by Jaci J.
“This bitch is none of your fuckin’ business,” Ryan challenges him.
“The fuck she ain’t. The second she showed up at my club, beat up ‘n bleedin’, she became my business. The second she said she needed me, she became my business. When I stuck my dick into her sweet, tight pussy, she become MINE.” His words are clipped and harsh when he speaks and I feel it. I’m nothing. I’m a pawn and a slut. I wish I never came here. How much more can I take? Beaten by one man, used and humiliated by both.
“Give her to me and there won’t be an issue, man,” Ryan barters. I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s plotting and scheming. If he doesn’t get me now, he’ll find revenge at some point. He’s that spiteful and unforgiving. His tone is of someone who is defeated, but it’s an act. Ryan doesn’t just give up something he thinks belongs to him. For a brief, terrifying moment, I think Rampage might hand me back over to him. I prepare myself to run. I will fight, or I will kill myself before I ever go with him again.
“Let me tell ya how this is gonna go, man. Lala ain’t goin’ any fuckin’ where with you. You stay the fuck away from her. You come near her, I’ll kill you. Take your bitch ass off my property. Stay away, or it won’t end well for you.”
Ryan looks from Rampage to me, and back again. Opening his mouth to argue, he get as far as, “Fuck that…” before his eyes go wide with fear. Without a second thought, Rampage reaches into the waist of his jeans, pulling out a large silver gun. With ease, he takes aim and shoots. One single shot rings out into the quiet of the night.
He shoots one of Ryan’s guy’s in the face with absolutely no emotion. The guy’s head explodes everywhere, blood and brain spilling out in all directions. The violence is so natural and easy.
“What did you do?” My mom starts screaming and crying at me when she opens the front door of our rickety trailer. My hands shake so bad, I drop the gun. No tears. I can’t cry, I can’t move, and I can’t stop staring. A bubble of laughter erupts from my lips before I can stop it.
“Why-why are you laughing, you stupid girl?” She cries. Her movements are frantic and jumpy, her eyes quickly shifting between him and me. “You … you … You’re so goddamn stupid, Lailah. Why?” She sobs at me. Black tears from her mascara run down her already smudged and smeared, made up face. I feel like I’m in a bad movie. I listen in a numb silence as she screams and berates me for what I’ve done. I listen as she tells me what a horrible and sick person I am. The pool of blood around his body grows by the second, finally reaching my bare feet, and the metallic smell of blood and sulfur from the gunpowder permeate every square inch of our trailer. I just look at him with a smile on my face as his eyes stare blankly into the void.
“Why would you do this to me?”
I’m jerked out of my trance when my mom starts shaking my shoulders, screaming and crying in my face. She’s so upset, yet I can’t seem to feel bad. I have no regrets. I’m going to hell and I don’t fucking care. Do I have a soul? A heart? Who knows, but what I do know is that he deserved it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, my soul be damned.
“Why? Why Lailah? He was all I had. He’s all that boy had.” Why? He gave me no choice. I needed to. There was no other choice for me to make.
Turning to walk to my room, I look over my shoulder one last time and see my bloody foot prints on our green carpet, along with blood and brain matter on the wall and ceiling. I’m actually surprised that he had a brain in that head of his with all the blow and shit that he snorted.
“I had to do it, mom. You chose him over me a long time ago, but I choose me. We can make it look like a drug deal gone bad. There are plenty of ways to make it look that way, don’t you think? I’m not stupid and at least I’m sober, so I’ll handle this shit. You just snort your coke and I’ll set it up and we can disappear, and we can do it without Ryan. Get your shit and let’s get ready to go. I’ll take care of everything, just like I always do for you.”
The man’s body crumples to the pavement. Ryan is white and shaking as he stares wordlessly at Rampage.
“Last warning,” Rampage says quietly to Ryan. I don’t move. I stare at that body. I stare and reminisce with my disturbing memories, but I’m not bothered. I can’t help but wish that it was Ryan laying there, just like old daddy dearest had been when we left that trailer.
