lifestyle looked like. Maybe if I went to this party, I’d get some ideas about what the world outside banking would look like. I certainly believed in exploring things that are different than my life, though living in them and bringing them into my life were two very different things.

  As I stood up and headed for the elevators, I cursed at myself.

  I was going to go to the party. If it sucked, I could call an Uber home. If it was great, then I didn’t have to come into the office the next day. For now.

  Fitz, you must be some special guy to make me do this. Don’t make me fucking regret it.

  I first took an Uber home to change into something more casual, switching into jeans, flats, and a red tank top. I texted Fitz that I was on my way, to which he sent some thumbs up emojis back. I shook my head all the way to the Uber. This might be a worse sight than giving head on the beach. At least that could be excused as two coworkers having extreme tension that needed release.

  This...there’s nothing I can say that’ll make this look good.

  Guess we’ll find out how it goes.

  I tried to still and silence my mind as we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. By this point, it was much too late to turn back, but the nerves had not vanished in my stomach. I was fearful that I wouldn’t fit in in the slightest. I was fearful that the club members would act boorishly, hit on me inappropriately, and scare me off.

  But, hey, if I was going to be crazy and do crazy things this week, maybe I just needed to say fuck it and see what happened?

  “This the spot?” the driver said a short while later.

  Brooklyn Repairs. The place looked like a dingy, run-down repair shop that hadn’t had a paint job since the sixties. It was ugly and in desperate need of a tune-up. But I could hear music from the other side of the garage door.

  “Yeah,” I said sheepishly, a bit embarrassed to admit it. “Thanks.”

  I got out, keeping my head low, and walked up to the front door. I knocked. No one answered.

  Well, this was a fucking delight. A party that didn’t have a doorman but was secret. That seemed—

  The door swung open. An older man with graying hair and a cigarette in his mouth walked out.

  “Aren’t you a pretty little thing,” he said with a chuckle.

  Well, isn’t this just off to a lovely start.

  “What’s your name, sexy?”

  “That’s not important,” I scowled back. “I’m looking for Fitz. Thomas Fitzgerald, he—”

  “You’re Fitz’s piece for the night?” the man said. “Holy shit! First he quits his job, now he gets a sexy broad! What the fuck is the world coming to! Maybe I need to quit my banking job too!”

  Oh, shit, no, no, no. No, I can’t be here, no—

  “Fitz is inside. What’s your name?”

  “Ah...Amanda,” I said as I pushed past him.

  “Amanda!” he shouted at me. “If Fitz dumps your ass, you come and find me! Just yell out Uncle!”

  OK, that’s even creepier than I imagined. This is off to a delightful start.

  I came inside and smelled oil, alcohol, and...sex?

  I looked around the interior of the repair shop. There were a couple of cars lifted up for r
epairs. Underneath them was an enormous mass of people, probably a couple dozen in total. I looked for Fitz but didn’t seem him anywhere.

  What I did see, though, were a bunch of girls with enormous features and skimpy clothing sitting on the laps of, pressed up against, or otherwise smothering other bikers. They all had beers in their hands and smirks on their faces, like they knew they could just get the women they had before them. The very sight pissed me off to high hell.

  “Hey!”

  I looked over and saw Fitz emerging from a small office that had a flickering light and stains on the walls. Seeing Fitz made me smile, but it also saddened me a bit. He’d quit his job to join this?

  “What’s going on?” he said, coming up to kiss me. I kissed him, but it wasn’t the greatest of kisses. “You OK?”

  “I…”

  Tell the truth.

  “Let’s go into your office, OK?”

  Fitz nodded, putting his hand on the small of my back and leading me in. The closed door barely muted the music, but at least I could hear him a little better than before.

  “Fitz, is this really what you quit your job for?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” I said, struggling not to laugh in disbelief at his ignorance. “Look around at this place. The girls all look like cheap whores. The dudes are drinking crappy beer and excited to get their dick wet with women they only want to sleep with. I’d say this is like college, but college isn’t this trashy. It’s...it’s disgusting, OK?”

  Fitz bit his lip. I knew I was being harsh, but Fitz knew this was how I got when I got annoyed. Blunt.

  “Look, if it makes you feel better, this part of the club is not something I particularly enjoy either,” he said. “Most of the time at these parties, I just stand to the corner, let the festivities go, and try and stay above it. They call me nerd or dork for it, but…”

  I remained unconvinced.

  “I just can’t believe it,” I said. “I didn’t believe it before, but when you talked about a brotherhood and you talked about being free on your bike, I pictured some sort of Zen thing where you would use the bike to think about the world. Maybe you’d write down your insights or something. I don’t know. I figured the car mechanic thing was just to tide you over. But instead, it feels like you left a wedding to go to a brothel.”