by Ivy Black
Chapter Six
Bellamy
I carry the tray into the kitchen and load the dishes into the dishwasher, then clean up the rest of the things. Given that my mom isn’t eating much more than broth and crackers these days, there’s not a lot to clean up. I hate seeing her like this. I knew it was going to be painful to come home and watch her wither away to nothing. But even knowing that, I underestimated how painful it was actually going to be. Seeing my mother in her bed looking so small and so frail is killing me.
But I’m here for her. I can’t make this about me. More than that, knowing I don’t have all that much time left with her, I need to make sure the days we have are filled with happiness. The grief I feel for her can’t be allowed to encroach on the time we have. There will be a time for it, but that time isn’t right now. She deserves to have whatever time she has left be filled with joy and laughter. And I’m going to do my best to make sure it is.
Wiping away the tears that had started to well in my eyes, I take a moment to gather myself, then grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walk back to her room. By the time I get there, I’ve managed to chase away the tears and replace them with a smile.
“There’s my girl,” my mom says.
I hand her the bottle and then grab the pill dispenser from the nightstand and shake out her evening dose into my hand. She takes them from my hand one at a time, chasing them with a swig of water. When she’s finished, I take the bottle from her and set it down on the nightstand, then sit down on the bed next to her. Some mindless reality show is on television. I don’t watch much TV to begin with, but when I do, the last thing I would watch is a show about housewives in whatever city they happen to be filming in.
My mom, however, loves trash reality television. It seems like the trashier it is, the more she loves it. She watches them all. I’ll never understand it personally, but I suppose anyone who’s cooped up in bed literally all day will watch anything to take their mind off what’s going on in their life. If there’s one thing that can be said for these garbage programs, it’s that they’re distracting. And right now, she needs all the distraction she can get.
“So, how was your day, dear?” she asks.
“Good. Really good,” I tell her. “I started getting my new classroom all set up. I just need to get some things from the garage, and I’ll probably need to pick up a few things myself, but it’s all coming together.”
“That’s fantastic. When do you start?”
“Next week,” I say. “It’s going to be weird having Ruby as my boss, though.”
“Ruby is a lovely girl. I’m sure you two will work well together,” she says. “You always were the best of friends when you were young.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
She yawns and her eyes start to flutter. She’s running out of steam, so I help her under the covers and get her situated before I set the timer on the TV and slowly back out of the room. She’ll be asleep in a matter of moments, I’m sure.
I prowl the house for a little while, feeling restless. It was a good day, all things considered. I’m really excited to get into my classroom and get to work, of course. I look forward to spending time with Ruby again. And I can’t wait to start this new chapter in my life, the situation with my mother notwithstanding.
I head back to my room and close the door. It’s starting to get late and I know I should probably get to bed since I’ve got things to do tomorrow, but I’m still feeling a little amped up. Restless. I light a candle, turn on some music on my phone, and dim the lights before I lie down. Maybe if I relax a little, I’ll be able to turn off my brain and be able to actually get ready for bed.
The scent of lavender soon fills the air and I watch the orange candlelight and shadows flickering on the ceiling, locked in their eternal struggle. It was nice seeing Max again today. It had been quite a while but running into him brought back a flood of memories. It’s sometimes difficult for me to see through all of the bad things and negative memories I have, but there are definitely some good memories here that I still hold dear.
Thinking of Max, of course, brings Derek to mind. I truly do regret that he and I never spoke, let alone spent time together. If I knew then what I know now and I was the person I am today, I never would have let my friends stop me from spending time with Derek. I never would have allowed them to dictate who I could associate with or tell me who I could be seen with. It’s so stupid. It’s only now, in hindsight, that I can see the things I thought were so important back then are nothing but trivial bullcrap that shouldn’t even warrant consideration.
