CONVICT’S BABY_Black Dogs MC

by Zoey Parker

  “Dinner smells good,” he commented, patting his belly.

  “Just took it out of the oven,” Brittany smiled a little too widely. Her nerves were getting the better of her. She sliced up the pizza with a shaking hand, but she kept her back to Zack so that he wouldn’t notice the tremble in her wrist as she used the knife.

  “You had a good day?” Zack asked as dropped down onto the sofa and flicked on the TV.

  “Uh huh,” Brittany replied ambiguously. “You sleep okay?”

  “Like a baby.”

  “So you’re all good and rested?”

  “Yep.”

  “Awesome,” Brittany bought a plate of pizza slices over to him which he gratefully accepted. She lingered by him for a moment, wondering if this was the opportunity she needed to seize in order to discuss the job with him. But then she decided it was better to let him eat first. Rested and well fed would leave Zack in the optimal mood to approach the topic. Retreating back towards the kitchen Brittany picked up her own plate of pizza and sat beside her brother.

  He was watching a Nascar race, his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. For a while, they ate in silence, with only the excited chatter of the commentator and the roar of the engines filling the space between them. There had been a time when her brother was determined to be a Nascar driver. He’d power his little go-cart up and down the street and tell everyone that one day he was going to be a famous driver and be the fastest in the world.

  “Speed isn’t everything,” their father would warn.

  “It is if you want to be the best,” Zack would challenge. Even as a little boy he was a hot-headed thrill seeker. He’d ride his go-cart so hard and fast that the tires wore too thin and pedals became loose. Zack was competitive too. He’d challenge any kid he saw on their street to a race, and he’d beat them every time, even if they were on a two wheel bike. It was like there was a fire inside him that would only diminish when he was racing through the wind on his go-cart, and then eventually, his bike.

  Brittany often wondered what happened to that fire after her parents died. She often thought it must have just been abruptly extinguished by sorrow. But when Zack bought himself a motorcycle she began to entertain the thought that perhaps the fire was still there. Perhaps a part of Zack still had to race to be the best. But she never asked. There was so much between them that went unsaid.

  Chapter Four

  The race had almost ended when Brittany finally worked up the courage to ask Zack about the job. She carefully unfolded the piece of paper she’d earlier wedged in her pocket and smoothed it out on the table beside his feet, her heart racing the entire time. At first Zack didn’t notice what she was doing, he was too engrossed in the final moments of the action on TV. But then he caught a glance of the piece of paper and with a prolonged sigh hoisted himself up to grab it.

  “What’s this?” he asked curtly.

  “It’s what we were discussing earlier,” Brittany explained sweetly, clenching her hands in a neat ball upon her lap. She watched her brother’s expression darken as he read the ad he was holding.

  “Where did you get this?” he demanded. Brittany’s heart sank. He was going to be so angry at her for going to the library that she wasn’t even going to get a chance to plead her case about the job.

  “Did you go out while I was asleep?”

  “Yes!” Brittany cried, springing up to her feet. She’d finally found something to give her life purpose, to help further her love of art, and she wasn’t about to let Zack ruin that for her. She knew that just because he’d helped her growing up she didn’t owe him a lifetime of servitude.

  “I went to the library, Zack. Like any normal person would do when they need to use the internet. You can shout and scream at me all you want, but there’s a big world out there and I’m done with staying away from it!”

  “Don’t you realize how dangerous our town is?” Zack raged as he threw the piece of paper back down.

  “No, I don’t!” Brittany snapped. “I don’t because you never let me go out to experience anything. You just keep me locked up here all day! I need to live my life, Zack. Surely you get that?”

  Zack was scowling at her, collecting his thoughts. Brittany snapped up the momentary silence between them to the further advance her cause.

  “Yes, I went to the library while you slept. I went there because I want a job, Zack. I want to do something that excites me, something that lets me live a little. And if this town is so damn dangerous you’ll be pleased that the job I want to do is in the next town over!”

  Zack grumbled as he reached again for the paper and re-read the job post, his scowl remaining.

  “I love art,” Brittany continued enthusiastically. “I always have. And this job would be perfect as I’d be learning a trade and embracing my love of art. Zack, you at least have to let me apply!”

  “No.” He said the word so coldly that Brittany was taken aback.

  “No?” she echoed.

  “No,” he repeated solemnly. “I’m not having you going all that way each day to work as some tattoo artist’s apprentice.”

  “You don’t own me.”

  “I’m just looking out for you. Like I’ve always done.” He added bitterly.

  “And I’m grateful for that!” Brittany insisted. “Truly I am! But Zack, this is a chance for me to grow up, to branch out of this town and be my own person. Don’t you want what’s best for me?”

  “Brittany,” he said her name as though it pained him to do so. “You don’t understand what it’s like out there. There are people who would want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” Brittany asked quietly. “But why?”

