by Zoey Parker
What went wrong? I knew what it was. I could lie to myself during the day and pretend it wasn’t my fault, but it wasn’t so easy to lie to oneself at night. In the dark, counting the length of my breaths to keep them even, I couldn’t help but blame myself for the way things unraveled.
I’d felt spooked. We were getting too close. It was better to be separate. If he would be a human being and give me my money, things would be a lot easier. Instead, I had to put up walls between us. I couldn’t risk that intimacy growing again. It was dangerous. It could complicate my life, and my life was more than complicated enough without a motorcycle gang member—president, rather—messing things up.
Still, it had felt nice to be held. I’d never had a man hold me like that before. Sure, boyfriends hugged me. We would cuddle on the couch and watch movies. But that was where it ended. I hadn’t even had a boyfriend in years, not since college. Back then, I wasn’t interested in having sex with anyone who wasn’t willing to commit to me—and in college, commitment wasn’t exactly high on the list of anybody’s priorities. I understood why I was alone, and I accepted it.
The older I got, though, the less likely it looked that I’d ever find somebody. I knew I was young. Twenty-six wasn’t exactly the beginning of the end. But at my age, most women were already on their second or third major relationship. I even knew a few girls from school who were married. One even had kids. They all got started long before I did. I felt like I would never catch up.
When Eric held me in his arms, it felt right. Like I was normal. There wasn’t something monstrously wrong with me just because I stayed a virgin until my mid-twenties. I understood what it was all about, why people slept together in the first place. It wasn’t the sex, and it wasn’t the sleeping. It was the feeling connected to another person. I wouldn’t have been able to have that feeling with just anyone. It surprised me that of all people, Eric was the one to give it to me. If anything, I would have imagined him to be the love ’em and leave ’em type. Only he wouldn’t love ’em as much as he would fuck ’em and forget their name.
I wished he would hold me again, and I hated myself for wishing it. I couldn’t help myself. I’d burned my bridge, and it hurt to realize that. He wouldn’t hold me again. I didn’t know who would.
I must have sighed or something. He stirred beside me. “You okay?”
I considered pretending that I’d sighed in my sleep, but it seemed silly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I closed my eyes and decided to go to sleep for real.
“Aren’t you uncomfortable all the way on the edge of the bed? I’m not going to touch you,” he said.
“I know you say that, but just the same, I want to be sure.” I kept my voice hard and cold. My damned pride was getting in the way. I hated myself for that, too.
“You know…the only reason I got as nasty as I did last night was because you got ready to run out so fast. That was all. I just thought you should know that.”
I didn’t speak for a long time. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, but it meant a lot to hear it just the same.
“I’m sorry I did that. This is all new to me, you know?”
“How do you think I felt? That was the first time I ever talked with a woman after we had sex.”
That got my attention. I decided to take a chance, and rolled over to face him. I was still far away, though. “Really?”
“Yeah. The women I usually sleep with…they’re not what you’d call big on conversation. Know what I mean?”
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“I mean, it was sort of a first-time thing for both of us. I didn’t think about it that way.”
“When you got up like you did, I took it personally. I’m sorry I did. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole.”
“I get it.” I sighed and stretched. “I was an asshole, too.” We were quiet for a long time. He was on his back, in nothing but a pair of shorts. I bit my lip, knowing the darkness hid the look on my face. He was beautiful, and my fingers ached for the chance to touch him. All it would take was reaching out for him. He wouldn’t reject me, or else why would I still be with him? Just one little move and he could be all mine.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“You spent a whole day away from your club. Don’t they wonder where you are?”
“One of the perks of being president. You get to do what you want, and you don’t have to answer to anybody.”
“I see. What do you actually do, in your club?”
“Do you really wanna know?” I heard a smile in his voice.
“You tell me.”
“Probably not.” He chuckled. “No, it’s really not that big a deal. The club started as a way for guys to get together and ride their bikes and live outside society, if you know what I mean. A lot of that shit started back in the sixties. That’s when our club formed. Vietnam vets, those guys couldn’t…what’s the word? They couldn’t blend back in.”
“Assimilate?”
“Yeah, that’s it. They couldn’t do that. So they kinda formed their own thing. Our original members were all vets. They wanted something different out of life because following the rules and giving it all for their country and all that happy horseshit, well, it didn’t do much for them.”
I never knew that. It made sense the way he told it. A bunch of angry, messed up guys who didn’t see the point in following the rules anymore. They created their own society, made their own rules.
