by Cat Porter
My grandparents had first nailed that cheesy clock on the kitchen wall over the small wooden table. Yellowed with age, that clock had ticked away the years of spotty contentment and shrouded unhappiness in this house all through my childhood. Now that ticking seemed to presage all the emptiness that lay ahead for me and the horrid misery in store for Ruby.
Screw that.
I got up from my bed, wiped my wet face on my forearm, marched to the kitchen, flung upon a cupboard, and snatched one of Dad’s favorite beer glasses. Why the hell had my mother kept them anyway? Laughter stung in my throat.
What the hell kind of crazy ass house was this?
I hurled the glass at the clock.
The clock face smashed into a shower of bits and pieces that flew all over the kitchen. I shook myself, and pieces of glass fell like otherworldly snowflakes from my hair and clothes. I grabbed more of those beer glasses and threw them at each and every petal of the now ruined sunflower clock. Glass showered through the room.
I grabbed the last two and pitched them. Then I started on my mother’s wine glasses that came from a gas station on a special offer. She had been so proud of them. “They’re nice aren’t they?” she had mused aloud to herself over and over when she had first arranged them in the cabinet.
Everything was “nice” in here wasn’t it? “Nice,” if you didn’t ask too many questions. “Nice,” if you didn’t look too hard. “Nice,” if you didn’t expect anything much.
I hated anything “nice.”
I aimed each glass at a different deer on the faded brown hunting-themed wallpaper in the kitchen. My aim improved with each throw.
A half empty bottle of tequila flirted with me from the top of the fridge. I jumped over the sea of sharp remnants on the kitchen floor and sniggered at the harsh chomping noises my boots made. I reached up, grabbed the bottle, and took a long swig. The liquor burned down my throat, and I coughed. I wiped the side of my mouth with the back of my hand, nabbed the keys to the Jimmy, and left the house.
Who the hell did Jump and Dig think they were anyhow? Kings of the freaking county, no doubt. Where were they when the judge passed down her sentence on Ruby? Having a beer and getting their dicks sucked at their precious clubhouse most likely.
Hell no.
I jostled my way through the throng of people in the courtyard of the Clubhouse. A raucous party was in full swing. What a surprise. Members of the Demon Seeds, the rival club involved in Ruby and Jump’s drug deal gone south, were here partying with the One-Eyed Jacks. Of course, this must be a celebration-at-Ruby’s-expense party. Did my invitation get lost in the mail?
A fire blazed in the center of the yard, the enticing aroma of grilled meat filled the air in a haze of smoke. I tromped through the yard, the bottle of tequila still in my hand. I had a good buzz on. Enough to let go of any inhibitions, but enough to still retain my self-respect.
Boner bounded in front of me, his green eyes glassy. “Little Sister, whazzup?” A cigarette hung from his fingers, and his one arm hung around an overly made-up and very drunk blonde with an unsettling amount of teased hair.
“Where is he?”
“Who, Sister?”
“Dig. Where is he?” I asked.
“Oh, he’s partying… somewhere. Not sure,” he muttered. Blondie cackled. “Sure is nice to see you, babe, but I don’t think you wanna be here.” Boner took a long drag on his cigarette, and his eyes widened. “Why don’t you go on back home, huh?”
Home. My insides blazed with fire.
“Where is he?”
The blonde giggled and leaned into Boner’s body. “He’s at the shed,” she said.
“Aw shit,” muttered Boner. He popped the cigarette out of his mouth and rubbed his forehead. “Don’t go back there, Little Sister. Don’t.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I brushed him off and charged in the direction of the shed.
A big round circle of men and a few women stood in front of the large steel shed which housed the bike repair shop of the Club. An in-the-wild-jungle-like vibe hung in the air, a tangible, raw menace that made my mouth go dry.
Shit, maybe I should have listened to Boner and not come out here.
Everyone’s eyes were glued to some sort of extravaganza playing out before them. Several fires roared from rusted steel drums, which cast a golden-reddish glow over everyone’s faces. Undisguised carnal intensity was etched on their features and it hit me like a furnace blast. Was it a fight? Some sort of death match?
