Devil's Kiss

by Celia Loren

  The one named King, a short, wiry guy, shakes my hand first. Tree, a taller man with wild, scraggly hair, looks me up and down before extending his hand.

  “Your brother’s told us absolutely nothing about you,” he says with a smile. “I’m sure that was on purpose,” he adds with a wink. I can’t help but blush.

  “Everyone’s out back,” King says to West.

  “Alright, see you guys out there,” West says with a nod. With a hand at the small of my back, he leads me toward a hallway across the room then pauses and looks back. “So that’s the main room of the clubhouse.” I look back with him and take in the bar, pool table, and couches. There’s a set of TVs above the bar that I realize are monitoring the street and areas around the clubhouse. They show a small crowd gathered out back. West points toward a door to our right. “That’s the boardroom,” he says. “Don’t go in there. Ever.”

  “Got it,” I say. Those cameras have given me pause. I know my brother and the club deal in some illegal business, and I’ve always thought of myself as being able to recognize that morality is not always black and white. I just hope he’s not in danger.

  “You saw the garage when we came in,” West goes on, “That’s where I work.”

  “Really?” I ask, “I mean, I know you’re good with bikes and cars and everything, but I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing.”

  West nods. “In addition to club business, of course. Ratchet, that’s our president, he taught me everything I know.”

  We start down the hallway. “Some of these rooms are brothers’ bedrooms,” he says, gesturing to the doors we’re passing. “Others live upstairs. You don’t need to see those—they’re all pigsties. I was pretty happy to move into your brother’s house. And here’s where he does a lot of his work,” he says, pointing to an office on our right.

  “Stick always was better than me in math,” I say with a smile. Now he takes care of the club’s finances. He would always sound proud of himself when he talked to me about it over the phone, though he couldn’t go into too much detail, of course.

  “Me too,” West says. “Though I did have to write a couple papers for him back in high school. That’s pretty much the whole place. Nothing fancy.” He stops at the end of the hallway in front of another door that I assume leads to the backyard. I stop in front of him, purposefully planting myself just an inch closer to his body than I naturally would. I see a flicker of desire in his eyes and his jaw clenches. He shakes his head and pushes open the door.

  We walk out onto a poured concrete patio that spreads about twenty feet from the building before giving way to grass. I hear Stick call my name and glance around for him. There must be forty or more people here, including a bunch of kids. I spot him standing in the grass with a petite blonde. I walk over to him, glad I’m wearing wedge heels that don’t sink into the grass.

  I smile at the blonde as I approach and immediately stick out my hand. “You must be Stacy,” I say.

  “Yes,” she grins, glad to be recognized off the bat. That means Stick’s been talking about her, after all. “And you must be Olive.”

  “You want a beer or something? Hamburger?” Stick asks me. The smell of the grill is enticing.

  “Both, please,” I reply. He begins to head off, then hesitates. I wave him away. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her anything too embarrassing about you.”

  Stick rolls his eyes at me and ambles on. I turn to Stacy. She’s cute, probably about my age, and seems a little quiet. That’s probably good for Stick, who can be rather gregarious.

  “So, how long have you and Stick been going out?” I ask.

  “Next week it’ll be eight months,” she replies, her eyes sparkling.

  “You know when the eight month mark is?” I smile, “Wow, it really must be serious, huh?”

  “Well, I just know because he’s insisting on taking me out to dinner for it,” Stacy tells me.

  This really takes me be surprise. I instinctively hug her before I can stop myself. “I’m so happy for you!” I say as I wrap my arms around her. She seems a little surprised at first, but hugs me back all the same.

  “Thank you!” she says as I release her. “Stick isn’t usually like that with girls?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I laugh, “He usually has to be reminded about Valentine’s Day, and that’s a national holiday. No, trust me, you’re special.”

  “Wow,” she says softly, smiling to herself.

  “So, tell me all about yourself,” I urge her.