“So why did you join? I mean, you’re not a vet. Or are you? Am I making assumptions?”
“No, you’re not. I joined because I didn’t see any other way to live life. I love bikes, I love the guys in the club. They’re my brothers. We work together, we do our thing, we have a good time and we party hard. More than that, they have my back. They took care of me when I was away.”
I stiffened. I wasn’t sure if I should ask about it or not, but the curiosity was nearly killing me.
“You wanna know what I did, don’t you?”
I was so surprised, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes. Okay? I do.”
“You won’t like it.”
My heart sank. Why did it matter? Why did I care what he did? I didn’t like him or anything.
“You can tell me if you want to. If not, it’s okay. It’s none of my business.”
“I don’t mind.” He took a deep breath, which made me wonder if he was telling the truth. “I killed someone.”
I took a deep breath of my own. I felt very cold all of a sudden, and pulled the blanket tighter around myself.
“He busted into my clubhouse and tried to take me out. He thought he got me, too, and he turned the gun on the man who used to be president before me.”
“Did he kill him?” I realized I was holding my breath in anticipation. I couldn’t imagine living life like that.
“No. I got him before he could fire.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Tell me about it.” His voice was flat and grim.
“How long were you in prison?”
“Seven years.”
“Oh my God.”
“That’s nothing compared to what some guys get for what I did.”
“But it was self-defense!” I argued. I could have laughed at myself for caring as much as I did, but I did care. It didn’t seem fair for a person to serve time when all they did was defend themselves.
“You know that, and I know that. But I had some other black marks against my name, too. Long story short, I served way less than I could have.”
“Do you ever think about the man you killed?”
He went silent for a moment before answering. “I don’t even remember his name.” He didn’t sound uncaring, though. He sounded lost. He was a lost person. My heart went out to him again, like it did when he told me about his miserable first time with a woman. He put on a good show—Mr. Hard Ass. Inside, he was something else.
There I was again,
asking questions about him. Being nosy. But I couldn’t help wanting to know more about him. He fascinated me, just as much as he pissed me off. He wasn’t all bad. He probably had a messed up life before joining the club, but I didn’t dare ask him about it. It wouldn’t be right.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said. His voice was very quiet, and a little sad.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“No, but you don’t trust me.”
“Because you won’t hold up your end of the agreement we made. How can I trust a person who won’t follow through with their promises?”
“We didn’t exactly sign a contract,” he said. “There were no terms. I didn’t agree to give you the money after the first time, or the second time, or even the tenth time. You should have gotten it in writing.”
My heart hardened. “Just when I start thinking you’re a decent person, you prove me wrong. Is it exhausting being a bastard all the time?”
“Yeah, totally. That’s why I’m going to sleep now.” He rolled onto his side, away from me, and settled in. All I could see was his broad back. I wanted to stab him in it.
Instead, I rolled away again and closed my eyes. It didn’t take long to fall asleep. When I did, I dreamed of little boys on big motorcycles. That was all he was. He never grew up.
Chapter Thirteen
Eric
It was a restless night. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would have been much better off if she slept in my arms, but I wouldn’t dare touch her. All I needed was for her to start screaming that I took advantage of her or tried to rape her or something.
She asked too many questions, and I was too quick to answer. It was probably because I wasn’t used to people asking me about myself, or maybe because I never met anybody before her who made me want to talk. Usually I’d shut a woman up by rolling over on top of her and fucking her, or I’d pretend to be asleep. Michelle had a way of asking questions and leading me into telling her my life story. She didn’t need to know anything about me.
I was surprised, though, when I woke up and found that she was still in bed. I expected her to leave the room when I was asleep—afraid to sleep next to a murderer. But she held strong. Stubborn bitch, I thought, looking at her as she slept.
I picked up my phone, sitting on my nightstand, to check the time. I didn’t notice the time, though. I noticed that I had ten missed calls. The first three were from Slash, and the others were from the rest of the club. Something bad must have happened.
I sat up in bed, and the movement woke Michelle. “What’s going on?” she asked, rolling over, sounding sleepy.
“Don’t worry about it.” I listened to one of the voicemails I got from Spike, and the blood drained from my face. Slash was in the hospital. There was a fight the night before. Shit. I should have answered when he called. Why didn’t I call him back? I didn’t even remember anymore. Maybe because of her. I didn’t want the club breaking in on what we had together, even if what we had was uncomfortable. Another stupid move from me.
