by West, Naomi
“Mom and I stayed with him for a while after. I think she just kept hoping that he’d go back to how he was before. It was years before she realized that he wouldn’t. One day, Mom just snapped. Told me to pack some bags and said that we were moving.”
“So, that’s when you came back?” I asked.
“Yeah. But I think Mom just wanted a reminder of better times, you know?”
Unable to help myself, I strode forward and pulled her into my arms.
“You’re safe now. Especially with me. You know that, right?”
She nodded into my chest and released a heavy sigh, one that I knew she had to have been holding for a while. I had no idea when she burst into my shop a week ago that we would end up like this. I didn’t know what it was but all I wanted to do was protect her.
A squeezed my arms a little tighter around her, hoping she’d understand something that I’d never know how to say. I couldn’t ever take away her pain, but maybe I could try and make her feel better, even just a little bit.
Chapter Seven
Daria
I was in the office again, two weeks after I had first started and I loved it. It felt so good to have a job again, to be earning again, to get out of the hotel.
It was pretty busy in the shop most of the time and Rocky had me greeting most people when they came in, setting appointments and doing all the payments. It was a lot easier on him and it gave me more to do, which I was grateful. I had a feeling that the job opening was only for a few weeks until the office was sorted, and that Rocky was just trying to help me get back on my feet.
I met a lot of people in the town this way. A lot of them treated me exactly the same as Michael did in his first visit. I was flattered mostly. My stepfather worked hard to make sure I didn’t have much of a life, so the attention kind of thrilled me.
Rocky was opening up a bit more, too. We talked about our lives before, what we liked and the people in town. Often when it was quiet, I would bring my work out of the office and sit on a stool beside Rocky as he worked on a bike, music playing from the stereo, neither of us talking, just enjoying the company.
It helped that a lot of the time he had his shirt off and I traced his tattoos with my eyes.
“Hey Rocky?” I asked a few days earlier.
“Yeah?” he replied.
“What do your tattoos mean?”
I thought he wasn’t going to answer for a long time, but then he finally did.
He turned so his bare chest was to me and grabbed both my hands in his. Taking my right hand, he placed my fingertips gently on his chest and traced them up and around his spiral tattoo.
“This is a symbol for hope and better futures,” he explained.
He moved to my left hand and placed it on his arm, tracing the design spanning from shoulder to wrist.
“This is a symbol for patience and a calm mind.”
He turned around so his back was to me, loosening his grip on my hands.
I placed my fingertips on his shoulder blades, tracing the lines to the base of his spine.
“And this one?”
‘That one … that one is a symbol for revenge.”
###
Michael entered the shop in the late afternoon, just before we were about to close up for the night.
“Daria, gorgeous, are you coming out tonight?”
“Coming out where?” I asked, confused.
“We’re going to a bar,” Rocky said from behind me, almost making me jump.
“Oh. I don’t know…” I said hesitantly. I wasn’t really sure if they wanted some guy time and I didn’t really want to intrude.
“Come on!” Michael begged. “Last time you said you would.”
“I know but—”
“You should come,” Rocky interrupted, and I felt my heart pound a little harder.
“Sure, why not,” I conceded.
“I knew you’d be sick of hanging out with just this one for the past few weeks,” Michael hitched a thumb over his shoulder to point at Rocky.
I resisted the urge to laugh at Rocky’s scowling face and followed the boys to the bar down the street.
It was pretty full for a Tuesday night and I recognised most of the customers from the shop.
We headed to the bar where Michael ordered shots for us all.
“Uh, just water for me thanks,” I interrupted before Michael could finish.
“And a beer for me,” said Rocky.
Michael glared at us but conceded to a beer as well.
We moved further into the bar to a booth at the back because Michael and Rocky both claimed that it was ‘their’ spot.
I slid in first and Michael went to slide in beside me but was unceremoniously knocked out of the way and shoved to the opposite side of the booth by Rocky.
“There needs to be a table separating any female from him,” Rocky explained. “It’s for your own protection.”
I laughed a little at Michael’s pout but was happy with the arrangement nonetheless.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Michael. He was a great guy, but somehow, I knew that he wasn’t really interested in me at all.
“So, do you remember anyone here?” Rocky asked me.
I looked around, trying to see if I could remember anyone from my childhood. Sure enough, on the other side of the room there was a beast of a man with a completely shaved head and an arrow tattoo on his forehead.
