by J. C. Emery
“Did you just call me a bitch again?” I shout as loud as I can. My voice is screechy and on the edge of breaking into a full-on wail. If I thought I could take him, I think I’d slap him right here and now. Thin as the grasp on reality might be, I can still see clearly enough to stop myself from trying to hobble from the bed and show him exactly how much I detest his use of that word.
Grady’s jaw ticks, and, in an instant, he’s pushed himself off of the wall. Several long strides and he’s got one knee on the edge of the bed and the other is thrown over my hips. His broad torso blocks the light from the hallway, and he rests his left forearm on the pillows beside me. He reaches out with his right arm and grasps me by my neck and jerks my head in close to his face. He breathes heavily on my skin, dampening my face in his scent.
“I’m being nice. Do not think that means I’m going to put up with your mouth. My brothers and I are going to count on you to keep quiet about the shit that went down. You cannot go off half-cocked like you just did. If you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’m going to let one of my brothers enjoy the pleasure of your company.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask. My voice is so steady and cold that I don’t even know how I’m doing it. Inside I’m freaking the hell out. Maybe it’s the trauma of the situation that’s driving me, or maybe I’m just stupid.
“I don’t make threats. I make promises.”
We continue to stare at each other with neither of us moving a single muscle. His eyes are hard and unwavering as he glares at me. His full lips and strong jaw invade my space and demand attention. I know I shouldn’t be thinking these things, but I can’t help it. I’ve always secretly loved bad boys with their “devil may care” attitudes. Even when I was younger and Uncle Harry made sure I knew damn well that the club was off limits, I still looked. And now, here I am, with one of them hovering over me. And while he’s gorgeous and built, and dangerous in a thousand sexy ways, all I really want to do is to knee him in the balls. Repeatedly.
How dare he…
“Oh God,” a perky young voice shouts from the other side of the room. “What the hell? Gross!”
Grady jumps back and stands awkwardly, like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have by his mom. Only, it’s worse. He’s been caught by his teenage daughter. I freeze for a moment and then pull the blankets up further over me just as my cheeks redden. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed. I should be asking her to call the cops to get me out of here. I’m fully clothed but, somehow, it’s my first reaction and likely one that only solidifies the image that Cheyenne thinks she’s seen.
“WHAT THE FUCK are you doing home?” Grady snaps and turns to his daughter. Cheyenne takes two tentative steps inside the room and crosses her arms over her chest. Her nose is turned up, and her mouth is turned down. She looks positively grossed out, and truth be told, I can’t blame her. Teenagers don’t expect their parents to be human.
“Half day, Dad. God,” she says in exasperation. I think for a moment and realize that she’s lying. I tilt my head to the side and watch as she delivers a beautifully crafted lie that, if I didn’t know our school schedule, I’d think was the honest-to-God truth. I could kick her ass for ditching, especially after how much work I’ve been putting into keeping her in school. Oh, we’re going to talk about this.
She blows out a breath and bounces from foot to foot. “I told you this like last week. You never listen to me.”
Cheyenne looks down at me, and her eyes bug out. She gives me a questioning glare before her wrath finds its target: her dad. “Holly, really? Oh my God. What the hell! You totally lied to me when I asked if you two were together!”
Her voice rises into a scream. Unlike the last time he was being screamed at, he doesn’t lunge across the room and scare the crap out of her. His shoulders fall, and he rubs the back of his neck. He may be a big badass when he’s with his club, and he may be an even bigger ass when he’s around me, but he looks like a totally different person in his daughter’s presence.
“What is your point?” he snaps. “What I do on my time is my business.” And just like that, the big, bad, scary dude is back and in full force. Only, Cheyenne doesn’t wither under his stare. She rolls her eyes and huffs. In a near mimic, he lets out a heavy breath and grunts. If this situation wasn’t so ridiculous and so uncomfortable, I might even find the similarities between the two to be humorous.
