Devil's Kiss

by Celia Loren

  I continue down the hallway, back through the kitchen, and out the sliding glass door in the back. It’s amazing, they always lock the front door, but this door has never been locked since I’ve been coming here. Not once. I shake my head. The hubris of bikers. Thinking they’re invincible because of a couple tattoos and a leather vest.

  Making quick tracks, I cut across a few lots to the street where I’ve parked my rental sedan. My cell vibrates in my pocket. I glance at the screen. Fucking Stan again. Jesus, that fucker is persistent. How many times do I have to ignore his calls before he gets the picture? He’s like a fucking woman, or something. I press ‘decline’ and stuff the phone back in my pocket. I unlock the car door and slide behind the wheel.

  The manila envelope is lying on the passenger seat, carefully addressed to Drew Corder at his house. I start the car and drive into town, where I know there’s a post office box on my way back to my motel. I took many more photos than I needed to, and included them all in the envelope. I really hope I get to see her brother’s reaction when he opens it. If I drop it off today, it should get there on Friday or Saturday. I can just see him picking up the mail from below the front door where the mailman has pushed it through the slot.

  What’s this? He’ll wonder as he works open the flap. And out will come all the photos I’ve taken of Olive and West. Them fucking on the couch, her bedroom, his bedroom. They’ve really been quite inventive, far more than she ever was with me, though I’ll fix that quickly. I’m sure Drew will feel the same level of disgust that I felt when taking them. It’s amazing what you can do with a telephoto lens these days.

  Then, when Olive’s world is crumbling around her, that’s when I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Olive

  West and I haven’t seen one another much in the week since Stick’s been back. We’ve managed to masterfully avoid each other, even while living in the same house. He hasn’t shown up once to the Black Rock while I’ve been working, either. Stick or a prospect has picked me up every night.

  And I’m worried about how much Stick saw the other night when West hugged me. The fact that he’s had a prospect pick me up rather than West...that worries me. And what was West doing hugging me anyway? He goes out of his way to avoid me, and then picks the worst moment ever to want to touch me? I don’t understand that man. I feel like I’ve had a ball of anxiety in my stomach for days.

  Calm down, I order myself, fluffing my hair in the bathroom mirror. A little more eyeliner, I think, reaching into my makeup bag.

  Stacy was beyond thrilled when Stick asked her to marry him and gave her the old lady cut he had made for her. Tonight, the club is throwing a party for them, and despite what Stick says, I plan on staying the whole night. And I’m gonna look super hot, too. I’ve got on a pair of painted-on skinny jeans, patent leather heels, and a lacy, deep red top. I look myself over one last time in the mirror and grab my little silver clutch from the counter.

  I head back into the living room, where Stick, West, and Stacy—in her new cut, are waiting. I see Stick open his mouth to protest what I’m wearing, when Stacy jumps in.

  “Wow, you look fucking hot!” she exclaims. “Come on, I don’t want to be too late to my own party.” She grabs my arm and pulls me to the front door before her fiancé can get a word in edgewise.

  We climb in the backseat of the Tahoe and Stick and West get in front. Again, I wonder if Stick suggested we take the car to avoid me getting on the back of West’s bike. They start talking about some prospects I haven’t met and Stacy rolls her eyes jokingly at me. I smile at her. I’m glad she’s going to be my sister-in-law. As much as I love Stick, I was always jealous of girls who had a sister to talk to.

  Soon we’re pulling through the clubhouse’s gates. We park out front and then make our way through the front door and out the back into the yard. Stacy and Stick walk in front of West and me down the hallway, and we each carefully examine backs of their heads. It’s already humming in the back, and everyone turns and applauds when Stacy and Stick walk out together. I break into a grin too, kicking myself for being so wrapped up in my own thoughts at my brother’s engagement party. Tonight is supposed to be all about him and Stacy.

  The couple is quickly surrounded by well-wishers and I make a beeline for the beer. I crack one open, and glance around. This party has a more raucous air to it than the last one I was at here. It’s started later and is already dark out, and there are no kids to be seen. I chug half my beer and am pleased to see Tree making eye contact with me.