“Is that Mack?” I said excitedly, pointing to the giant.
Rocky nodded with a smile, knowing how amazed I used to be as a little kid. He looked aggressive on the outside but on the inside Mack was the nicest man I knew, a complete marshmallow.
“How do you know Mack?” Michael asked.
“I used to live here when I was younger actually. Mack used to let me ride around on his shoulders and pretend he was my unicorn.”
Michael burst out into laughter. “Mack let you do that? No way.”
“Mack’s a softie,” I insisted, looking to Rocky for confirmation.
“It’s true,” he agreed.
“Wait, you two knew each other back then?” Michael used his finger to gesture between the two of us.
I nodded and took another sip of water. “I used to follow him around until he let me hang out with him.”
“I didn’t mind,” Rocky said softly from behind me.
“Sure, you didn’t,” I laughed awkwardly. It still kind of embarrassed me to think about how I used to run around at his heels like a lost puppy.
On the car ride from town, I cried for a solid fourteen hours at the thought of leaving behind my best friend.
“No really.” Rocky placed a hand on my thigh under the table and I gulped at the contact, though I knew it was only meant to be reassuring.
“So, when did you leave town?” Michael interrupted and I jolted slightly. I could have sworn that Rocky was slightly disorientated too, as if he forgot for a moment that Michael was here with us as well, but I must have imagined it.
“When I was eight, so a long time ago.” I took another gulp of my water and prayed to God that he changed the subject.
“Michael got here about five years ago,” Rocky interjected, as if sensing my discomfort.
“Oh really?”
“My mom never told me who my dad was until I was eighteen. Told me she used to be a club girl. I was shocked to say the least. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to come and tell my dad I existed. I got here and I never left.”
Rocky smirked at this. “I think you're forgetting a very important bit of information, Michael.”
Michael grinned widely. “Mack’s my old man.”
“No!” I gasped. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth as my eyes flickered between them.
I turned to Rocky and raised my brows in question and he nodded in confirmation.
At that moment, Mack turned and saw us sitting at the table, extracted himself from the women clinging onto him and headed over.
“Daria? Is that you?�
�
“Hi Mack!” I grinned up at him.
I slid around Rocky and out of the booth, running up to the man and jumping straight into his arms. I was engulfed in his embrace and I had to bite back the strong urge to cry.
“I heard you and your mom were back in town. Jesus, kid. You're all grown up.”
“You too, Mack. I’ll come visit sometime, I swear.”
“You better,” he commanded. “Hey son, Rocky,” he greeted. I wasn’t sure if I imagined it but Michael’s whole body seemed to inflate at being called ‘son’ and my heart went out to him.
Mack gave me one last kiss on the forehead before he headed off.
“More drinks?” Michael asked.
“I’ll get them,” said Rocky. “I don’t trust you to not bring back tequila.”
Michael and I sat back down in the booth. He peered at me curiously and I had a strong urge to demand what his problem was.
“What?” I said exasperatedly, finally not being able to take it anymore.
“You and Rocky,” he said simply.
“What about me and Rocky?”
He tutted and rolled his eyes.
“Are you going to get together or what?”
“What? Rocky?” I shouted, my voice raising a few octaves. “You can’t be serious.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Michael frowned.
“Rocky’s … Rocky. And he isn’t interested in me at all.” I shook my head vehemently at him, trying to make him understand.
“Alright, whatever you say,” he conceded with a sigh, slumping back in his chair.
Excusing myself to go to the bathroom, I navigated my way through the throng of people, heading towards the neon sign that read ‘ladies.’
Halfway there, a larger man stumbled and tripped into me, his entire body weight sending me reeling back several paces.
I righted myself before I fell, grateful that I hadn’t been wearing heels today, and tried to keep walking.
Unfortunately, the man had now noticed that he’d jostled me and was now slurring something incomprehensible at me.
“It’s okay,” I said politely, attempting to move around him.
He placed a hand on my arm and pulled me back in a surprisingly strong grip. The movement sent me lurching towards him and soon enough his arms were both around me, the pungent scent of the alcohol on his breath hitting me full force.
“Where are you going?” he managed to slur, or at least I think that was what he was trying to say.
“Let go of me, please,” my voice was not as sharp as I intended for it to be and I realised that I was breathing heavily, as if I’d run a marathon.
