Thrash

by Jc Emery

  I almost believe him, but even I’m not that stupid.

  “Okay,” I say. It’s all I can manage. I can’t bring myself to forgive him, and I can’t say that I trust that he’s being genuine. Not that any of it matters. He’s going to be gone in a few months anyway.

  “Okay,” he says and turns around, walking across the gravel lot toward his shiny BMW. Maybe in the last few years he has grown. I guess it’s possible that he really is maturing.

  With that, I regain my confidence and easily slide the key into the lock and crawl into the driver’s seat. I check my phone and find eight more missed calls and one from Duke that reads, FINE.

  For once, the car starts up immediately. Without another cognitive thought, I pull out of the lot and head north on Main Street. Somewhere in the back of my head, I realize that I’ve missed my turn toward the house, but I keep going. It’s another few blocks before I swing into the left turn lane at Adler Street. I hadn’t really considered what I was doing when I got into the car, but apparently there’s something I need here. Maybe it’s the ability to forget what I’m searching for. Maybe it’s just Duke and all of his fake promises of being there for me that I want to hear. Maybe it’s his strong arms and his imposing size. So as the gates to the Forsaken clubhouse swing open, I don’t delay in hitting the gas and pulling in.

  It’s a weekday, but the clubhouse is pretty active regardless. It’s a rare occasion when nobody’s around, and that’s especially true at night. The guys never seem to tire of one another, or at least they don’t very often. Before Dad got locked up, he was always at the clubhouse, and even more so after his bitch wife left us. Parking the car, I climb out, and take my time walking across the lot. Most of the party’s inside, but some of the guys have filtered out here. On a picnic bench between Chel and Bear is Chief. His dark brown eyes meet mine, and a smile spreads across his face. He gave up long ago trying to tell me that I don’t belong here. As my dad’s closest friend, he took it upon himself to try to care for both me and Jeremy. Chief and his absent wife— made evident by the way he and Chel were so close together— have always been good to me and Jeremy.

  “Baby Girl,” Chief says. He moves his long, pitch-black hair over his shoulder and leans forward, swinging an arm over Chel’s shoulders. Chel smiles uncomfortably at me and then looks away, but doesn’t move. She knows how fond I am of Chief’s wife, Barbara, and it’s not cool for her to be with Chief in front of me. It makes me feel disloyal to Barbara and their kids, but that’s not something I’m allowed to even touch on, so I don’t.

  “What’s up, Old Man?” I ask with a smirk on my face.

  “Nothing good, that’s for sure. What are you doing here?” he says. I’ve never understood it— the blind loyalty to the club, but the often disregarded promises these guys make to their wives. How they hang around here and fuck whoever and however they want, totally turning their backs on the people who they’re supposed to love the most. But that’s the problem with club life— the thing these men love the most is the club. It’s always been that way and always will be. The women who marry these guys are just too fucking stupid to accept it.

  “You seen Duke?” I ask, realizing a moment later that I’m showing my cards way too soon. I never ask for anyone. Normally, I show up just to hang out and sometimes end up staying over in one of the guy’s rooms, but it’s never planned out, and I never have a specific companion in mind. This is new not just for me, but everybody who’s witnessing it, as is obvious by the looks on their faces.

  “Duke, huh?” Bear asks, quirking an eyebrow up at me. I shrug my shoulders in response. I may be stating my intentions, but I’m not about to give these guys ammunition to fuel their fire. They’re all a bunch of gossipy assholes. Bear clears his throat and looks me over—like every time he sees me. It’s useless. I’ve always told him I’m not going there. For one, he’s got a wife, and for two, she’s absolutely insane. “Thought after that fight today, he’d be done with you. He’s inside,” Bear says.

  “Uh, I don’t think so,” Chief says. His eyes dart to the door. “I think he headed out already.”

  “You been smoking too much bud, Dude,” Bear says, shooting Chief a look. “He’s inside.”

