When I'm With You (Little Hollow #2)

by Danielle Dickson

  I try to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it just burns with how dry it is. My head pushes back into the wall and I grit my teeth, wishing I could just melt into it and escape from this reality. Away from the dingy, dirty gray four walls that will forever hold the last of my dignity between them as I realize I need to use the bathroom.

  I try to hold it in but an hour later, I’m about ready to burst and I shuffle over to the corner and place myself over the bucket, feeling humiliated. There’s nothing to wipe myself with so I just have to deal with it and pull my shorts back up clumsily.

  My eyes dart to the dirty mattress, there’s no way I’m going anywhere near that nevermind sleeping on it. I can smell the stench of it from here so I slide down the wall and shut my eyes, shivering as the coldness of the cement floor seeps into my bones.

  I don’t know how long it’s been before I hear a clang against the door, but I startle and realize I must’ve drifted off.

  Terror. Disgust. It’s kind of a toss up when you wake up covered in blood with every single body part screaming at you in pain.

  I try not to move and lean my head back against the wall, watching him out of my good eye. He walks over and places a bottle of water and a plastic box in front of me.

  “Don’t say I never give you anything,” he sneers, before slamming the door shut behind him.

  With hardly any light in the room, I squint to see what’s in the box, it looks like food and my stomach rumbles at the thought. I pick up the bottle of water and test the lid, it’s not been opened yet so I tug on it and feel the coolness wet my parched throat as I drink it down.

  I wonder if anyone will be looking for me? Probably not. My heart aches at the thought. As soon as morning comes around, someone will notice the state of the shop and call the cops, right?

  The thought of Sam getting the call about the salon and apartment has my heart in my mouth, and I can’t even think about eating whatever’s in the box. I feel sick at being the cause of her heartache and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. Connor will make sure she’s cared for, the only saving grace in the situation.

  I desperately want to speak to her one last time, tell her how much she’s changed my life just by being her. We were two lost souls that were comforted in the fact that we had each other. Now it’s Connor’s turn to be that for her.

  I pull my knees up to my chest and fold my arms across them, wincing at the pain in my knee and ribs as I rest my forehead against my arms.

  I’m so drunk I can’t even make it back to my room, but I had a hell of a time catching up with Smokey. I watch as he stumbles into the wall on his way out of the common area, and I move to flop down onto one of the sofa’s in here, throwing my feet up. I’ll just sleep here, as long as I don’t puke, no one will mind.

  It’s handy I live here, I think to myself as I sigh. I moved into the clubhouse after my mom died two years ago, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same house without her.

  The main door opens interrupting my thoughts, and I pretend to be asleep, not wanting to talk to anyone. I hear someone fumbling about behind the bar and decide to sneak a look at whoever it is. It’s Taz and I don’t think he’s noticed me yet, so I decide to stay quiet. I can’t throw myself up off this sofa never mind throw a punch right now and that’s exactly what he’ll be looking for. He grabs a bottle of something and walks toward the hallway where our rooms are. I hear a door slam and that’s my cue to let myself pass out.

  The smell of fresh liquor hits my face and I gag.

  “Woah, don’t puke on me!” I hear someone say.

  “What the fuck you doing waking me up!” I try to shout, but it just sounds like a loud whisper.

  “Pop wants to see you at the house,” they say matter-of-factly.

  I open an eye and squint at my brother who has a glass of jack in his hands and from the smell on his breath, he’s already started drinking.

  “What time is it?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

  “Err, just after ten,” he states, taking a sip of the amber liquid.

  “Shit!”

  I jump up and immediately regret it, the room spins and I manage to hold down the contents of my stomach in time to get outside. Everything spills out and I hear laughter from the other side of the parking lot. Not bothering to see who it is, I flip them off and carry on with my sordid display.

  I’m getting too old for this shit! I think and immediately shake my head. I shouldn’t be thinking like that, I’m in my prime.

  Jacques pats me on the back and holds his tumbler out to me. “Hair of the dog?”

  Just the smell has me puking once more and I punch him in the arm when he laughs.

  “Just ‘cause I got sick doesn’t mean I still won’t beat your ass!” I growl.

  “Need me to take you home?”

  “I am home, and am I shit getting on the back of a bike with your pansy ass,” I say, walking inside to go grab a shower.

  He follows me into my room and kicks off his boots to lie on my bed. “I’ve been riding since I was old enough to walk, we both have, so don’t try pretend that I suck, ‘cause you know that shit ain’t true.”

  I roll my eyes at him and he winks as I shut the door to my bathroom. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Jacky boy, whatever makes you feel better.”

  I hear him chuckle and I smile. He may be nearly ten years younger than me, but we’ve always been close. He graduated from high school two months ago and there was no question about whether he’d become a prospect or not, I think that was decided when he was a toddler when he rode his first bike. He loves them as much as I do, the only problem with him is he’s too eager to please the older brothers who’ve been here a hell of a lot longer than me or him have been alive. He’s impressionable, and as much as I try to get him to stay away from the party lifestyle side of things, I’m beginning to see he’s starting to take on some bad habits that I need to nip in the bud now, ‘cause my pop sure as hell won’t.

