Charge: A Steel Bones Motorcycle Club Romance

by Cate C. Wells

  “Bitch lawyer?”

  “Yeah. What Harper wants, Harper gets. She wanted the prettiest man, so she got Charge. Now she wants the richest so she’s got Des Wade. She wants a sweetbutt gone, she’s gone. She got a beef against an old lady, she’s gone. Bitches ain’t supposed to be in club business, but Harper’s a shot-caller. Cause she’s an attorney.”

  “It’s fucked up.” Story shakes her head. “She ran Claudette out because she said Grinder is a bad lay. He is a bad lay.”

  Fay-Lee nods in agreement. “Best you can do is keep your head down.”

  “She ain’t gonna like Charge makin’ you his old lady. Not so soon.” Story gave me a look of condolence. What the fuck? Charge could have warned me.

  “Hell, maybe you should take pretty boy home,” Story suggests. “Bail before she sees him.”

  “You know bitch can sniff her property a half mile away. Best you can do is punch her in the face straight off. You might be able to take her with, like, the element of surprise.” Fay-Lee looks totally serious.

  “You cannot be serious.”

  And then Fay-Lee and Story both crack up, falling out of their seats.

  Fay-Lee hiccups, pounds her beer, and then hugs my shoulder. “Seriously, though. You pop her, I’ll jump in. You just say.”

  “Not me,” Story stands up, hands raised. “That bitch’ll fuck up my dental work. And I ain’t paid it off yet.”

  “You need to get yourself an old man, Story.” Fay-Lee shakes her head. “Get them bills paid.”

  “I got an old man,” Story says, tugging her micro-mini down, straightening her back.

  “Bullshit,” Fay-Lee laughs, waving her back to the bar. “You got a delusion. Tell Crista to keep ’em coming.”

  Crista must be the tomboyish woman behind the bar, super busy with tapping kegs and pouring drinks. She has a hoodie on, sleeves pushed up, and a ball cap. She must be really hot. It’s a mild day.

  I sigh. “I gotta check on Jimmy,” I say, going to stand.

  Fay-Lee grabs my hand, suddenly totally for-real. “You know, don’t you, that there’s no man or woman in this club who would let a child get hurt? Right?”

  I nod. I’ve gotten that sense.

  “You go check on him, Mama, but know he’s safer here than at school. Every kid here is his brother. They might scrap, but ain’t none of ’em sayin’ shit about his daddy or his mama or any other bullshit.”

  How does she know?

  But then I think. And look around. There’s older guys here with long grey beards and big ol’ guts, bellied up to the bar next to girls my age, laughing, joking. I can hear the kids outside, shrieking. Behind the bar, in the kitchen, the older women are clinking pots, chatting. Hollering out the window to the pack of kids when they race past.

  I think about how Fay-Lee is being a mother to two boys not young enough to be her own. About Shirlene, taking care of old, grizzled men who aren’t hers. I think about Charge’s mom, gone since he was little, and Pops taking care of him alone. Like I’m trying to do for Jimmy.

  My heart warms a touch.

  And I start to see, a little, how there’s safe, and then there’s safe.

  There’s Dad and Victoria in their gated community with church on Sunday and Saturday night dinner at the club. Knowing the right people, avoiding the wrong ones. Like that’ll keep you safe.

  Didn’t do much for me.

  And then there’s this feeling. That no one is going to look at Jimmy and see less than. No one is going to look at me and see a fuck-up.

  It’s a good feeling. New. Strange. But good.

  The dread and the little green monster ease up for a little. Long enough for me to sit with Fay-Lee as she finishes her beer, laugh some together, laugh more when her old man Dizzy drags her off upstairs, and then to go check on Jimmy and find Charge out by the bonfire. Where he’s talking to the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in real life.

  They look like a magazine spread, standing together.

  She’s almost as tall as he is, and she’s leaning into him. Her hand is on his forearm.

  I can imagine romantic music swelling in the background and a camera swooping to capture every perfect expression on their two perfect faces. In slow motion.

  Like every meet-cute in every romance movie ever.

  My stomach turns.

  I stop in my tracks about four feet away. Subtle.

  I can feel my face flame.