  Chief’s eyes narrow at Bear’s then soften when they fall on me. I know those looks all too well. Bear’s mischievous smile gives him away, and Chief’s worried glances solidify my assumption. Duke’s inside with someone else. A knot twists in my gut, and I consider my options. I could go home and spare myself the irrational anger that’s going to flare at the sight of him touching some other chick, but maybe I need this. Maybe I need to see him doing his thing so I can stop pretending he’s my knight on shining chrome.

  “Thanks, guys,” I say absently make my way inside the clubhouse. Smoke wafts up as I enter, filling my lungs and tickling at my nose. There’s nothing about the clubhouse after dark that is inviting unless you’re one of us. It’s smoky, dirty, and a hot spot for unparalleled debauchery. The only windows are wide and short and they line the wall at the ceiling, offering no light after the sun sets. Long rows of overhead fluorescent lights form an orderly design on the ceiling, but that’s where any semblance of order stops. From the front door all the way to the chapel and out the back door, this place is a mad house.

  I find myself simultaneously loving and loathing this place as I search the room for Duke. In the corner, drinking a beer with some chick by his side is Diesel. He’s nodding his head as she talks in his ear, but his eyes are someplace off across the room. Jim is notably absent from the crowd. It used to be weird not seeing him here when all of his men were, but ever since the club got back from their trip to New York, it’s becoming more routine for him to be absent.

  “I heard you’re looking for somebody,” a deep voice says from behind me. The words are laced with an arrogance that can only belong to Ryan Stone, Forsaken’s Road Captain. Like Duke, Ryan’s a few years older than me, and is—by all accounts—Duke’s best friend.

  “Yeah,” I say, deciding there’s no point in trying to cover it up. “You seen Duke?”

  Turning to face Ryan, I see that he’s twisted his face up in a look of disapproval. Ryan Stone is a handsome guy. He’s well built, both by design and genetics, and he’s got the attitude to match his good looks. With pitch black hair that’s shorter on the sides and longer on top and a well-defined jawline, Ryan’s got everything a girl could want, including these gray eyes that used to make me blush when they fell on me. But that was a long time ago. That was back before any of us could drive a car much less ride a motorcycle, and that was back before he and Duke turned into the men they are now. Unfortunately for Ryan, he’s also a Grade-A dickhead with a mean streak a mile wide. I pity the bitch who gets saddled with his ass.

  “Last I see him he had a face full of pussy,” he says thoughtfully. My stomach feels like it drops ten floors and slams into the concrete below. He leans his face in and eyes me suspiciously. “You gettin’ a thing for our boy?”

  “No,” I lie. It comes out much too quick to sound truthful. The callous smile that spreads across his face tells me he doesn’t buy it.

  “Tell ya what, I’ll bend you over the bar and fuck you raw and hard for everyone to see. Make sure you scream real loud, too—that way he’ll be sure to hear you.”

  “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” I say. I’m only mildly surprised by his comment, but it still bothers me. I don’t know exactly where Jim and Ryan’s stepmother, Ruby, went wrong with him. Back when he was in school, she would always show up to his shit. It didn’t matter how little he cared about the project or how poor his grades were. She always showed up for his and Ian’s events. I have half a mind to slap the idiot right out of him, but I’m not stupid enough to think whatever history we have would save me from the repercussions of such an act.

  “I know,” he says without an ounce of sorrow in his voice. His arrogance knows no bounds. “Walk with me, Nic. Let’s go find Duke,” he says and
leads me through the crowd of strewn about tables and chairs and the occasional sofa. I’d rather not be tucked into Ryan’s side, but it’s not worth the argument, so I go anyway. We pass the main hallway that leads down to the chapel, the palace, and the bedrooms. In the back of the clubhouse is the game room. In the center is a pool table with dark red velvet lining and an overhead light that’s styled in a Nordic head-piece fashion. There’s an AC/DC pinball machine in one corner and a Pac-Man machine in another. Ryan removes his arm from over my shoulders and moves to stand in front of me.

  “Hey Brother, you wanna share?” Ryan asks. My entire body tenses up at the question. The word no flies through my brain repeatedly and at rapid speed. No, no, no, no. He’s a jackass, but is he really this much of a jackass? A rough, masculine voice laughs and instinctively, my head flops forward between the shoulder blades of Ryan’s back. It’s Duke. Just like I knew it would be, but knowing something and finding something out are two totally different things.

