BIKER DADDY: The Chain Gang MC

by St. Rose, Claire

  “Still think you should keep it to yourself?”

  Zoya shrugged. She had made a conflicted decision not to let her parents know about Miad’s drinking to allow him the opportunity to straighten up his act and not face their parents’ ire, but it was starting to seem like an intervention was necessary. “I just know that if Baba finds out, he’ll lose all faith in my brother. They poured so much time and money into his recovery the first time. Who wants to go through all of that again, you know?”

  It was Callie’s turn to shrug. She had grown up in a family of alcoholics. The one thing she had learned from the experience was that keeping secrets was a symptom and side effect of the disease. The worse off the addict, the more prone to deception and the more need for deception. “You know I have a few connections at the local rehab center. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

  They sank back into companionable silence, and Zoya drifted between sleeping and watching television. It was Callie who broke the silence again with a smile in Zoya’s direction. “So, I have a proposition for you.”

  “What’s the proposition?” Zoya asked warily at Callie’s mischievous tone.

  “I want to take you out this weekend,” Callie murmured while scribbling in her notebook, perusing her textbook, and chatting on Facebook. She could never do one thing at a time. She had too much energy. “Nothing crazy. I just want to get you out of the house. All you’ve done all month is mope around.”

  Zoya groaned and nudged Callie’s shoulder with the ball of her foot, smiling playfully. “Oh, it’s only been two weeks. Don’t exaggerate.”

  Callie giggled and pushed aside her work. She turned around with her legs akimbo to look up at Zoya. “I feel like I’ve been punished! You know when you don’t go out with me, it’s not as much fun. I only get to be wildly irresponsible when you’re around. So, if you don’t want to do it for you, do it for me.” She frowned dramatically with puppy dog eyes, begging cutely. “Pretty please?”

  It was true, Zoya had spent weeks indoors, aside from going to class and spending time with her family when required. There weren’t many high points to her life after the breakup. On the other hand, things hadn’t been that bad. She was finally feeling like she might one day get over him. Just days earlier, she had been thinking it would never happen.

  “Where do you plan on going, Callie? I know you, and I know your ways. Don’t forget what Miad told you about being a positive influence.”

  “Miad can cart his advice to the nearest deep ditch and throw himself in after it. No offense,” Callie replied blithely. “I need an answer. Is it a yes or no?” She squeezed her eyes shut and held up both hands, fingers crossed.

  Zoya couldn’t say no. The truth was she was bored out of her mind with grieving. It couldn’t be any worse to go out and mope than it was to sit in and mope. “Fine, fine! I’ll go with you, but you better not spring any surprises on me. I’m warning you. I’ll bail.”

  Callie let out a squeal of surprised pleasure, throwing her hands in the air and drumming her feet against the floor in triumph. “Ha! You’ve agreed, and you’ve given your word, so wherever I decide we go, we will go!”

  Zoya leaned forward warily, pointing her finger at Callie with a warning look. “What are you up to, friend? I know that look.”

  “Oh, nothing,” Callie said aloofly and crossed her legs with a toss of her head. “Just know that you’re going to have a great time, even if I have to force you to have a good time. Are we clear?”

  ***

  “No, no, no, and no!” Zoya shook her head vehemently, refusing to get out of the car.

  Callie stamped her foot and jiggled the door handle, knocking on the glass. “Zoya, get out of the car! You’re causing a scene.” She cursed her rotten luck for handing her friend the keys so she was able to lock her out. “This is crazy, you know. You’re not going to leave me here, and I’m not going to come with you. So, either you’re waiting in the car like a kid, or you get out and come party with me! Come on, the night is young! And, I don’t want you to get old waiting for me, so get out of this stupid car!”

  Callie yelped, as her fingers got pinched under the handle. She yanked away her hand with a frustrated growl. Zoya guiltily unlocked the doors and slowly climbed out. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, and you owe me big time!”

  “You’re welcome,” said Callie. “I promise you’re going to enjoy yourself. You just have to trust me.” They strutted across the parking lot to The Punchline, Callie in the lead and Zoya dragging reluctantly behind. Zoya made a whining noise and shook her body like a petulant five-year-old.

  The building looked exactly the same as the last time they had come, with rundown siding and the aluminum roof with the name of the establishment in red paint. The same opaque windows stared blankly back at them, hiding what was inside. The motorcycles were the same, and the cars looked the same. Even the people lingering around outside looked the same. Zoya had realized where they were going as soon as Callie, who had insisted on driving, had turned off the main highway. They were back at the place where all the madness had begun, where she had met Micah.

  “I don’t want to go in there!” Zoya stalled in the parking lot. Callie tugged her by the hand.

  “You do! I know you do, because what else would you have to do tonight if not this? Do you really want to sit at home alone another weekend? Don’t make me drag you kicking and screaming. People are watching us,” Callie said in a stage-whisper, loud enough for the people watching to hear. Zoya colored in embarrassment, seeing she was right. There was a crowd of people at the door staring curiously at the two indecisive girls haggling under the streetlamp.