  The woman turns to me, a smile pasted on her model-perfect face. It’s gotta be Harper. She’s so pretty. So long and lean. She’s wearing palazzo pants, and her ass and hips look amazing. I don’t know anyone who can wear palazzo pants. Even Sue, with all her cardio, can’t. She doesn’t have the height.

  Harper’s wearing a belly shirt, too, with a high collar and elbow length sleeves. So it’s classy. And her abs. Tanned. Ripped. A little rib showing.

  I feel like a little kid. And a fat dumpling. And like I really, really don’t belong.

  Charge smiles at me, and it’s warm, but his eyes don’t quite match his mouth.

  “Baby,” he says, grabbing my arm, pulling me to his side. He kisses me. Quick. Perfunctory. “Where did you get to?”

  “I was hanging out. With Fay-Lee,” I answer, but I can’t take my eyes off Harper. It’s instinctive. Like you wouldn’t turn your back on a tiger.

  “This must be Kayla.” Harper almost purrs when she talks. She tucks a lock of her perfect hair behind her ear. She’s wearing a messy bun, but she doesn’t have a single frizz or fly away.

  The humidity was so bad today, I had to use a handful of mousse and pull my hair back tight in a ponytail. I still have pieces sprung out all over my head. Not sexy locks to tuck behind my ears, but weird sprouts sticking straight up from the mousse that’s supposed to hold them down.

  I try really hard not to smooth down my hair. And I don’t. It’s a freakin’ huge victory.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Harper,” she says, taking my hand, shaking it. Her fingers aren’t limp. She clearly does this all the time. “You’re cute.” She gives me a once over. I can feel the pudge puffing over my jeans. And how one of my boobs is sticking out of its bra cup and you can see it through my shirt.

  “Um,” I say. Then, after way too long a pause. “Thanks.”

  “I’m so excited to meet the woman Mark has made his old lady after…what’s it been? A month? I would’ve held out for a ring, but you know, that’s old-fashioned, isn’t it? Holding out.”

  There’s a lot of mean to unpack there, but my brain clings to one word.

  “Mark?”

  Harper raises an exaggerated, perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. Smiles all polite. Like she’s definitely not trying to suggest I’m an idiot. “That’s Charge’s real name. Charge, you didn’t tell your old lady your government name yet?”

  Charge isn’t smiling at me now. His face is cold. Blank. His body’s stiff.

  I had no idea Charge was a nickname.

  Harper answers the question I didn’t ask. “You know. Cause of all the charges. His rap sheet. Isn’t just his dick that’s long.” And she smiles at me. Her first genuine smile.

  It’s evil as shit.

  She calls out to a bald biker hanging out on a log by the bonfire. His head’s tattooed, and he has a young blonde sitting on his lap.

  “Creech! Who’s got a longer rap sheet? You or Charge?”

  The bald man leans back, smirks. “Charge got more arrests. I done more time, though. I ain’t got that pretty face to get me off.”

  The blonde whispers in his ear, and he snorts. “Good one, babe.”

  I blink, look down at my feet. I don’t know what to say. I can’t act like I knew. And I should have really known. People like me. What did I think that meant?

  It meant criminals. Ex-cons.

  Holy Lord. I brought Jimmy to a cookout with a guy whose rap sheet is so long, they named him after it. I thought he was in construction.

  “Aren’t
you in construction?” I ask so quiet, I don’t know if he hears me.

  I feel so stupid. So naïve.

  Charge puts his hand on the small of my back, but his face is stone. I don’t want to make a scene, but I can’t think of anything to say to this woman. I’m too busy trying to sort through the thoughts flying around my head.

  What did he go to jail for?

  What if Dad and Victoria find out?

  What if Jimmy finds out?

  I’ve been reckless. Again. Walked blind and dumb into trouble.

  “Don’t worry.” Harper pats my hand. “He’s been flying straight awhile now. At least since you graduated high school.”

  “Harper.” Charge growls a warning.

  Harper tosses a shoulder, rolls her eyes.

  And that’s when Jimmy comes running up, panting, the biggest grin on his face. He knocks into me, and I grab him, tight, and I hold on.

  “Mama. They got snowballs. Can I have one?”

  “Have,” I mumble. My brain’s slow. It takes me a minute to register what he’s asking, so I focus on the grammar. “They have snowballs.”

