by Celia Loren
Steeling myself, I walk upstairs. Most of the doors are open, so I just poke my head around. No one’s in the first few rooms, but there are clothes lying on the floor, so I pick them up and put them in the basket. The rooms are pretty dirty, but I’d have to move a bunch of stuff around to clean them, so maybe I should check with Bean first.
I peer around another door, and it looks empty, so I push the door open with my foot. Hollywood’s lying on the bed in a pair of boxers, reading a magazine.
“Sorry,” I murmur quickly, and start to pull the door shut.
“That’s OK, Violet, come on in.”
I push the door back open and see he’s wearing a big grin. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and winks. I reaaallly want to roll my eyes at him, but I don’t think that would be such a good idea. He’s cute and everything, but I married a biker that was way cuter, and look how that turned out. It would take a lot more than the sight of him in his boxers to get my heart fluttering.
“Any dirty clothes? I’m doing a wash,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says, moving slowly around the room to pick up discarded items of clothing. He makes no move to put anything on, and I can tell he’s gotten a little used to the sweet butts granting his every sexual desire, because he’s not as hot as he thinks he is.
He dumps them in the basket I’m holding. “Oh, and there’s a hole in the jeans—would be great if you could sew that up,” he says, pointedly holding my gaze.
“No problem,” I say, keeping my voice light.
I turn and walk down the hallway. I look back to find that he’s still watching me, and he wiggles his eyebrows. It’s all I can do not to laugh. I pause in front of Cherish’s room, knocking softly.
“Cherish? It’s Violet.”
“Come in!”
I open the door and see Cherish sitting on the bed smoking a joint.
“Do you have any dirty clothes?” I ask, “I’m throwing some in the wash.”
She gets up without a word and gathers some clothes on her chair, then starts going through the rack and pulling things off hangers. She’s compiling quite a load.
“Hey, thanks again for the sneakers,” I say, “I’m going to get a pair for myself as soon as I can.”
She walks over to me and dumps the clothing into the basket.
“You know how I got those sneakers?” she asks.
“Um, no,” I say, surprised by her cold tone, “How?”
“I stole them,” she spits, “I was so fucking broke, but my last pair had worn through the soles, so I had to steal them. You ever had to steal anything?”
“Well, no—”
“That’s what I thought,” she says decisively, plopping back down on the bed. She really is very pretty, I think as I study her face, though she’s wearing too much makeup for her features.
“Look, Cherish,” I say, “I think you might have the wrong idea about me—”
“You’re the daughter of Ox Avery. He took care of you, until you became one of the Devil’s Army’s old ladies. Then he became president, and took care of you. Now you’re here, doing some light labor for a while. That about right?”
I bristle. “Well, the basic facts are but—”
“You have no idea what I’ve had to do to get where I am,” she says, “None.”
Staring back at her, I wish I had some great comeback to sling at her, but I’ve never been much good at that. Fuck. She rivals Rooster in the way she can make me feel like shit so fucking easily. I’m sure in about three hours I’ll have thought of a witty retort, but right now I’m coming up dry.
“Make sure you separate the lights and darks,” she sniffs, “And close the door behind you.”
I fetch the rest of the clothes from the other rooms with my cheeks burning. I’m an angry crier, and I need to make it back to the basement before my eyes start leaking. I wish I could control it – it’s so tough to be taken seriously when you’re mad if you’re eyes are all puffy and you’re sniffling through snot.
Crossing quickly through the lounge and kitchen, I start angrily throwing the clothes into the industrial washers while tears pour down my face. OK, maybe compared to some people I’ve had an easy life, but fuck! At least she doesn’t have a husband who’s basically sold her into indentured servitude. At least she hasn’t been fitted with an ankle monitor. I toss the detergent in and jab the buttons to start the machine.