  Numerous ugly thoughts ran through her mind. Did her brother owe people money? Bad people? Is that how he’d managed to take care of them for all these years? Surely that was just another reason for her getting a job, to help him get out of whatever debt he was in.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Zack waved a dismissive hand at her.

  “Try me!” Brittany raged through gritted teeth. “Because it sounds to me like you got yourself in trouble, and now I’m the one paying for it!”

  “Is this the gratitude I get!” Zack stood up, his face pinched and red with rage. “I give up everything to take care of you, and this is how you repay me? Any trouble I got myself into, it was for you! For us!”

  “So you are in trouble?”

  Zack was storming off towards his bedroom with Brittany flanking his every step, eager for answers.

  “No,” Zack shook his head, his hand on the door handle. He pulled to open it, but Brittany pressed her palm against the flimsy wood, preventing him from doing so.

  “I’m applying for the job,” she told him with confidence.

  “No,” he growled, “you’re not.”

  “I’m done living like this!” Brittany lamented. “If this town is so dangerous, let’s just leave!”

  “It’s not that simple!”

  “Why not?”

  “You wouldn’t understand!” Zack shouted so loudly that the boom of his voice made the nearby framed pictures of their parents shake fearfully on the walls. Brittany stepped back, removing her palm from the door as Zack angrily flung it open and disappeared inside.

  Slowly Brittany went back to the sofa, shoulders slumped. She hadn’t wanted a huge argument with her brother. She just wanted him to see things from her point of view. Of course, she was grateful for everything he’d done for her, she always would be. But that gratitude couldn’t replace the gnawing feeling in her stomach that she felt each and every day. She yearned for excitement, for adventure. She yearned to live a life that felt like her own, not one that had been planned out for her.

  From inside Zack’s bedroom, loud music started to boom out. Brittany knew that in less than an hour he’d come back out, face like thunder before leaving on his motorbike, roaring off into the night to work his dangerous job. Brittany disappeared into the cool of the garden, not wanting to be
around when her brother resurfaced.

  Chapter Five

  Brittany awoke early the next morning to the shrill squeal of her alarm telling her that it was five a.m. She always got up extra early to ensure she was able to get out and about before Zack returned. The house felt painfully empty as she wandered around, fixing herself some cereal for breakfast. She turned on the TV but struggled to engage with the show. She kept thinking about her argument with Zack, wishing they had left things on better terms before he’d gone out.

  The piece of paper with the job ad was still on the coffee table, slightly crumpled. Setting down her empty bowl, Brittany picked it up and glanced over the information. Her heart sang at the thought of doing a job where she could use her love of art. And if she did well, if she progressed beyond apprentice, then perhaps Zack would be able to give up his dangerous job. Then they would both be happy. Brittany made her decision, even though her brother wouldn’t be happy with it.

  It was agonizing as she waited for the hours to pass. But she needed it to be nine o’clock before she could call the number on the ad. She anxiously paced around the small house, running over in her mind what she would say.

  When nine o’clock did arrive, Brittany had her speech all planned out. She knew exactly what she was going to say, she just had to make the call. Which she did. She shut out all her negative thoughts about Zack and just focused on how good it would make her feel to get this job. Her heart jumped up into her throat with each passing ring and eventually someone picked up.

  “Hi,” Brittany squeaked, sounding every bit as nervous as she felt. “I’m calling about the ad for a tattoo artist’s apprentice.”

  Chapter Six

  It was ten when the roar of Zack’s motorcycle rumbled like thunder in the driveway. Brittany was perched on the edge of the sofa. She’d had an hour to prepare herself for what was about to happen, but that still didn’t feel long enough. But there was no putting off the inevitable. If she wanted this job as badly as she knew she did, she was going to have to get Zack on board. Either that or sever all ties with him, which definitely wasn’t what she wanted to do. He was the only family she had left.

  Zack stormed through the door, his expression grim.

  “Hey,” Brittany called amicably from the sofa. He paused en route to his bedroom to look at her.

  “I know you’re tired,” she held her hands up apologetically as he frowned at her. “But I need to talk to you. Just ten minutes, I promise.”

  With a groan, Zack sauntered over to the sofa and dropped down beside her. He stank of petrol and cigarette smoke, but thankfully boasted no new injuries though the bruise beneath his eye had blackened something awful.

  “I know you’re mad at me,” Brittany began quietly.

  “No, I’m mad at myself,” Zack interrupted. “You’re right, Brittany. You’re always right. It’s one of the things I hate about you,” he admitted with a sad smile.

  “I was right?” Brittany felt confused.

  “I have kept you here like a prisoner,” Zack lowered his head shamefully. “I always thought I was doing the right thing by you, keeping you here, keeping you safe. But the troubles that follow me around town, they are my own, not yours. Last night at work, I got to thinking about what Mom and Dad would have said if you’d gone to them with that job idea.”