I didn’t know Derek well back then, but I remember him from some of the classes we had together. He was always one of the smartest kids in class. Though he did his best to hide that fact. I remember when I called him Donny all semester just to get under his skin. He corrected me a few times, but eventually gave up and let me call him Donny. At the time, I thought it was flirting. But then, I never was all that good at flirting, so again, in hindsight, I can see how silly and ineffective that actually might have been.
I do remember very well that I always thought he was sexy as hell. But my attraction to him was always from afar. I wonder what being with him would have been like. Not sexually—or at least, not totally—but just spending time with him. We didn’t really talk with each other back in the day, but whenever I heard him speak in class or whatnot, he was always articulate and thoughtful. And he was smart as hell. I got the idea that he was the kind of guy I could have a conversation with. Like a real conversation that’s deep and meaningful. About a wide array of topics. It’s a rare trait to have in most of the men I’ve met.
As I think about Derek, I recall his hazel-colored eyes the most. There were a few times our eyes would meet, and I remember how intense and filled with mystery they were. I remember this one time working on a group project that Derek looked at me, and I could see that he was thinking of something. I could definitely see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes of his, and I remember being desperate to know what it was. I couldn’t work up the nerve to ask though and never found out.
As I picture those eyes boring into mine, I feel a shudder run through me. It’s a pleasant feeling that fills me with warmth from head to toe, and all points in between. A slow, sensual song is playing, and I can’t help but feel a little sexy. Especially with thoughts of Derek and those intense eyes of his filling my mind.
And then, out of nowhere, I’m imagining kissing him. He always had full, sensual, and kissable lips. As I picture him sliding his tongue past my lips, swirling it around my own, I feel the heat between my legs burning out of control. I close my eyes and lose myself in the fantasy, sliding my hand down into my yoga pants, and when I touch myself, I’m surprised to feel how wet I am.
As I tease my clit with my fingertips, I bite back my gasp, trying to be quiet so I don’t wake my mom. Her meds usually keep her knocked out pretty well, but I don’t want to take chances. It’s not that I’m afraid she’ll hear me—though I would prefer it if she didn’t—it’s that I don’t want to have to stop before I finish. All of these thoughts bouncing around in my mind have me desperately needing to get off.
In my mind’s eye, I run my hands over Derek’s toned and chiseled chest as our kiss deepens. I lose myself in the fantasy, feeling his hard body pressed to mine, our tongues languidly winding around each other. I shudder as I feel his hands on me. Feeling him cupping my breasts and squeezing them. I slide my other hand up under my T-shirt and give my pert nipple a hard pinch, a small gasp escaping me.
As I continue to caress my breasts, I slip a finger inside of me. I drive it deep, biting my bottom lip so hard, I’m afraid I’m going to draw blood. But it feels too good to stop, and so I slide a second one in. I grind myself down on my fingers, taking them deep within me as I picture Derek’s face above mine. He’s bracing himself on his arms, his lips scant inches from mine as he thrusts himself deep into my opening.
I groan and
shudder with pleasure as our bodies move in a slow, hard rhythm with each other and as I pump my fingers into my wetness, visualizing Derek fucking me. In my mind, his cock is thick and long, filling me up completely. He plunges himself into my depths, touching off explosions of pleasure that rock my entire body.
“Derek,” I moan softly. “Yes, baby. Yes.”
Thrusting my fingers into my slick opening, I slide my other hand down and thrum my clit, sending shockwaves of intense sensation through me. The scene in my mind switches and I’m on top of him. His hands are on my hips, guiding me as I rise and fall on his thick staff. I throw my head back and cry out as he raises himself up and drives his cock into me. I feel his hands on my breasts, squeezing and kneading them, pinching my nipples, making me shiver deliciously.
My breath is shallow and ragged, and my pulse is racing as I grind and writhe on my bed. Both of my hands are working in unison, my two fingers plumbing my depths and the other grinding my clit. In my fantasy, I’m riding Derek harder, feeling him sliding deeper inside of me than any man has been before. My every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire as I rock back and forth, pressing my head back on the pillow hard.