Wipe my tears off with the back of my hand, I laugh a little at myself for taking my anger out on the washer. I have to pull it together. Think positive. Maybe Rooster won’t fuck up too much and they’ll actually trust him and let me go? Or maybe eventually they’ll trust me enough to take off the ankle monitor and then I can escape. Maybe tomorrow I should walk around the property to get more of a sense of where I am.
With a deep breath, I head back upstairs to start prepping for dinner. I’m in the middle of stuffing the chickens with garlic and lemon when the back door opens and two women walk in. Even without cuts, I can tell by the way they own the space around them that they’re old ladies. One of them is carrying a large Tupperware container, which she drops on the counter.
“You must be Violet,” she says, “I’m Liz, and this is Tina.”
The heavier woman next to her nods and smiles. “Howdy.”
I hastily wash my hands of chicken guts as I smile back at them. “Nice to meet you,” I say.
“I’m Flint’s old lady,” the slimmer woman says, “And Tina is Crow’s. I brought you some mashed potatoes to help out with dinner. Figured you might be a little overwhelmed on your first day here. But I don’t know, looks like you’ve got things well under control.”
“No, this is great,” I say, “I’m not really sure that this is enough, anyway. I’ve never fed so many people before.”
“So how are you finding everything?” Liz asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Oh, you know...” I trail off, waving my hand vaguely. How do I answer that?
To my great relief, Liz bursts out laughing.
“Yeah, I’ll bet this is one weird fucking situation. Did Hollywood try to feel you up yet?”
I grin back at her. “The second I got here.”
“Well, don’t worry, honey, his bark’s worse than his bite.”
“If he tries anything, you just kick him in the nuts to remind him you’re someone’s old lady,” Liz says. She’s probably in her late forties and quite a knockout, with big green eyes and breasts that are testing the limits of her tank top. Not to mention gravity itself.
“Not here I’m not,” I say quietly.
“She’s right—it’s a weird fucking situation,” Tina repeats, shaking her head. She’s got long blond hair that reaches almost to her butt, and she’s super tan. She’s almost the physical opposite of Crow, but they both have the same openness about them. I like these two women already, I think. I have to be careful, though. I know anything I say to an old lady will make its way back to the brothers.
“Look, you’re no sweet butt. I can tell by this sad outfit you’ve got going on that you’re not trying to give anybody that idea,” Liz says, leaning on the counter and looking me up and down.
I laugh out loud. “Is it that obvious?”
“Here, brought you this, too,” Liz says, pulling a toiletry bag out of her large tote. “I’m guessing no one thought to give you a razor.”
I look through the bag happily. “Ooo, a toothbrush!” I squeal.
“You need anything else?” Tina asks, leaning next to Liz on the counter. Their gaze is very direct, and I shift a little.
“Well, recipes would be really helpful. Needle and thread, I have to fix Hollywood’s pants...”
Tina reaches in her pocket and pulls out a travel sized box full of needles and thread. Liz looks at her in surprise. “You just carry that around with you?” she asks.
“Yup. Ever since I split the seat of my pants at that party for Flint’s birthday two years ago—remember?”
“Oh,
shit! I forgot about that!” Liz throws her head back and laughs.
“Oh, and um, sneakers?” I add, “I borrowed these from this girl Cherish, but I don’t think she was too happy about it.”
They look at each other and roll their eyes.
“Cherish...oh, brother,” Liz starts, looking up as Twitch walks in the back door. “Uh, uh, honey, we’re having girl talk! Come back later!” she orders him, waving him away with her hand. He retreats quickly without a word.
I can’t help but admire Liz. She’s exactly the kind of old lady I always wanted to be. The kind I thought I’d be when I married Rooster. It’s funny to think that we’re both married to club presidents, when she commands so much more respect in her club than I do. Rooster treats me like some civilian wife, not an MC old lady at all. Even the prospects in the Devil’s Army have seen Rooster disrespect me enough to know that they don’t have to listen to me.
“So, about Cherish,” she says. I lean in, excited to hear the ladies’ gossip. Rooster cut me off pretty quickly from all my girlfriends. “She’s just been here too long.”