  By the time I’ve had a shower, he isn’t in my room anymore and I hurry to get dressed before he does something stupid. He needs a job before his life becomes… this.

  I look around the common area at the broads grinding on some of the brothers and the coke that lines the table, and clench my fists. It’s a fuckin’ mess.

  Jacques is sat in an armchair eyeing a particularly chesty well known redhead. I pull him up by his collar.

  “Don’t even think about it, that one’s riddled. Be smart,” I whisper, and let go of his shirt.

  His face changes and I can see he’s about to say something he’ll regret so I keep my stare locked on him until he backs down.

  “I’m going to see pop. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I try to keep my statement light hearted but he knows I’m being deadly serious and nods subtly at me. Can’t have my little brother catching anything.

  I walk across the parking lot and nod across at Frankie and Grinder talking by their bikes, then I peel out the lot. I make it to my childhood home in ten minutes and steel myself to walk in there, I don’t come back here often.

  The memories of my mom assault me as soon as I kick the stand on my bike down.

  She chuckles and wipes at my chin with a tissue as my ice cream drips down onto it.

  “What we gonna do with you, huh?” She asks, tickling me.

  I pull away nearly dropping my cone. “Mooommm, stoooppp.”

  “You’re nine years old, I will not stop babying you just yet,” she says with a smile on her face. “When did you get so independent?”

  My pop comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing her swollen belly. “Leave the kid alone, Arlene, you’ll have another one to baby before long.”

  She looks at me with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Oh I know, Trent, I just…”

  “I know, baby,” he says soothingly, placing a kiss on her neck. “But he’s gotta grow up sometime.”

  She sighs as I finish my las
t bite and she hands me the tissue. “I just don’t want to let him go yet.”

  My mom had such a beautiful nature, she was always there for any of us when we needed her, and she made my pop soft. He loved her more than anything and when she got sick three years ago, he’d stepped down as Pres so he could have more time to look after her.

  She died a year later. The big C.

  I shake the memories off and make my way up the steps to pull open the screen door and push down the handle of the front door.

  “Pop? It’s me,” I call out into the house, but I don’t hear anything. “Pop?”

  I round the corner into the kitchen-diner and stop short. Him and Pres are sitting at the table and I have to stop my fists from clenching at their ambush.

  “What do I owe the pleasure, Pres?” I ask, sitting down in the chair opposite him, my pop sat at the head of the table between us.

  He narrows his eyes at me and I have to remind myself about what my pop said yesterday, I need him on my side.

  “I asked your pop to call you here to get you away from the clubhouse, you caused quite the shitstorm yesterday, Bear.”

  He steeples his hands in front of him.

  “Yeah, about that… I shouldn’t have blindsided you, and I’m sorry for causing a rift between the brother’s.” I pause and then say, “But I’m not sorry I put my name forward.”

  He taps his chin with both hands. “If you have trouble with the way we run this club, you come bring it up with us privately, you don’t go putting on a show in front of every brother. You’ve been in this life long enough to know that,” he grinds out.

  “And If I’d thought you’d listen to me, I wouldn’t have done what I did yesterday in church.” I try to keep my voice calm.

  Pop’s gives me a steely look.

  “Boy,” he practically growls.

  I throw up my hands in a defensive stance.

  “Any grievances come directly to me, you understand that?” Tank, the almighty Pres states, trying to intimidate me.

  In his heyday, he was probably formidable, but right now, after everything he’s done, I only see him clutching at straws, trying to stay in power and it makes it hard to take him seriously.

  I look between my pop and him and nod my head. “Got it, so while I have you here-”

  “Not now, Bear, I have club business that doesn’t involve you. Snake, you coming?”

  “Yeah I’ll be there in a minute,” he says, not taking his eyes off me.

  When Pres leaves, pop scrapes his chair back. “Did you not listen to a word I said last night? You’re on his shit list, Bear, watch out,” he warns, and walks out of the room, leaving me to question what he meant.

  I run my hands through my longish on top hair and look around the kitchen. Images of baking with my mom wash over me and I can’t help but remember Tank’s daughter, Keeley, being in most of my childhood memories. She was always over here at one time or another.

  Her childhood was sketchy. Tank and Kirsten, Keeley’s mom and dad, didn’t have the sort of relationship that my mom and dad had. My dad met mom when she was waitressing at a local restaurant, typical boy meets girl and falls in love, he made her his Old Lady not long after and that was them.

  Kirsten however, started out as a club broad. I used to hear my pop and Tank talk about her all the time. She came to the club looking for refuge and Tank knew she was different the moment he laid eyes on her, but their relationship turned sour about four years after they had Keeley, and he didn’t know why. She started drinking heavily, and Keeley was left to pick up the pieces as her dad was never there for her. I guess you could say our house was a sort of sanctuary for her, she used to crawl into bed with me at night when we were younger, saying she felt safe when she was with me. She was always a strong girl even though her childhood probably should’ve beaten her down.