  “And who are you?” Harper leans over, her hands on her knees. She must know damn well.

  I tug Jimmy to my front, my arm across his chest.

  “Is this your brother?” Harper cocks her head, bares her teeth at me. “Stuck babysitting?”

  And then snap. I’ve got this.

  I don’t know what to do with a perfect ex-girlfriend or a mean girl or a bitch-lawyer-biker-chick-princess. But I sure as hell know what to do with someone who’s a threat to my kid.

  “Jimmy, you can get a snowball, baby,” I say, ignoring her.

  “Thanks, Mama,” he calls and he’s off quicker than a flash. Thank the Lord.

  Harper makes a mock expression of surprise at Charge, raising both eyebrows. “My, my, my. Playing daddy? That’s a new one.”

  And I wonder if Fay-Lee’s suggestion to punch her in the face is really the worst idea ever. Probably. Because she’s a lawyer. And surrounded by her friends and family. Who are badass bikers.

  I think for a second about what Sue would do, but I don’t have the vocabulary or nerve or imagination that Sue does.

  So I do what Kayla would do.

  “I’m going for a snowball,” I tell Charge.

  And I don’t say bye to the bitch, and I don’t look back. I shove my hands in my pockets, so if they shake, no one can tell.

  I don’t care what Charge thinks or does or who he owns a house and a dog with. I don’t care who rubs up on him, who he’s in the habit of sharing a beer bottle with, or whether he’s so totally chill and laid back that he lets a woman grab his jock before he tells her off.

  I’ve got other priorities.

  Snowballs with my son. Followed as soon as possible by getting the fuck out of here.

  Jimmy gets cherry, and I get grape.

  I can’t get any of it down past the lump in my throat or the pit in my stomach. I take up one of Fay-Lee’s boys when he offers to eat it for me.

  Definitely the suckiest party ever.

  CHAPTER 14

  CHARGE

  “What the fuck are you doing messing around with a child?”

  Harper rounds on me before I can open my mouth.

  I’m so pissed, I’m seeing red. I can feel my girl’s hurt, see it plain as day on her face, and I’m so pissed I can’t even say shit. I’ve never lost it before. I can’t lose it now; Jimmy’s right over there, flashin’ me looks. Like I fucked up.

  Hell, boy, I know I did.

  I should have walked Kayla away as soon as the sweetbutts came over. But I figured they’re harmless, and the sooner Kayla sees ain’t none of ’em have a hold on me, the sooner she’ll relax and treat ’em like the other old ladies do. Guests, more or less. Sometimes the help.

  Harper never minded the sweetbutts.

  And that’s my first mistake. Thinkin’ Kayla and Harper would see anything the same. Harper’s as hard- bitten as they come. Kayla’s…she’s a tender peach. Ripe. Has to be handled gentle.

  And that’s my second mistake. I know this about my girl. I should have walked away as soon as Harper showed up.

  But I’m the chill one, right? It’s all good. No beefs. No grudges. Boots’ kid. The one who’ll take the charge, smooth shit over.

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I cross my arms.

  I don’t want to keep this goin’, but Harper ain’t done, and I know her well enough that if I walk, she’ll follow. And I am real clear now that she goes nowhere near my girl.

  Kayla’s sittin’ at a picnic table across the yard, chippin’ at a snowball with a plastic spoon. Her face is so fuckin’ sad. And I’m here, not where I’m supposed to be, cause this bitch, the one I picked, the one I backed all those years, she’s a viper. And if I don’t let her loose her venom on me, she’s gonna go after my girl.

  If she didn’t just ruin shit with her mouth, she can always make it hard for Kayla, stir the women up against her. Try to run her out. I’ve seen her do it before. To sweetbutts who rubbed her the wrong way or an old lady she thought was gunnin’ for her seat at the table. I always figured it wasn’t my concern.

  How much of my chill is just that? Thinkin’ nothin’ much is my concern? Now I got concerns, my chill don’t seem so solid.

  Harper sees where I’m lookin’, over at my woman and my boy, and she grabs me by the chin. Narrows her eyes.

  “What are you going to do? Be that kid’s daddy?” She raises her eyebrows. “I had to tell you when to take the dog out. Every damn time.”