“We have a deal, Dad,” she grumbles. “You promised you wouldn’t do...do…do that.” She points her finger at me then finishes with, “with anybody who works at my school. I mean, is no place sacred? I gave you a pass because I like Holly, but you totally freaking lied to me about it!”
“Chill out,” he grumbles. “It’s not what you think. And cool it with the attitude, Cheyenne. Do not forget who you’re speaking to.” Cheyenne smashes her lips together and shakes her head.
“Well,” she says in a slightly less heated manner, “This explains all the sexual tension.”
Grady and his band of felons have put me in a pretty bad situation here. I’m not about to let my life fall completely apart all because I wanted a burger for lunch. My life is in shambles enough already. The least I can do is to, for once, be proactive, and to do something about my situation.
“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you,” I say quickly. Grady's head spins around so fast I think the damn thing might fall off. The smile that spreads on my face is almost painful. He doesn’t like this, not at all, which makes it that much more fun. Cheyenne’s eyes grow large with surprise, and her mouth falls open just slightly.
“We are?” he asks with a raised brow and a look of scorn on his chiseled face. I roll my eyes at him and give Cheyenne a wink.
“It’s new. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. The truth is, your dad has been chasing me for a while. Then yesterday when I went to The 101 Club on your suggestion, we ran into each other. I just… couldn’t resist his charm any longer.” Not even halfway through my lie, my face is heating and I’m starting to sweat. I’m such an awful liar that I shouldn’t even be attempting to pull this off, but I’m not about to be the only honest one in the room.
Grady’s eyes slide from me to Cheyenne before returning to me. “And what did we do at The 101 Club?” he asks. From behind him, Cheyenne gives him a confused glance.
“Nothing. I got sick,” I say in a last-minute surprise of genius. Or stupidity. The jury is still out. “You brought me back here because you said you wanted to take care of me.”
“Dad wanted to take care of you? Oh man, he must be in love then,” Cheyenne says. Her stare becomes uncomfortable, and then she bursts into laughter. Rich, joyous guffaws emanate from her as her chest shakes and she scrunches her face up. Whatever I’ve said is apparently so funny that she’s nearly in tears with her laughter.
Grady turns back to me and gives me a hard stare. Feeling emboldened by his daughter’s presence, I stare into his eyes and smirk. “Baby, did you call my boss and Mindy to let them know I stayed over because I was sick?”
“No,” he says. “That’s not my shit to handle.” I take too long deciding how to react. Now that I’ve dug myself into this ridiculous lie, I have to stick with it, and part of that is pretending to expect him to have called my boss and family to let them know I’m safe. But I’m too late, and Cheyenne reacts for me.
“Dad, you really didn’t tell anyone she’s here? Can’t she, like, get in trouble for that or something?”
“I can,” I say sadly and look up at Grady. I’m not sure what’s changed with Cheyenne since the day she flipped out on me in the office, but something obviously has. First with the greeting me in passing, and then the lunch recommendation—no matter how poorly that turned out—and now concern over me losing my job. Regardless of what kind of a father she has, she seems like a good kid who’s just been going through something.
Grady’s jaw ticks, and he sucks in a deep breath. The more infuriated he becomes with me, the more it eggs me on
to keep the lie going. I must have lost a lot of blood to be acting like such an insane person. I’m going to end up lying myself into “the alternative” if I’m not careful.
“Oh good, you’re up,” an older woman says as she pushes past Cheyenne. She shares Grady’s and Cheyenne’s dark hair and green eyes. She has lines around her eyes, and her natural-looking, sun-kissed skin is free of makeup. As she approaches the bed, I notice that she’s wearing dark-washed denim and a lavender button-up blouse that has spots of dirt smeared on the lower half.
Standing beside the bed now, the woman who I think might be Grady’s mother turns to Cheyenne and says, “You’re supposed to be in class. Now get your butt back to school.”
“Half day,” I say instinctively. “Last minute decision on behalf of the staff. Seniors have a half day so the staff can plan their graduation trip.” I give the woman a smile that she doesn’t quite return. She looks speculatively toward Grady and then to Cheyenne.