I prayed that I wasn’t about to have another panic attack, even as I felt the man’s hands constrict around me. Logically, I knew if that there were other people around and all I needed to do was scream so that someone would pull him off me. But I seemed to have lost my voice, frozen in fear and unable to think clearly.
“Stop,” a voice grumbled over my shoulder.
I craned my neck to see Rocky standing right behind me, a fierce look on his face.
“Rocky!” the man said. In his confusion, the man’s grip loosened around me and I quickly extracted myself from his arms, shuffling backwards until I hit Rocky’s firm chest and his familiar scent washed over me.
“If it was anyone but you, Bobby, you’d be nursing much more than a hangover tomorrow,” Rocky said angrily.
He slipped an arm around my shaking shoulders and led me back to the Michael.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“Take care of Bobby,” Rocky said instead. “I’m taking Daria home.”
Michael nodded, though I could tell he was confused. He opened his mouth but closed it again at the sight of Rocky’s face, walking off without a word.
“Let’s go, Daria,” Rocky whispered softly into my ear. His arms were gentle but solid at the same time, a reminder that I could count on him but that he’d never hurt me.
I turned back just before we left the bar and caught Michael’s eye from the other side of the room.
He seemed to have a knowing smile on his face as he winked at me. I frowned back but he disappeared from view as Rocky and I stepped into the cool night air outside the bar.
“Are you okay?” Rocky asked, eyes seeming to stare into my soul, hands on my shoulders.
“I’m fine,” I said, tired beyond belief all of a sudden. I rolled my eyes at Rocky’s look. “Really.”
He nodded, though still looking unconvinced.
“Let’s take you home.”
Chapter Eight
Rocky
It was the day after the bar incident and Daria and I were at the shop again, working side by side in companionable silence like we always did.
Today felt a little different though. I wasn’t sure if she was thinking on last night, or if she was just tired, but there was definitely something wrong.
She was distant. Answering questions but not really engaging. Worst of all, her usual radiant smile had dimmed somewhat. It didn’t reach her eyes anymore and somehow, I could tell it was mostly forced for my benefit. I had a feeling she would talk about it when she was ready so I kept to my bikes, hoping she would open up soon.
Every time I looked up I could feel her eyes on me, burning into me, before she quickly flicked them away. If it wasn’t for the fact that I barely wore a shirt when I was working on my bikes, then I would be starting to feel self-conscious.
After a few hours of this I was ready to break the silence and ask her what was wrong, but she beat me to it.
“Rocky.” She opened her mouth to speak but then seemed to think better of it and shut it again.
“Daria, I know something’s wrong. You’ve been acting strange all day. Was it what happened last night?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I’m worried about you, Rocky,” she said in a rush.
“Me?” I said, confused. What did this have to do with me?
“Is revenge really all that important to you?”
I understood immediately where she was going with this and I could practically feel all my muscles growing solid and my face hardening.
“Yes. It is important, more than you’ll ever know.”
I wasn’t sure why she was bringing this up again. I thought she understood. The last time we’d gotten into it had resulted in a panic attack and I would do whatever it took to avoid another one.
Daria took a deep breath, seeming to come to a conclusion before she spoke next.
“You know, there’s a difference between avenging your father and just plain old revenge. I know I shouldn’t listen to talk but this time I couldn’t help it. You're going after them, aren’t you? The Nightmare MC? And that guy, Jason Steele?”
I didn’t answer, not able to meet her gaze. I couldn’t admit to something like that to someone as innocent as she was.
I knew it was hard for her to comprehend, especially considering she’d spent years around so much violence from her stepdad. I didn’t want to take her back to that. That was why I was hesitant to involve her in the first place. Everything about her screamed that she was better than me in every way. I didn’t want to bring her down to my level.
In saying that, she’d never understand that sometimes violence was necessary. Sometimes violence was the only way forward.
“What are you planning on doing, killing him? Why not get the police involved and they can—”
“The police won’t do anything!” I interrupted. This was the real difference between Daria and me. I was willing to get my hands dirty and do things my own way to get the results I wanted. I’d learned far too young that the cops often wouldn’t do anything when it came to certain members of society.
“Don’t you understand? Guys like my father don’t mean anything to them. To them, he was just a worthless biker, a gang member, trash. I need to do this. I’m the only one that will.
”
“Rocky…” she said carefully, and I couldn’t help but think that I hated how everyone seemed to tiptoe around me. Why could nobody understand that Jason Steele had taken my father from me and he was never coming back. How could I live with myself if I didn’t go after him?
