by Violet Blaze
“This son of a bitch is sticking his dick in my daughter,” Jack spits, tearing away from his fellow officers. I stare him straight in the face; I think I'm still smiling. But maybe I'm not. “Not only that, but he's teaching her to ride?” Murmurs break out across the table and it's easy to see the two factions here: young versus old.
“Listen up, goddamn it,” Royal snarls, and everyone pauses to listen. Yes, they're terrified of me, but there's also a reason that at thirty-two, this man's the youngest president in club history. They know what he can do; they know what I'll do for him. The room gets quiet but for the sound of rustling leather and the wheels of lighters flicking. “Last night, Mick and I did yet another read through of the club constitution and bylaws; there is nothing in there that excludes a woman from riding a bike—”
Royal doesn't get to finish; the table erupts into violent chaos, shouting and screaming. Jack glares daggers at me, and I smirk at him. I didn't come in here with the purpose of pissing him off, but I won't see him treat Serenity, Royal, or myself with any disrespect.
“How can that fucking be?” Dober asks, ever the vigilant club lackey. He glares at me and I return the favor. I guess we're finally admitting that the vice president and I have never gotten along all the well. Before him, Landon was the vice president, and even though that son of a bitch betrayed us, I liked him better.
“Bitches ride bitch,” one of the old-timers says, and I turn my ice gaze to him, blinking so slowly that the room goes dark for a full fifteen seconds.
“Serenity is not a bitch.”
“She's a woman, ain't she?” one of the other guys says and my hand curls up by my side, inches away from the nine mil tucked under my cut. I could blow his head off right here, right now. It would be so easy.
“The founding members of the club didn't even think to put it in the rules. It was so obvious and implied at the time that it didn't matter,” Royal says.
“Bullshit,” Dober snaps as he and Jack exchange a look. “This is complete bullshit. Not only is Glacier sneaking around with Jack's daughter, fucking her, but he's taking her out for a ride and you don't have a goddamn problem with this?”
“Never should've let him marry the fucking mayor,” somebody growls and I feel my lip curl up in a snarl. I was going to start out nicely; I was. I don't feel so nice anymore.
“Everyone shut the fuck up,” Royal snaps, standing instead of sitting, his eyes narrowed and his lip curled around his cigarette. “If you don't want me to be president, impeach me. Get two of the officers to co-sponsor the deal and fifty-one percent of you assholes can sign it. As things stand, I'm still the goddamn boss and what I say goes. We live by the laws set down by our founders and they didn't say a fucking thing about women and bikes. Don't believe me, read the damn thing yourself. It's bloody riveting.”
Royal pulls his smoke from between his lips and challenges the gathered members with a dark stare.
“No self-respecting MC lets their bitches ride,” Dober says, standing next to Jack, clearly in support of his fellow officer. “And the fact that Glacier took Jack's daughter out without his permission makes it even worse. This isn't something you can just let slide, Royal.”
“I'll have Serenity as my old lady,” I say firmly and Jack bristles, hands curling into fists, red face getting even redder. “Whether it's today or in eight months when she turns eighteen. Doesn't much matter to me either way. But you'd best get used to it.”
Uproar takes over the table again, but nobody moves from their seat; they know better than to antagonize me too much. Well, all of them but Jack. His reasoning skills have clearly gone out the window.
“Like hell I will,” he snarls, putting his palms flat on the edge of the table, panting, fuming, ready to rip into me like a rabid wolf. I smile again, and this time, it's intentional.
“I do fucking everything for this club,” I state, my voice so cold it turns the air in the room to frost. I can practically see ice crystals licking across the surface of the table. “My hands are always wet with blood, my house always full of guests, and what do I ask for? Nothing. I've wanted nothing. But this, this I will have. Serenity is going to be my old lady, and she's going to ride her own damn bike.”
