by Oakes, Tara
Dom's eyes lock with mine long enough to see his famous grin and sly smile, before he adds the loudest boast yet to the ordeal.
“Way to go, Baby V! Bring it on home!”
Before he can finish as enthusiastically as he started, Theresa elbows him hard enough to ensure there isn't a follow-up. That's my girl! Although Theresa is Dom's younger sister, she always has my back. As the only two girls in our family, we have an unspoken allegiance to each other.
Theresa has had her share of the boys' antics growing up, but, as the baby of the group... I bear the brunt of it.
Dom pretends to be injured, cowering away from his little sister while she returns her attention my way, and politely claps... just as I had done at her own graduation ceremony last year.
The two are quite a pair. For however handsome Dom is, Theresa is equally beautiful with her huge almond eyes, and long, wavy, blown-out hair. She is the closest thing to a sister as I'm sure I'll ever find.
After the full five-second timeframe perfected during countless hours of graduation rehearsal, I turn once more to Father Cross. His lip quivers a little in restrained anger as he issues his standard well-rehearsed words of wisdom.
“Congratulations my child... and God bless you.”
Simple. Sweet. And probably more than a little difficult for him to say at the moment.
~*~
In a matter of moments, the great lawn has been transformed into a sea of chaos as relatives and loved-ones swarm around in search of their particular graduate. It probably doesn't help much that we are all dressed in the same identical burgundy ceremonial gown. Twice now, someone has grabbed on to me only to find that I was not exactly who they were expecting.
Maybe this will be easier if I just park it somewhere and wait to be found, instead of playing the maze-game with several hundred well dressed but impatient audience members? I head over toward the largest oak tree in the center of the lawn to relax under its shade until the craziness settles.
The temperature instantly drops a few degrees as I feel the trees relief from the brutal sun. Pressing my back against the ancient tree, I graze the crowd looking for my mom. She is the only person I want to see right now as I'm still angry at the boys for their little graduation present from thirty minutes ago. Instead, I see another familiar face walking toward me, making an audible “Tisk, tisk” sound while smiling.
“How is it that you can turn something as boring as a graduation ceremony into a small scandal?,” the friendly visitor finally asks as he joins my shaded spot.
I reach out to hug him, thankful for the lighthearted distraction. He follows his chiding with a soft embrace.
“Hey Conrad. So... you saw that, huh?” I ask back sarcastically. I haven't seen Conrad since spring break when he came to pick up Stephanie to take her home. He laughs lightly in my ear before tightening his grip and whirling me around.
“Of course I did. I was nodding off, listening to Cross ramble on and on until all hell broke loose!” He gently places me back down and lets go of his grip to look at me. “So... Baby V, hmm? What's that about? I've never heard anyone call you that before. Something new?”
“No... something old. Annoying, and old. Have you found Steph yet? I saw her over by the flower garden a few minutes ago,” I quickly change the topic away from my personal humiliation.
He moves us deeper into the shade. “Yeah, I found her. She's taking pictures with our parents. So, how does it feel to be amongst us grown-ups, in the real world now?”
Ha! I can barely call Conrad a grown-up. He is no more an adult than his sister or I am.
“I am officially declining to answer any such questions until after the Summer is over. I figure I can stretch out one last season before joining in the trenches,” I answer back while shaking my head.
“All right…,” he gives me a pass. “I'll ask you again in September, then. Enjoy it while it lasts. Steph tells me you two are going to be roommates in the city this fall?” He takes on a visibly confused exterior. “Seriously, I don't get chicks. I've spent eighteen years living under the same roof as her, and I couldn't wait for us to go to college just so I wouldn't have to deal with her every day. You two get paired up for four years and can't seem to let it go. I've seen how she keeps her room, V.”
He rests a playful accusing finger on my chin, “You’re a glutton for punishment.”
I step up to defend my friend, even in jest, “Steph's not that messy. She's just organizationally challenged, I think. Yeah, we're going to look for an apartment downtown while we both get internships. Hopefully.”
I had no idea Steph had told her brother about our plans for the fall. I scramble to think of a polite way to ask Conrad to keep it on the quiet side until we definitely have plans set, when I see him look over my shoulder, his face tensing nervously.
“There you are. We've been looking all over for you.” I turn to see Dom standing a few feet away from me. His deep brown eyes looking from me to Conrad and back. “I told your mom I'd find you for pictures.”
Conrad recovers from the sudden discomforting intrusion.
“This must be one of your loudly-proud brothers then? Nice to meet you,” he speaks to Dom as he politely extends his hand. “Conrad Thomas, Stephanie's brother,” he introduces himself.
Dom hesitates for a split-second while looking down at me. He's always been substantially taller than I am, but I somehow feel him grow in height. He reaches out for Conrad's hand and shakes it casually while maintaining his fixed gaze on me.
“No, I'm not V's brother. I'm a really good friend,” he reluctantly shifts his eyes to Conrad. They probably should have let go of their grip, but keep it going awkwardly.