  Zoya almost had to laugh at herself for her antics. Callie wrapped her arm around Zoya’s shoulders and gently, but firmly, pushed her toward the entrance. Zoya had chosen dark denim jeans and long sleeved kiwi green shirt with a gray hijab, and she hadn’t come dressed to impress. Callie sported a miniskirt and tank. They couldn’t have been more different. “Callie, how could you do this to me?” Zoya whispered, getting distressed as they neared the door. “What if he’s in there?”

  “People break up every day and survive, remember? You’ll be fine.”

  Zoya groaned, shrinking into herself. “This can’t be happening.”

  CHAPTER 11 They got past the bouncer and into the crowded club where the weekend regulars were already going strong. The club’s layout included a handful of tables positioned to the right of the entrance. Further inside, the space was wide open. Then, to the left, was the bar. At the back of the club, there was a makeshift stage that wasn’t in use on this night.

  It was nine o’clock at night, and the dance floor was packed with women in tight, revealing clothes and men enjoying the temptation. Instead of live music, the DJ was playing a mix of popular and alternative music with a little country-pop thrown in for kicks.

  Zoya tentatively stepped across the hardwood floor, making her way to a table. She was sure Callie would disappear off to the bar or the dancefloor, and she was surprised to glance back and find her friend following her. “Just to make sure you don’t try to escape,” Callie said with a grin. She had to shout over the sound of the music. They pushed past a throng of folks congregating in the middle of the walkway and took seats at the bar height tables at the side of the club where Zoya felt most comfortable, away from the crush and press of bodies.

  A server made his way over to them at Zoya’s beckon. She remembered that was how Micah had gotten the guy’s attention the last time. When Donnie drew closer, his eyes lit up in recognition. He was wearing a greasy black vest with The Punchline written on back. It was open in front, and his bald head gleamed under the dim light. “Hey! Middle Eastern Girl! I didn’t think I’d see you in here again. Figured the biker boys scared you off last time. Giving us another try?” he teased. He smiled, revealing gold teeth and kind eyes.

  Zoya smiled good-naturedly. “I was, um, coerced into giving the bar anothe
r try. Let’s just say my friend here made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  He chuckled. “What you ladies drinkin’ tonight? Lemme see if I get this right. Coca-Cola for you, huh?”

  Zoya flashed a thumbs up and gestured to Callie. Her friend supplied, “I’ll have a vodka shot with a splash of grenadine.”

  “You got it!” Donnie ambled back to the bar.

  Callie swayed to the music, getting into the groove. She was glad she had come out and doubly glad she had convinced Zoya to come out with her. Her sparkling eyes roamed over the bar looking for familiar faces. Callie crossed her hands on top of the table and turned her gaze back to study her best friend. “Feeling anxious? Loosen up, darling. You know the rules. We give it a half hour, and if you absolutely hate it, we leave.”

  “You know I’m anxious. You’re a horrible, horrible friend,” Zoya fired back with a grin. “Thank you for getting me out of the house, but you should never have brought me back here. Of all the places, Callie! I mean, come on! There are too many memories.”

  “Cause you’re not over him! Zoya, I know you’re not. It’s obvious as fuck. He was good for you. You liked him. He liked you.”

  “And, we didn’t work out. You’re meddling with people’s lives here, friend.” Zoya frowned gently and placed her hand on top of Callie’s.

  Callie shrugged ruefully. “I thought maybe if I brought you here, it would spark something. Maybe get you to at least give him a call. Think about it, Zoya. You got closure. You instituted the closing of the chapter by opting not to talk to him again, but what about Micah? Don’t you think he deserves a chance to at least hear why you can’t be together? It’s only right. You basically just dropped off the face of the earth to him. Who does that?”

  Donnie came back over with their drinks, and Zoya reached into her clutch to pay him. Handing off the money absently, she kept her eyes on Callie, addressing her, “I’m pretty sure he got the point. He knows my brother saw us, and he knew my family would have a problem with us dating. He probably put two and two together.”

  “I did,” he murmured.

  Callie finally moved her gaze from Zoya’s face, having kept it there the minute she saw Micah approaching the table out of her periphery vision. Zoya felt her breath hitch in her chest at the familiar voice. It raised goosebumps along her skin and sent her heartbeat spiraling out of control. Hairs on the back of her neck stood up in awareness. Her nipples even tightened in response. She looked down at her hand where the money she was holding out for Donnie to take was still dangling, and her eyes slowly rose up to her ex-boyfriend’s face. He had already gestured for Donnie to put it on his tab.

  Micah casually rested his elbow on the table and leaned across the table between the women, staring Zoya in the eyes. “I put two and two together, and it still didn’t make any sense to me, but I accepted it because I didn’t have any choice.”

  “Um, do you hear that? Yeah, Zoya, I think the dance floor just called me,” Callie said, popping her head over Micah’s shoulder to wave goodbye to the hapless Zoya. Zoya’s eyes widened, and she gestured for Callie to stay, but her bestie shot off and disappeared in the midst of dancing bodies. Zoya dropped her face into her hand, shaking her head.

