The Rage

by Jaci J.

  Nodding once, she smiles and continues to the door and in she goes without a second look. What the fuck? Never had that shit happen to me before.

  I don’t know if she just doesn’t give a shit, or if she sees it as I don’t belong to her, and she doesn’t belong to me, so why mess with something that’s not defined between us. I’m used to bitches giving attitude and watch them fight each other for whatever man they want, even just for a night, but Lala seems like she could give a fuck either way.

  “You want her to watch you fuck me? You know I don’t share, but I don’t mind an audience, if that’s what you want,” Red giggles, running her hand down my stomach into the waist of my jeans, going right for my dick.

  “Off, Red.” She just giggles and keeps at it. “Bitch, I ain’t fuckin’ with you so go find someone else’s dick to ride.”

  She pouts her lips she bats her lashes, knowing that shit doesn’t fucking work for me. Besides, who the fuck in their right mind would pick Red over Lala. I’m not even fucking Lala, but I would pick lying next to her than fucking Red any day. I move Red to the side, making my way to my bedroom door where my beautiful girl is.

  As I walk into my room, there she sits in the bed, just like I told her to. Sitting up against the wall, she’s wearing my white Zeppelin t-shirt. It’s old, stained, and faded, but that shit looks good on her. Her hair is this big messy pile on her head, face happy and smiling up at me.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I go about taking off my boots, wondering why she isn’t giving me shit over Red yet. I mean, how the fuck do I get lucky enough to have a woman in my bed, not arguing over what happened in the hallway? Old lady or not, women love to bitch and pick fights. They’ll bitch and fight about any goddamn thing.

  I take my cut off, setting it on the bed, “You good, babe?”

  Tearing her eyes from the TV, she states, “Yeah. I’m good,” then moves her eyes right back to the TV.

  “Imma take a shower.” She nods and starts flipping through the channels again. I am not fucking used to this shit.

  I shower quickly and throw on some sweats and a shirt. Going back into the room, Lala’s got the lights turned off, wrapped up in my blankets. She looks like she belongs there. I stand there ‘til she finally looks up at me.

  “Problem?” Fuck yeah there’s a problem. Part of me knows I shouldn’t sleep in that bed with her. That shit will not be good for either of us.

  A bigger, more dominant part of me wants nothing more than to get in there with her and seduce the shit out of her, making her putty in my hands. I want to fuck her stupid. Call me a pig, but having my dick inside of her is all I can think about.

  Fuck it. Let’s see where the night takes us, but before I can make it to the bed, there’s a knock on the door.

  “What?” I holler. I swear to God, if it’s one of my brothers, I’ll beat him to death.

  “Lailah in there?” Lil calls through the door. God fucking hates me.

  “Lala!” I correct her. She’s not Lailah here. She’s Lala. My Lala.

  “Fine. Lala in there? That better, asshole?” Lil counters back through the door.

  “What’s up, Lil?” Lala answers.

  Before I go to open the door instead of having a shouting match through it, Lil throws it open, Peaches at her side. Both girls are holding giant ass spoons with shit-eatin’ grins on their faces. Fucking trouble, that’s what they are.

  “Got some ice cream… you want?”

  Lala throws the blankets back and jumps out of the bed like it’s on fire, and she’s only wearing underwear under her t-shirt. Those long legs are going to kill me. Goddamn Lil for interrupting me. Right now I could be coaxing those long legs around my head.

  “Hell yes,” she says to Lil.

  “You forgettin’ somethin’, Lala?” I hope she isn’t thinking she’s going to walk out my door looking like that. Looking over her shoulder at me, she lifts an eyebrow. Lil catches on and gives me a glare.

  “Shut up Rampage. She’s not yours, so don’t start that shit!” Fucking Lil. Off Lala goes, in my t-shirt and not a damn thing else.

  Lying in bed, I toss and turn, kicking blankets off the bed, getting anxious. Lala hasn’t come back yet. I went to the kitchen after she left, only to be kicked the fuck out. Apparently they needed to have girl talk. Fucking women.