“Dominic DiBenedetto. Good to meet you. I didn't know Stephanie had a brother.”
He finally releases the younger boy's hand.
The two of them can't be more than eighteen inches apart, facing each other. Dom is definitely the taller of the two, but Conrad straightens his shoulders as if to gain a few inches to make up the difference. Neither of them break their stare. I think fast to come up with something to say before this starts to become even more uncomfortable. Dom beats me to it.
“But... you see those three goons over there? Standing by the fountain, staring at you? Those are her brothers. I think they want to see their baby sister and congratulate her,” he slowly states with a subtle hint of disdain as he places his opened palm on my lower back, adding a slight amount of pressure to will me to move with him toward where he's pointing.
“Uh, yeah. That's fine. Congratulations, V. I'll catch up with you later then?,” is all Conrad can manage to speak before I am out of earshot.
“Thanks! I'll call Steph about meeting tonight. You in?,” I call back slightly increasing volume as I am being led away.
He nods over-enthusiastically.
“Sure! Talk to you then!,” he finishes while still standing in the same spot under the oak tree, trying to figure out what exactly just happened.
No longer trying to yell out to Conrad, I turn fully toward Dom and stop walking, placing more weight in the heels of my shoes to counter his gentle guiding. He realizes quickly that we have slowed and looks down at me, not releasing his position from its place on my lower back.
“What?,” he playfully lets out while rolling his eyes. “Come on V. Are you really that pissed at what we did? It was Mike's idea. But it was a good one,” he continues his argument. “You're the last one to graduate... we couldn't pass it up.”
I exhale deeply and loudly, “You are all idiots, you know! Really! You couldn't just act your age and at least pretend to be mature for one afternoon, could you?”
I scold him as my pointed finger presses into his tie. I was expecting to push into his chest for full dramatic effect, but meet resistance under my fingertip. Dom practically lives at the gym... but I guess I didn't give him enough credit. His chest was a lot firmer than I thought it would be.
He moves his free hand to cover
my accusing pointer finger and presses it so that my palm flattens out over his silky tie. Keeping his hand covering mine while changing his tone from one of jest to a softer, sweeter one, he begins the apology.
“I'm sorry, V. Really... I am. You know us. We bust your chops. That's all. I mean... you must have expected us to do something...?”
His brown eyes are somehow softer now, no longer laughing silently as they were before. His hand is strong on top of mine, as if he is holding it to reassure me of his words. Not wanting to brow-beat him any more than necessary as he obviously thinks I'm damn mad at him, I pull my hand back and use sarcasm to return to our usual and familiar banter.
“A sign?... Really? With Glitter! That's above Mike's planning skills, Dom. Neanderthals can't read, let alone write.”
I turn on my heel and storm off toward the other three idiots about to feel my wrath.
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A LIL’LESS BROKEN
Book one in the
Kingsmen M.C.
Series
Also from
Tara Oakes
BIKER FRIENDLY REFERENCE
The life of a biker although foreign to most of us, is a very intriguing subculture with it's own laws, rules, language, and traditions. Hopefully this reference will help the rest of us get to know a bit more about them before we take a peak into the lives of Lil's and Jay, two people born and raised in the secret world of the M.C., full of passion, loyalty, fierce family bonds and... danger.
TERMS
1%er -
The small population of biker clubs that consider themselves outside the law. They often run operations in gambling, guns, prostitution, smuggling, paid protection, drugs, and more. They are considered to be the baddest of the bad, and the roughest of the rough.
Brother -
Club members within the same club refer to each other as 'Brother'. They have made a vow to each other to protect and take care of each other as family.
Cage-
An automobile, usually a van.
Church –
A club meeting to be attended by patched brothers only. Most clubs run as a democracy and important matters are voted on during meetings.
Club Mama –
Women that regularly attend events and interact with the M.C. They may aspire to become an Ol' lady one day but do not yet have a patch holder. They may spend time with many different bikers within a club but have loyalty to the club first before a man. They are considered to be a little bit more respected than a sweet butt.
Cut -
Refers to the the leather vest worn by most bikers in a club.
M.C.-
Acronym for Motorcycle Club.
Ol' Lady –
A term of affection used for the main woman, or wife of a club member. She is given his protection and is considered off limits to any other biker. Women are not considered club members, but rather have associations to the club through their Ol' man or their patch holder.
Nomad –
A member of an M.C. that is currently without a specific charter. They are still considered a brother but they choose not to offer specific allegiance to a designated charter, instead they are loyal to the club organization in whole.
Patched In –
When a prospect completes his initiation period and is voted in to become a full fledged club member, or “Brother”
Patches –
The cloth patches or embroidered design added to a bikers vest, or cut, that identifies which club they belong to, the location of their specific charter and their position in it. Other patches can be added to signify milestone events. Example: if the member has ever served prison time for his club, or killed for it.
Piece –
A gun.