“She is my fucking daughter!” Jack yells, voice echoing around the high ceilings. Usually there's this hushed, almost decadently silent quality to the room. Not today. “I decide what she does. Until she's eighteen, she's as much my property as my goddamn motorcycle.”
“She isn't property,” I say, and I think I'm snarling. I'm … getting emotional. “She holds the leash to my monster; she owns me. Whatever she wants me to do, I'll do. I belong to her now, so if you want me here, you'll accept this for what it is. She keeps the beast inside of me in check. Without her, I'm now liable to snap.” I grin at Jack, but it's not a very pretty facial expression. “I don't think you'll want to know what happens if I do.”
“She's become a liability,” Mick says, speaking up for the first time, glancing up and around the table. Here it goes, exactly as I thought it would. I don't understand any of this bullshit, this squawking and arguing and fighting over the smallest things. But at least I know how to play the game. “She's seventeen, and fucking her alone is a felony. We need Glacier, and he wants Serenity.” Mick gives Jack an apologetic look as I stand there and pretend that their words matter. To them, Serenity doesn't have a voice. To me, her words are as loud as a scream. I could hear them no matter where I stood. I'd let the sound of her voice drown out the world. “So, let's do what we do best around here and have another courthouse wedding. I mean, there are extra steps involved since she's a minor but—”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Jack yells, giving Mick a look from across the table. The secretary just stares back at him, lips pursed, but doesn't say a thing in response. Maybe because I'm standing next to him? “He sneaks around with my fucking daughter, puts her on a bike, gets her arrested, and now you want him to marry her? You tryin' to send me to an early grave?”
“Glacier,” Royal says, glancing at me, but I can tell he's not addressing me personally. “Glacier,” he repeats, “is important, useful, and bloody dangerous.” He looks back at Jack. “He owns the house where we dump our bodies and he's the only one of us who has the skills to do what needs to be done down in that basement. If he wants to marry your daughter, and she's not opposed to it, then let's just have it be done and move on. This club has important business to worry about other than where one of its officers might be spending his nights.”
“So you say because you dragged the damn mayor into our business,” Jack growls as he runs his hand over the thinning hair on the top of his head. “I say we put it to a vote.”
“Your daughter has enough ammunition to destroy this entire club,” I say, tilting my head to the side, my voice cold and dispassionate yet hiding a wave of white-hot rage beneath it. I want to tear this room to pieces right now. “She grew up in this club; she's a part of it. Maybe you should've considered what might happen before you started bringing her around here?”
“I'm going to fucking destroy you,” Jack growls as Dober steps in front of him and puts out a hand. “You fuck my teenage daughter, you shit on our culture, and then you come in here and demand to have her as your old lady? You gonna take her to school in the mornings? Help her with her fucking homework?”
“If that's what it takes.”
Jack picks up his chair and throws it against the back wall, lifting his hands up and walking in a tight circle before Mug and Smoky can grab him again.
“Let's put this to a vote then,” Royal says, agreeing with Jack for the first time since I walked in here. He gives me a look and we exchange glances. It'll be close, this vote, but if he's putting it out there then I trust that he knows what he's doing.
He better.
Nobody in this club will want to see what I'll do if it doesn't pass.
So we vote.
Look's like Serenity's going to be my old lady�
��and whether my brothers like it or not, she's going to ride a damn bike.
Sitting in the café is … awful. It's awkward and quiet and the stares are hard to take.
My mom takes me inside and I get right to work making coffees for all the women, just like I always do. Because playing barista means I don't have to sit down and have them throw questions at me in a barrage, judge me, think they know anything at all about Glacier and me.
“Serenity,” Fauna says coolly after I set a steaming mocha down in front of her. “Can I speak with you in private for a moment?”
“Sure,” I say, even though I feel like I might throw up. I follow her into the bathroom, fully aware of how ironic it is that I'd be getting a lecture from my mom in the same place that Glacier's monster fucked me the other day.