  It turns out Stacy is a hairdresser, and we end up discussing my hair. I tell her it’s darker than it used to be, and when Stick walks back over, she’s running her hands through it and telling me the color compliments my eyes. We both burst out laughing at the befuddled expression on his face. A few hours and as many beers later, the sun has set and I feel like I’ve known Stacy for years.

  “Just take it easy for a little, and then I’ll see if I can find you a job,” Stick says to me.

  “I’m sure she can find one herself, honey,” Stacy says. She may be quiet, but she knows how to speak her mind.

  “That’s right. In fact...” I say, as I spot Franchise across the lawn. Without another word, I quickly cross the grass toward him. An idea’s been forming in my mind today and I want to test it out.

  “Hey, Franchise?” I say, catching him mid-bite as he scarfs down a hot dog. “I’m Olive, Stick’s sister. I saw you at the bar last night.” I swallow, that’s the only part I’m nervous about—that he saw me with West. But he just blinks, so I rush on. “I have a bunch of cocktail waitressing experience, and I heard you need a bartender at the Black Rock. I thought maybe I could give you my resume...” I trail off hopefully.

  “What’s in a Manhattan?” he asks bluntly.

  “Bourbon, sweet vermouth, and bitters. And a maraschino cherry,” I answer without pause.

  “Dirty martini.”

  “Vodka or gin, dry vermouth, olive brine.”

  “Daiquiri.”

  “Rum—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

  “Trick question. No one orders a daiquiri in the Black Rock. You’re hired.”

  “Seriously?” I squeak.

  “Be there Tuesday at six o’clock to train. Wear black. All my bartenders wear black, see.”

  “And all your customers,” I point out.

  “True,” he nods.

  “OK, then. Thanks, Franchise!” I smile at him, then walk back to my brother and Stacy to tell them the good news. West has joined them while I was away.

  “I got a job!” I exclaim as I reach them.

  “What job?” Stick asks, frowning.

  “Bartending at the Black Rock!” I grin, “Franchise just hired me!”

  “That’s awesome, Olive!” Stacy says excitedly, “You’ve been back a day and you already got a job!”

  “No, you’re not working there. It’s too dangerous,” Stick says authoritatively.

  “What are you talking about? I was just in there the other night,” I point out.

  “You shouldn’t be working in a bar,” he says.

  “Stick, I worked as a cocktail waitress for years in Concord,” I snap at him.

  “I bet she can handle it,” West chimes in coolly.

  “Thank you, West,” I say to him.

  “Well...” Stick glances around at us, sensing he’s outnumbered. “Fine, but only if one of us takes you home at night. I don’t want you walking to your car by yourself.”

  “If you really want to sign up for that, fine by me,” I reply with a shrug.

  “Good,” Stick says. “Congratulations, by the way,” he adds with a wry smile.

  The matter resolved, we keep chatting and drinking. The remaining kids at the party are taken home, and the music is turned up. The back door has been propped open, and people are milling freely in and out of the clubhouse. West has wandered away and Stick is deep in conversation with the grim, intimidating club president, Ratchet.


  “So, wait, the old ladies are just like wives, right?” I ask Stacy.

  “Well, not necessarily,” she says, “Most of the brothers are married to their old ladies, but not all of them. Though the ones who aren’t treat their old ladies like wives anyway. Except, well, there are a couple that have both—an old lady and a wife. Some people like to keep their club and outside life separate like that.”

  “Stick wouldn’t do something like that,” I tell her.

  “No,” she says with a smile. “I wouldn’t be here if he would.”

  “Well, good,” I say. “What about Colleen?” I ask, pointing to the busty redhead, who’s just walking back into the clubhouse.

  “Colleen’s a sweet butt,” Stacy informs me.

  “And that’s...?”

  “That’s like a, well...They sort of hang around the club,” Stacy says, “Usually they haven’t had such an easy life, and the club offers them security. And they’re expected to return the favor, by, you know...But if they’re lucky, one of the brothers will make them his old lady.”

  “Ah, gotcha,” I say. I don’t know if I could ever live like that, but I’ve also never had to, so I can’t judge. “Colleen seems nice. I met her at the Black Rock last night. She was quite interested in West.”