I got out of bed and called Slash’s phone, but he didn’t pick up. Not surprising—if he was in the hospital, he probably didn’t have it nearby, or he might have been sleeping. It was still early in the morning. I started pulling clothes together.
“What is it?” Michelle was sitting up in bed, watching me.
“One of my guys is in the hospital,” I said, zipping up my jeans. “There was a big fight last night or something. I have to go see him.”
“I’m sorry. Are you two close?”
“He’s my best friend,” I said, and again I wondered why it seemed natural to blurt out something like that. Why did I have verbal diarrhea whenever she was around?
“Do you need somebody to go with you?”
I turned to her, and I was ready to tell her off, but I saw how serious she was when I got a look at her face. She really cared. I softened a little bit.
“No, thanks. You stay here. I might have to make another stop after I see him.” I didn’t stop to say anything else. I was in too much of a hurry to get to the hospital. From what I heard in the voicemail, it didn’t sound good.
“Damn it!” I growled as I rode. I was so stupid to let Michelle get in the way like that. What was wrong with me? The club was what mattered, not some girl who wouldn’t let me touch her if I fucking begged. Shit, I was paying for it, and she still wouldn’t let me. I had to be crazy.
The ride to the hospital was only ten minutes, but it might as well have been an hour. It felt that way. All sorts of shit went through my head as I rode. What if Slash died? What if he was already gone and I was never there for him? What would the rest of the club think? I tore myself apart with thoughts like that before I pulled into the parking lot, then I ran inside and asked where I could find him. They gave me a room number, which was a good sign—if he were dead, they wouldn’t send me to a room, I thought. I took the elevator to the fourth floor and practically ran down the hall.
Spike and a few of the other guys were sitting in the hall. “It ain’t visiting hours yet, but we wouldn’t leave. We can’t go in to see him for another half hour.”
“What the hell happened?”
Spike looked at the others, then at me. “It was Gareth and his crew.”
My blood boiled. “I should have fucking known.”
“Slash wasn’t the only one who got hurt, but he was the only one who had to stay.”
“How bad is he?”
“He had a concussion, broken ribs, a broken leg. They thought he had a serious brain injury at first, but the scans said no. Thank God. He was cut up pretty bad, too, but that’s all, whaddya call it, superficial.”
“Thank God for that, too,” I muttered. I couldn’t believe I missed it. What sort of president was I? I should have been sitting there all night, not Spike. I was sleeping with a woman who didn’t want me to touch her. I was such a stupid ass.
“Sit down,” Spike said. “Take a few deep breaths. You look like you’re ready to have a stroke.”
“You’re in the right place if you are,” one of the others said, and I had to laugh a little. Spike was right. I needed to calm down before I blew a fuse.
“Was he awake last night?”
“Not much, but the doc said he’ll probably be awake today. You can talk to him when we’re allowed to go in. Come on,” he said, patting me on the back. “Let’s get some coffee in the cafeteria. You eat yet?”
I shook my head, so Spike pulled me to my feet and led me to the elevator. The other guys waited for us to get back.
When we were alone, Spike said what was really on his mind. “Where were you last night? Everybody was worried as shit about you. Slash gets ambushed, and we can’t reach you, what do you think we’re gonna imagine?”
“I was at home. You could have found me at home.”
“Your phone not working all of a sudden? No, I know that’s not it, because you got the message this morning. So it has to be working okay. Why didn’t you answer any of our calls?”
“I didn’t feel good last night. I went to bed early.”
“My ass, you went to bed early. I know what you did last night.”
I looked at him. I didn’t know whether he was bluffing. “What did I do, then?”
“You went sniffing around that auction. You don’t think I hear things? I knew what you and Slash were talking about yesterday. Please don’t tell me you bought one of them.”
I looked away.
“Damn it. What are you thinking?”
“That’s my business,” I said.
“You’re right, it is,” he admitted. “You do what you want with your money. But you just got out of prison a few months ago, and now you bought a girl. The DA could just as easily call that prostitution as anything else. You’re on parole. You have to play it safe.”
“When do any of us ever play it safe?” We got to the cafeteria and bought ourselves coffee and breakfast sandwiches. We didn’t start talking again until we
sat with our food.
“Don’t be cute with me,” he warned. I went quiet. I knew him well enough to know when he wasn’t fucking around.
“What do you want me to say? I went there to see what Gareth was doing.”
“You know what Gareth was doing? He was planning to attack your men, that’s what. Your place was with them, not at some fucking virgin auction. You have to be smart with this guy, or he’ll get you into serious trouble. You won’t even see it coming.”