I squeezed through the gaps between several men who didn’t even register my presence because their attention was riveted by the show. My pulse skidded to a halt. Four naked women were on the ground getting banged, giving head, and getting it up the ass by a number of men in a number of combinations. The sound of slapping skin, shouting, and grunting filled the hot air. Plenty more men waited in line to have their turn while they smoked weed and drank from bottles. They spurred their buddies on with a colorful array of language and howls of laughter. Others were getting it on with their own women as they watched.
The vivid spectacle burned through my eyeballs and positively knocked the tequila buzz right out of me. A wave of nausea rushed up my throat. I pushed back through the men, but got stuck.
“Oh, yeah, look what I found!” a voice growled in my ear. “A sweet piece of cherry pie.”
Two massive hands ran up my rear over my skirt and around my waist, travelled north and settled on my breasts. My body was jerked back into a rock hard wall of muscle and stench.
“Isn’t it my lucky night?” he said. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?”
“Hey, that’s Ruby’s little sister,” said a passing female voice. I looked up. It was one of the biker chicks always at our house. My mouth fell open, but her name suddenly escaped me. She disappeared into the crowd.
The beast’s hand fisted in my hair, and he pulled my head back. “No shit,” he said.
“Let go of me!” I scratched at his arms, and shoved against him. Big mistake. One of his hands grabbed at my crotch and drove my ass right in between his legs. The air got sucked out of me, and pain flared through my chest.
“Aw, this is gonna be good. I won the fucking jackpot tonight!” he said.
I raised the tequila bottle over his head, but it was plucked from my hand.
“Let her go, Vig!”
Dig’s voice. Thank you, God.
I struggled in Vig’s grip, but it was useless. Laughter ripped from his chest.
“Don’t be an asshole man, just having fun. Now fuck off,” said Vig. I turned my face and a coarse patch on his leather jacket sleeve grated against my cheek. The smell of his sweat and the booze on his breath erupted a tide of nausea in my belly once more.
“She’s that cunt’s little sister, ain’t she?” Vig’s voice positively seethed with wrath. He squeezed my breasts and my crotch all at once. I gasped at the pain.
“I said let her go,” said Dig. “You don’t want to do this, man.”
“You’re not being a good host, Diggy. You don’t share the house pussy with your guests?”
I struggled for air in Vig’s tight grasp. My eyes darted up and found Dig’s. The lines of his face were hard; a muscle in his jaw pulsed. He handed off my tequila bottle to a livid Boner and got in Vig’s face.
“She ain’t house pussy,” Dig said. “Now let her go.”
“Why should I? She’s here ain’t she? Why do you give a shit? You’ve had your dick up in plenty of bitches for days. What the fuck you playing at?” Vig twisted me in his arms once more. “I just saw some cunt blowing you.”
Oh, too much information.
My stomach flipped over as images of Dig getting hot and nasty with lots of different women flitted through my fevered brain. But I was in the lethal clutches of a Demon Seed who didn’t like my sister, for crap’s sake, and I really had no time to indulge in jealous fantasies.
Jealous? Of Dig and other women?
Revolted maybe. Jealous n
o way.
Dig and I had actually spent some time together over the past months while waiting for Ruby’s trial to come up. He had been as good as his word about looking out for me. He and Boner and a few of their brothers regularly came to Pete’s and played pool and had drinks. I knew they were there to check up on me, as he had never come in so frequently before. Dig would show up every time, the others rotated. I hated it at first. Then I began to like it.
At first he would nod at me, or give me the badass chin jerk, which frankly made my knees wobble almost every time. The guys wouldn’t let the other waitress, Mandy, take their drink orders. Her eyes shot daggers at me, and she mouthed “bitch” across the bar at me the first time that happened. It got to the point where Pete made sure that my section always included the Club’s ever-reserved set of tables.
Throughout the evening Dig and I would exchange sassy comments. He’d flash me his wicked grin, and I would roll my eyes and shake my head at him. My insides melted at each and every exchange, but I worked hard to ignore that phenomenon which only increased in regularity. I was Little Sister, after all, not biker girlfriend bitch material. He was just being sweet and flirty.
