The Rage

by Jaci J.

  We’ve been at this painting for a while, so we decide to order pizza while Lil runs to the store for wine and beer. Peaches has some obnoxious rap song playing, YG, rapping about who loves him, while she raps right along with him.

  “You fuckin’ suck.” Cali laughs at her.

  “Bitch, who do you love?” Peaches sings to me.

  “Yeah. Who do you love, Lailah?” Cali lifts a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me and levels me with that look.

  “Do you think Rampage loves you?” Peaches asks out of nowhere in the middle of her rap.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. I really don’t know.

  “He does,” Lil interjects with steel determination. She’s always so optimistic, glass half full kind of girl.

  “Maybe.” I shrug. I’m not sure where we stand, but I’m not going to argue it either. There is no way in hell I’m rocking the boat.

  In my life I’ve learned to take things at face value. I can see and feel that he cares for me, but love is a whole different matter. Rampage speaks his mind. He doesn’t hold things in and he lets his feelings be known. I would assume that if he loved me, he would have said it. “No maybe’s about it. He fucking loves you,” Lil says again.

  “How do you know if I don’t even know?”

  “I just do. I can tell.” I don’t believe her, but that’s okay. If he doesn’t love me, well then I have enough love for the both of us.

  “If you say so, Lil.”

  ****

  Sitting at the bar, Lil, Peaches, and I talk about Peaches wedding that may or may not be happening, depending on who you ask. She’s been planning this wedding for over 2 years now, apparently because Gin isn’t exactly giving her everything she wants. She’s been holding out and being stubborn ‘til he gives in, I can see why Gin has put up a fight on what he will or won’t do. She’s has gone overboard with her demands and everyone has lost all patience with her. Gin and the guys have been avoiding her like the plague for weeks now, leaving her crazy, bridezilla ass with us to deal with. I would find it alarming if it wasn’t so damn funny.

  “You bitches still at it?” Tiny grumbles as he sits down next to me.

  “Yep.” Lil smiles at him.

  “How much this shit gonna cost the club, Sis?” Lil smirks, but doesn’t answer him. “Fuckin’ Christ, Lil. You girls are gonna bankrupt us.”

  “That’s the plan,” She laughs.

  “I found these amazing tuxedos,” Peaches says, pointing to a magazine.

  “We’re gonna look like dumbasses,” Tags tells her.

  “The fuck you are,” She counters. Tags pales and turns to Lil.

  “I’m not wearin’ that shit, Sis.”

  Lil smiles knowingly, “Oh, but you are.”

  “Babe, we’re not wearin’ tuxes. Why the fuck are you two turnin’ this wedding into a goddamn circus?” Tank grumbles from the office.

  “Shut the hell up. We’re gonna do whatever the hell we want to.”

  “That’s what I’m fuckin’ worried about,” he grunts from the office.

  Tank comes out of the office and stares Lil down. A year ago he scared me to no end, but now, I only find him slightly scary, and very bossy. Turning to me he eyes me up and down.

  “Lala. Please save me and tell me that you’re not in on this shit too?”

  “Yep. It’s official.”

  “They’re conspiring against us, brother,” Gin grumbles, looking terrified. That too is true. Our plan is to take over the club and turn it into the “girls run this shit” club. We’re trying, but the guys aren’t havin’ it.

  “Lil, shut this shit down before I do,” Tank warns her. She doesn’t even acknowledge him. She just thumbs through her magazine while Peaches starts marking pages in hers.

  “Rampage, tell your woman to shut Lil’s shit down.”

  Rampage just laughs and shakes his head, “Not happenin’. I like her pussy, motherfucker. I like it a fuck of a lot. Not taking chances of her cuttin’ my ass off.”

  One year and they have made me part of their family. I’ve never felt more accepted or wanted. One year and I couldn’t imagine my life anywhere else. It’s an amazing feeling when you feel like you just fit somewhere.

  The wedding issues have shifted to club business, so now it’s back to paperwork. It’s not nearly as fun, but it has to be done. Tank finally shut Lil’s shit down, but let’s be real. She’s still throwing that wedding the way Peaches wants it, whether Tank likes it or not. She pretty much does whatever the hell she wants to around here.

