by Chiah Wilder
Releasing her, Brent stared at the other tenant. “Who the fuck are you?” He glanced at Raven. “You fucking him?” Stepping away from him, she went toward the screen door. Brent glared at Walter. “Butt the fuck out. This isn’t your business.”
“I heard her tell you to leave. She doesn’t want you here. Leave. Now.”
Is Walter fuckin’ insane? She took in his chubby thirty-eight-year-old body and compared it to Brent’s fit, thirty-two-year-old one, knowing he could decimate Walter. “It’s okay, Walter. I’m good, but thanks.”
“I’m not leaving until he does.” He pointed his finger at Brent. “Get out.”
“You fucking asshole,” Brent replied through gritted teeth. “You’re dead.” He walked away from Raven.
With her phone in her hand, she said, “I’m calling 911 right now.”
Brent paused for a moment but then jumped off the porch, his jaw clenched as he glanced at Walter. “This isn’t finished yet,” he said to her neighbor as he walked to his pickup. Whirling around, he caught her gaze. “I’m not buying your shit, Raven. I know you. You’re still in love with me. I’ll be in touch.” He got into his truck and sped away.
Raven watched the pickup until it vanished into the distance. Walter was still standing on her lawn in front of her porch. “Uh… thanks for helping me out. He’s an ex-boyfriend.”
Walter squirmed in place, shoving his hands in and out of the pockets of his pants. Peering at her, he cleared his throat. “If you’d dress less provocatively, you wouldn’t have these kinds of problems.”
“Believe me, he wasn’t bothering me because I’m wearing a simple sundress. Thanks again for the help.” Bending over, she gripped the plastic bags and straightened up.
“Do you ever read the Bible?”
For a split second she wondered if she’d made a mistake in letting Brent go; at least she knew what to expect from him. Walter was giving her a major case of the willies. “I’ve read it before. I gotta go before my groceries spoil. See you.”
Taking quick steps, she went inside her house, locked the screen, and bolted her front door. When she looked through the peephole, Walter stood staring at her door. For a long while she watched him until he finally walked away. She shivered. The guy’s a nut. There was something odd about him. On one hand, he helped her out, but on the other, he basically told her it was her fault that Brent had accosted her.
After she put everything away and fed Sooty, she plopped down on the couch with a bottle of iced tea in her hand. She took out her phone and called her friend Ava, asking if she wanted to try out the new Mexican restaurant that’d opened on Champa Street. When she said yes, Raven smiled broadly.
They made plans to meet at Alfonso’s at seven that night. A thread of excitement weaved through her. It’d been a long time since she’d gone out with a friend on a Saturday night. After her breakup with Brent, she’d been so brokenhearted that she’d had no interest in doing anything but painting and jewelry making. But that night, she was restless and had to get out. She wanted to rid her mind of everything, especially Muerto.
As the time passed, Raven became engrossed in a painting she’d started for an art gallery in Denver that had asked her to send two. She painted pop and contemporary art, loved mixing realism with fantasy. Her signature style was the use of bold colors and textures. When she dabbed pink on the canvas, brushing it out to resemble streaks from the setting sun, her phone alarm went off. She’d set it so she wouldn’t let the time slip away from her as it usually did when she was engrossed in her craft.
After cleaning her paintbrushes, she jumped into the shower and then sat at her small vanity, applying her makeup. She’d always loved makeup, and experimenting with it had become a passion of hers over the past several years. Inspecting herself in the mirror, she muttered, “Perfect.” Her winged eyeliner gave her an alluring, sultry look which she adored. She slipped on a pair of black skinny jeans, a black and white striped crop top, and a pair of patent leather red high-heeled sandals. The marcasite in her feather-and-skull navel jewelry sparkled when it caught the overhead light. She spritzed her neck and wrists with her signature perfume and headed out of the room.
After feeding Sooty and making sure the back door and all windows were secured, she walked out the front door and headed to her car. She so needed a night out.
I’m dying for a margarita. And I haven’t seen Ava in such a long time.