  Untrue. She’s a control freak. She’d fuckin’ remind me when I already had the leash in my hand.

  “Ain’t your business, Harper.”

  She laughs. “Well, damn, Charge. I knew you were broke up over us, but I didn’t think you’d take advantage of some desperate little teen mom to make you feel all big again. I just thought you’d let Jo-Beth blow you or something.”

  It takes a lot not to wince. One thing I can say about her, Harper’s aim is true.

  “Why do you care, Harper? You walked away.”

  She laughs. Bitter. And her eyes go a little blank. “Yeah. I did. I’d do it again if I had to. You, more than anyone, should understand that.”

  What is she talkin’ about?

  “Oh, you don’t know the whole story, do you? Didn’t Heavy tell you yet?” She sighs. “Bet you didn’t bother talking to him. Easy’s always been easy enough for you, hasn’t it?”

  “What do you mean, Harper?”

  She leaves me hangin’ for a long minute, then she says, “Never mind. You don’t have to think too hard, Charge. Just go along, get along. Pick up the first easy pussy that walks by. Little girl who’ll look up at you like you’re a big, big man. Pay her bills. Throw a ball with her kid. I bet she thinks you’re a boss. Really something.”

  Fuck. That stings. Wasn’t that what I was thinkin’ just a few weeks back?

  “Why you so mad, Harper? Jealous?”

  “Cause single mom gets to fuck you for rent money?” She laughs. “Dick wasn’t that good.”

  “Done here.” And I am. Past done. I feel dirty, low. Like I brought something bad down on someone good.

  I walk toward Kayla, and Harper waits until I’m almost there. Until Kayla’s looking up at me, sad and hopeful and lost-as-fuck and pretty as a damn picture.

  Then Harper yells, “Just make sure her ID’s legit. I can’t get you off for statutory.”

  Everyone looks. That asshole Creech laughs. He’s gonna fuckin’ pay with his teeth later.

  And Jimmy squints up. Confused. His mouth stained red from the snowball.

  He’s askin’ me a question with his eyes.

  I can’t even look at my girl because I can’t handle whatever’s on her face.

  I grab Jimmy’s hand. “You done, buddy?”

  He nods.

  “Want to see Boots’ leg before we go?” />
  And he forgets everything, he’s so stoked. I grab Kayla’s upper arm, and I thank the Lord she comes along.

  But she’s so quiet. When I take her to the church to see the leg, when I say goodbye to the brothers, all the car ride home. She shakes me off every time I try to touch her.

  “Baby,” I try when we’ve gone a few miles.

  She shakes her head.

  “Please.”

  “I don’t want to in front of Jimmy.”

  So I shut up.

  And I can’t help thinkin’ about a line after you lose a fish. Limp and still. Slippin’ back under the water, and you can yank all you want, but that fish is gone.

  And I’m pissed. Fire in the gut, jaw clenched shut, have to force myself to ease off the gas I’m so full with it.

  This ain’t me.

  The man I see in the rearview, eyes hard, white knuckles. He ain’t me. And I’m afraid cause I don’t know what this man’ll do. I thought I’d lost it all before, but I had nothin’ then. Not anythin’ worth cryin’ over. Now I got the entire world in this truck, and what am I goin’ to do if I lose it?

  A wave of rage takes me over again, and Kayla sucks in a breath.

  She’s eyein’ me, scared.

  I grab the wheel tighter.

  “It’s gonna be fine, baby,” I tell her, turnin’ on the radio.

  But her face says it ain’t. And my sayin’ can’t make it so.

  CHAPTER 15

  KAYLA

  I’m really glad that statutory is four syllables. There’s no way Jimmy’s going to remember it.

  All the car ride home, I think about what I can tell him, if he asks what Harper yelled.

  Stationary.

  Supervisory.

  Sanitary?

  I’m thinking about this because if I think about the rest of it, I’ll cry. Or I’ll scream at Charge. Or yell at him to make it not true.

  Or yell at myself.

  I should have known. He’s a biker, for Christ’s sake. A badass with a cut and a patch. Did I think it was just a look? A weekend thing? I watch TV.

  I thought cause he didn’t have that one percent patch they talk about, he wasn’t that bad. I’m an idiot.

  I took Jimmy to a biker party with an ex-con. Where there’s people like her.