Sicko

by Amo Jones

  “It’s a you problem, which makes it an us problem.” I pause, looking around the table and watching everyone’s eyes zone in on me.

  “How so?” I wait for the ball to drop.

  Lion leans forward, a fucking sparkle in his eye that only ever comes when he knows murder is upon us. “Because he had been ripped.”

  I pause, slowly blowing out the cloud of smoke from between my lips.

  “Well, it wasn’t mine.”

  Lion clenches his jaw. “Sicko, it’s yours.”

  “Nup.” I shake my head, flicking the ash off the tip of my smoke. “It wasn’t me. I haven’t shaved anyone since—” I pause, thinking over my last kill. “Since three weeks ago.”

  Lion leans back in his chair, studying me curiously.

  Gypsy runs his hands over his hair. “Then fuck, you have a copy.”

  “This is a problem because the cartel thinks that you killed their man, and now we have a possible war on our hands.”

  This is the first time I’ve ever had a copy, and that’s not because I think someone can’t copy me, but it’s because the art in how I leave my mark isn’t something that people generally want to do. Ever.

  “Call a meeting with them.”

  “Royce.” Lion drops my real name. “This is the fucking Columbian cartel. You ever seen Scarface? They don’t fuck around.”

  I lean back in my chair, tossing up the options that we have, when his words stop me in my tracks. “Who the fuck did they kill? Usually the third party is a fucking Falcon.” Falcon is what some cartels—mainly Spanish—call their eyes and ears. The bum boys who do nothing but sniff ass and then run back to their Capos to let them know what they smelled.

  Lion chuckles, running his withered hand over his scruffy beard. “It was a Capo.”

  I grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes closed while trying to think over what this might mean not only for me, but for my club, and now that Jade is back in my life, I’m not willing to gamble on shit. Which is exactly why I never wanted her back in my life. She’s a walking target for anyone who has a beef with me.

  “We need to talk some sense into Jorge Carlos. Someone is crossing both of us, and I’ll make sure he fucking knows it. Bring your sister in.”

  “Fuck no!” I say, my voice veiled in irritation. There’s no way in fucking hell that I’m bringing her into this mess. “Why would I do that?”

  “Into the clubhouse, you fuckwit. We’re going on lockdown until we have shit sorted with the cartel. Direct families only, you all know the drill.”

  With a round of “Run wild, Live Free,” everyone spills out of the room, leaving Wicked, Lion, and I alone. Once their rowdy asses are out of earshot, I say, “She hasn’t given me a name.”

  Lion docilely strokes his beard, the sound of his leather cut rustling with every movement. He leans forward, hands in front of him on the table. “Bring her in. We can work on that.”

  I shake my head. “You stay out of that. I’ll get it, I’m just saying, something doesn’t add up.” Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I flick off a text to Slim and Fluffy, who are on babysitting duty right now, telling them to bring her in.

  “You might not want to hear this, but I think this goes a lot deeper than her having a little boyfriend who has a fetish for group fucks in an upscale mansion.”

  “Mmm,” I say, running my finger over my upper lip. “Maybe.”

  Being with Royce always felt right, but I’m not naïve to think that I could be the one to capture him in any way other than between my legs, and aside from that, knowing that I haven’t heard from James has instilled enough fear to make me distracted. He would have contacted me by now. He’s planning something, and I know that I need to tell Royce about him and everything I know before he finds out through someone else—namely James. It could help him in some way, but my fear drowns out my logic. I can’t seem to shake it off. The rejection, denial. What if he doesn’t believe me, and I look like a nutcase? What if James manipulates everything and has me sent to a nuthouse. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him.

  We pull up to the clubhouse and this time it looks different. There are a couple kids running around, and women dressed in a way that they weren’t the night I came here—both times. I clutch the duffel bag I packed up from my dorm, filled with anything I need to last me a week like Royce had apparently instructed via Slim and Fluffy.

  “Jade, follow us,” Fluffy demands, opening the car door. Fluffy is a big boy, but the smooth skin he wears on his face tells me he can’t be any older than early twenties.