Wrapping a big hand around my arm, Rampage pulls me inside and away from Ryan, his fingers biting into my skin. My mind is numb and my feet are heavy as I’m dragged behind him. No one says anything about the dead guy outside. In fact, no one bats an eye at it. This shit is normal for them, and I’m sure it’s not the first, or last time, this shit will happen. I just don’t want it to ever happen again because of me.
Leaning down, Rampage looks me in the eyes, getting close to my face, “Go to the fuckin’ room,” he says in a cold whisper. Giving me a little push toward the hall, he lets me go. I’ve been dismissed.
Looking over my shoulder, I see the guys standing around talking in deep, hushed voices. No one looks my way, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m next?
In a dark haze, I walk back to Rampages room. I know I should be running, getting dressed and getting as far as I can away from Rampage as possible, but for some terrifying reason, I stay. I need to stay. If this is it for me, I would rather it be at the hands of Rampage and his club than give Ryan the satisfaction of having me. I’ve had enough. I just want it to end, even if it means I have to do it myself.
Sitting down on the bed, I wait. For what? I’m not sure, but I wait because I’m too stupid to do anything else.
After what feels like hours, Rampage comes into the room quietly. I’ve been sitting here in the same spot, silently waiting for God knows what. I’ve done nothing but stare at the TV, watching it, but not seeing it.
He stares at me while pulling off his cut and shirt, tossing them onto the dresser. He doesn’t say anything to me, he only watches me. His eyes bore into me for long, silent moments. I don’t respond or acknowledge him. I just sit, and I wait for what other humiliating shit he can put me through before I try to get out of here.
“Lala?” Looking up into his dark eyes, an unsettling chill creeps down my spine. I let my eyes shift away before he can read my fear and guilt. Pulling that gun from the waist of his pants, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and wait. If this is it, I just want it to be quick.
I sit, body completely stiff, waiting for the pain that may come, only to realize that nothing is happening. Opening my eyes, I see him set the gun on the dresser. Looking between the gun and me, he seems to understand my fear.
“You scared?” he asks me in a deep, gruff whisper. Am I scared?
“Scared of what?” That depends on what he’s referring to.
“Of me.” Yes. I don’t doubt that he’s killed before. That was obvious from outside. It shows me how easily it would be for him to kill me, and if he tried, would I have it in me to defend my own life again? Would I be able to save myself from him?
So with that, I answer him honestly, “Yes,” but I’m not scared enough to leave. From here on out, what happens, happens.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Lala.” He says tiredly. He says it like we’ve had this conversation before.
“How do I know that?” For a moment he doesn’t answer. The silence stretches while he stares at me thoughtfully. “You don’t… You just gotta trust me.”
“Should I trust you?” I ask him in return. Trust. Now there’s something I don’t have much of. And what little I do have, I have no idea what to do with it.
“Should I trust you?” He throws back at me. Would I hurt Rampage? Could I hurt him? I shrug, knowing that’s the best answer I can give him. If I had to, I might.
“Yes, Lala. You should trust me.”
“Why?” I ask in return.
“Because if I wanted to kill you, I would have. I saw you on that stage tonight ‘n I could have killed you then. You didn’t come to me when I called for you at the club. You didn’t
listen when I told you to go inside. I coulda hurt you for it, but I didn’t, ‘n I wouldn’t.”
“Why didn’t you?” There is something so wrong and disturbing about our conversation. I shouldn’t need to know why he didn’t kill me, or why he didn’t hurt me. In fact, this shouldn’t even be a topic we discuss. The fact that he could should convince me to leave, but I remain right fucking here.
“Why the fuck would I?” he barks at me. Disturbing memories pop into my mind of being punished for acting out, being taught a lesson for disobeying. Being hurt for saying no, or the repercussions for fighting back.
“Because I deserved it.”