  Stacy laughs. “Oh my gosh, you should see how the girls throw themselves at West. It’s so crazy! And when they found out I was dating Stick, they thought I was their in with him or something, and started cozying up to me! Like I could do anything to influence West!”

  “So West’s not dating anyone?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

  “Nope,” she says, turning toward me with a suspicious look in her eyes. “Wait, why are you asking? Olive...”

  “No! Nothing like that,” I tell her, “I’m just curious, I swear.”

  “Well, no, he’s not dating anyone. And he won’t,” she adds warningly. “I’ve never even seen him hook up with the same girl more than a couple of times.”

  I sigh. “I can’t say that shocks me. Even in high school I don’t think he had a girlfriend. His dad wasn’t around when he was a kid, you know. And his mom, well, she had a lot of problems...”

  “Meth?” Stacey asks. I nod. “I’ve got two cousins on the stuff. Terrible.”

  “Alright, Olive, it’s that time,” Stick says, walking back toward us and snaking his arm around Stacy’s waist. I look at him, confused.

  “What time?” I ask.

  “For you to go. This party is going to start getting a little crazy, and I’m planning on being very focused on this one,” he says, nudging Stacy.

  “Stick!” Stacy protests, blushing.

  “Stick, I’m going to be out all the time working at the bar. You can’t look out for me twenty-four seven,” I point out.

  “You know what, you’re right,” he says, suddenly walking off.

  “What’s he up to?” I ask worriedly. Stacy shrugs, equally confused.

  Suddenly the music cuts out. Everyone looks around, murmuring in surprise. And there’s my brother, standing on a chair, with a beer in his hand.

  “Hey! Listen up, everyone. Important announcement,” he hollers. The assembled MC members and women quiet down, looking up at stick with curious stares. “Now, my little sister Olive has just moved back home. Some of you might have already met her tonight...” he goes on.

  Oh no, I think, my face instantly turning crimson.

  “For those of you who haven’t met Olive, that’s her over there, next to Stacy,” he says, pointing toward me. I cover my face with my hands, mortified, as everyone’s heads whip toward me. “Now, I know normally that a girl who’s not anyone’s old lady is fair game, but let me make this very clear: Olive is not. If anyone so much as touches her, I will personally cut your balls off with a dull butter knife and then stuff them down your throat until you choke. Got it?” A stunned silence follows his remarks. “So, please join me in welcoming her. To Olive!” he says, raising his beer in my direction with a wicked grin on his face.

  An awkward chorus of “To Olive!” echoes through the crowd. Someone turns the music back on and the party noises gradually get going again.

  “Oh, Olive, I am so sorry,” Stacy says, rubbing my arm. “I mean, he told me he was protective of you, but I had no idea...”

  I look up to see Stick making his way towards us.

  “You asshole!” I say, punching him as hard as I can on the arm. I storm away him and head into the clubhouse, my head down, avoiding the barrage of staring eyes.

  Sinking into the first empty chair I find, I fume silently, humiliated. I cannot believe Stick. I pull my legs up and tuck them next to me, balling my fists on my thighs. I try to take a deep breath, glad I’ve found a spot by myself. From this corner, I have a clear view of the lounge, though I doubt I’m very visible to anyone else. Suits me fine at the moment. I just want to disappear.

  I scan the pool table and bar. The place is pretty packed, and Stick is right—people are getting pretty loose. My breath catches in my throat as I spot West on a couch to my right. He doesn’t see me, I can be sure of that. He’s too busy letting some girl drape herself all over him. Nope, I think, Don’t need to see that. I quickly stand up and rush out back again, looking around the yard.

  “Stick!” I say, locating him quickly. “You know what? You were right. I should get out of here. Can I have your car keys? Can you get another ride home?”

  “Yeah, one of the prospects can give us a ride. You okay?” he asks, handing over his keys.

  “Yep,” I reply shortly. “Just want to get out of here. Thanks,” I say.

  “Drive safely!” he calls after me as I turn on my heel and walk around the side of the building so I don’t have to see whatever West is up to again.