  Sitting at the bar I look over some plans for the clubs armory and other businesses. Lil asked me to help take over some of the work here, so I help with the marketing and advertising for the clubs businesses. Along with the mechanical shop and the armory, Sargent bought a bar under the clubs name, so now there is even more paperwork. Lucky for everyone here, this is what I went to school for. I’m good at it and I love doing it.

  My head is in a stack of papers when I feel those hateful, scathing eyes on me. Glancing up, I see Red staring daggers at me from the other side of the room by the kitchen. Her fire engine red hair is a frizzy fucking mess, and her blood red lipstick is smeared across her cheek. When she knows I’m watching her, she starts to smooth out her wrinkled skirt, giving me a knowing smirk. Not more than a second later, Rampage comes out of the kitchen, right next to where she’s standing. She’s such a hateful bitch.

  Lil plops herself next to me on the stool, watching Red’s show.

  “Fuck. She’s gross and desperate.” I couldn’t agree more.

  “Yeah, she sure is.”

  “Ya know, she kinda looks like a cracked out Ariel, you know? From The Little Mermaid?”

  That she does. It’s kind of sad how she is constantly trying to get Rampage to fuck her, or trying to make it appear as if something is still going on between them. It’s been a whole fucking year and she won’t let it go. She’s sad and pathetic. Three kids from three different men, and the fathers have her kids. Not one of them are with her. She has no home, no money, no life. She lives in the club, in a different room each night with whoever will fuck her. Considering she’s constantly trying to ruin things between Rampage and I, I don’t feel bad for her at all.

  “Ha! You’re so right, she does.”

  Time moves on and our stacks of papers have grown. They’ve taken over half the bar top. Lil and I have been at it for a while, working our asses off. Red’s been behind the bar the entire time, giving me dirty looks every time I look up, pissed off that I didn’t fall for her little show. What sucks is that I’m thirsty and the bitch is tending bar.

  “Can I get a pop, please?” I ask her as nicely as possible.

  She glares at me, “Get it yourself,” she fires back.

  “Bitch! Get her the fuckin’ drink,” Lil raises her voice next to me.

  “No.” Red spits, putting her hands on her hips.

  “No?” Lil repeats slowly. Red must really hate me. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve learned Lil is boss. Tank might be President, Gin might be Vice President, and Rampage might be a scary asshole, but Lil runs the show around here, and all the guys know it. Red knows this, she’s just asking for trouble. I think she’s finally at her breaking point with me and just doesn’t give a shit anymore.

  “No, she ain’t a fuckin’ old lady, so I ain’t gotta do shit for her.”

  It stings a little when she says it because it’s true. I’m not Rampage’s old lady. Technically, in the eyes of the club, I’m nothing really, just a friendly face and Rampage’s fuck buddy. I’m treated like family, but if they want to get rid of me they can. I have no patch. I have no claim. In the end I have no say.

  “The fuck she isn’t,” Lil growls at her.

  “Rampage ain’t claimed her ass. Hell, we all know he’s just fucking her. She’s not his old lady. She not even his girlfriend, or his woman. She’s just a piece of ass and everyone here knows it, but no one talks about it ‘cause she’s y
our friend.”

  And she is absolutely right. Rampage and I are just shacking up so he can have a convenient fuck. As much as it hurts to say it, it’s the truth.

  “Shut up, you stupid fucking cunt. You don’t know shit. He damn well loves her, you jealous bit, so now, get her whatever the fuck she wants,” Lil growls at her.

  Rampages big hand lands on my lower back when lumbers up next to me, looking between the three of us. He obviously heard the commotion. Lil looks murderous, Red looks smug, and I’m sure I just look fucking stupid.

  “Do you love her Rampage? You haven’t claimed her as your old lady, am I right?” Red whines right at him, all sad, puppy dog eyes. Rampages body tenses beside mine and he doesn’t answer her.

  “Bitch, you know your place, just do what Lil fuckin’ tells ya to.” He barks at her. She flinches, but still glares at him and I. He doesn’t clear anything up though, just puts her in her place.