  “Hey, you hear the good news?” he asks.

  “You mean besides...” I indicate the happy couple with a nod of my head.

  “Franchise is opening up a new place!” he says.

  “Oh, shit, really?” I reply. Huh. Why hadn’t he told me that? “The Black Rock’s not closing, is it?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tree replies with a shrug of his shoulders. I take another long sip of my beer. Fuck. That’s the last thing I need, with needing to find my own place soon and everything. I polish off the last of my beer.

  “Damn, girl!” Tree says, studying my actions.

  “Hey, I’m not working, right?” I say with a smile. “How ‘bout you and I do a shot?” I suggest, grabbing a bottle of vodka.

  Tree flirtatiously slips his arm around my waist. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  A few drinks later, or maybe it’s four, I’m sandwiched between two eager, very cute prospects. I’m leaning on the arm of a sofa in the clubhouse, and Don and the other one—Chain, maybe?—are telling me something about this other club called the Devils, the one that Stick went off to deal with. They are far more talkative about the whole situation than West and Stick, though maybe it’s because they’re prospects. And they’re drunk. And my boobs look great in this shirt.

  “So Stick lays out the deal and was like, take it or leave it,” Chain says. It’s so weird to hear them talk about my brother as this badass biker guy. To me, he’ll always just be my crazy older brother.

  “But now they’re being such fucking pussies,” Don adds.

  “Yeah, that shit with your car was fucked up,” Chain says. Don elbows him hard in the ribs. “What the fuck, man?”

  “I told you not to say anything,” Don growls at him.

  “Wait, what about my car?” I ask, my attention suddenly piqued. I try to focus through the haze of alcohol surrounding my brain.

  “Nothing,” Don says, sipping at his beer.

  “Do you just mean, how the Devils fucked with it?” I guess, trying to pretend I already know what they’re talking about. I can’t believe Stick and West didn’t tell me! Are they talking about the car trouble West and I had on the way back from our hike?

  “Oh, yeah, I thought you didn’t know,” Don says frowning.

  “Yeah, they told me, just not the specifics of exactly how they did it. They thought I’d be bored with all the technical stuff, but I actually find it so fascinating,” I lie, and lay my hand on Rich’s knee, giving it a little squeeze.

  “Well, it’s actually not that technical. Those assholes just poured sand in your gas tank. Saw West and Ratchet fixing the filter. More of a pain in the ass than anything else,” Don says, shrugging it off, and giving me a smile.

  “Huh,” I say. “I don’t know a lot about how motorcycle clubs work, but is that how you guys usually get back at each other?”

  “No, but who else could it be?” Chain asks.

  Cutting through the happy buzz I’ve worked up tonight, a tingle of fear runs down my spine. There is someone else it could be. But that’s paranoid of me to think...right?

  “And hey, don’t tell anyone we told you about this,” Chain says. “I’m not even supposed to know.”

  “Oh, no, for sure,” I reply, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, you guys want another beer?” I ask, standing. Chain grabs my hand and tries to pull me into his lap.

  “Aw, come on, don’t leave
us, baby,” he says. “Your brother doesn’t have to know,” he adds with a smile.

  “I’ll be right back, promise,” I say with a wink. He lets go of my hand, thankfully. My smile disappears as I turn my back to them and make my way outside. I step around the couches filling up with amorous couples and walk down the hallway to the backyard.

  Where the hell are Stick and West? They should have told me about the car. That’s exactly the kind of thing Richard used to do to me. What if he followed me out here? What if that was him at the bar the other night? I scan the crowd, but can’t spot the guys anywhere.

  “Hey, Tree,” I say, grabbing his arm. “You know where Stick or West are?”

  “Haven’t seen either of them in a while,” he replies, pulling speculatively at a joint in his long fingers.