“Way too long,” Tina adds in. “Like four years too long.”
“She’s been here for four years?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Four years is a long time to be a sweet butt in a club. Most girls would have moved along after two, tops, or when it becomes clear that none of the brothers want to make her their old lady.
“How come she’s still here?” I ask.
“Drifter,” they say in unison.
“Oh, he’s the one who’s coming home tomorrow, right?” I ask.
“That’s him,” Liz says. “Cherish has always had her eye on him. I don’t know exactly what’s gone on between them, so I can’t say if she has her reasons.”
“I mean, they’ve fucked, obviously” Tina says.
“Oh, they’ve fucked, but what does that mean? Nothing!” Liz says. “If that meant something, she’d be the old lady of a dozen of the brothers by now.”
I grin at the two of them. They’re like an old vaudeville act, filling out the conversation perfectly, each knowing just when to set the other one up.
“That does explain a couple things. I don’t think she likes me very much,” I confide conspiratorially.
“If everyone likes you, you’re doing it wrong, honey,” Liz says.
“Oooo, I like that! Did you come up with that yourself?” Tina asks admiringly.
“Let’s just say I did,” Liz answers, grinning at me. “Don’t worry honey. I’ll bring you over some sneakers tomorrow. And if you need anything else, tell Flint, and he’ll tell me. Don’t worry,” she adds, taking my hand, “I’m sure your husband will get things settled soon and you’ll be able to go home.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” I say, smiling back at her. She catches my eye and holds my gaze for a second too long, and I worry that I should have put more conviction behind my words. But it’s tough to believe that Rooster will come through for me.
“Now, let’s talk about this party we’re having for Drifter’s homecoming tomorrow night,” Tina says, as Liz releases my hand.
We spend the next half hour or so talking about what we need for the party, and what I’ll make and what they’ll be bringing. I’m proud that they’re treating me as an equal. It reminds me of the time before I married Rooster, when I was Ox Avery’s girl, and the respect that earned me from the brothers and old ladies in the Devil’s Army.
They head out so that I can get started on dinner. I run downstairs and toss the clothes in the dryer, then start on the mac and cheese and quickly throw a salad together. I put everything in the oven and set the table, then fold the clothes and start sewing up Hollywood’s jeans. I hear the sounds of men coming into the lounge, and check the clock on the oven anxiously. A few guys cut through the kitchen, including Crow, who sniffs the air and smiles at me. They all stop at the fridge for beers before making their way into the lounge.
The voices from the next room are getting pretty loud when the buzzer finally dings. I get out the casserole dishes of mac and cheese and the chickens. I’ve made three chickens, just in case. I start bringing everything into the lounge, including the mashed potatoes that Liz brought.
It’s the first time I’ve seen so many of the Sons all together, and I blush as their heads turn in unison to look at me as I enter. I keep my head down and start placing everything on the table. No one waits for everything to come out before they start serving themselves. I spot Cherish and a couple of the sweet butts I haven’t met yet in a group on one of the couches. They’re whispering together and giggling.
I finish bringing everything out and duck back with relief into the kitchen. I don’t like having so many eyes on me, and I’m glad I’m wearing such baggy clothes. I’ve remembered to leave aside some food for myself this time, and I stand over the counter to eat it.
Listening to the din of the bikers chowing down on the food I made, I smile to myself. Liz and Tina were so nice today, and making food for this many people...it’s weird, but it’s the first time in a long time I’ve felt like I was part of a club. Would it be crazy of me to think they could accept me here?
When I finish eating, I start cleaning up as much as I can in the kitchen, waiting for them to clear out so I can clean their dishes. Several guys leave through the back entrance, and I hear their bikes start up and drive away. I quietly open the door a crack, and see just Bean, Flint, and Tag seated at one end of the table. They’re talking quietly, and I know I should just close the door, but I stop to listen.