  “Why does this feel like a conspiracy?” she muttered into her palm. When she looked back up, Micah wore a half-smile.

  “More like a happy coincidence. Imagine my surprise when you walked into the building. I thought I’d never see you again…But, it seems that fate would have otherwise, and who are we to question the machinations of the universe, right? What do you say we step out back and catch up on old times?” he asked. His tone was light and not the least bit pushy. He almost sounded like he thought she’d say no.

  Zoya got the distinct impression she could turn him down, no harm, no foul. Fact was she wanted to go out back and talk with him. She had missed their conversations, his perspective and ways of thinking. He was close enough in proximity for her to smell his spicy, enticing cologne, and the memories that flooded back were erotic and intense. She struggled not to breathe, but she couldn’t hold her breath forever.

  She rose from the chair, undecided, her eyes locked with his translucent blues. His lips were pressed together in a straight line, and her mouth remembered the exact texture and pressure of those lips against hers. The cleft of his chin begged to be caressed. He was still sporting the stubble of a beard she was most familiar with, and his gold rimmed blue shades clung to the neck of his t-shirt, which clung to the chest her hands recalled intimately. His jeans hung from his hips, and beneath the worn, faded denim she knew the rest of him. She blushed at the knowledge.

  Zoya had never known her body could be just as capable of retaining impressions of past events as her mind. Her body remembered him in vivid detail—from the satiny feel of his short, wavy hair between her fingers to the heft of his nearly six foot frame rising and falling between her legs, their limbs intertwined like sticks starting a fire. Her thighs tightened, as she stood before him and contemplated going outside. Moisture instantly collected, as her gaze drifted down his taut stomach and stopped at his pelvis. She knew she should stay right where she was, in the crowd where she was safe from herself.

  “I’ll come with you,” she murmured, and he couldn’t hear, but he seemed to understand, following the movement of her lips with eyes that looked as if they yearned for her. From the very first time they’d met, he had had that look in his eyes. It made her skin burn and her heart beat faster. Micah turned away, releasing her from the potent spell of eye contact, and when he headed to the double doors that led to the back porch of the biker bar, she followed.

  There weren’t many others outside. Those seeking a quieter place to chat, or those wanting to smoke cigarettes—the loners and the lovers were there. The night was hot and humid, and citronella candles burned quaintly on the picnic tables that lined the rustic back porch. The view from the back of The Punchline looked out on a distant, shadowy mesa. It was a hot and humid night, but pleasant with the breeze. Fireflies could be spotted, as the back of the bar was less illuminated than the front.

  Zoya and Micah took a seat at one of the picnic tables furthest from the door. It was at the edge of the porch where they could look out at the night, see the stars, and converse without anyone overhearing. There was a definite illusion of being alone. Zoya knew she should feel uncomfortable with the situation, but she strangely wasn’t.

  She felt butterflies, sweaty palms, and electric desire. His body was too close to hers to ignore. Their thighs almost touched, and he was looking at her so intensely that she felt like not a day had elapsed since the last time they had seen each other. She remembered waking up beside him that final morning nearly a month ago and slipping out to the cab to leave, thinking she could stay away from him. She had been wrong. There was no staying away when given the chance to see him.

  “I missed you,” he whispered. He couldn’t resist. Micah turned to her and grasped her chin, smoothed his thumb against her lower lip. Zoya inhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut reverently. He didn’t dare kiss her. He didn’t think he would be able to stop at just a kiss; but, he had to touch her and make sure that she was real. The ache in his throat felt scarily like tears. He swallowed, pushed down the pain of feeling abandoned by her.

  He had overhead her friend telling her he deserved an explanation. It was true. He needed to understand why Zoya had left him high and dry. “Why did you stop talking me?”

  “You must know,” she said in a small voice. “Miad saw us together, Micah. He made me swear not to see you again.”

  “I thought you were going to tell your parents about us. I thought we were going to try to make this work. Instead, you bailed on me without even a backwards glance. Do you know how many sleepless nights I’ve spent? How many days I’ve tormented myself wondering what I could have done differently? I realize…I realize that I might not be the best man, Zoya, but I was the best man I could be for you, and you walked away from
us. You ended us.”

  Zoya dropped her head desolately, trying to find the words to convey the thought processes that had led to her actions. “I never wanted things to end that way. I care very much for you, Micah.” She sighed and grabbed his hand to run her fingers along his palm. “You have to understand. If I hadn’t made that promise to Miad, he would’ve tarnished your image for my parents. Nothing I would have told them about you would’ve mattered. I had to let you go to keep you from that, and I don’t regret it, Micah. I don’t regret saving us that battle.”

  “So, you let us lose the entire war.” He frowned. Her eyes downcast, she gnawed on her bottom lip uncertainly. She had given up on them. They were over, but the closure he had heard Callie mention was closed to him because he was discovering some events in life were more like the close of the book than the mere opening of a new chapter. Anything that came after Zoya would be a new story entirely. She had changed him, and he didn’t want any other narrative. He wanted her. “What if I told you I’m not ready to stop fighting?” he whispered.

  She lifted her eyes and met his. “What are we fighting for?”