Ava owned a small boutique on Main Street, and she’d fallen in love with Raven’s jewelry and art when she’d seen them at one of the county fairs. She’d asked Raven to put some things in her shop on consignment, and they soon became fast friends. Ava had been a huge help to her when she’d found out about Brent. Her friend had been her support when her world had crumbled.
As she drove to the restaurant, she cranked up the radio, adrenaline shooting through her. My days of mourning are over. I’m ready to live again.
Chapter Eight
Alfonso’s was a charming Mexican restaurant that had recently opened on the corner of Champa and Colusa. The interior resembled a beachside eatery with light blue and yellow walls and paintings depicting seaside towns in Mexico. The cuisine came from Baja California Sur, unlike all the other Mexican restaurants in Alina that served dishes from the states of Chihuahua and Sonora.
“I hear the margaritas are so good here,” Ava said as the two women followed the hostess to their table by the window.
“I’m counting on it. I could use one.” Raven sat down and took the menu from the lady. “It’s really cute in here. I love all the oil and watercolor paintings. It’s like we’re having dinner by the ocean. A nice change.”
“I’m glad you decided to come out tonight. I practically gave up on you ever going out. It’s a good sign. Sometimes you have to get away from everything and just have a good time for you. Believe me, I know.” Ava picked up a chip and dunked it into one of the four salsas on the table.
Raven nodded. “How’s your mother?” Ava’s mother had just recently come home from the hospital and wasn’t doing so well. Ava and her sister took turns staying with her. Raven knew it was emotionally draining and physically challenging for her. To make the situation more difficult, Ava’s mother wasn’t the nicest patient.
Ava sighed. “The same. It’s my turn to spend the night. I told my sister I’d be over by nine thirty.” She glanced at her watch. “That’ll give us enough time to catch up.”
When the waitress came over, Raven ordered a margarita with a double shot of Cointreau and Ava ordered a pineapple margarita. As they talked and sipped their drinks, Raven heard a familiar voice in the distance. Casually, she craned her neck toward the direction of loud, deep laughter. She saw a table of about eight broad-shouldered, good-looking men in leather vests sporting tattoos on their arms. Then she spotted Muerto, a glass of beer in his hand, his hair falling over his forehead. She yearned to brush his hair out of his eyes, feel the smoothness of his skin, and kiss his full lips which were pressing against his glass. An intense craving for him—all of him—kept her from turning away. Then his gaze locked on hers and her insides quivered as she held his stare, mesmerized by him.
“Camarones baja?” the busser asked.
“That’s hers,” Ava said.
The scent of onions, cilantro, and tomatoes pulled Raven away from Muerto’s intensity, and she turned and looked down at her dish. The busser placed a charbroiled flank steak in front of Ava, the pungent smell of jalapeños wafting around them.
“This looks so good,” Ava said as she picked up her fork and knife. “Your shrimp look fantastic. How are they?”
“Really good. The perfect blend of spices, and they’re cooked just right.” Raven tore her flour tortilla in half and dipped it in the sauce.
“So who’s the gorgeous guy you were staring at?”
Raven groaned. “My landlord, and he is gorgeous. I wish he wasn’t.” She took a sip of her margarita. “And he’s so damn cocky it’s unbelievable.”
&n
bsp; “Your landlord’s a Night Rebel?”
“What’s that?”
“An outlaw biker. It’s the name of their club.” Ava placed another morsel of steak in her mouth. “This is just so good.”
“Outlaw biker? Is this for real? I thought all that had gone away. I mean, I remember reading about the biker wars from the sixties and seventies, and I saw some of the old movies about bikers, but I thought it was all in the past.”
“Not in Alina. I keep forgetting you’re not from here. The Night Rebels are an outlaw club, and they’re hooked up with the Insurgents MC in Pinewood Springs. The Insurgents are like the head club and Colorado is their turf. I’m not sure how the two clubs fit in, but I know no one wants to get on the bad side of the Night Rebels.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Mr. Arrogant really is a badass. I kinda thought he was, but I wasn’t sure if part of it was just bravado.”
“It’s not. It looks like you’re interested in him. What’s his name?” Ava gestured the waitress to come over. “I’m going to order another margarita. Do you want one?” she asked Raven.