  So here I am, waiting impatiently. I’m thinking about all of my brothers out there, eye fucking the shit out of her, thinking about them seeing her in just a t-shirt pisses me the fuck off and I hate it. All I wanna do is drag that girl back in here and back into my bed, away from everyone’s eyes but mine.

  I’m about to go out there and get her when the door opens quietly. In she walks and right to the bed. Climbing in, she gets close to me, but doesn’t touch me. Fuck that shit.

  I have no fight left in me. Wrapping a hand around her arm, I tug her to me, and she comes willingly. I’m done playing this shit like I don’t want to put my hands all over her. Don’t give a fuck if she knows it or not.

  Pulling her to my side, she curls her arms into herself and cuddles up against my side. Wrapping a leg around mine, she scoots as close as she can get while I slide my arm under her to lay her closer against me. This is so much better. For tonight, all this sweetness belongs to me. I wait, because for some sad fucking reason, this shit is too good to fuck with. It’s too good to stop for sex. I just want to be close to her, no matter what I have to do to be there.

  Lala

  It’s been a very long time since I have slept with a man, sexually, or just to sleep. All night, Rampage has kept himself close to me, always touching some part of my body. No matter how far I roll away from him, he ends up next to me – damn near on top of me.

  With his head laying on my stomach, I take the time to let my eyes roam his thick, wide back and long, heavy arms. So far, I’ve only seen two tattoos. One is the insignia that sits in the middle of their vests on his chest. The second is a mean ass dragon, sitting between his shoulder blades. Dark and foreboding, it looks like it’s slithering around his muscles when he moves.

  His skin is soft, smooth and tanned. I wouldn’t call him beautiful, but he does have some beautiful features. Overall, I would say that he is all man, and all kinds of sexy.

  He’s so much bigger than me, yet I don’t feel powerless like I do with Ryan. Ryan isn’t a whole lot bigger than me, but what little height and weight he has on me, he uses to his advantage. Rampage may be large and intimidating, but he doesn’t use it against me. He doesn’t use all that power in his body to scare or intimidate me.

  Thinking about Ryan, I remember I have no clothes for the weekend and I need to call in to work. My boss won’t like it, but I’m the best he’s got so he’ll deal, but I still need clothes, along with other personal stuff. All of my stuff is at my place and I can’t go back with him there. My only option is going by the mall.

  Looking down at Rampage, I try to find a way to move him without waking him. I slowly and gently lift his head as I shimmy out from under him. Placing his head back on the bed, I scoot off slowly and head for the bathroom, being as quiet as possible. I’m not looking forward to going to the mall. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy shopping, I just don’t enjoy the crowds. They make me anxious and uncomfortable.

  Making my way through the stores, I pick out clothes for hot and cold weather, along with new bras and panties. I buy three pairs of comfy boyfriend sweats and matching sweatshirts because Victoria’s Secret was having a huge sale. A pair of black chucks, boots, and some thong sandals complete my clothes shopping for the day.

  I stop by the drug store for some girlie products; shampoo, conditioner, hairbrush… the whole lot. I barely wear makeup, so I have what I need in my purse. All in all, I spend a little over four hundred dollars. I never spend that kind of money on myself, putting every measly extra cent I make into my savings, but I may not be able to go back to my place for any of my stuff for a while. I’m not sure where I’m taking my new stuff,
but at least I’ve got it.

  I’m pretty resourceful when it comes to getting by. When I was fifteen, something happened that put my mother on the road to recovery, wanting to piece her life back together. She had kicked the drugs and stopped sleeping around. Quitting the drugs was really hard on her, but she stuck with it, investing all her time in me and for once in my life, making me a priority. I can honestly say that even though she was suffering, she tried her best to hide it from me, and gave me some of the happiest times of my life, no matter how little time it was.

  Four months into her sobriety, she was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. It’s poetic justice, really. She died by the thing that had already taken so many years of her life away from her. At first I was numb. Then I was mad. Over time, I became thankful that she no longer had to fight her battle. She had finally found some peace.

