by Naomi West
Sensing my awakening, like only a mother could, she turned to me and offered a gentle smile. That smile spoke volumes. It was an I’m-glad-to-be-here smile, as well as an I’d-do-it-all-over-again smile. And damn if that didn’t cut me the most.
I stretched a hand out to her and she hobbled closer.
“You’re leaving already?” I asked, my voice still filled with remnants of my slumber.
“It’s almost five, Daria,” she replied.
“Oh.” I thought it had been a lot earlier. “Bye Ma. I swear today will be the day.”
“I trust you, Daria. I know you’ll find something.” She leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on my cheek. Knowing perhaps that her bruise would upset me, she kept her right side turned away from me. I hated that I was grateful for it.
Heading out at last, I waited until the flimsy hotel room door closed behind her before I let out a heaving sigh.
I still couldn’t believe that after all these years we had ended up back in Springville, Texas, the place where I’d spent the majority of my childhood. Back then, I was just a carefree kid who had no idea of the struggles I would soon face. It was just me and my mother then, just like it was now, and I knew it would be a long time before we let anyone in our lives again.
As soon as we arrived back in town, my first thought was how eerily unchanged it all was. Same houses, same people, same roads, and with my mother returning to the same diner that she’d worked in over twelve years ago, I felt like I’d taken a step back in time to my early youth. But as I kept looking down the symmetrical streets and familiar storefronts, I couldn’t help but feel that something was starkly different to before, though I couldn’t put my finger on what. It took many moments for me to consciously understand that it was me who had changed, along with my entire outlook on life. Springville no longer represented comfort, or happiness, or a place to call home.
Especially since we were currently housed in a partly dilapidated hotel that I hadn’t even realized was part of the town. It had stained carpets, a lumpy bed that my mother and I had to share, and an acidic smell that I couldn’t quite place. Considering it was a roof over our heads and didn’t have monsters lurking in the shadows, I considered us lucky to be here.
Deciding it was finally time to suppress my self-pity, I rolled out of bed and grabbed the newspaper that my mother had left by the door. I had told her that today would be the day I found a job and I would keep my promise. We’d been here for two weeks and I still hadn’t found a thing, but if we had any chance of starting a new life, I couldn’t just rely on my mother anymore.
I scanned through the job listings; most of them I was entirely uninterested in or completely unqualified for. I tried to rein in my increasing disappointment and frustration when a small advert caught my eye.
It wasn’t only the fact that I’d finally found a job that fit my skills exactly; an admin job was right up my alley and that alone would have perked me up. But the name of the shop was what completely shocked me.
In all my reminiscing about my youth, I had conveniently forgotten the person I’d spent most of my childhood with, mucking around and playing catch. Rocky Weston used to be the sweetest boy I’d ever met, taking a shy and awkward younger girl under his wing and helping her out when the other kids bullied her. I had a vague recollection of our parents knowing each other but as a kid, Rocky Weston was practically family.
He was two years older, but that never seemed to matter when I was running around chasing him everywhere he went. In a way, I was glad I left before he started dating girls and breaking hearts. But now, back in Springville, I’d completely forgotten that he would be in town too.
Rocky Weston Motorcycles.
It had to be a sign, didn’t it? There was no way it could be anything else. I’d already dismissed the possibility that it was another man with the same name, so caught up in my own fantasy that I’d started weaving in my head. After all, how many people named Rocky Weston could there possibly be in Springville?
Grinning foolishly to myself, I decided that I would indeed pay him a visit today. Even if he didn’t hire me for the job, it would be nice to see a familiar face after so many years, a reminder of happier times. I bustled around eagerly, getting dressed and feeling lighter than I had in a long time, perhaps years. If the state of the town was anything to go by, I was sure he hadn’t changed a bit.
Chapter Two
Rocky
The clicking of heels was the first thing that I noticed when she arrived. I was working on a bike, shirt off, sweating in the hot garage while trying to concentrate. The radio was on, some long forgotten rock song blasting out of faulty speakers. I didn’t care. I just needed something to distract me from the silence.
It had been three months. Three long months filled with carefully controlled rage and the suppression of vengeful thoughts. I’d never understood before, the appeal of the club. I used to hate my old man, a buried guilt that had festered exponentially since his death. The hatred stemmed from the club, no doubt about it.
Growing up, I knew that he was the club president first and father second. All my friends as a child used to talk about him like he was a god. I ended up avoiding everyone and everything, trying to find ways to escape the club that seemed to dominate every aspect of my life.
In the end, it was a cute little girl with pigtails that ended up saving me. These older girls were picking on her, probably because she looked so damn innocent and vulnerable. I didn’t even need to say much to the girls before they ran off screaming. I guess even then my reputation was enough. Or my father’s reputation.