  I find Stick’s Tahoe on the street and breathe a sigh of relief as I shut the car door behind me. I lean forward and rest my head on the steering wheel. Seeing West hanging out with another girl really threw me. I didn’t think it would affect me so strongly. I push the keys into the ignition and pull away from the curb. I turn on the radio to try to distract myself. West’s intentions with that woman may have been totally innocent, for all I know. But even so, I can’t get the image of them out of my mind. I must be far more stuck on him than I realized.

  Chapter Five

  Olive

  It took me a long time to fall asleep the night after the party, but I felt a lot better when I woke up this morning. I thought to myself: I’m a strong, desirable woman, and I don’t need a complication like West in my life. I felt so good, I decided to go for a jog. I lasted a whole thirty minutes, making my way around the neighborhood, before I came back to the kitchen to make myself some eggs.

  And what do I get for all this positive action? Breakfast with the girl West was flirting with—and apparently brought home—last night. That’s what.

  I force myself to smile at her from the counter. She hasn’t done anything wrong, I remind myself. And I guess technically West hasn’t either, though I do feel like he’s throwing it in my face a bit by bringing his conquest back to my childhood home. I clear my throat.

  “You want some eggs?” I ask, as I crack a few into a bowl.

  “Sure. Thanks...Oh my gosh, I forgot your name all ready,” she replies.

  “It’s Olive,” I tell her, fighting to keep my voice light.

  “Oh yeah!” she says, “Your brother made that whole speech about you. He is so hot.”

  “Um. Thank you,” I say quizzically.

  I crack two more eggs into the bowl for her, mix them all together with some milk, then pour them into a hot saucepan.

  “I wish my brother was like that,” the girl sighs, “But he’s just—”

  A noise from the hallway causes both of us to turn. West is standing there, barefoot in a white t-shirt and old jeans, his hair mussed and eyes blurry. Even hung over, he still looks good.

  “Hey, I’m just making eggs for your friend...” I trail off.

  “Jenn
a,” the girl prompts me.

  “Right. Jenna. Do you want some?” I ask. West looks a little surprised.

  “No, thanks, I’m good.” He looks unsure of what to do, but finally takes a seat next to Jenna at the kitchen table.

  “Sorry, what were you saying, Jenna?” I ask.

  “Oh, just my brother. He’s such a fucking asshole, I swear to God. Sometimes I just want to fucking hit him, you know?” she gushes.

  “Um. Sure,” I say noncommittally as I push the eggs around with the spatula. The coffee I started brewing a couple minutes ago looks done, so I grab a few mugs down from the cabinet. Stick hasn’t changed the location of anything in here, so it’s easy for me to find it all.

  I pour the coffee into the mugs and add a little milk and sugar to mine. The eggs look done too, so I plate them and bring them to the table. West stands to grab the coffees and brings them to the table, so I follow him with the milk and sugar. I sit down across from them and take a bite of my eggs, chewing slowly so that I don’t have to talk. I watch as Jenna smiles and tries to make eye contact with West, who stares down at his coffee. Then I hear a shuffling noise from under the table. Oh, no. Is she trying to play footsie with him?

  “So, Jenna, do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” I ask, trying to break the awkwardness.

  She starts as though she had forgotten I was here, then squints at me. “Oh, wait. Don’t tell me. It’s like the garden, that’s how I told myself to remember...Olive!”

  Did she just forget my name twice in under five minutes? And also, “Like the garden?” I ask.

  “Yeah, like the Olive Garden!” she smiles, “That’s how I’m gonna remember your name now.”

  I catch West’s eyes momentarily. “Right...” I finally say.

  “Well, Olive, I thought I might see what this guy’s doing today before I make any plans,” she replies, nudging West suggestively.

  I see West’s eyes widening in alarm and decide to leave him with the mess he’s created for himself. I quickly finish the last of my eggs.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then,” I say taking my plate to the sink. “Great to meet you, Jenna!” I add with a little wave as I head down the hallway to my bedroom.