Prospect –
Those that desire to become a full fledged patched member must complete an initiation period as a prospect before a final vote is taken as to whether or not they can fully join. Prospect's usually are given the worst assignments and must prove their loyalty and worth to the club.
Rag –
Another term for a leather vest, or cut, but worn by a woman, given to her by her ol' man to signify that she is his “property” and is off limits. An ol' lady's rag does not usually bear the club name, logo or charter as she is not a club member. It simply states “Property of_____”
Sweet Butt –
A term used to describe a woman who is used by members in a club. They are usually welcomed to club parties, or 'Brother only' parties but are never allowed at family events. It is a derogatory term and there is very little respect for these ladies by club members.
Tat –
A tattoo. Full fledged club members, or brothers, often have the club patches permanently tattooed on their body to signify that they are a member even if not wearing their cuts. An Ol' lady will usually have a tattoo to honor her Ol' man to signify that she is his property even if she is not wearing her rag.
CHAPTER ONE
SATURDAY
This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I can't believe this is actually happening. I must have the worst damn luck. If my left cheek wasn't throbbing so much, I could pass this all off as a dream.
The sun is rising higher in the morning sky. If I had to guess, it’s probably going on 8 AM, maybe 9. I haven't slept in thirty hours, but sleep deprivation is the least of my worries, adrenaline still coursing through me keeping the fatigue at bay. What is taking so long? I know enough about this crap to know that I should either be dead, or worse by now. I lift my eyes to scan the men keeping a watchful eye over me, and decide that death will be my choice.
The man closest to me reeks of beer and body odor. His tattoos are large and faded-skulls, thorns, chicks with big tits... yada yada yada. The same cliche ink that most of these guys are sporting. His large black boots are covered in dirt and worn. I glance up, taking stock as I go. Dirty jeans, splattered with blood, mud and who knows what else. Prince Charming notices my rising eyes and grabs his crotch, thrusting his hips toward me.
"You see something you want, girlie?,” he spits as he gyrates to me. Bile forms in my throat, and I gulp down my disgust.
"Nahhh... I'm good." This is REALLY fucking bad. Ok. I need to think of my options. No one knows I'm here. I was supposed to sneak into town last night, meet up with Christine and some girl's for her bachelorette party and then clear out first thing this morning before anyone caught wind that I was back. I should have known better. If Christine hadn't been my closest friend since childhood, I would have stayed away. Options. What the hell are my options, here?
The roar of motorcycles quickly approaching practically gives me whiplash as my head jerks up to see. Great. Well, at least I don't have to worry about options anymore. I won't be needing them. It’s now out of my hands.
I watch as the bikes clear past me, sitting on an old wooden picnic bench in the middle of the fenced in lot. I count each one, as an invisible knife slowly tears at my gut with each passing Harley. The first, carries a huge man bearing the nastiest scowl I have ever seen, partially hidden by dark sunglasses. His black leather vest covers his matching t-shirt. I can't be more than thirty feet away, but I don't need to squint and try to read the words in patches and embroidery on his cut. I know them by heart.
Vince, my Godfather, is nothing to mess with. I've known a lot of rough guys in my life but he tops the cake. As the president of the Kingsmen MC he is respected for that roughness, having earned every bit of it. He can also be a teddy bear, although I seriously doub that I’ll be seeing that side of him today.
If Vince had come alone, I could probably have handled it. The immense feelings of disappointment and shame might be manageable if it was only him that came to my rescue today. But no, I have no fucking luck r
emember? The whole Goddamned calvary had to come instead.
I resolve myself to the inevitable amount of shit that is about to come down on me, as I watch Vince dismount his Harley, followed by my dad Butch, my brother Tiny and my 'uncles' Chaps, Dewey and Clink. The last rider stays on his bike, staring at me. My breathing hitches as I lock eyes with him. There are no emotions in those eyes at the moment, although I had seen enough to last me a lifetime.
Tiny strides past Vince and nearly reaches me before my lovely groin-grabbing captor blocks his path.
"Untie her fuckin' hands right now you fuckin' bastard!,” Tiny screams at the man who I have nicknamed 'Crotch' for the time being.
Vince and my dad grab his shoulders back restraining him from tearing the other guy's head clean off. Vince holds him back as he stares down 'Crotch' with invisible daggers. He speaks out to Tiny without breaking eye contact with my guard.
"Not here brother... we handle this inside with Shade." He softens his voice but not his gaze, "You OK Lil's? You hurt at all?,” he asks out to me.
Besides the throbbing in my left cheek from being backhanded, the ropes cutting into my wrists and the splinters poking into my ass from the ancient table beneath, not to mention lack of clothing (I had been to a bachelorette party after all), I'd say I was in pretty good shape. Clamping my knees together, suddenly aware of my abundance of bare flesh I blush and whisper my answer.
"Never been better." The sarcasm isn't lost on any of us.
The lingering rider finally dismounts his bike, placing his helmet on the handlebar, and calls out.