“I can’t believe that sonofabitch,” Tag spits out. “Fuckin’ rat.” Anger has transformed his face since I saw him last.
“Who do you want on it?” Bean asks, his long face showing no emotion.
“Just you and Hollywood. We sure Greeley’s information is good?”
“It’s good,” Bean confirms, “Santiago’s holed up at the motel off 15th.”
“Do it tonight,” Flint says grimly.
I tiptoe back into the kitchen, shaking. I know enough to know I just heard them plan out a hit. I hear a chair scrape the floor in the lounge so I quietly dash over to the fridge and open it, to look like I’ve been inspecting its contents and not eavesdropping on their club business.
“Take a walk outside,” Bean instructs from the doorway as I turn to face him, feigning surprise.
“Sure,” I say, trying to add lightness and a little confusion into my voice. I cross to the back door, conscious that he’s watching me leave.
Once I’ve walked a safe distance from the building, I break into a run. It’s dark out, but the moon is big and bright, and the land is just flat brush in front of me. I run until I’m out of breath, and I can just see the wall in front of me, rising up tall and blue in the moonlight.
I’m such an idiot. This MC is not my new fucking family. No matter how nice their old ladies are, they’re still bikers, and they won’t hesitate to kill me if they no longer think I’m a valuable asset to them. There’s no hope of me getting out of here. Rooster will fuck them over and they’ll kill me in retribution. And the worst part is, Rooster won’t even care.
Sinking down onto the dirt, I pull my knees up to my chest. I stare up at the sky, the stars twinkling clearly. I feel tears trickling down my face. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone. Not when my mom died, or my dad, or the first time Rooster hit me. I just want to sink down into the earth and become nothing.
Chapter Five
I hear a dog bark, and my head jerks up, my eyes searching the darkness. My first hope is that it’s Scout, but I know that can’t be true. Stop dreaming, I remind myself. I hear another bark, and then a rustling. I put my fingers to my lips and whistle like my dad taught me, and I hear paws rushing toward me. I see a shadowed blur coming at me a moment before a dog hits me square on, almost knocking me onto my back.
I laugh as the dog starts licking my face, rubbing himself on my legs. As far as I can see in the dark, he looks
solid brown. His fur feels short, like a boxer’s, and he’s about the size of one.
“What’s your name?” I coo at him, feeling around for a collar.
“It’s Kalb,” a low voice answers out of the darkness. I let out a yelp of surprise, scrambling away. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the voice goes on.
I stand and look around frantically, finally spotting a dark figure walking slowly toward me. I squint, trying to make him out. Fuck, I really don’t like getting caught out here by myself.
“It means dog in Arabic,” the voice continues, “I think he likes you.” The figure finally comes close enough that I can start to make out his features, and I bite my lip. The man sports several days of scruff along his hard jawline. His hair is tied back in a pony tail. His nose is sharp and straight, but his lips are soft, and currently cocked in a slight smile. He’s carrying a huge backpack. I realize that I’ve seen him before—in the photo Cherish keeps on her dresser.
“Drifter,” I say. He tilts his head slightly to the side and studies me. I melt a little under his direct gaze. Kalb jumps in between us, wanting attention.
“Sit,” he commands, without looking down. Kalb obediently sits next to him. Drifter takes two more steps toward me, closing the distance between us. My heart is beating so loud I’m wondering if he can hear it. To me, it’s deafening. To my shock, he reaches up and rubs his thumb under my eye. My lips part as his rough skin touches my cheek. I find it impossible to break his gaze as he wipes away an errant tear.
“I’m Violet,” I say, stepping back. I can’t breathe standing so close to him. “And you’re early.”
“I hitched a ride,” Drifter shrugs, “You seem to know a lot more about me than I know about you.”
“No, not really,” I say, “I’m...I’m staying here, well, I’m...it’s hard to explain.” I struggle to think of something to say to this man that doesn’t sound completely idiotic. “You hungry?” I ask. Not Shakespeare, but not the worst thing I could say, either.