  I kick back my chair and push out the back door needing some fresh air. No one could blame her for the way she turned out, for rebelling. I guess you could even say it was Tank’s fault for what happened, I just wish he hadn’t chose to do what he did. It made me feel like a traitor as I drove her to get a car and told her to get the fuck out of here.

  I didn’t know what I believed at the time, but I wasn’t going to let them hurt her like I knew they would’ve.

  So I did what I had to do.

  “Daddy what are you doing?” I ask with a furrowed brow.

  I just finished up work at the hairdressing salon in town and wanted to come home to relax, but instead I find my dad with a small duffle open, tossing my clothes inside it.

  He spins around angrily at the sound of my voice.

  “There you are you little whore! Did you think the club wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t find out?” He spits into my face.

  I wipe off his spittle with the hem of my tank. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I shout back at him, disgusted and mortified at what he just called me.

  He pins me up against the wall by my neck and I claw at his hands. “Think you’d get one up on the club, huh?” He sneers, the smell of alcohol rolling off his breath.

  I try to drag in a much needed breath but I can’t. I gurgle, trying to show him that I can’t breath or even answer him. He finally let’s go of me and I crumble to the floor, clutching at my throat, sucking in several breaths.

  “I let you live in my house even though you chose not to be a part of the club! By living under my roof, you were supposed to follow my rules!” He bellows.

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, I haven’t broken any rules. And I’d know, there were only three of them.

  Don’t be late on rent.

  No parties.

  No mixing with any of the brothers from any rival clubs.

  I go over them in my head, nope, not broken any of those. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I manage to cough out, my voice croaky.

  I hear bikes in the distance and I start to panic, he must not hear them in the fog of his anger as drags me up by my hair and looks me in the eyes. “I’m talking about you whoring yourself out to the little prince of the King’s Disciples! Did you honestly think you’d get away with it under MY roof! Get out of my house!”

  I steel myself as he drags me through the front door and I come face to face with my Uncle Merl. He has a knowing look on his face and I notice the gash on his face from yesterday is all stitched up.

  “Well, well, well. The cat’s out the bag then.” He smirks at me and then turns to my dad, the smirk gone and a serious expression on his face. “Tank, all the brothers are calling an emergency church in light of… the news,” he spits out, as if I don’t mean anything.

  I glare at him. “You, you did this!”

  I slip from my dad’s grip and hurl myself at my sadistic Uncle, clawing at him because I’m so angry that he’s done this. I stop as I remember his words from yesterday.

  “You’ll fuckin’ pay for that… You’ve just dug your own grave, sweet girl.”

  My brief stop in assault gives him the upper hand and he floors me, crushing my body to the sidewalk as he lies across the top of me.

  “If you’d have just done this the right way last night, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this mess, sweet girl,” he whispers into my ear, and I cry out in pain as he twists my wrists the wrong way.

  “Enough!” My dad shouts and a small sliver of hope creeps into me, but is instantly put out when I look up into his face. “Church can wait, I’m the president of this club and she’s my daughter! I decide what happens to her!” He booms out, and pushes my uncle off me.

  I get up onto my knees and try to rub the pain out of my wrists.

  “Tank you need-”

  “I said enough!” Dad shouts and I cower. “Merl. I’d like to speak to my daughter... alone.”

  “This is bullshit, Daryl, and you know it. She shouldn’t be getting special treatment just ‘cause she’s the Pres’ daughter!”

  He whirls around, his f
ist connecting with my Uncle’s face , giving off a sickening thud. He stumbles back clutching his face and directs his anger at me.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he murmurs under his breath menacingly, and walks toward his bike.

  It’s then that I notice we have an audience, all the families connected to the club live on our street so the display we’re making is nothing to them, they’re just there to watch this all play out.

  I look at my dad, pleading with my eyes for him to believe me. “Daddy, please. Whatever he’s told you isn’t true! I haven’t had a boyfriend or even a fling in two years.”

  He raises his hand, palm facing me. “Shut it, Keeley. You’re just digging yourself a bigger hole! If this goes to the club vote, you know they’re going to be gunnin’ for your head! My hands are tied, I can’t believe you’ve put me in this position, I’ll be surprised if they keep me on as Pres! Fuck!” He shouts and hits the wall of the house before bending down and pulling me up by my elbow.

  “Is that all you care about? Keeping a fucking title!” I shout, tears streaming down my face.

  He looks behind me and I spin around, coming face to face with a guy I’ve known all my life, the guy who’s always been my safety net. I run up to him.

  “Hunter, you need to tell him. Tell him I wouldn’t sleep with a rival club,” I plead.

  He doesn’t look down at me or acknowledge me, he just nods at my dad and catches the duffle that is thrown to him, grabbing my upper arm roughly and dragging me toward his bike, but he doesn’t say anything. I’m shell shocked. I can’t believe he’s siding with them.

  “Get the fuck off me!” I yell, and hit out at him.

  He ignores me and lifts me onto his bike effortlessly, holding me down as he sits behind me and starts to ride.

  “Where the fuck are you taking me?” I scream against the wind.

  We eventually pull up to an old car garage and I’m more confused than ever.

  “Hunter! You need to tell me what the fuck is going on, right now!” I scream.