  “Fuck you,” Duke says. He sounds occupied. “Get your own pussy.”

  Ryan’s shoulders shake with laughter. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I’m a Lost Girl, not his Old Lady. I know better than to assume anything with these guys. It doesn’t matter how much I know better than to have come here and asking for Duke, it doesn’t make the humiliation and frustration any easier to deal with. I left Darren and the bar so I could be here and feel better. I figured maybe Duke and I could hook up again and for a little while I could make like he means the words he says, and I could feel like I belong. I didn’t always want to—belong that is—but once I started babysitting Chel’s kid and we got closer, I I ended up spending more time here. It was so natural that I nearly didn’t even realize what I was becoming until I’d already become it. And now I’m here, feeling like the biggest fool on earth for thinking I fit in well enough to handle this shit with Duke without getting hurt. I am an idiot.

  A few very long, very brutal moments pass before Ryan steps forward, giving me the worst fucking view imaginable. Duke’s back is propped up against the arm of the sofa, facing the other direction, and I let out a silent sigh of relief. He can’t see me here—not when I feel like this. His short blond hair is slicked back tonight. It’s barely a few inches long, but it’s in that awkward place where it falls in his eyes, but isn’t quite long enough to tuck behind his ears. Above him on the sofa, straddling his legs, is Dawn. She’s a Lost Girl, too. But she takes it to a whole other level. I don’t think I can name a single club member she hasn’t slept with. Even Jim had a go at her during one of his and Ruby’s fights a few years back. It wasn’t pretty, but now Ruby avoids the clubhouse even when Jim invites her to come to a party, and Dawn knows better than to say a word to her.

  Dawn’s naked form moves up and down as slowly as she can. Her arms are stretched out before her, resting atop Duke’s chest. Her eyes are focused on him, making my voyeurism all that much more invasive. Ryan waits another beat and then leans down and whispers in my ear, “Enjoy the show, bitch.”

  Then he quietly walks away, giving me a pat on my boob as he goes. The farther away he gets, the more I want to stay here and cement this moment in my mind.

  She lifts herself up, biting her lower lip, and then shudders as she lowers herself. Duke’s hands are at her hips, guiding her. She moves above him, making herself mewl and coo at her own movements. The most involvement I can see from Duke is that he’s keeping his hands in place and letting her use his dick for her own pleasure. She tosses her head back as one of her fingers finds her center and makes small, fast circles. Her skin breaks out in goose bumps at the exact moment that I think I’m going to be sick. My stomach rolls in disgust—not at the act itself, but in jealousy. A little over a month ago that was me straddling Duke’s lap. It was me mewling and yearning for more from him. It was me trying to tell myself that fucking Duke really was just fucking and it didn’t mean anything. But then he left and he didn’t really come back. A week-long trip across the country and he was back in town, but he wasn’t back here—not with me at least.

  After he’d claimed me in his room, I decided that I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. I wasn’t going to be one of those stupid bitches who got all sad and weepy over the fucked up shit these guys do. I know it as well now as I did the first time I attended a party here—Lost Girls are club whores. We show up to fuck, and to have fun with, but at the end of the night the guys still go home to their wives and girlfriends. After they leave here they check and make sure their kids are tucked into bed, and they might even make love to their wives. We’re the entertainment, and they’re the commitment.

  And it isn’t until this moment that I realize how entirely fucked it was to sleep with Duke. And it’s here in this moment that I promise myself to never be this stupid again. So I stand here and I watch. I watch as Duke reaches behind her back and grabs her by the hair, yanking her head backward. I watch as he tells her to stop going slow and to get with the program. She makes a sound of displeasure, but I doubt he gives a shit. She’s no better than cattle in this moment. And neither am I.

  So, I decide I’m done after tonight.