  “Fuck that. She’s not your old lady. I’m not doin’ shit for her.” Red fires back. Turning slowly toward Red, those mean, dark eyes narrow at her. He looks menacing and mad as fuck.

  “She might not be, but bitch, you do what you’re fuckin’ told to do or you can kick fuckin’ rocks. Ya feel me?” And all I hear is him confirming that I’m not his old lady. That shit fucking stings and breaks my heart.

  “You used to treat me good ‘til that bitch showed up,” Red cries, waving a hand at me. “She’s never been one of us and you know we could have had something if this little twat didn’t show up. I know you had feelings for me, you loved me, I know you did. You just never got the chance to see it because she showed up.” Mascara streaks down her cheeks and her chest heaves as she works herself up. She thought he could love her? Was there more to them than I thought? Does he love me, or does he love her?

  “Bitch I don’t fuckin’ love anyone,” He yells at her. That’s it for me. I know my place as I sit here, feeling my heart shatter into a million pieces. His words knock the breath and hope out of me. They fucking hurt to hear, they hurt more than I thought they would. He doesn’t love anyone, not even me. A little piece of me dies with that confession, and I don’t think I will ever feel the same.

  17

  No Love

  Rampage

  I realize what I’ve said the second that shit leaves my mouth, “I don’t fuckin’ love anyone.” I instantly regret the mean fucking way I say it. Those big blue eyes close slowly and a small, pained smile touches those plump lips. That sad smile tells me how let down and disappointed she is in me. Oh yeah, I fucking broke her good. She doesn’t have to say it. I know what I said hurt the fuck out of her feelings, but what the fuck was I supposed to say?

  Was I supposed to say I love her? Do I even love her? It’s fucking doubtful. I don’t love anyone. I’m not one of those sad pricks who doesn’t think they’re deserving of it. I wasn’t fucked over by some bitch. I wasn’t dumped or had my sad ass heart broken. I don’t have some fucked up childhood story about never being loved. I just don’t think about it or feel it. Love is just a fucking word anyway. In the end, love just turns good shit into bad shit. The more you love, the more you have to lose. Why mess up a good thing with love? We’ve been going strong for a year, why fuck that up?

  Look at Tank and Lil. They love each other so goddamn much they hurt each other. Cali and Stitch love each other so much they fuck other people. Gin and Peaches love each other to the point of hate half the time. My mom wasted her love on a sick bastard who only ended up breaking her down and killing her in the end. I loved my mom once upon a time, and look what that got me? Love can come and go, so what’s the fucking point?

  I care about Lala. Fuck do I care about her. I care about her to the point of it feeling like a sickness, irrational and crazy. It’d kill me to see something bad happen to her. I’d do anything for her. I’d give that woman my life, gladly take a bullet for her. There’s not a goddamn thing on this earth that I wouldn’t give her if she needed it. And I’m okay with that shit. But do I love her? No. I’ve got no love to give.

  Lil got a crying and screaming Red out of my face, but the show is far from over. Everyone saw and heard that shit, making Lala look and feel worthless, but instead of lashing out, she sits quietly on the stool. She’s not looking at me and she’s not talking.

  “Lala?” I’m not gonna lie and give her some kind of shit hope. I won’t pretend I’ve got love for her when it’d be a goddamn lie.

  “You don’t love me?” She asks softly. The sadness in her voice hurts me, but again, I’m not gonna lie. We play house. What we’re doing could look like it was going somewhere and shit, but never once have I led Lala to think that she was getting a happily ever after with me. I don’t promise shit to anyone.

  “No, Lala, I don’t. It’s not that you’re not worth lovin’, I just don’t got an interest in that shit. I fuckin’ care ‘bout you though.” She nods once with determination and lets it go. That’s it. That’s all I’m getting from her, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if I made a huge fucking mistake. A ball of dread settles in the pit of my stomach, making me wonder if I should have just lied. Should I have said fuck it and told her what I thought she wanted to hear, just to make her smile. How could giving her that hurt me in any way? It’s a fucking word, dammit. I don’t plan on letting her ass go anytime soon, and I sure as fuck don’t plan on getting with any other bitch.