Years later, I learned to accept my father and the club. I never wanted to join it though. Not in a million years. Or not until my dad died and I finally understood the appeal.
I signed up the day after his funeral, marching up to my uncle, the new president of Satan’s Wings. I knew we would be on the same page, wanting vengeance for his murder. In the past few months I’d had more family and support than I did in my whole life, but it was too late now.
Now I didn’t need or want any of it. I wanted to avenge my father and I wouldn’t stop until I did.
The clicking of heels was getting louder and louder until the front door of the shop opened and the telltale chiming of the bell snapped me out of my thoughts. It took a moment for me to look up, but when I finally did, I immediately raised a brow at the woman. To say that she was out of place was an understatement.
She was in a tight white miniskirt and a black fitted shirt with some lace frilly shit on the sides. She was tall, even taller because of the heels, and blonde. My kind of woman.
I felt the sides of my mouth twitch into my natural cocky smirk and stood up, wiping my hands on a spare rag.
She seemed familiar, but even though I couldn’t remember everyone I had ever seduced into my bed, I knew that I’d gone nowhere near her before.
Finally stopping before me, I noticed that she had the widest smile I’d ever seen plastered all over her face, something that brought a weird ache to my chest.
“Rocky!” she yelled, taking a step closer and wrapping both arms around my neck, drawing me close to her.
I froze at her touch. Who was she?
Her embrace felt strangely intimate, like we were reuniting after a long separation, or like we’d known each other our whole lives. I cursed myself again for not recognizing her.
I pulled back, oddly wanting to return to her touch, and took a step away from her.
“Have we met?” I asked, keeping my blunt façade intact.
She withdrew from me, smile still in place though slightly less restrained.
“Sorry, Rocky. I should’ve introduced myself; it’s been so long. It’s Daria. Daria Barrett?”
My eyes widened in surprise and I felt my face break into the first genuine smile I’d expressed in what felt like years.
“Holy shit! Daria?” Not knowing what came over me, I stepped forward and this time pulled her into my arms
, her body flush up against me, her head in the crook of my neck.
I couldn’t believe that she’d come back after all this time, looking like a runway model. “What are you doing back here?”
Daria’s smile faltered slightly at my question but only a moment before she brushed it off.
“Mom and I decided to come back. Familiar territory, you know?”
I nodded, still completely enraptured by her. I always knew she was pretty when we were kids but now she was all grown up and damn she was gorgeous.
“I still can’t believe it. It’s been what, ten years?”
“Twelve actually. When did you open this place up?” She asked.
“Couple years back. How’d you know I’d be here?”
“I saw your ad this morning. I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten you lived here so I came by as soon as I could. I wanted to see a familiar face.”
Without even noticing, I found myself raking my eyes over her once again. It was definitely nice to see a familiar face again but I knew without a doubt that Daria could be the biggest distraction of my life, especially now when I needed to be focused.
“I’m glad you came by. So how long are you staying in town anyway?”
“A while I think. At the moment, I’m just trying to look for a job so we can move out of the hotel.”
I frowned a little at that. The hotel was no kind of place for someone like Daria.
“I’m not sure if you’d be interested, but we do have a job opening here. It’ll be simple stuff mostly, just filing, answering phones, mail, cleaning up the office that I've ignored for the past two years. What do you think?”
“Really, are you sure? Do you want to interview me or something?”
I barked out a laugh at her innocence. “Darlin’, I’m sure you’ll be perfect.”
“Well can I think it over? I’ll call you today or tomorrow.”
I grinned at her again. “Perfect.”
We exchanged numbers and she eventually headed off, hips swaying as she sauntered out, and my eyes glued to her backside like there was no tomorrow.
I shook myself for a moment and thought back on what I just did. Was giving her the job really a good idea? Could I really afford someone to distract me from avenging my father?
Closing my eyes, the image of her radiant smile seemed to be burned on the inside of my eyelids, and something inside of me shifted. Yeah, she might be a distraction. But maybe I wanted a bit of goodness in my life. Maybe I wanted someone innocent and pure to distract me from my darkness.
Besides, it was just a job. I would still be dedicated to the club and going after the bastard that murdered my father, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have something nice to look at when I was working.
Returning back to my bike, I smiled broadly to myself, probably looking crazy to anyone that might see me. This was going to work out great.
Chapter Three
Daria
It had been hours since I’d met with Rocky and I was still replaying every moment in my mind.
He looked completely different that I’d remembered. I knew it had been a while, but nothing could have prepared me for the dramatic change he’d undergone, from a sweet little boy to a hardened man.