Right?
One night Trey had shown up at Pete’s with his pals and grabbed my arm and pulled at me to sit in his lap, and the shots lined up on my tray went flying. Dig and Boner were on him in a flash. Boner had pulled me out of Trey’s grasp as Dig yanked Trey out of his chair and popped him in the face. Blood had gushed over his shirt and hands. Most everyone in the bar clapped. Trey and his pals stumbled out of Pete’s.
Dig had turned to me, his eyes grim. He had run his bloody knuckles down my cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood that he then rubbed off with his thumb. He planted a kiss on my forehead, returned to his table and sat back down with his brothers as if nothing had happened. Trey never came around Pete’s again.
Inevitably, all sorts of women would hover over the bikers’ table, sit in their laps or at least try to, and they’d eventually leave together. Even Mandy would leave with them once in a while. But no matter how his evening ended, Dig would always find me in the crowd and flick his hand at me in goodbye.
At home very late at night or in the wee hours of the morning I would sometimes hear the roar of pipes down the street or the rev of a bike’s engine that was springing back to life. I would smile into my pillow in my bedroom in my empty house.
One afternoon I had bumped into Boner at the supermarket. He took my arm in his and said he was going to help me shop. He yapped on and on about crazy shit that made me laugh, but it got to the point where I couldn’t keep track of what I was looking for on the shelves. Then he surfed through the aisles on my shopping cart and narrowly missed several elderly ladies. We must have been in there for almost two hours.
I invited him home for dinner, and he called Dig. I cooked them chicken cutlets with homemade mac and cheese and a huge spinach salad. Dig brought the beer. Later, Boner gave me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek good night in my doorway. Dig only stared at me, his jaw set.
“Dig? What is it?” I asked.
“Hmm? Nothing, baby.” His hand reached out, and his knuckles stroked my cheek. My breath snagged. He had never called me “baby” before. I was always “Peanut” or “Little Sister.”
“Lock up, okay?” he said softly.
“Yeah, okay,” I said. He turned and strode down the front walkway. I closed the door, bolted it, and peeked through the curtain to watch them get on their bikes. Boner waved at me. Dig busied himself with his bike. Suddenly their engines exploded, and they zoomed away into the night.
But now those happy thoughts couldn’t keep me from gagging when Vig’s tongue slicked over my neck. Dig’s eyes blazed.
I had to do something to flip the balance. I didn’t want to be responsible for some kind of battle or war between two bike clubs already in a tenuous truce. Pete’s voice infiltrated my brain: “Always be respectful and polite with these guys, and they’ll show you the same. Don’t ever sass them, or you’re asking for it.”
Somehow, I didn’t think respectful and polite was going to save my ass right now or defuse the situation. By now our little standoff had attracted a crowd of onlookers.
My hands pushed against Vig’s chest. “Hey, excuse me, but I’m Dig’s woman! We got into a major blowout last week, and I took off,” I said. “Of course he’s been banging everything in sight! He does it to get back at me, like all the other times we’ve broken up. He’s a man-whore and I’m a mouthy bitch, but I’m back now, and I’d like to fuck my man tonight, show him what he’s been missing, if that’s alright with you?” I gulped in air and grimaced at Vig.
Vig looked at me as if I was an alien who had just landed on Earth.
“Sorry,” I said. “But I don’t think he’d like it if we fucked right now, do you?”
Laughter and snickers rose around us. Vig cursed under his breath and pulled on me again. My head twisted towards Dig. His eyes glittered over me, his chin high.
“You heard her, man,” Dig said, his voice cold and hard like iron. “Get your hands off my property, and there won’t be any trouble.”
Holy crap, he called me his “property” in front of everybody. That was quite a social step up from a mere “bitch” in biker-speak.
“You wait one more second and there’s gonna be a shit storm, motherfucker,” said Wreck. My eyes shifted in the direction of his voice. Wreck was the One-Eyed Jack’s Road Captain and one of Dig and Boner’s closest friends at the club. He was a real old time 1%’er who had been a club member since his teens.