Fauna leans against the door as I stand in front of the sink with my arms crossed over my chest, fully aware that I'm wearing Glacier's colors—another name for official club apparel—on my back. And it's not like a letterman jacket or something; in this culture, this is as real as a wedding ring.
“When?” my mother asks, looking away from me, her pink streaked blonde hair falling over her face like a shield. She won't even look at my face. I get the urge to move over to her, see if she's okay. I feel awful for doing this to her, after what she went through last month. But I can't help it. This is my fate, Glacier's fate, our fate. “How long has he been fucking you?”
See that: how long has he been fucking you. As if this whole incident was a passive effort on my part. In truth, it was me who was the aggressor.
I stare at her and wish she'd look up; she doesn't.
I turn away and stare into the mirror, at my makeup free face and my rumpled clothes. Glacier and I slept all night at the cemetery house, so even though I got a quick chance to shower this morning, I had nothing new to change into.
My first instinct is to lie, tell my mom a story that'll make this all more palatable, but I can't do that. I want her to know the truth, to understand—at least a little—how I feel about Saint.
“The night you got shot,” I say, my voice strong and steady. I'm proud of myself for that. Mom cringes and reaches up a hand to her face. “I lost my virginity to him.”
“Serenity,” Mom whispers, finally looking up at me, her eyes full of tears. I know what she's probably thinking, that I got sucked into the aura of the club by Glacier's persuasiveness, that he lured me into this like she was lured into the club at my age.
“I know what this club is like, Mom,” I say, and she makes a scoffing sound in the back of her throat.
“You're a child, Serenity. A child. You have no idea what this life is like.”
“I don't?” I ask, trying not to shout. But holy shit. Really? “This is all that I know. I grew up on this goddamn compound. I've seen things that people who live to be a hundred never see.”
“You think this is what I wanted for you, Ren? Goddamn it!” Mom buries her face in her hands and makes a sobbing sound. “What do you plan on doing with your life? Hanging around here? Working as a barista?”
“I'm going to finish high school and then I'm going to work on getting published.”
Finally. Something that feels right. This is it. I know it is. I never wanted to go to college. And as far as Trinidad, I like it here. It's wild and beautiful and barely touched by human hands. Half the year, when the rich assholes that own mansions scattered across the countryside go back to their real homes, this place turns into a quiet, sleepy seaside town. I have friends here, good ones. And I can write from anywhere, so it really doesn't matter. Besides, I know if I wanted to travel, I could. Either with Glacier or without him—although I'd be a lot more inclined to go if it was with.
“I'm not giving up much here,” I promise. “The only compromise I'm really making is the marriage thing—”
“Marriage?” Mom asks, startled, like a deer caught in the headlights, face snapping up and blue eyes wide as saucers. “What are you talking about?”
I purse my lips and glance away. I guess it hasn't occurred to her the way it occurred to Glacier last night. When he explained it to me, I understood. I don't really like the idea or the history of marriage, but that compromise I can make. Really, I don't have to do much else.
“He was made to be mine,” I say and my mom makes this horrid sound in her throat, like I'm some kind of invalid incapable of making her own decisions. I stare at my reflection, at the white porcelain sink, the blue tiles on the walls. I don't want to see her expression right now. “And he needed someone to love him. I wanted to be that person.”
“Serenity, he's thirty years old. What he wants from you, honey, it isn't love.”
“If you're talking about sex,” I say, turning my head and throwing a glance in her direction, “then that's not it at all. I mean, it's part of who we are as a couple, sure, but it's not our main focus. And it's definitely not his main motivation—or mine.”
“You think a thirty year old man like that has no motivation to be with a seventeen year old girl? Honey, men think differently than women.”
“Mom, stop,” I moan, putting a hand to my face. “It's not about gender with Glacier and me.”
“For the love of Christ, I knew that liberal school was a mistake—”
I cut her off.
“Mom, I like having sex with him.”