  So at the age of 15, I was left alone, hanging out at libraries through the day, teaching myself what I could since I couldn’t attend school. I found shelters on occasion, acting like I belonged to people staying there, but I couldn’t stay for long, afraid of getting caught and sent into foster care, so I moved from one place to the next, no one the wiser. I slept when and where I could. I knew how to make myself invisible and stay out of any trouble that could come my way. My mom had some money put away when she died, so I used that sparingly, figuring out fairly quickly how to make it last. I was lucky enough to land a job after I turned 16, saving every dime I made, and I’ve been taking care of myself ever since.

  Because of the way that I’ve had to live, I always save money, stowing it away for times just like this. I would have used it for my car, but I figured it wasn’t worth sinking money into only to have it die on me again. I would have worked more so I could get a new-ish car, at least.

  I needed new clothes, anyway. I have no idea when I’ll be able to go home to get my stuff, or if anything there will still be in one piece. It’s possible that he’s already sold half of what I own.

  In the parking lot of the mall, I remove all the tags and stuff everything I bought into two small bags. Throwing them into the back seat, I head back to the club.

  The chain link fence opens for me and a man in a black leather vest waves me through. Pulling in, I see a lot of people standing by bikes, and others sitting around picnic tables. I watch as Rampage stalks his way through the crowd toward me. Pulling open the car door, he gives me a hard stare and looks me up and down, “Where the fuck did you go?”

  “I woke up and needed to get some stuff for this weekend.”

  Looking over my shoulder to the back seat, he nods and relaxes, “Next time, wake me up. I’ll take you.”

  Picturing Rampage traipsing around a mall makes me laugh. His giant, leather clad body standing in line at Victoria’s Secret, holding an arm full of panties would be quite a sight. I might pay to see it. I can’t picture him lingering behind me at the Mac makeup counter, either.

  “What the fuck you laughin’ ‘bout, babe?” Rampage grumbles. Leaning against the doorframe, he’s boxing me into the front seat, putting his hand on my thigh.

  “Nothing.”

  Holding out a hand to me, he helps me out of the Chevy, “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  Opening the back door, he grabs my bags. Holding them up, he says, “Both won’t fit on the bike.” I point to the smaller black one. Inside I packed enough for three days.

  “I just need that one.”

  Throwing an arm over my shoulder, he walks me toward his bike, “Imma go lock this shit in my room. Wait here,” After pressing his rough lips to my forehead, he wanders off. It catches me off guard when he does that. The gesture from him seems so wrong, but I think I actually swoon a little bit.

  Lil comes running up, smiling from ear to ear, “Hey bitch! You excited?”

  It’s so crazy to see her in this setting. Wearing some short shorts, a cropped t-shirt, and wild hair, she doesn’t look like the refined Lilly who works at the college. When we first met, I would have pictured her in an affluent setting. She was very sweet and very well spoken. At times she was even soft spoken.

  Hanging out with her here, she’s a completely different person. She’s wilder, louder, and funnier. At first I felt so different from her. I’ve always been a bit of a hippie. I don’t do fancy shit. I’m all easy clothes, easy hair, and nonexistent makeup. I see now there’s not much of a difference between her and I, and I love her even more for that fact.

  “Yes! I’ve never been to a rally.”

  “Oh, girl. It’s gonna be so much fun. Bikes, crazy hot guys… you excited to go with Rampage?” she asks, leaning against the picnic table next to me.

  “Yeah, I think so. I hope he’s not second guessing bringing me along. I’m afraid I’ll cramp his style.”

  “I’m sure he is. Seriously, it’s because you’re hot as fuck and you’re not claimed. Rampage is not gonna want to share you.”

  “Not sure I ever want to be claimed,” I tell her truthfully. The idea of being claimed sounds oppressive and suffocating, just like something I’ve been trying to run from for so many years now.

  “It’s not a bad thing, babe. It means you’re taken, spoken for. He’s your man and you are his woman. It’s basically like being married without the ring, church, and certificate. Don’t get me wrong, some of the guys officially marry their old ladies, but it’s all the same in the clubs eyes.” Okay. Sounds like a girlfriend/boyfriend sort of thing to me.