Pacing back and forth, he tugs at his clothes and grumbles to himself. Looking down at me, he scrubs his face roughly. “Jesus Christ, Lala. I don’t wanna fuckin’ hurt ya like that. I don’t want to kill ya, but that fuckin’ asshole is a whole other story.” His eyes darken when he talks about Ryan. Shooting me a dark look he tells me, “You stay the fuck away from him. Don’t care who ya hang with, but it won’t be him. I know he’s the asshole who was puttin’ hands on you, ‘n I’m still havin’ a hard time justifying why I just didn’t kill him instead.”
“Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you just blow his brains out?” I can’t believe the words that leave my mouth, sounding so cavalier. I wish he were dead. I want him dead. He deserves to die.
“He’s connected to some important people, meaning he owes them a fuck of a lot of money. I would like to keep from startin’ a war with them, but don’t think I won’t put a bullet between his eyes just as quickly as I did his little friend if he comes within a mile of you. He contacts you, comes near you, anything, you tell me. You got me?” Lifting an eyebrow expectantly at me, he waits for my answer. When I just stare at him with no feeling, he asks again,
“You fuckin’ got me, Lala?”
Stalking toward me, he stops right in front of me. Reaching a hand out to me, I suck in a deep breath and try not to flinch when he touches me. “Stop that shit right now, baby. Not gonna fuckin’ hurt you.”
Grabbing lightly around my neck, he rests both of his hands there. His fingers cup my neck, thumbs rest on my jaw as he looks down into my eyes. There is a barely there smile on his lips when he looks at me.
“Lala. You still scared?” He asks me softly. A tiny part of me is still scared, but it’s not just of him, it’s of everything. At least I’m still sitting here, that’s gotta mean something.
“No.” That almost non-existent smile tugs at his lips a little more.
“You’re lyin’ to me.” I just shake my head no.
Giving me a little bigger smile, he runs his thumb over my bottom lip gently, avoiding the gashes, “I don’t fuckin’ believe shit you’re sayin’, baby.”
Before I can argue, he crushes his lips to mine. He licks my bottom lip and I let him consume me, melting right into him. He kisses me softly, careful of my split lip. His touch is easy and gentle, but I can feel the slight shake in his touch. He’s holding back on me.
“Are you holding out on me?” I ask around his lips.
I can feel him smile against mine when he says, “Fuck yeah. In a couple days when you’re healed up, shit is all over for you, baby. I got a taste ‘n now I want more. Don’t get it twisted, Lala. You are mine.”
11
Beast
Rampage
I lost my fucking mind, and then Lala reeled that shit right back in for me. She brought me right back, wanting me… needing me.
Me.
No one else but me.
I learned some shit in the last twenty-four hours. Learned that Lala has a bigger hold on me than I thought was possible. There is just something about her. It’s the sincerity, and the fight in her eyes. It’s something that I will fight for if it keeps her in my life. Something I have no way of explaining. Maybe it’s the way she cuddles up next to me when she sleeps, always able to find me. Could be the way those blue eyes shine when she looks at me, like she can look past all the fucked up shit I do. No matter what I fucking do, she’ll always look at me like that. Didn’t know I had it in me to give a fuck, but I do. Didn’t know I could care about someone so goddamn much, but I do. All I know is I want her. I want all of her – body, mind, and soul.
I don’t want to share her. I would have never thought a bitch taking her clothes off for money would bother me, but seeing Lala do it… yeah, well. Let’s just say I’m not a fucking fan. She wants to give me a private show, I am so down for that shit. She has moves I’ve never seen from a pole dancer. Seeing her hurt also ranks pretty fucking low on the shit I don’t ever want to see again. Without a doubt, I will kill someone, slowly, for touching her in any way.
Her little friend is a pile of shit. A little puke I would have no issues putting down. Fuck, I can’t kill him because he’s in deep with another club... A club we’re good with. We used to have major issues with them ‘cause they killed some of my brothers and fucked shit up in a big way for us. A club I do not want a repeat war with. Ryan owes them money, a whole fuck load of money. It’s enough money that they want him alive so they can recoup it or kill him themselves, so I can’t do shit to that worthless snot without starting a world war all over again, but I can keep Lala away from him.
