by A. J. Wynter
She bolted to her room to get dressed. If she didn’t have a phone or a car, she was going to have to run to her dad’s work to get him. She cursed the fact that she didn’t know any phone numbers off the top of her head anymore, damn cellphones. She planned to ask the neighbors, Phil and Nancy, to borrow their car. She hastily wiped last night’s makeup off her face, grabbed her fringed purse and bounded down the stairs. As she reached the front door she heard the unmistakable sound of a Harley as it rumbled up the street.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – BLAINE
It had been two months since the takedown of the Scorpions. Blaine had been thinking about Olivia nonstop, and was surprised that he hadn’t heard from her. He sent her a couple of texts in September and they went unanswered. He had fallen apart since Tyson’s death and had been on a bit of a bender. Today, he woke up with an extremely sore neck and a dry mouth. The light that shone through the filthy clubhouse windows was bright and he squinted his eyes and pressed his hand to his aching forehead. He looked around, assessing the state of the clubhouse. Beer bottles were scattered everywhere, a few bikers were passed out on couches, women in various stages of undress beside them.
He heaved himself out of his chair and rummaged around in the fridge for a bottle of water. The place stunk and the smell of stale beer, piss, and body odor made him gag. He stumbled out into the concrete courtyard and sat down on one of the old rickety picnic tables. He had always been an early riser, even when he was hungover. He checked his phone, seven-thirty. He took a swig of the water and tried to fend off the images of that terrible evening that had been plaguing him, day and night.
He failed. The night came back to him with horrifying clarity, Tyson’s eyes, as the life faded from them. Seven men. One of theirs, and six of the Scorpions had died that night. For the first time in his life, he felt guilty. All those lives lost for what? Turf? The club life was all he had ever known, and now he was second-guessing whether he was up for another twenty years of the same shit; if he was lucky, or unlucky, enough to last that long. Blaine was scared. He knew that he didn’t want to keep killing, dealing in drugs, and women, but the idea of getting out was even scarier. What would he do? What could he do? He couldn’t turn his back on Zeb, not after all he had done for him.
He heard the door creak open and saw Skinny emerge from the dark mouth of the clubhouse. Skinny paused to light a joint and then joined him on top of the table. The old boards creaked with his weight.
“Rough night?” Skinny asked.
“Somethin’ like that,” Blaine responded, and stared at the chain link fence.
“What’s up for today?” Skinny asked as he took a big hit from his joint.
“We’re gonna have to get the prospects to clean up the clubhouse, that’s the first step. It smells like shit in there.”
“Those guys were up doing blow until dawn, good luck getting any of them moving anytime soon.”
Blaine shivered and pulled his hoodie on over his t-shirt. The Indian summer was over and there was a bitterness in the air. He sighed and gazed off at the horizon.
“Are you okay, buddy?” Skinny asked and patted Blaine on the back.
“I don’t know anymore.” Blaine took a hit from his joint and stared at the pavement.
Skinny sighed and heaved himself up to sit down on the table beside Blaine. The boards creaked with his weight. “Shit, Blaine. I need tell you something.”
Blaine’s ears perked up. Skinny sounded nervous. “What?” He asked gruffly.
Skinny kicked his worn boots on the bench of the table. “That guitar girl came by here looking for you.”
“Olivia? Came here? When?”
“Ummmm,” Skinny hesitated. “The night Tyson died.”
Blaine stared at Skinny. “Skin, that was two months ago.”
Skinny cleared his throat, “I know.”
“How the fuck did she get in, and how did I not know about this?” Blaine slapped his fist on the table.
“The guys at the door gave her a hard time and weren’t going to let her in…”
“Good,” Blaine Interrupted. “She shouldn’t have been anywhere near this scene.”
“But…” Skinny hesitated.
Blaine looked at Skinny, narrowed his eyes, and waited for him to continue.
“I helped her get in.”
“Fuck, Skinny. Jesus Christ. You should’ve come to get me.”
“Well, Blaine. That’s what I did. I made sure that she was safe, a couple of the guys grabbed at her and I let them know that she was yours. But then she saw Lizzie all over you and bolted.”
Blaine looked at his fat, gray haired friend, as the words registered in his hungover brain.
“Fuck,” Blaine said after a minute of contemplation. “She should’ve never been here.”
“Zeb told me to keep my mouth shut about it.”
“Oh, he did. Did he?” Blaine said. He stood up, and straightened out his shirt and smelled his armpit. Not too bad for having slept in it, but not knight in shining armor material. His first instinct was to jump on his bike and go find Olivia. This explains why she hadn't responded to his messages. She thought he was fucking Jizzy. He could explain everything to her, but he thought it might go over better if he actually showered and brushed his teeth first.
He pulled up to Olivia’s house, his hair still wet, and parked his bike. He saw the curtain in the front window move and knew that he had been spotted. It’s a little tricky to sneak up in a quiet residential neighborhood on a Harley. He couldn’t back down now. He knew that he was bad news for Olivia, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of her seeing that slut Lizzie all over him. He didn’t know what he was going to do after apologizing. The best thing for Liv would be for him to walk away, but his heart wouldn’t let him. He knew that this virgin was his, and it was his responsibility to make sure she got through this life with his protection.