She nodded. “You’re going to love this. His name is Muerto.” Ava stared at her for a couple of seconds, then burst out laughing. Raven joined her. “Isn’t that crazy?”
Wiping the corners of her eyes with her napkin, Ava shook her head. “Too crazy. I’m glad you’re showing an interest in the opposite sex again, but you don’t want to start anything with that one. I think you better stay away from him and his club. They’re known not to play very nice.”
“No worries there. We don’t get along too well. He’s got a real attitude and I give his shit back to him, so he’s not too fond of me. I just think he’s good-looking, that’s all. I do kinda like the sense of danger that seems to emanate from him. I never even thought about bikers.”
“I wouldn’t start thinking about them now. I’m sure he’s got a different woman warming his bed each night. I’ve heard they have wild parties and have a bunch of girls living at their clubhouse who have to be available for sex twenty-four seven. And they seem to have a lot of money. I don’t even want to think what they’re doing to get it.” She shook her shoulders in an exaggerated shudder. “Not for me at all.”
Raven laughed. “Switching gears, I’ve come up with a new design for a necklace. I’ve made a few of them and want to try them out at your store.”
“Sounds good. Did you take any pictures of them?”
“Yeah.” She scrolled through her photo files and showed them to her. As they talked about business, she heard a chair scrape across the tiled floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw someone sit next to her. She turned her head and met Muerto’s gaze. “Oh,” she said.
“Hey.” He smiled at her and her insides fluttered.
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah. Just finished. I see you’re still at it.” He scooted his chair closer to hers, and the heat from his body skimmed over her.
“Uh… this is my friend Ava.” She gestured to her. “And this is Muerto.” Raven took a large gulp of her drink. “Have you been here before?” She set her glass down.
“A couple times. The food’s great. What about you?”
“My first time. It’s good.” Raven wanted to smack Ava because all she was doing was staring at him, her face tight, her eyes laced with fear.
He must have noticed because he turned his attention to her, jutted out his chin, and said, “Am I scaring you or something?” She shook her head vigorously. “Seems like I am.”
“It’s ’cause of your club. What’s the name again?”
“Night Rebels. No reason to be afraid. You haven’t disrespected or pissed me off.” He raised his eyebrows, and Ava hung her head down and began playing with the garnishes on her plate. He snorted, then turned to Raven. “Are you afraid of me too?”
“No, and I know I’ve pissed you off.”
“Yeah, you have.” He laughed.
She loved the way the descending sun’s rays bathed his hair in pinkish hues. The tattoos on his powerful arms seemed to glow under the dissipating sunlight. For an instance, she wished she could curl her fingers around his bicep and trace each tattoo with the tip of her nail. Just thinking of touching him and feeling his arms wrapped around her made her cross her legs as a sweet clench ran through her sex.
“Won’t your friends miss you?” She cocked her head to the side.
“If you’re tryin’ to get rid of me, sweetheart, it’s not gonna work. I can see those lugs anytime.”
Ava cleared her throat. “I should be going. I have to relieve my sister.” She motioned for the waitress.
“I thought you said you had to go at nine thirty?” Raven finished the last bite of her dinner.
“I meant eight thirty. My sister gets testy if I’m late. I don’t want to spoil your evening, so you stay.” She glanced at the bill and took out forty dollars. “That should be enough for my share plus tip.”
“I’ll leave too.”
“No way. I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss… your new necklaces. Have a good time.” Ava gulped down the rest of her drink, pushed her chair back, and took off.
“Ava, wait. I’m coming too.” She started to get up, but his hand on her wrist pulled her back down. “I should go.”
“Why? You’re not relieving her sister, she is. Anyway, what the fuck’s her problem?” Muerto gestured for another beer.
Raven shrugged. “I think you scared her.”
“That’s bullshit. I didn’t do anything.”
“I think it’s because you belong to that club of yours. And you are pretty intimidating, what with your size and the pissed-off look you usually have on your face. I hope this didn’t spoil her evening.”
He leaned into her so his arm was pressed into hers. “I’ll keep you company. I’m good with that.”