  So what would it have mattered if I fucking lied to spare her feelings? I know she wouldn’t be sitting here, holding her feelings in and looking heartbroken if I would’ve just said I did. Fuck, I think I may have just fucked up the best thing I’ve ever had going in my life.

  She gets up off the bar stool and heads toward the back hall without a word, and I let her go. Watching her walk away sends a fucking panic attack straight to my goddamn heart. I fight with myself not to get up and go after her, but in the end, this is how this shit was going to go. This shit is not fixable.

  What if she decides to leave me over this shit? This might just be the thing to break her. She deserves someone who fucking loves her. Could I let her go so she could find someone who’d love her the way she should be loved? Fuck no.

  I start wondering what it’d be like to not have her in my life anymore. What would it be like to sleep alone again? How would it feel to never have her on the back of my bike again? What if I never got that fucking smile again or that damn attitude? Could I handle coming home to an empty fucking house?

  I don’t want to think about that shit. Fuck, I don’t want to have to live with that shit. In my dead, sad heart, I know I couldn’t live without her. There can’t be a life for me without Lala in it.

  ****

  “You’ve got no love for her?” Tags asks me while he sips his beer. I knew the shit I said didn’t go unnoticed. Took five minutes of my ass sitting at the bar alone before brothers started asking questions. I should have known. This motherfucking club ain’t big enough for someone not to hear what’s said and leave it alone. I’m just not that fucking lucky.

  Shrugging, I swallow back a shot of Maker’s Mark and enjoy the dull burn. Maybe in my own fucked up way, I do love her, but not the way she deserves, so I can’t give her some half ass, sick sort of love. She needs more.

  This sort of obsession and crazy starts to look a whole fuck of a lot like love to stupid fuckers, but it’s not real. I’m not that stupid fucking asshole. I know exactly what this is. It’s a whole lot of amazing sex with someone you get comfortable with enough to be yourself around. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  “If she ain’t gonna be your old lady, cut her loose, brother. It’s been a year and it’s fuckin’ time.” Gin tips his beer at the empty hallway where Lala went.

  “Can’t.” That’s the fucking truth. I can’t let her go. Not willingly. What I’ve got with her I’ll never, not on my fucking life, find again. I’m not stupid enough to let it go without a goddamn f
ight.

  “If you don’t, ‘n she stays with shit exactly the same, especially after what you said, it’s gonna eat at her and she’ll end up hatin’ you.” I know Lala could never hate me. She probably should, but I don’t think that sweet ass girl has it in her to hate anyone.

  “You kept Peaches around doin’ the same shit.”

  “Exactly. It’s why she fuckin’ hates me most the time.” True. I sure as fuck don’t want the sick thing those two have.

  “Make her permanent or let someone else, man. Plain and simple. Care ‘bout her enough to let someone love her the way she should be loved, asshole,” Tags grumbles, pushing away from the bar.

  “What’s his fuckin’ problem? He got a thing for Lala?” He better fucking hope he doesn’t.

  “Nah. He’s just bitchy ‘bout his bitch. She won’t let him fuck her anymore.” Didn’t think I’d see the day when a bitch would bother with Tags.

  “But brother, figure it out with Lala. Don’t just hold her here because you’re too selfish to let her go. Know you care ‘bout her. Don’t treat her like a whore. That shit ruins good women. Do right by her, man.”

  Not that easy. I don’t have it in me to just cut her loose, no matter how much it hurts her to stay here with me. I can’t live without her.

  Lala

  My legs are slung low around his waist while he slams my back against the cold, hard wall of his room. His rock solid hips grind into my soft skin with each lazy stroke.

  “Rampage,” My teeth find the skin on his shoulder and I bite down, hard. Pulling away from me, he slams into me, hitting his hand hard on the wall right next to my face.

  “Fuck!”

  I bite my lip between my teeth to hold back my scream. His black eyes stare down at me as he slides into me with a deep groan. I feel him shiver when I run my nails down his back and watch as he gives me a satisfied smirk.

  The air is thick with all the things we don’t say. I feel so lost. I know he’s trying, without words, to tell me I mean something to him, and as delusional as it may seem, I know this is his way of saying what his pride won’t.