To his surprise, Maddie came running down the front steps of the house.
“Blaine!”
He hadn’t even had time to dismount his bike and was fully unprepared for the stinging slap that Maddie handed out. He stoically took the slap, it wasn’t the first time in his life a woman had open handed his cheek.
“I’m so mad at you, but I need you right now,” Maddie said.
“What’s going on? Blaine asked, worried.
“I need a ride. Olivia’s going to do something really stupid.”
“Hop on,” Blaine said, patting the bitch seat.
“Listen you asshole. The only reason I’m anywhere near you right now is because I need a ride. You are to stay far, far away from Olivia. You hear me?”
Blaine sighed, “I can’t do that.”
“You can, and you will.”
“Maddie, listen…”
He tried to explain, but Maddie interrupted him, “We don’t have time for this, Liv is in serious trouble. We have to get down to the studio, NOW!”
Blaine felt adrenaline surge through his body. He wanted to explain everything to Maddie, but the idea of Olivia being in danger sent his heart racing.
“Well, get on then – let’s go!” he yelled, starting his bike back up with a loud, window rattling growl.
Maddie swung her leg over the back of his bike, his wet hair whipping her face as they roared off down the street.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – OLIVIA
Olivia fumed the entire drive to the studio. How dare he not write her a letter. She had been his student for years, and not just any student, his star pupil. Olivia didn’t understand. At every recital, every performance, hers had been the highlight. She had always been in the spotlight.
She screeched the car into the parking lot and ran up the stairs to the studio as best as she could in Maddie’s wedges. The door to the practice room was shut. Without knocking, she flung it open wide and Mr. Tunbridge looked up from his desk with a start.
“Olivia.”
“How dare you?” she seethed.
“I know that
you’re upset, but it’s not your time yet.”
“Not my time yet? Whose time is it?”
Mr. Tunbridge pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned back in his wooden chair. “Listen Olivia. I was only allocated one recommendation for the audition, and I gave it to Hannah. You need more time.”
“Hannah? Hannah?!” Olivia screamed. “Hannah isn’t half the cellist I am and you know it.”
“What’s gotten into you?”
Olivia took a deep breath. She had started off in attack mode and it clearly wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She sauntered over to her teacher’s desk and hopped up on top of it, settling her ass onto a stack of sheet music. She leaned forward so that Mr. Tunbridge could get a good look down her top.
“I’m ready. I have what it takes.”
Mr. Tunbridge seemed taken aback. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.
“Do I?” Olivia said, and spread her legs wide in front of him.
“Hmmm.” He stroked his chin. “Perhaps we can make arrangements for a more, er, practical approach to your lessons.”
“If we embrace a more ‘practical’ approach, would that make me ‘ready’ for a recommendation?”
“It might take a few sessions, but I think that could be the outcome.” He slid a hand up Olivia’s thigh.
She shuddered. She hated him, but she leaned back on the desk and propped herself up on her elbows.
Mr. Tunbridge stood up so that he was positioned between Olivia’s slender legs at the edge of the desk. He ran his hands up her thighs and pushed up her skirt. Olivia concentrated on holding back her tears. She sat up and he put his hand on her neck, holding her still. He slid his other arm around her waist and yanked her forward, pressing her body against his.
“I always knew that you would become my star pupil,” he whispered into her ear.
Olivia felt like she was going to throw up. Mr. Tunbridge undid the halter strings on her top and pulled it down around her waist, revealing her plain white bra. He licked his lips and reached around to fumble with the clasp on her bra.
Olivia focused on the ceiling and tried to disassociate herself from what was happening to her body. She felt a tear slip down her cheek as he successfully undid her bra and pulled it off her. Her nipples puckered in the cold air. He licked his lips and leaned in to kiss Olivia’s neck. She gulped and tried not to vomit, Mr. Tunbridge was breathing heavily and making guttural groaning sounds. He slid her skirt up so that it was around her waist, revealing her white panties. As the hem of her skirt hit her waist, Olivia lost control of her tears and they streamed silently down her face. Mr. Tunbridge fumbled for his belt and Olivia’s heart dropped when she heard his pants fall to the floor.
“Olivia don’t!” Maddie screamed.
Olivia snapped out of her trance to see Maddie panting in the doorway. Mr. Tunbridge turned and frantically grabbed for his pants.
“Maddie. This is something that I have to do,” Olivia said quietly, and covered her breasts with her crossed arms.
“You heard her.” Mr. Tunbridge said. “You need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” Maddie said. She put her hands on her hips and took a wide stance, like a football player, getting ready for a play.
“I’ll charge you with trespassing.”
“Go ahead. I’ll tell them that you are here taking advantage of my sister.”
“Olivia came here of her own volition and spread her legs in front of me. She wants to be here, and last I checked she is an adult.” He buckled his belt without doing up the zipper and strode toward Maddie. He grabbed the door and tried to close it but Maddie wouldn’t budge. He put his hand on her shoulder and tried to shove her out into the hallway. “Get out of here. Now.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” A loud voice boomed from the hallway.