The pressure is building up low within me and my body is tightening. I feel myself rushing toward the crescendo and my entire body is vibrating. My heart is beating so hard, I’m half-afraid it’s going to burst out of my chest altogether, but the ecstasy that’s coursing through me is so sharp and intense, it spurs me on.
I thrust my fingers into my pussy harder and faster, bringing myself ever closer to that precipice. In my mind’s eye, Derek has me on my belly, and he’s mounted me from behind. He’s slamming his thick staff into me again and again, moaning my name as he does. I raise my hips off the bed and impale myself even harder, grinding my fingers against my clit as the muscles in my body all clench as one.
I clamp my mouth shut as my orgasm comes crashing down over me, pulling me deep beneath the waves of bliss. My body shakes wildly and my heart stutters drunkenly in my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut, I ride out the waves of rhapsody that wash over me.
Slowly, my euphoria fades, but my body continues to vibrate with the echo of my orgasm. I take several deep breaths, trying to regain my composure as I slide my hands out of my yoga pants. The smile on my face stretches from ear to ear as I revel in the sensations that continue to pulse within me.
The vision of Derek’s eyes lingers in my mind, and in that moment, I would give almost anything to see that hazel gaze above me as I felt him moving inside of me. Like, literally give almost anything. And on the heels of that thought comes another: knowing he’s here in Blue Rock could be a very dangerous thing for me.
But it could also be amazing.
Chapter Seven
Spyder
The sky is overcast, the day is cool, and it feels like there’s rain coming in soon. There’s moisture and a heavier salty scent blowing in off the ocean than normal. It’s usually only like that before we get a storm rolling through. But, like the post office, neither rain, snow, sleet, nor murderous drug cartel is going to stop us from carrying on the business at hand. And right now, that business is waiting for us.
Our bikes rumble down the road to the parking lot of the old, derelict warehouse—our usual meeting spot with Montezuma’s Warriors, an MC from the Central Valley we’ve been doing business with for years. Cosmo and I park our bikes and cut the engines as our follow van pulls in behind us. I pull off my helmet and stuff my gloves into it, then hang it on the handlebar.
I walk beside Cosmo, but my eyes are busy flitting this way and that, looking for potential trouble. Not that I’m worried about the Warriors doing us dirty like that. After all, Tarantula owes us one and if there is one thing that I’ve learned about him over the years, it’s that he pays his debts. He’s a loyal guy, and though we’re technically rival MCs, we’re bonded through business. And as far as I’m concerned, Tarantula’s word is gold. He’s never given us reason to doubt it before.
He and Cosmo shake hands, then embrace briefly before he turns and greets Bala the same way. I follow suit, shaking hands, then giving a quick embrace with a hard thump on the back. Standard greetings all around. But then, I step back and tap on the new plate on the front of Tarantula’s kutte.
“Presidente. Looks good on you.”
I say it partly to remind him it’s because of us he’s got that patch on his chest. If we hadn’t taken out the previous club president, he wouldn’t have it. And Bala wouldn’t be wearing the Vice Presidente patch on his. He looks at me, one corner of his mouth curling upward in a knowing smirk. He knows why I said it and is simply telling me he doesn’t need the reminder.
“How are things in your world?” Cosmo asks.
“In transition, ese,” Tarantula says. “Lots of change.”
“Lose anybody in your glorious coup?” I ask.
He nods, his face tightening. “Si mon,” he says, a tone of regret in his voice. “We lost eight good men when I took over. Loyal to the former pres. Can’t blame ’em for it, I guess.”
Bala spits on the ground, his face twisted with anger. “Should’ve capped ’em, jefe. Their loyalty shoulda been to the club first.”
Tarantula shrugged. “It’s all good. We’re rebuilding. We’ll build it in a better image than we had before.”
I nod. “You done with Zavala then?”
Tarantula scoffs, his lips curling downward into a frown. “Let’s do some business first. Then, we’ll talk about Zavala.”