Fauna makes yet another awful sound before turning and fleeing the bathroom; I chase after her.
“Mom!”
She moves over to the table and sits down, sliding her mocha close and leaning over it, with her elbows on the tabletop and her head in her hands.
“Listen to me, please,” I beg, but she won't look up. I glance around—at Glinda, Janae, Lyric, a few of the old-timers' wives.
“Oh, sweet pea,” Glinda says in her thick, southern drawl. “Give your mama a minute, okay?”
I snag Lyric's attention and then turn, heading for the front door and outside; she follows close behind me.
“I like your outfit,” I say with a small sniffle, looking down at the much shorter woman in her black leather riding pants and boots, Royal's club jacket draped over her shoulders. It says President above the front pocket.
“Thanks,” she says, with a small half-smile. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” I say, lifting my face to the gray-blue sky, feeling the thinnest layer of mist settle across my face. In the distance, the ocean roars like an angry beast, attacking the shore with foamy white fingers. I look back down at Lyric's face. “I don't know,” I say, because I feel weird inside. On the one hand, I'm kind of glad that it's all out in the open. On the other … my parents aren't going to get past this easily. “Ask me tomorrow.”
Lyric steps close and puts an arm around me, giving me a comforting hug. It's kind of funny, too, since I'm massively taller than she is.
“So, I heard about the fight yesterday,” she tells me and I sigh. “Don't worry about the school. I can't do anything about the suspension, but I can talk to the school board and make sure you don't get expelled. That girl's been harassing you for a while now, and they did nothing about it. There are pretty strong anti-bullying laws in place for the district, and Mrs. Ferrera followed none of the protocol set forth. The school's liable for two law suits—one from us and one from Nevaeh's family—if they don't settle this properly.”
“At least there's some good news to be had this morning,” I say with a small sigh, my head snapping up as the doors to the clubhouse open and Glacier comes stalking out. The look on his face is almost a smirk. Dad, on the other hand, looks pissed.
I can take a guess on how the meeting went …
My heart starts to thunder wildly in my chest as the two men approach, the president hot on their heels, his sergeant at arms by his side.
Oh god.
“Serenity,” Glacier says, his blue gaze slicing through me before he tilts it courteously in Lyric's direction, “Ms. Mayor.”
I don't get even a second to
respond because Dad is just there, looming over me, face red, eyes dark, expression impossible to read. He looks at me for all of ten seconds and then disappears into the café. I swear, I can hear my mother sobbing, even from out here.
“We voted,” Glacier says, tilting his head to the side, blonde hair falling across his brow. “Majority vote says that you,” he reaches out and cups the back of my neck, pulling our foreheads together, “are going to be my old lady. Provided, of course, you're still interested.”
“What do you think?” I ask with a stupid goofy smile blooming on my lips. I should probably be upset because my mom is clearly about to lose her mind, but I can't help it. I don't exactly like the way the club works, and I really don't like marriage, but damn it, something I've wanted for years is finally coming to fruition.
“Mick will walk your mom through the legalities of it,” Royal says, lighting up a cigarette. “There are hoops to jump through because of your age, but the club wants this done as soon as possible. Until then, you're a walking, talking liability. Try to stay clean until Monday morning rolls around, alright?”
“He means don't get caught fucking,” Glacier says, letting go of me, his face making some small semblance of a smile. It fades when my parents walk out of the café, and detour around us, heading for the clubhouse bar no doubt. Neither of them looks at me. When I glance back at Glacier, his smile is gone. “Do you think Jack'll give us trouble?” he asks and Royal sighs, his expression lightening up a little when Lyric moves over to him and slides her arms under his cut, pressing their bodies together.
“I don't think he'll do anything to defy the club,” Royal starts and there's an inherent but in his words. “I'd be ready for trouble on the home front though.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “Just don't flaunt the bike thing around the compound. Don't ride it anywhere near here. In fact, try not to bring it up at all.”