  Duke grips Dawn’s hips firmly and roughly slams her down onto him. Her eyes fly open and she catches my gaze. I want to turn and run. I want to flee before he realizes I’m here, too. But he doesn’t notice. Instead, he keeps ramming into her again and again. Sweat starts at her hairline and drips down her face, onto her breasts, and even onto his stomach. She holds on as best she can as he pummels her hard and unrelenting. She keeps her eyes on me, and I think she might enjoy the attention I’m giving her. Every time her mouth makes this little “O” shape, I feel it in my gut. It churns around in there, looking for a home, and eventually settles in and hardens my heart. Slowly but surely, I can feel my emotions shutting down until all I feel is the air conditioning as it kicks on. When the pain subsides and I’m no longer teaching myself a lesson, I decide that I’ve seen enough.

  As I turn and walk away, leaving Duke with his whore and Dawn with her bastard, I don’t feel an ounce of regret or sadness. I just feel empty.

  Chapter 7

  Halfway through the main room of the clubhouse, I catch Diesel’s eye. He’s at a table with some chick on his lap. Everything looks kind of fuzzy and all over the place. I scrunch my eyes together to keep the gut-wrenching disappointment from showing on my face. But it’s too late. Diesel’s seen something and he’s honed in on me. He pats the chick’s ass and gives her a push off his lap and strides over to me.

  In the back of my head I’m telling myself to move and leave—just get the fuck out—but my feet don’t make the attempt. Maybe I’m tired of being chased, or maybe I know better than to run from Diesel. It’s not like there’s anything he could possibly do to me that’s worse than anything else I’ve experienced today.

  Today is, officially, the worst day of my life.

  There won’t be another day that’s this bad, I swear it. Because I won’t let anything else ever hurt like this. I refuse. I flat out fucking refuse to let anyone else have this kind of power over me. I did so well for so long—keeping people at bay—but then this. I gave him a chance and this is what happens.

  “You’re being weird,” Diesel says as he grips my hips. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. His lips form a thin line, and he lowers his shaved head to meet my eyes.

  “I know what Ryan did,” he says, and I tense up. Just because I stood there and watched the entire act doesn’t mean I want to relive it right now. I can see the shape of Dawn’s pouty lips as they form that “O” as she slides down Duke’s dick. That’s one image I don’t think is ever going to go away.

  “It’s nothing,” I say, but still he doesn’t budge.

  “If it’s something to you, it’s something. Come on,” Diesel says. He places his hand on my lower back and guides me down the hall toward one of the spare bedrooms. Since Diesel doesn’t have an officer position within the club, he doesn’t
have his own room here. Not that it matters—all of the rooms are in need of a serious cleaning. I walk compliantly into the room. It doesn’t even matter what Diesel has to say or wants to do. I don’t know that I can feel any worse than I do right now.

  The spare room is identical in size to Duke’s and has close to the same furniture—bed, side table, and a dresser. I crawl onto the bed and curl into the corner, grabbing one of the two pillows and hugging it. Diesel shuts the door and walks over. He sits down on the edge of the bed and clasps his hands together. His voice is deep when he coughs, likely clearing his lungs from toking up on the bong. He reeks of weed. “What happened?” he asks.

  “You don’t want to know,” I say. The truth is that Diesel never asks questions he doesn’t want an answer to, so if he’s asking me what happened, he actually gives a shit. I blow out a breath and hug the pillow tighter, like maybe if I keep squeezing, it’ll provide some kind of comfort. It doesn’t.

  “Tell me,” he says. I could ask him to leave me alone to let me cry it out, but I don’t want to shed a single tear over that bastard. I give myself a moment to collect my thoughts before I speak.

  “Duke’s in the game room with Dawn,” I say. Taking a few more deep breaths, I clear my head and just spill it all like this huge, tattooed, muscled man with the shaved head is Chel and we’re out to breakfast talking shit. “He fucked me and claimed me, and that was months ago. So I did as I was supposed to do and I stayed away from the club, but that crap this morning at my work? Then the crap this afternoon. I just… I’m done. And after every awful, horrible, fucked up, mean thing he did I still came here looking for him.”

  “Dick,” Diesel says with a nod of his head. He turns toward me and scratches behind his neck. I let out a frustrated laugh and let my arms flutter into the air.