“Then go do homework or something,” she says to Cheyenne, who turns around and stomps out. The minute Cheyenne’s footsteps fade into nothingness, Grady turns and glares at me.
“You fucked up,” he says.
“No,” I counter. “I was saving my own butt since you were so eager to leave it out to hang. At least now I have a plausible excuse for disappearing for an entire day.”
“Get one thing straight—you don’t call shots around here,” he barks back. The woman looks between us before lifting her hands in front of her.
“Oh, Sterling, let’s not fight,” I say sarcastically. If it bothers him that I call him by his first name, after he’s told me not to, he doesn’t let on.
“Look, just pretend to be saying your goodbyes in here, give the girl her money, and let her go. We’ll tell Chey you were a jerk and she dumped you,” the woman says.
“Ma,” he says in a plea. “That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, it’s no worse than that lie she made up,” his mother says. “I was listening from the hall.”
“You think Chey will buy that?” he asks her.
A wry smile spreads on her face, and she says, “That you were a jerk? Yes, I think it’ll require that she use her imagination, but I think it’ll work.” I try to keep the laughter building in my chest from erupting, but it’s no use. I dissolve into a fit of chuckles and finally calm down with a happy sigh.
“You’re hilarious, Ma,” he says. “Now go distract Chey so I can get her out of here.”
Giving me a small smile, his mother points at her chest and says, “I’m Lisa.” Before I can even formally introduce myself, Grady is shoving her into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. When he turns around he’s not all easy smiles and sarcastic glances anymore. His face is hard, and a scowl has found its way to his lips.
“How hard are you going to make this on me?” he asks. I try to summon the strength I need in order to explain myself.
“I haven’t made anything hard on you. All I did was create an explanation my boss might be able to live with,” I say.
“Fuck your boss,” he says. The hostility in his voice reminds me of how he stormed out of the office after the incident between Cheyenne and I during her last counseling session. Margot had spent a solid five minutes muttering on and on about something to do with Grady that I wasn’t even paying attention to. But now I’m wondering if I should have.
“You got any kids?” he asks. I tense at the question. “Of course you don’t. My kid’s mom ain’t around because she’s one fucked up bitch. My brother, Chey’s godfather, is fucking dead, I got work shit, and there’s nothing I can do to make any of that shit any better. But you— she likes you. You think my kid needs to see you at school every day and think we had a relationship that went to shit? You think that’s gonna be good for her?”
I didn’t know. Cheyenne never mentioned her mom, nor did she mention her godfather. I’d seen the news reports about the biker who died in a head-on collision with a SUV just a week or so ago. I knew it had been a member of Forsaken who died, but… I didn’t know. If there is anything he could say to make me regret my lie, that would be it. I let my shoulders slump as I ingest the weight of his comment. I don’t have kids—not even close to it in fact—and I don’t come from divorced parents. So I guess I really don’t know what any of that’s like. And if my little lie causes Cheyenne any kind of grief, then I’m sorry for that. I was just so focused on aggravating him that I didn’t think about how my lie would affect Cheyenne. Still, twenty-five grand may be nothing to scoff at, but it won’t keep me afloat for even a year. Money or no money, I just can’t afford to lose my job.
“I need my job,” I say.
“I don’t really give a shit what you need,” he hisses.
“That’s pretty damn apparent,” I say, louder than I intend. “I was just doing my job and trying to help a kid that nobody else seemed to give a crap about!”
“How many times I got to tell you—keep your mouth shut about my kid,” he shouts. His voice booms and practically reverberates off the walls of the room.
“As many times as it takes for you to listen to me,” I yell back.
“Shut up!” he screams. He crosses the room, presses his balled fists into the mattress on either side of me. He’s so close that when he huffs, his breath heats my skin. He’s so angry that he’s practically shaking.