“Vig!” a rough voice cut through the crowd. A stocky, burly man who had to be in his early fifties glared fireballs at our little clusterfuck. My eyes went to the patches on his worn-out cut. It was Cowboy, the Demon Seed president.
Not good.
Vig cursed under his breath, and shoved me hard into Dig with a grunt. I immediately flung my arms around Dig’s torso and planted juicy kisses on his pecs over his tight grey t-shirt.
“I’m sorry baby, it’s all my fault,” I stage whispered for effect. Dig’s arm slammed me against his body, his hand slid down my back. I took the opportunity to throw my arms around his neck, hop up and hook my legs around his waist. His hand landed over my ass under my short cotton skirt and rubbed my curvy flesh over the thin fabric of my pink panties that, I was sure, were now plainly visible to our audience.
After my harsh imprisonment by Vig’s foul body, I sank into Dig and reveled in the sensation of his hands on my flesh and his masculine spicy scent. His touch and smell became my elixir of life in that moment of sheer relief. My fingers raked through Dig’s soft caramel hair, and I nuzzled his neck and face, doing my best impression of a property chick horny for her man. I loudly murmured sweet skanky nothings in his ear. His hold on me tightened.
“What the fuck?” Cowboy asked.
My stomach rolled. I shut my mouth and pressed my fingers into Dig’s back.
“We’re good, bro,” Vig said, his voice controlled, even. “It’s all good.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cowboy’s blood shot eyes narrowed over us and shifted between Vig and us.
“Yeah,” Dig said flatly. “We’re good.” Macho chin jerks followed all around, and Vig turned and pushed through the crowd, the bulk of Cowboy at his side.
My grip on Dig’s back relaxed.
“Can I get down now?” I whispered in his ear. His hand continued to burn right through my panties, plus my crotch sat right on the side of his waist at an angle making it hard for me to breathe, let alone think coherent thoughts.
He exhaled on a hiss. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Huh?” I jerked my head back to face him.
“They know who you are now, you little idiot!” His eyes flashed at me. “Ruby’s a fuck-up to them. Don’t think they wouldn’t take the opportunity to take it out on you.” He slid me down his body and held me as I found my footing. Dig grabbed a fistful of my hair and tug
ged my head back. His face leaned into mine.
“What the fuck are you doing here anyway?”
Shit, he was mad at me.
I pushed at his chest, but his free hand gripped my bicep, and he yanked me closer to his body. My eyes stung with unshed tears.
“Peanut, what is it? What the hell’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softer.
“Ruby… Ruby got sentenced today. And I couldn’t hug her goodbye, I couldn’t do… anything… All I could do was get in my car and go back to that house. That… h-h-house. She’s in a cell with God knows who… and… and… you’re all partying ‘cause she’s going down for you. This is a victory party isn’t it?” I rubbed at the edge of my eyes and sniffed. “So, yeah, I thought I’d come here and join in on the celebration just to top off my day. Got any champagne on tap?”
Dig’s eyes tightened. “You knew the score, Little Sister.”
“I knew, but it’s something else to actually live it, Dig!”
“Shut it, Grace. Now, you’re gonna be really living it,” he said. “You show up here tonight on your own and get into it with Vig of all people, and then even their prez catches wind of our little scene. Thank fuck, Boner and Wreck found me, and we got to you in time.” He dragged a hand through his hair.
“Well, thank fuck your blow job finished up when it did!” I said.
His hand wrapped around my upper arm, and he tugged me close. I winced at the pain.
“You better forget the attitude and the tears and get your sweet ass in gear, Little Sister,” Dig said. “You just put a whole new concept in motion, and now you got to play it.”
I scowled at him. “What concept?”
“Babe,” He shook his head at me. “The concept you planted in Vig’s pea brain about you being my woman. It was smart and well-played, but now you got to follow through on it. Actually, it’s a damn good idea. It’ll make you totally hands-off. For a while at least.”