If I start a war, I’ll have to worry about Lala’s safety, along with my brothers and their families. Definitely not trying to bring that shit down on my family, but I will if I have to. I’ll let it rest for now.
Lala’s lying on me, well, more like thrown over me. It’s creeping up on eight in the morning. It’s too goddamn early to be awake, and to fucking late to go to bed, but all I want to do is this. No idea how shit’s gonna be tomorrow, but this, this shit right here with Lala on me, makes all that bad shit worth it.
A few hours later, I wake up alone. Lala is nowhere to be found. Fuck. Shoving out of bed, I go through the club looking for her when I hear a bunch of voices coming from the kitchen. Walking in, I find the whole damn clan in there. The old ladies are sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and laughing. The brothers are everywhere else, hovering over all the food. Everyone has a plate in their hands, shoving food in their faces. Haven’t seen this shit in a long time.
Walking up to Lala, I grab her arm, “What the hell ya doin?”
Catching an elbow to the side, Leo gives me a nasty snarl, “Don’t stop her now. She’s feedin’ my old ass next.”
“Shut up, old man.”
Lala gives Leo a sweet smile and hands him a plate full of something that reminds me that I’m hungry as fuck.
“You want some?” she asks sweetly. That’s a loaded fucking question. “We made a few pans of baked French toast if you’re hungry.”
Her eye looks a little better this morning. It’s still black and blue, but the swelling is almost gone. Her lip looks alright, too. I got a few stiches in there and the splits seem to be healing nicely.
“How you feelin’ this mornin’?” Looking around the room with a sad look in her eyes, she looks back at me she sighs, “Good. Just happy to be here.” And she is. She’s back to looking like that sweet ass Lala I first met.
****
It’s another Sunday barbeque with everyone hanging out like normal, except for the shit that happened last night. For us, it’s just another day. It wasn’t nothing my brothers haven’t seen before. Fuck, it’s not something most of them haven’t done. I don’t feel bad about it and I’d do it again. Motherfuckers start fucking with shit that belongs to me, I’m gonna fuck back harder. That guy was a point that needed to be made. I told Ryan to stay away and I wasn’t fucking around. We’ll see if he got it.
I’m not sure how Lala feels. She keeps that shit buried deep. Honestly, she wasn’t nearly as upset about it as I would have thought. It was like she didn’t really see it, or blocked it out. Hell, maybe she just didn’t fucking care. She woke up this morning smiling at me like not a goddamn thing happened. Guess I should be good with that. If she’s okay, then I’m okay. She’s g
ood and I’m not gonna fuck with it.
Standing around outside, Tank and Tiny are grilling under the old tin carport on the side of the club, and I just got done pounding Kash’s face into the mat. The girls are in the kitchen being loud as fuck. Gave them a bottle of whiskey and now they won’t shut the hell up, Lala included.
I know we need to have some sort of talk; get some shit squared away. No fucking clue how to approach something like that, so I just dive right the fuck in, “Lala?”
“Yeah?” She calls back from the kitchen.
“Lala!” Jesus Christ.
“What?” She says sticking her head around the corner.
“C’mere,” I tell her. She’s making her way toward me when I ask, “What do you want to do?” I know what I want, but I have to tell myself this is her life, and what I want really doesn’t fucking matter. She’s a grown ass woman and she’s gonna do whatever the fuck she wants to.
“You mean today?”
“No, Lala. With this whole fucked up situation you’ve got goin’.”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I mean, this is your club. Your life. If you want me to go, you only have to say it and I’ll go.” I know this is my life and I want her in it in some way, because right now, I sure as fuck haven’t had enough of her yet.
“Got a place a few miles from here. You can stay there as long as ya want.” Her face lights up and she looks like I’ve given her the best fucking news of her life.
“Really?” Here we go again.
“Yes, Lala. When ya gonna learn I mean what I say?”
“Where will you stay?” Here, there, wherever. I’m easy. Need a bed and that’s pretty much it. Never needed much. “I stay here most of the time. Might spend one night a week there.”