  Sudden, frustrated tears spring into my eyes. Getting upset isn’t going to help anything, I know. But I can’t stop myself from feeling hurt. And scared. I moved out here to get away from my crazy ex, to start over with people who really care about me. But Stick and West don’t even care enough to tell me about what happened to the Tahoe—they won’t let me be a real part of this world. It’s not fucking fair.

  “You OK?” Tree asks, as I spin on my heel and dash away.

  “Fine,” I call back, tears choking my voice. I tear through the bustling clubhouse, air thick with the smell of pot smoke and beer. My chest begins to heave as I burst through the door, staggering out into the relatively quiet night.

  I’m furious with myself for drinking so much, for daring to feel like I’d found my home here, at last. I’m just as alone as ever. I’d better get fucking used to it.

  “Hey, girl, I heard you were looking for me and Stick?” Stacy says, pushing the door open behind me. Shit. I quickly try to wipe my eyes. Too late. “Oh, no, what’s wrong? What happened?” she asks, taking one look at my face.

  “It’s nothing,” I say, but talking just releases a whole new wave of crying. She wraps her arm around me and grabs a tissue from her purse.

  “Deep breaths,” she instructs me. I nod and my crying eases a little. “What’s going on?” she asks, a worried frown creasing her pretty face.

  “I...I don’t know how to talk about it,” I reply, though I’m aching to.

  “Is it...is it something to do with West?” she asks cautiously. I gape at her.

  “How do you—? Oh no, does Stick know?” I whisper.

  “I don’t think so,” she says, “I think he’s a little suspicious. Hard to tell, because this week has been so crazy.”

  “Oh my god, I’m sorry,” I groan, “I feel like such an asshole. Tonight’s supposed to be about you, and here I am making a scene.”

  “Forget it!” she says, “I’ve had enough attention for one night. So tell me, what happened?” She places her hands on my shoulder and examines my face carefully. I smile gratefully at her.

  “Well, West and I have been...you know,” I finally admit, “I actually always had a crush on him, to be honest. And I know he’s a player, so I told him we were just gonna hook up while Stick was out of town on that run. And it was great, wonderful, really. But now that Stick’s back, it’s like the whole thing never happened, you know? I just feel like such an idiot, Stacy.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Stacy says, wrapping her arms around me.

  “I’m so stupid,” I murmur into her shoulder.

  “You’re not,” she says, pulling me back and wiping a tear away with her thumb. “West just maybe isn’t the best guy to get attached to,” she adds gently. I nod. She’s right. “Stick and I are about to leave anyway because he says it’s getting too crazy for me here, so let me just grab him and then we’ll go home together, OK?”

  “Hey, would you mind...” I begin.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” she promises. “Just use that tissue, otherwise he’s gonna know something’s up.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Stick, Stacy, and I are driving home in the Tahoe. Well, we’re actually being driven home by one of the prospects, because no way Stick was staying sober at his own goddamn party.

  I’m able to stay unnoticed in the back because Stick got pretty wasted and is even more belligerent and talkative than usual. Definitely not the time to ask him about the “car trouble”, even if I wanted to draw attention to myself right now. Stacy reaches over and quietly rubs my arm every once in a while. When we pull up to the house, she supports Stick, who’s weaving back and forth, as they walk inside, and I pull up the rear.

  As they head into the bedroom, Stacy laughing at Stick’s drunken antics, I close my bedroom door behind me, grateful to be by myself. My body suddenly feels sore and exhausted, as though I’ve just come back from running a marathon. I pull my cute outfit off and pull my oversized t-shirt over my head.

  I slip in between the covers, and turn the radio on my alarm clock on quietly. I need to listen to something other than the thoughts in my head right now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Olive

  I toss and turn in the morning, drifting out of sleep but willing myself back into unconsciousness. I can vaguely hear voices coming from the kitchen, and cabinets opening and closing. Finally, I stretch, unable to stay in bed any longer even though I don’t really want to face the day quite yet.