I exchange a glance with Cosmo, uncertainty welling up inside of me. He doesn’t seem concerned though and gives a wave to Milo, who’s running the follow van today. Milo, whose club name is Nitro, thanks to love of blowing things up—he was a demolitions tech in the Corps—has been a full patch for a few years now. He’s in his mid-thirties, has dirty blond hair, a shaggy beard, and dark eyes. Burly would be a generous description; the guy is built like an NFL defensive end. He’s a good guy, though, and he’s loyal to the club. He’s a bit quiet sometimes, and he always seems to be caught up in his head. Cosmo says the dude went through some things over in the shit that he’s still trying to work through. Seems to be a common theme among the Pharaohs.
Milo comes over and hands the black duffel bag to Bala, who opens it up and takes out the brick of weed. He holds it up to his nose and inhales deeply, a smile crossing his face as he does. Seemingly satisfied, he tucks it back into the bag as he looks over at Tarantula and nods. The new club president hands a similar black bag to Cosmo, who unzips it and inspects the contents. Instead of bricks of weed, it’s bricks of cash.
“Looks good,” Cosmo says, then turns to Milo. “Get ’em loaded up.”
“You got it, boss.”
Milo and the two Warriors in their follow van start the process of unloading the bricks of weed from our van, then reloading it into theirs. Given that there are a couple of hundred pounds that need to be moved, it’s going to take a minute, so the four of us walk away a bit so we can talk without being overheard. And I gather by the pinched expressions on both Tarantula’s and Bala’s faces, there’s something heavy weighing on their minds. And I’ve got a good idea what it is.
“We ain’t workin’ with Zavala because we want to,” Tarantula says. “We ain’t got a choice in it. We say no, he sends his men, and right now, while we’re in transition, we ain’t got the numbers to fight him off. We take him head up while we’re… reorganizin’… he wipes us out.”
“I get it, man. I get it,” Cosmo says. “And I ain’t judgin’ you.”
Tarantula nods and looks a little relieved to me. I can see that he’s frustrated and that he’d expected the transfer of power to be a bit smoother than it’s apparently been. But I do know that he and Bala are both on the same page about wanting to get out from under the cartel. They don’t brook with the human trafficking Zavala’s engaged in. They want nothing to do with it. That much I can absolutely trust about them.
“But that don’t m
ean we don’t want to find a way out from under this puto,” he growls. “I think we’re in a position to help each other, ese.”
“What do you have in mind?” Cosmo asks.
Tarantula and Bala exchange a look, and I see their faces tighten. It looks to me like they know whatever they’re going to say is something we’re probably not going to like.
“Look, we know you guys and Zavala are going head up,” Bala starts. “We know shit’s about to get real heavy between you guys.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s not much of a secret,” Cosmo says.
“Not when they try to take out your prez, man,” Tarantula says. “Big move like that, especially when they fuck it up and don’t seal that deal… usually means a war is comin’.”
“Since we’re still playin’ ball with Zavala, we can feed you intel. Tell you what he’s plannin’, what he’s doin’. We can put you in a position to take this fucker out,” Bala states.
“You’re puttin’ yourselves at risk,” I say. “If Zavala figures out you guys are feeding us information, he wipes you out anyway. That’s a lot of weight to possibly bring down on yourself.”
Bala shrugs. “Then don’t fuck it up, homes.”
“Like they say, you shoot for the king, you best not miss,” Tarantula adds.
“You sure you guys want to put yourselves in that spot?” Cosmo asks.
Tarantula nods. “Yeah, man. You may be a bunch of shithead whiteboys, but we’d rather ride with you than Zavala. Trust that.”
On the surface, it makes sense. Zavala is as big of a problem for the Warriors as he is for us. Their problems with him are just different than ours. Aligning with us if they want out from under Zavala’s thumb makes sense. But there’s still some piece of me that feels like they’re looking to us to fight this battle for them. I glance up to see Tarantula grinning at me.