  “Fluff, she’s here, we don’t have to order her where to go. Mission is done, she’s safe and back on home soil.”

  Fluffy punches him in the arm. “She isn’t like the rest of them.”

  Slim glares at him from the passenger seat. Slim is the opposite to Fluffy. He’s skinny, runty, and has purple rings permanently circled around his eyes. They seem like good friends, even though they remind me of Ren and Stimpy. “Obviously.”

  I roll my eyes, yanking my duffel bag over my shoulder and kicking the door closed, leaving them to argue in the car. Idiots.

  Pulling out my phone while making my way to the house, I hit dial on Sloane. I feel bad that I haven’t texted her since everything started hitting off with Royce. She doesn’t answer, which probably only means that she’s in the middle of a lecture. There’s no joke that I’m either going to have to put my head down in my studies, or sit college out for the rest of the year before I fall too far behind.

  My fingers fly over my keys as I type out a message.

  Me: Sorry I haven’t texted. I’m okay with Royce. Call when you’re free. X

  Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I hear Silver before I see her. She comes bouncing out the front door, wearing her hair out in wild locks. Her blue eyes crash into mine. “You’re here, good! Lockdowns are the best!”

  “Really?” I say, not quite believing her. I can’t think of anything worse than being stuck in a house full of bikers for days on end.

  Silver nods her head. “Yup! Come on, we can put your bag up in Sicko’s room. You get to meet Kara and Boujee!”

  We make our way through the main room and when we pass the kitchen area, I feel a hundred eyes on me. Turning around, I find Royce instantly.

  He continues to glare at Lion, his jaw tense. Panic and paranoia settle within me, unmoving. I need to tell him. Not right now. Silver takes my hand and drags me toward the stairs.

  “Just FYI, the girl that Sicko fucks around with is here,” she announces as I follow her through Royce’s bedroom door. “She’s not exactly a club girl because she’s technically family to one of the brothers, but I thought you should know.”

  “Bea?” I roll my eyes at the mention of Bea. I just didn’t realize she was essentially family.

  “Yup!” Silver says, turning to face me. “She’s Karli’s little sister, who is Justice’s old lady.”

  “Old lady?” I ask, confused while putting my bag down onto the floor. I’m not familiar with terminology within an MC, and never watched an episode of Sons of Anarchy or Mayans either. My TV watching goes about as far as tragic cooking shows.

  Silver tucks her unruly hair behind her ear, guiding me toward the bedroom. “Think of a wife, and then multiply that by one hundred. There can be multiple wives, but there will only ever be one old lady.” It makes sense in a way that doesn’t make sense. “Speaking of, Bea was adamant that she was going to be that person for Sicko. Not sure why or how she would think that considering he’s been nothing but a cunt to her in the past.” Silver takes a seat on the large double bed, bouncing softly on it as if testing the springs. “The only time Sicko is tolerant of her is when he‘s drinking, and even then it’s slim. And aside from that,” Silver says, leaning back on one elbow. “She’s not the only one he fucks with.” Her mouth stretches wide. “Oops. Sorry, I can shut up. You probably don’t want to hear this.”

  I wave her off, pulling my leather jacket out of
my bag. I was in a rush for time this morning so I threw on some black skinny jeans and a white Dolce & Gabbana crop. “No, this is nothing new for me. Royce has always had an appetite for pussy.”

  Silver’s mouth twitches, just as I shove my arms through the tight sockets of my leather. She burst out laughing, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beneath her ass to sit on her feet. “I can’t even imagine Sicko without all the tattoos and badass reputation.”

  “Oh,” I murmur, pulling out a chair that’s tucked beneath an old desk. “He had a reputation back then, but it was, I don’t know.” I look around the room, taking in the empty photograph frames and old whiskey bottles. There’s a large bed, a desk and a dresser, and a small boombox. If this is where Royce stays, he doesn’t stay here often. “He was just different.”

  “Hmmm,” she teases. “Well, I’m glad that’s not awkward.” She pushes up the clear glasses that sit on the bridge of her nose before sliding her feet back into her shoes. “Come on. We’ll go help everyone in the kitchen. I can almost hear Mom yelling at me.”