I lean forward so fast that I accidentally ram my nose into his. The impact stings, but I only pull back an inch and force myself not to flinch. I’m so angry and feel so guilty that my heart slams in my chest. When I speak, I keep my voice low and steady.
“Look, it’s done.” This man has worn the sense right out of me. I can’t think of another situation where I became so thoroughly fed-up that I totally lost myself. Grady is just a special sort of infuriating. I feel awful about Cheyenne, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. “You can’t rewrite history, so just roll with it.”
“Fuck,” he says, pushing off the bed. He huffs and mumbles to himself a moment before turning around and facing the wall next to the door. His right arm twitches, and he draws back his left leg, brings it forward, and slams it into the wall in front of him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I sit motionless and wait, praying that he calms down soon. The angrier he gets, the longer it’s going to take me to get out of here. I just want this nightmare to end, but everything I say that’s meant to make things better just ends up making them worse. So I decide to just not say anything else.
He huffs and grumbles for several more minutes before finally turning to face me again. “Let’s get a few things straight—I am not a patient man. I’ve been kind so far, but make no mistake about it, I do not like improvising. You want to tell the entire fucking world that you fucked me, go right ahead, baby. You tell everybody I put my dick inside you and pummeled you so hard you’re having trouble walking today. You tell everybody how I fucked you hard and fucked you raw. In fact, you want my dick so badly, take it.”
I cover my face with my hands the moment he reaches down and starts to unbuckle his belt. A moment passes before he says, “Thought so.” And then he disappears. It’s minutes later when Lisa comes into the room. She doesn’t say much except that she’s going to help me up and out of the house. With no little amount of embarrassment, Lisa tells me that my injury is little more than a nasty bruise on my hip from where Grady fell on me and his gun slammed into me, and a mild bullet graze. Even if I’d only been going on with the dramatics in my head, I’m still mortified that I thought I’d been badly shot. All in all, she’s really quite kind about it.
On my way out, I don’t see Grady or Cheyenne at all. I tell myself that it’s for the best. Really, in all the years I’ve distantly fantasized about the club and the men in it, never did I think I’d be in this position. I walk gingerly to my car, aided by Lisa, and when I climb inside, I find that it’s been cleaned, with no sign that I was bleeding all over the seats just yesterday.
<
br /> “Someone will be by with the first payment in a few days,” she says. She’s got her hand on the outside handle of the open driver’s side door.
“Oh, I don’t really want the cash. I just want to be left alone,” I say.
“Word of advice? You want to be left alone—take the money and be done with it. Arguing is only going to invite trouble,” she says. I go to defend myself, but she holds her hand up and shakes her head. “I’m just the messenger.”
She shuts the door and steps away from the car. I take that as my cue and pull out of the driveway then drive slowly away from the Grady residence and back to my normal life.
“YOU’RE SURE— YOU don’t have any ibuprofen?” I ask Margot as I rub my temples. Mr. Beck has been in his office with Jeremy Whelan for the last ten minutes and it’s starting to get loud. It doesn’t matter that the door is shut and his office is all the way down the hall. I can hear practically every single word of what’s being said. Jeremy, a senior who is unlikely to graduate, is asking for a work permit. For the fourth time. He’s awfully persistent and if I didn’t know his story, I might think it a little weird that he wants a job so badly. Most kids are reluctant to work¸ but Jeremy’s sister, Nic is the only family he has as far as I know. Nic works with Mindy and neither of them make much. I just wish Mr. Beck would give Jeremy a break— even if the kid is being a real pain in the butt.
My elbows are resting on my desk and I’m hunched over. Everything aches from my ache to my head to my soul. Even the no-longer-bruised spot above my hip aches. It could be cramps or I could be crazy. With how awful I feel right now, it doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters is that apparently nobody in this godforsaken building has any pain killers and Mr. Beck’s voice carries. I look at the clock on the wall and see that they’ve been in there arguing for longer than I thought. It’s been closer to fifteen minutes of straight-up bitching.