  Brittany felt herself brighten with hopefulness. Zack had considered what his parents would have done without her having to prompt him to do so. Perhaps he was about to do the right thing and grant her some freedom. Brittany held her breath and waited for him to proceed.

  “They’d have been all over it,” Zack said as his voice grew warm with fondness. “They were always so supportive of both of us. Whatever we wanted to do, they urged us to go for it.”

  “So you are going to let me apply for the job?” Brittany blurted excitedly.

  “I guess I am,” Zack sighed. “As hard as it is for me to admit, you’re an adult now even though I’ll always see you as my kid sister. If I don’t let you go for this, you’ll only resent me for holding you back.”

  “Since when did you get so wise?” Brittany teased.

  “I’ve made mistakes,” Zack admitted grimly. “Too many to count. But I made each one of them thinking about you, thinking about what’s best for you. I don’t want my keeping you here to be another mistake I make, even if it is with the best intentions at heart. So, if you want to go follow this dream of yours…” Zack gestured sadly towards the front door. “Then go, I won’t be the guy to hold you back. Our parents raised me better than that.”

  “Thank you,” Brittany threw herself against her brother as she embraced him. This was the Zack she’d been waiting to see for so long. He finally didn’t seem beaten down by his life choices – he seemed kind and smart, just like their father had been.

  “But I don’t want you traveling to the next town over each day,” Zack declared.

  “Well, I’d kind of have to,” Brittany laughed. “Since that’s where the job is.”

  “Not if you got your own place close by,” Zack stated quietly, folding his hands and lowering his head.

  “My own place?” Brittany gasped, this was more freedom than she could have ever possibly hoped for. Whatever had happened to Zack the previous night it had clearly altered his entire mindset and for that she would be eternally grateful.

  “Yeah, your own place,” Zack forced a smile. “Give you a chance to spread your wings and get a taste of independence.”

  “Thank you,” Brittany was almost rendered speechless. She hugged her brother again, tighter this time.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she gushed, wishing there was some stronger phrase to explain how much gratitude she was feeling towards him.

  “I won’t let you down,” she promised. “And you can come and visit me anytime.”

  “Oh,” Zack raised his eyebrows at her, “I plan on it. So you best make sure you behave.”

  Chapter Seven

  Max Scand knocked down the kick stand for his motorcycle and killed the engine. He effortlessly withdrew his long legs so that he was no longer straddling the bike. His dark hair had become tussled by the wind and his sun-kissed skin glowed in the late evening light of the setting sun. Readjusting his leather jacket, he pushed a hand back through his hair, kept on his mirrored aviators and strode confidently towards the entrance to the bar. On the back of his jacket was an embroidered design of a skeletal man clutching a scythe with bony fingers while grinning madly at the open road beneath him. The design was a logo. The logo for the Skeleton Kings – the motorcycle gang that Max ran.

  As he opened the door to the bar, the hot musky scent from inside engulfed him. He stepped inside, pausing briefly to remove his shades. The bar was relatively quiet at such an early hour. A few leather-clad men were shooting pool, others were sat at tables nursing cold bottles of beer. Max confidently approached the barman and grinned.

  “Is the big man in tonight?” he asked the heavily tattooed man behind the bar. He nodded in response towards a far table, in the back corner of the bar where a gray-haired man with a long beard which draped over his chest like a strange cravat, sat.

  “Thanks.” Max smacked his palm against the chipped wood of the bar before turning and approached the gray-haired man. He pulled up a chair beside him without waiting to ask permission.

  “You wanted to see me, Uncle Alex?”

  The gray-haired man’s dark eyes shone back at him. Dark eyes which Max also had, along with the same strong jawline. But that was where the similarities ended. Max was in shape with sculpted abs and strong, muscular arms. His Uncle was bloated with a heavily wrinkled face. He might have been handsome once, but it was hard to tell beneath the years of damage he’d done to his body. A long scar ran the length of his Uncle’s face, completely dividing it in half. It cut clean across his nose, narrowly missing his left eye. Although a keen observer would notice that it didn’t move as the right one did. Nor was it able to focus. Be
cause it was made of glass and merely there for show.

  Alex shuffled in his chair so that his good eye could focus on his nephew.

  “Yeah, I wanted to see ya,” he drawled.

  “Okay,” Max shrugged nonchalantly. “Here I am.”

  “I heard about what happened over in Weatherly.”

  Max groaned and raked a hand through his hair. He should have known that events in Weatherly would eventually catch up with him.

  “I told you to kill the guy.”

  “Uncle,” Max shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “He left town. Surely that’s what you wanted? Killing him is a bit, finite, don’t you think?”