“I bet you are.” That’s what I’m afraid of. I better stop drinking.
“Did you want anything more to eat?” the waitress asked after she placed a draft beer in front of Muerto.
He looped his arm around Raven’s shoulder and leaned in close to her ear. “You want a sopapilla? I’m gonna get one.” She nodded. “Two sopapillas.”
“Dusted with cinnamon sugar?” The waitress picked up the empty plates and glasses.
“Why the fuck not?” He laughed when the woman widened her eyes before scurrying away.
Raven moved her chair closer to the window to create a space between them. She brushed his hand away from her shoulder.
“You don’t want my arm around you?” His voice was low and smooth.
“If I did, I wouldn’t have pushed it away.”
Nodding, he pressed his lips together, then blew out a long breath. “That’s fair.”
As she finished her drink, the group of guys he’d been sitting with came over to the table. “I can see why you ditched us, bro,” one said. Raven recognized him as one of the other men who worked at the pool hall. “How’s your pool game been?” he asked her.
Lifting her chin, she held his gaze. “Great.”
Smiling, he gripped Muerto’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Is my brother treating you right?” He winked at her.
Biting her inner cheek, she quirked her lips. Several of the other bikers fixed their eyes on her chest while a few laughed and patted Muerto on the back.
Are we in grade school? What a bunch of jerks.
“Excuse me,” the waitress said as she pushed through the guys and set the sopapillas in front of Raven and Muerto. A few of the men whistled when the woman started to leave. She looked behind her and smiled. “Thanks, guys. You made my night.” She winked and hurried away. The guys laughed and spoke in hushed voices about her.
A tall, good-looking man with shoulder-length black hair came up behind the men. “Let’s get going.” He jerked his head at Muerto. “See you tomorrow.” Raven noticed his vest had a patch that read “President,” with “Steel” underneath it. She watched him leave and go to a wicked-lookin
g Harley.
“We’ll see you back at the clubhouse. Ruby will be waiting for ya,” a blond, muscular man said as he walked away from the table.
Who the hell is Ruby? As she picked up her sopapilla, she watched the men leave the restaurant. A few seconds later, the window shook slightly from the rumble of the bikes as they exited the parking lot. “Wasn’t one of those guys from the pool hall? I recognized him.”
“Yeah. That was Crow.” He took a big bite out of his dessert.
“Do you two own it?”
Wiping the sugar off his lips, he shook his head. “The club does. We just run it.” He poured some honey on his plate. Dunking a piece of his deep-fried pastry in it, he popped it in his mouth. “So, how’d you get to be so good at shooting pool?”
“My dad taught me.” She laughed when his eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, that’s the look most people give me when I tell them that, but it’s true. My dad was a pool shark. It’s the way he earned his living.”
“That can be a risky way to live. Was your mom cool with it?”
“My mom died when I was real young. I don’t have any memories of her. It’s been me and my dad for as long as I can remember. Now don’t go thinking that my dad was like Minnesota Fats because he wasn’t, but he could hold his own. We drove around the country while he plied his craft. When things got too dangerous, we’d be out of the county in a flash.”
“Did you like traveling that much?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know any other life. I sometimes wished I had a best friend or even a boyfriend, but anyone I met was short-term. I learned not to lay down any roots. I ended up dropping out of high school when I was fifteen, got my GED a couple of years later. I’d spend hours sketching when we’d be driving through expanses of corn and wheat fields, or when I’d spend hours alone in a hotel room. My art became my best friend. Some people keep diaries. I sketched, and the drawings were my journal.”
“How’d you end up in Alina making jewelry?”
“My dad was getting older and tired. His health was crap from too much smoking and greasy food. We ended up going to Vegas for a little recreation. Sometimes he hustled away from Vegas, but nothing too big. Then he met Wanda and she had some bucks her old man left her when he died. They seemed to hit it off, so he became a kept man.” She laughed. “Just saying that makes me crack up. But they do really care about each other. I worked and went to the community college where I got my Associate’s in Fine Art. I discovered and fell in love with acrylic painting. The jewelry making is fun and pays the bills. I ended up in Alina because the man I fell in love with was from here, so I came with him.”