  The kitchen area of the house was filled with women by the time we got there. A couple I had met, some I hadn’t. Silver didn’t waste time introducing me to everyone, even rubbing it into Bea who I was with. Bea sat there glaring at me for the most part, her hands tucked in her jacket and her legs kicked out and crossed at the ankles.

  Metallica is playing in the background now as Karli, Justice’s ‘old lady’ swings her hips side to side while stirring a mixture of salad leaves in a large brown bowl. There’s me, Silver, Bonnie, Karli, Bea, Kara—Roo’s old lady and former Miss Australia—Lilac, Justice and Karli’s four-year-old little girl, and Boujee, who is sitting on Silver’s lap. Music is playing, and a couple of the girls are laughing between each other, sharing a beer. They seem more like a family than any gang I’ve ever heard of. What I’ve witnessed with James is much, much worse than this. My heart swells in my chest, filling empty parts inside of me with warmth. I can’t deny the release of tension in my muscles from being around these people. Familiar. The walls that hold up this old house feel more like home to me than the multi-million-dollar mansion I grew up in. These women feel more like family to me than my own mother.

  All I’m missing is Sloane.

  With a flutter inside my gut, I pull out my phone from my pocket while taking a sip of my beer. 0 New Messages.

  What the fuck.

  “Right, Jade?” Silver asks, her blues bright and wide, waiting for me to answer whatever it is she has just asked.

  “What?” I put my phone onto the table, taking another swig of my beer. I’ll call her after dinner. She should definitely answer then.

  A snort comes out of someone from the other side of the table, and my head snaps to Bea who is staring daggers at me. “Like she would know.”

  Silver ignores her, and I’m starting to get the distinct feeling that Silver isn’t too fond of Bea. Not sure why. But there’s something there. “You know, the movie everyone is talking about right now with the hot guy in it. He’s like, Spanish or something and oh—” She pauses, rolling her eyes back.

  “I know what movie you’re talking about.” I smirk at Silver. “Where he takes her to his cabin in the woods?”

  “How fucking hot is he!” Silver gasps, juggling Boujee on her knee.

  “Ye—” A hand comes to the front of my throat from behind, and I’m momentarily in shock by the power convulsing against my back. My head is jerked back until I’m looking up at Royce from behind me, his brows raised.

  “He’s what, Duchess? Continue what you were gonna say and see what happens.”

  I’m still paralyzed from his blatant possessiveness, before I finally collect myself. He releases my neck and takes the few steps to dive into the fridge that’s in front of me, still scowling over his shoulder. I haven’t spoken to him all day, since we fucked last night, and the first thing he does is manhandle me in front of all his friends—or family—or whatever they are to him.

  He kicks the door closed, and just as he’s about to walk past me, he leans down into my ear so only I can hear his next words. His lips graze my earlobe and my insides damn near catch on fire. “Say any other man is hot, and I’ll shove my cock so far down your pretty little throat that you’ll be eating through a straw for the next month.” He catches my lobe between his teeth, leaning even closer into me. “The Royce you knew isn’t the Royce that you’re about to know. I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life just to prove a point, Duchess.” Then he leaves, with my cheeks flaming hot, my thighs clenched together, and a pool of moisture right between my legs.

  Why am I the way I am?

  I believe him. By God, I believe him. Which is most likely what is going to make this somewhat fun.

  “Jesus,” Silver grumbles, watching as Royce makes his way back outside where most of the men are. “He’s even worse than I thought he was going to be.”

  Bea stands from her chair and hurries out the door in a wave of anger. I could literally feel her rage penetrate during her departure.

  “She’s either going to sulk or harass him.”

  I tune them out, trying to control my urge to go out and make sure she’s not going to Royce. He’s right. I don’t know him anymore, and that’s what makes me queasy. Had he and I started something back when we were young, I would have been able to architecturally build whatever connection we have, but I no longer understand the foundation. It makes me tense and uneasy, and on top of that, I’m holding on to a secret that could end both him and I and any chance that we have. That pains me more than a dagger in the heart ever could.