He was a lot taller, though that was to be expected. His dark hair was shaved, but he’d grown his beard out. There were tattoos, intricate designs, covering every inch of his shirtless body. I’d almost done a double take when I saw him, so surprised by what he looked like. If it weren’t for his bright blue eyes that instantly seemed to transport me to my youth, I never would have recognized him.
As soon as I stepped in the shop I knew he couldn’t recognize me. He was wearing a cocky smirk that seemed so out of place on the face that I use to know. I remembered how he used to give out smiles freely, crack jokes to make me happy and laugh spontaneously and generously. But now, he was very reserved. He seemed older than his twenty-two years, weathered. But there was something else. He seemed distant. Darker. Like he’d suffered as I had in the time we’d been apart. I knew it didn’t make sense for me to assume his life was all smooth sailing, but I truly wanted to know what had hardened him up like that.
I was absently stirring a pot of soup on the stove, my mind completely occupied by thoughts of Rocky when the sudden slamming of a door broke me out of my reverie.
So surprised at my mother’s sudden arrival, I dropped the wooden spoon into the pot, shrieking when it splashed and droplets of hot soup landed all over me.
“Daria!” Mom called, rushing over.
“Hi Mom,” I laughed. “Dinner’s ready.”
There was no other place to eat except at the kitchen counter, and no stools so we had to stand. Still, the fact that we even had a kitchen was a blessing.
“How was work?” I asked Mom.
“It was fine. I ran into Cameron Weston. You remember him, don’t you?”
I frowned, searching my memories. “Rocky’s uncle?” I asked and she nodded. “That’s funny, I saw Rocky Weston today. He offered me a job at his shop.”
Mom’s spoon clattered loudly in her bowl and I looked up from my own in shock, wondering what the problem was.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Daria,” she said slowly and I raised my eyebrows in response.
“What do you mean? This is Rocky we’re talking about. We grew up together.”
“I know, but Daria… When I was talking to Cameron, he mentioned something about Rocky’s Dad. He was murdered a few months ago by the Nightmare MC.”
“The what?” I asked, thoroughly confused.
My mother sighed and gave me a sad smile. “I forgot you were so young when we were here. Do you remember Rocky’s father?”
I nodded. “Vaguely, why?”
“He was the president of Satan’s Wings, the motorcycle club. Back in the day, I was part of the club too.”
“No way!” I gasped.
“I was quite wild in my youth, you know. Anyway, Rocky’s dad was the president until he was murdered by a rival club. Now Cameron’s running things, and from what I gather, Rocky’s gotten involved too.”
“Mom, you can’t expect me to judge them right after you told me you were also in their gang!” I was shouting now, angrier than I could rationally explain.
“Sweetheart. Did you ever wonder why we moved from here?”
I looked away at that. My whole life I’d assumed that she’d met my stepfather and decided to move away to live with him, taking me with her. I’d harbored a lot of hatred for my mother over the years, assuming that she was the reason we were stuck in a life that took us years to get out of. Even with all the abuse she’d received and all the times that she’d protected me, there was still a part of me that resented her.
“We moved away because I wanted a better life for you. I life away from the violence and drama of the club.”
Something about that struck me the wrong way. Away from the ‘violence and drama’? My entire life had been filled with that. One wrong look and my stepfather would inflict pain beyond compare, worse because of the fact that we used to trust him. Once upon a time he truly was my father, and my hero. But not long after, he became my worst nightmare. ‘Away from the violence’ was the most ironic thing I’d ever heard coming out of my mother’s mouth.
“Didn’t work out for the best though, did it?” I muttered, no longer able to hold back my bitterness.
Her sharp intake of breath told me that she’d heard and I forced myself to ignore the slight pang of guilt I felt. It was harsh but it was the truth. I wished that I could go back and live someone else’s life, rid myself of the invisible scars that marred every inch of my body. Most of all, I wanted to go back to my childhood, back when I really didn’t know anything of violence and cruelty.
“I did my best, sweetheart. I know I made a lot of bad decisions but when we moved back here, I still didn’t want you to get involved. He’s hurting, Daria. He wants revenge for his father’s murder and won
’t stop until he gets it. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
My mother took a few steps closer to me, hesitant like she was afraid I would lash out. It killed a part of me knowing that in some way I reminded her of my stepdad.
“Please listen to me.” She took both my hands in her own and looked me dead in the eye, scaring me a lot more than I would let on. “Please don’t take the job. I don’t want you having anything to do with the Walkers, or the club. Trust me, you're better off without all of that in your life.”
Perhaps it was the sincerity in which she spoke or the newfound knowledge that she’d left Springville to keep me safe, however futile that turned out, but I found myself nodding firmly.