  Morning could not be less welcome to me right now. I slept badly, and don’t feel at all rested. My dreams were filled with images of Richard and West, their faces blurring disturbingly together. I grab a pair of sweat pants and wrap a robe around myself. My muscles feel old and my joints feel creaky. I can’t believe I have to work tonight—though I was lucky to have Franchise give me last night off to go to the party.

  I reluctantly open the door to the hallway and pad into the kitchen. Stacy and Stick are sitting together on the couch, laughing at something on TV.

  “Afternoon!” Stick calls out sarcastically.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I reply, rummaging around in the cabinet for some cereal. I hear the mail coming through the slot in the front door. Jeez, I really did sleep late. I pour myself a bowl and take it into the living room, curling up in the armchair. I can see Stacy glancing at me out of the corner of my eye.

  “How much did you drink last night?” Stick asks. “You look like hell.”

  “Stick!” Stacy protests, kicking him.

  “Thanks, big brother,” I say with a saccharine smile.

  “I’m not trying to be rude or anything!” he laughs, standing up and walking over to the front door.

  “Oh, OK, then. As long as you’re not being rude,” I say.

  Stick grins, bending down to pick up the mail. “Jesus, Stacy, did you already subscribe to a bridal magazine?” he asks, holding up magazine with a blushing bride on the cover.

  “Maybe,” she replies, blushing herself.

  I stare at the TV, trying to zone out. At least there’s no sign of West yet. I wonder if he even slept here last night. The thought causes a little bile to rise in my throat and I drop my spoon in my bowl.

  As if he’s wondering the same thing, Stick asks, “Either of you know if West slept here last night?”

  His voice is oddly quiet, and something in it makes me glance up. He’s staring down at a manila envelope in his hands—which I realize are actually shaking.

  “Yeah, I think he’s still asleep,” Stacy replies, then glances up at him. She tenses as she studies his expression. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  He doesn’t reply, just flips through the contents of the envelope.

  “Stick?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Something feels very wrong, here.

  Suddenly, he looks up at me, his eyes dark and angry. He tosses the envelope and the papers with it into the air in my direction, then turns and storms away.

  “What are you doing?” Stacy, asks, alarmed. I stand up, grabbing one of the papers that Stick threw down. They’re photos, I realize, as I touch the closest one. I turn it over, and my heart feels like it’s going to explod
e.

  It’s a picture of West and me in this very living room, having rather enthusiastic sex. Fuck.

  I bolt after Stacy and Stick. I hear yelling, and make it into the hallway in time to see Stick practically rip West’s door off its hinges and throw himself onto West, who’s just sitting up in bed in surprise.

  “You fucker!” Stick screams as he grabs West and throws him out of bed. Stacy is covering her face by the doorway. Stick lands a wild punch and West’s head snaps back.

  “Stop!” I yell, bounding into the room. West quickly shakes off the blow, but Stick lands another. Before Stick can reset, West tackles him, driving him to the floor. They roll over in a blur of skin, each landing strikes. I throw myself on Stick, grabbing his arm as he tries to shake me off.

  In his fury, he loses track of his strength. His hand flies up and smacks me across the face. I go flying back and hit the corner of the bed with a thud. I hear Stacy scream unintelligibly and all I can see are stars. I blink rapidly, trying to stand. I’m vaguely aware that the men aren’t fighting anymore. I feel Stacy kneel at my side.

  “Oh my god, Olive, are you OK?” she whispers.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I reassure her, and struggle to my feet.

  West and Stick are glaring at each other across the room, their chests heaving.

  “What the fuck, West?!” Stick spits out.

  West glances at me, keeping his mouth closed tight.

  “Stick, I’m an adult,” I say, trying to calm my brother down. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

  “You told him? Are you fucking crazy?” West asks me, frowning.

  “No!” I snap at him. “Someone sent him pictures of us.” And I have a very bad feeling that I know who it was.

  “Who the fuck would do that?” West asks.

  “That’s not the fucking point. I trusted you!” Stick yells at him. “I let you into my home and you go behind my back and fuck my fucking little sister?!”