  “Silver,” I say, just as Kara and Bonnie start hauling trays of food outside. It’s still pretty early with the sun only just setting. “Do you have anything slightly stronger?”

  “Like, vodka or tequila?”

  I cringe. “How old are you?”

  Silver cocks her head. “Seventeen.”

  Karli reenters through the front door. She has short brown hair and hazel eyes. There’s a softness to her that I wouldn’t have ever expected to find in a biker clubhouse.

  Karli pauses, placing her hands on her wide hips. She has a figure that most would die for. The perfect splay of curves. “I know what you need, and that ain’t it.”

  She takes my hand, pulling me up from my chair. I snatch my phone quickly, casting Silver a quick look before Karli leads me out the back door, where I was the second night I came to the clubhouse.

  The door closes behind us and suddenly it’s just her and I and the loud echoes of men and music playing on the other side of the house.

  Karli turns to face me, her fingers diving into her back pocket. “Bea isn’t that bad when you get to know her.”

  I shiver, running my hands up and down my arms as she flips open a little silver casing, taking out what I assume is a joint. I don’t know how she knew this is what I needed, but she did. It is definitely something I need to just take my edge off. Karli places the end between her thin lips, lighting the tip.

  “I’m not worried about Bea,” I finally say.

  She continues to warm up the spliff, sucking short tokes before handing it to me. Blowing out a thick cloud of gray smoke and filling the air with the sweet earthy scent of marijuana, she chuckles. “Oh, and you don’t need to be, trust me. When I first met Justice, he had a club girl warming his cock. She refused to let him go, hung on to his balls with her teeth.” I choke on the smoke, a laugh erupting from deep within my belly. Quickly handing the joint back to her while banging on my chest—and hoping I don’t fucking die from this lethal weed—I say, “Thanks for the visual. Really wasn’t needed.”

  She ignores me, dropping down onto one of the steps. I follow, sitting on the one just above. I already feel the effects of the THC leisurely swimming its way through my blood, warming me from the inside and placing all of my troubles right into the trash. “Anyway, that girl, she was something I had to worry about. Had a lot of drama with that bit
ch.”

  “What happened to her?” I ask as she passes me the joint.

  Pause. “I killed her.”

  I giggle slightly, taking another hit. I’ve been around a lot of darkness in my life, but not death. It’s hard to see someone like Karli be connected to an evil such as murder. “Well don’t worry. I’m not going to kill your sister.”

  Karli laughs so hard her shoulders shake. “Listen, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. She seems to drip her thirst all over Sick, not that she’s the only one. There was a fight between her and Taylor, another club girl, over him. Bea won. She thought she was on top of it all until you came along.”

  The joint is finished and when we both stand, Karli places my hand in hers. “It’s only a matter of time before you’ll be with all of us, wearing Sick’s patch over your back with pride, so that instantly makes you of higher rank than Bea. Sick is the VP, Lion’s pride and fucking joy.” She rolls her eyes, but it’s not out of hatred, more with jest. “All I ask is that you try to take her lightly.”

  “Karli, I don’t—” I shake my head. “How can I explain this? Well, okay.” She waits for me to answer, and I slightly panic at the thought of telling this woman, who in essence is a total stranger, how I’ve always felt about Royce, and what it has done to me over the years. Especially when we were kids. “I don’t scare easily when it comes to Royce. My pain threshold is high where he is concerned. I had feelings for him as soon as I knew what feelings were, yet I still hung around him and his line of new girlfriends at school as if seeing another girl under his arm, in his bed, on his lap, didn’t destroy me bit by bit. So, trust me, I’m not worried about Bea and I’m not a jealous person when it comes to it.”

  Karli’s lips curl between her teeth as we both stand. “Ganja makes you real emotional, huh?”

  I snort. “No.” Turning around, I’m about to tell her that I just needed to get it out when Royce’s glare pins me in my place. My heart sinks.

  “Mmhmm,” she whispers, smacking me on my ass. “Good thing, huh?” I gulp past the nerves that are clenched around my throat. Damn it, Karli.