  “So I guess it’s safe to assume that Tank claimed you?” My question makes her laugh. “Yeah, something like that; Although, I claimed his ass, too.”

  “I can see that. You two are all over each other, all the time. He’s always around you, always staring at you. You guys are starting to gross me out a little bit.”

  “Really?” She gets this far away, dreamy smile, “Oh, well, you’ll get used to it the longer you’re around. It’s only because he’s crazy obsessive, but you know what? We’re finally getting to a really good place.”

  I remember that time in her life, and I couldn’t be happier for her now.

  “Is Ty coming?” My question gets me other dreamy smile. She loves that little boy like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

  “No. My baby is staying with Mary for the weekend. This momma needs a break.”

  Lil proceeds to give me the rundown of the what to-do’s, and what not to-do’s. A few minutes later, Rampage comes back outside with Tank and Stitch. They are talking to one another, but they are all staring straight at me. Once their conversation wraps up, they do their strange eye contact, chin lift, and grunt thing at each other, then split off in separate directions. Tank heads for Lil and Rampage heads for me.

  The closer Rampage gets to me, the more relaxed he seems. His eyes are soft, and his face looks peaceful for once. Those lips of his are fighting not to smile, but I will make it my mission to get a full watt smile from him if it’s the last thing I do.

  “You ready baby?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think so? You scared?”

  “Not scared. Never scared, just unsure. I’ve never been to a rally.”

  ****

  We ride for three hours, passing through farmland, small towns and mountains before finally reaching the ocean. As soon as we’re close, I can smell the salt and water; a smell I’ll always love. I just really want to dip my toes in the Pacific.

  Passing through a town, I see nothing but bikers in every direction. They’re in parking lots, at stop signs, hotels, restaurants, pulled over on the side of the road… they’re everywhere. Bikes of every make, model, shape, size, and color can be seen in every direction. Their owners vary as much as their bikes do.

  As we pass each person, I see them do that chin lift, head nod thing at the guys. They are all acknowledged in turn.

  My arms are resting around Rampage’s waist, my hands on his stomach under his sweatshirt. At first I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sit on his
bike for more than an hour, but the ride has been nice. Rampage takes all my weight, letting me rest against his back. He’s always touching my legs and hands making sure I’m comfortable, and it’s nice.

  Thirty minutes later, we pull into a small little beach town. We ride down a long strip of road, dotted with restaurants, bars, shops, hotels, and people. There are no buildings higher than two stories, the storefronts all have brightly colored awnings and beautiful flowerpots line the streets. People are walking hand in hand, riding bikes, and pushing strollers down the sidewalks. Mixed into the setting are leather wearing, motorcycle riding people. It’s such a harsh contrast, yet somehow it works.

  Veering off the road, the guys pull down a long dirt road lined with sand. A few minutes later, we pull into a big open lot where ten or so guys wait on their bikes. The lot holds a bunch of small beach cabins.

  Coming to a stop, Rampage cuts the motor and looks over his shoulder at me, “We’re here.”

  The cabins are small, with bright red doors and two small windows, one on each side of the door. Because the ocean is so close, the salt and sand have given them that perfect worn and rustic look. To top it off, there is a small front porch, adorned with a rickety wooden rocking chair, along with planter boxes, holding brightly colored flowers.

  “This work for ya?” Rampage asks as he pushes the door to the cabin open.

  “Of course it does. It’s perfect. It’s so cute.”

  Tossing our bags onto the bed, he turns and gives me a disgusted look, “Cute?”

  “Yes, cute. The inside is just as perfect as the outside. All the curtains even match the bedding.”

  “Yeah, it’s all so fuckin’ adorable,” Rampage grumbles.

  Ignoring his sour mood, I start pulling back the curtains, letting the sunlight in. We have a perfect view of the ocean, along with the sand dunes. Standing a few feet away from our window are two guys I’ve never seen before, talking to Lil, alone. They have the same vests as the guys do, so I’m assuming they are friends if Tank is letting them talk to her.