Olivia gasped, “Blaine.”
She heard his boots stomp up the stairs. He appeared behind Maddie and shoved the door so hard that the frame splintered. It hit Mr. Tunbridge straight in the face and he screamed as blood gushed from his nose.
Blaine burst into the room, his eyes wild. He surveyed the room and rushed over to the desk. He wrapped Olivia in his arms. She sank against Blaine’s familiar chest and started sobbing loudly. Blaine stroked her hair and held her tightly against him.
Mr. Tunbridge stood up and wavered on his feet like a drunkard.
“Get out. All of you,” he stammered.
Blaine stepped back from Olivia and kissed her softly on the lips. He took off his t-shirt and pulled it over Olivia’s head. She threaded her arms through the sleeves and clutched the extra fabric tightly in front of her.
“I believe that you owe this lady a letter.”
“I don’t owe her anything.”
The shirtless biker stepped forward, his hands balled into fists at his side. “Write the letter. Now,” he growled.
“I will do no such thing. And from this point on, she’s no student of mine.”
Olivia’s eyes were wide. “No!” she screamed. “I need this.”
Blaine turned to face Olivia, “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do.” Olivia said quietly. “It’s what I’ve worked for my entire life, and what do you even care? Why don’t you just let me do this and go be with that biker whore.”
“Liv.” Blaine pulled back and grasped her hands in his. “Nothing happened with her. Nothing will ever happen with her.”
“But I saw it with my own eyes,” she sobbed.
“You saw her all over me when I was black out drunk. Listen, I’ll explain everything to you, but right now I just want to get you out of here and away from this predator.”
“Predator. Pfft. The girl wanted it. She’s a smart one, choosing her future over a dirty biker,” Mr. Tunbridge said from behind Blaine.
Blaine froze. He slowly turned to face the man that had insulted him. He took one huge step forward and punched Mr. Tunbridge in the face so hard that he spun around, hit the wall, and collapsed to the floor. Blaine kicked him in the ribs and called out for Maddie.
“Liv. I promise I will make it up to you,” he whispered to her. “Right now, you and Maddie need to get out of here. Give Maddie your car keys and I will come and get you later.”
“What are you going to do?” Olivia asked.
“I don’t know yet,” he said. He grabbed her face and kissed her gently. “Now go, get out of here.”
Olivia searched his face and found comfort in his eyes. She knew that she would trust this man with her life and that she would do anything for his. She hopped off the desk, still wearing Blaine’s black t-shirt, which was more like a dress on her, and she and Maddie scampered down the stairs, holding each other’s hands tightly.
CHAPTER THIRTY – BLAINE
He wanted to kill him. The moment he walked through the door and saw his woman’s tits in front of that fucking pervert’s face, he was ready to end him.
After he sent the girls home, Blaine pulled Mr. Tunbridge up by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his desk. He wrenched the man’s left arm behind him and pushed him by the collar.
“Olivia is done in this business. You know that, right?” he threatened.
“If you don’t hurry up and write that letter, your days of making chords with this hand are over,” he said as he bent the man’s index finger backwards.
Mr. Tunbridge opened up a form letter he kept on file and changed the subject line to Olivia Westerman.
“Now print it.”
The shaking music teacher printed off the letter and Blaine slapped the paper down on the desk. “Sign it.”
“I’m left handed,” the teacher said smugly.
“I don’t give a shit. You might have to get used to life without this hand if you don’t sign it right now,” he said and put a pen into Mr. Tunbridge’s right hand. He scrawled out his signature and then Blaine picked him up by the neck and tossed him to the floor like a rag doll. He gave him a kick as he walked out the door
.
He folded up the letter and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. He threw his leg over his bike and drove, shirtless, back to the club. There were a few final details for the AGM that needed his attention. Everything had come together nicely once he delegated the majority of the logistical jobs to the prospects. He had been following the forecast, and it looked like the weather was going to be perfect. There was a chance of some rainstorms, but they weren’t until late in the evening. The people that were sleeping in tents might get a little wet, but Blaine didn’t care. He’d made arrangements with Steve to stay in his Bunkie down by the river.
He parked his bike and sat down with a couple of the guys who were milling around outside the clubhouse.
“You guys look like shit,” Blaine said, smiling.
“Thanks, asshole. You too,” the worst of the two retorted and slapped Blaine on the bare back. “The women tear off your shirt last night?”
Blaine smiled. “Something like that. Is everything all cleaned up in there?” he asked.
“The prospects are working on it. A few of them are looking pretty green, but they know that they have to get ‘er done.”
Blaine pulled out his phone and walked to the back of the property for some privacy. He dialed Olivia’s number, Maddie answered.
“How’s she doing?” Blaine asked.
“She’s sleeping. She’s exhausted.”
“When she wakes up can you have her call me? I need to explain something to her. I mean, I need to apologize to her.”
“Blaine.” Maddie said, her tone serious.
He held his breath.
She continued, “I love my sister, and she’s head over heels for you for some reason. I need to know that you’re not going to break her heart. I’ve heard about what you bikers are all about.”
