by Xyla Turner
There were biker clubs and gangs all around the Manor area, but the Guardians were my favorite. I had no problem admitting my bias, but they were the best of the best in whatever field they worked in. They weren't just bikers. They had a mission and they accomplished that no matter what it took. Including saving my girl Kylie, when her ex-band mate kidnapped her and almost beat the shit out of her. Not only were the Guardians not okay with domestic abuse, but she also belonged to Razor, and he personally beat the shit out of that man. Almost killed him.
If it wasn't for the idiot whose name I won't say, and if he weren’t there then that man would be dead. Razor would be locked up and not running his businesses or making my girl the happiest she's ever been.
In other news, I was quite happy after two toe-curling orgasms and a few slaps on my ass. Greg was on it today, but that was our game. Meet up, fuck and go the hell home or continue doing what we came for. We often screwed in bathrooms, closets, cars and a few times in an alley. This had been going on for about nine months, and it wasn't old just yet. I had an inkling Greg was trying to tell me something, probably some shit I didn't want to hear.
“No, there has been no word at all,” I answered him.
Lori’s parents had to know where she was, but they weren’t saying a thing. Kylie went so far as to hire the Guardians to find her, but Lori’s father got wind of this and kindly asked that we let her be, so she could get the healing she needed.
“Want to talk about it?” Greg interrupted my thoughts.
Uh, no.
I uncurled my fist, pushed away from him and said, “We said no beds, Greg. This can't happen again.”
Moving off the bed, I pulled on my thong, shorts, and t-shirt. My tingling fingers smoothed out the loose hair that tended to fly and stay out of place as I slipped my sandals on.
“Did I say something?” He pulled up in a seated position on the mattress.
“Nope. This was supposed to be simple, remember? Fuck and be gone. Your words. But no bed. We’re in a bed.”
I waved my hand towards his day bed that was against the wall in the house he shared with his twin sister. She was at work, and this was our lunch break. Greg was a volunteer firefighter for Manor and therefore did not have a steady gig. In his spare time, he worked construction in various places, so it was not odd for him to be off during the middle of the day. My boring ass job involved me sitting behind a desk, shuffling papers and forwarding travel nurses to their next destination.
“Okay.” His eyes lowered when he said, “You do know we've been doing this for almost a year now? Don't you think we’re past the stupid rules?”
I stopped moving mid-bend while grabbing my messenger bag.
“Past what?” My voice was suddenly curt and very clear.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Shay, shouldn't we be past this shit right here? Still fucking in bathrooms, against walls, bushes, and shit. We’re not fucking kids hiding from Mommy and Daddy or big brother. What, does Razor have a claim over your pussy too?”
No the FUCK he didn't.
One curse that ran through my family was the way our emotions would clearly display on our faces.
My head reared back, almost violently, just as Greg stood up with his hands in the air.
“Wait, I'm...” he started to say. I stepped closer to him and slowly moved my hand up his hard chest to display one single finger in his face, the middle one.
“Fuck you Greg.” I enunciated every word, turned on my heel and left.
Big brother?
Claim?
Fucking asshole.
Those were the only words that turned over and over in my head as I marched back to work. Orgasm was forgotten along with the other man that had probably lose the right for his name to pass my lips.
Men, why even bother? This was why what Greg and I had was great. Maybe once every week or two, we'd hook up. Lately he was calling more often and then today he ‘runs’ into me on my lunch break and brings me back to his place.
Ugh.
I didn't need complicated or even sophisticated. I just needed to get laid regularly and I was good as new. No drama, no relationship, nobody knowing and no one in my damn business. Kylie and Lori didn't even know who it was.
Honestly, I just couldn't bear the humiliation or heartache after what the vice-president of the Guardians, Bronx, pulled on me. I swear I was in love with him just like Lori loved Apollo. At the time, I had tracked all of his movements, made sure I was in the same places with him, and I was in his presence. The first couple of months, he ignored me until I turned the heat up on his ass.
One drunken night at Peppers, I gave him a lap dance and kissed him like my life depended on it. To my surprise and dismay, Bronx slapped me on the ass when I finished and sent me home in a cab. I had hoped he hadn't adopted Razor’s model of not messing with younger women. It wasn't that I was in my early twenties, but even early thirties for some of the bikers was too young. It made sense since I knew I could be a Petty Betty, slightly immature and vengeful. When I wanted to, of course.
After Bronx sent me home, I tried to lay low due to the embarrassment but that would only work so long because Lori wanted to see Apollo and Kylie was still on tour. Then on that dreaded night, after I worked really hard trying to forget his rejection, as soon as I walked through the doors of Peppers, I was swung around and pulled outside by Bronx.
In all my sass, I jerked my arm loose and asked, “May I help you? Don't worry, I'm not giving out lap dances tonight to people that aren't interested in what I'm offering.”
His head tilted to the side as his heavy eyes seemed to see directly through me. “That's what you think?”
I loved his voice. It wasn't gravelly like Razors, but gruff and deep like I loved in my men.
“It’s what happened, Bronx,” I said as he continued to push me towards his bike.
He was dressed in dark jeans, a plaid shirt and he had on his cut. His sultry cologne was intoxicating, and I swear it clouded my judgment.
Bronx swung his long leg over the bike as I stood in front of the bike and eyed him suspiciously.
“Get on,” he commanded.
“Why?” I asked.
“I want more than just a tease. You ready for that?” One of his eyebrows raised. “You rubbing on my dick is nice but can you ride it? Take it? Anywhere?”
Holy shit.
My panties were instantly wet as I stood in the cool air rubbing my legs together to relieve the ache the bald man started between my legs.
“Only one way to find out.” I walked to the back of the bike and swung my leg over the center. “You better make it worth my while.”
He laughed, started the ignition and drove off.
We went to my place since it was closer than his, but I thought he had one it so I would feel more comfortable. The weird part was that he already knew where I lived and instead of sending chills down my spine, my panties continued to get wetter.
Bronx more than delivered that night, even though he didn’t put his dick everywhere. I thought he meant to include anal, which I had yet to do. He could probably tell that since the third round was from the back, and he had kept rubbing his finger around my tight hole. Shit, I would have tried but the man was huge.
When we were done, he laid in the bed, pulled me close to him, and we fell asleep. I thought he would have left, but I was praying all along he wouldn’t. I had dreamed of Bronx taking me like that, staying in my bed, fucking my brains out and doing it again in the morning after I made him breakfast. My mind went there because he was holding me so tight. Who would have known he was a cuddler?
Then the dreaded call happened, and he had to miraculously go.
Who did he think I was?
I felt so humiliated and played.
Played like a damn fool.
I lost my cool, threw his clothes at him and sent him on his fucking way. He was dead to me, and I cried myself to sleep murmuring those very words all night.
That was four
fucking years ago.
Over the past year, since I was more involved with Guardian shit because Kylie was the Pres’ old lady, I was around Bronx a lot. We only had a couple of run-ins but beside those we avoided each other like the plague.
One night he was drunk as shit, and nobody was around. Although I should have left his ass at Peppers, I didn’t. Big Joey helped him get in my car, and somehow I got his ass to my couch, where he passed out until the next morning. When I woke, there was a note that said, “Thanks.”
He was already gone.
I just shook my head and tried to forget that I had a heart.
My last encounter with the Guardian’s VP sort of left me speechless. It was the night Apollo had annihilated Lori, and I completely lost my shit. Earlier that evening, Mr. VP stopped some guy from trying to talk to me by using his intimidating presence and hovering near our table. The poor guy didn’t even stand a chance and we wouldn’t have worked anyway if he let some other guy run him off. However, the point being Mr. VP and I were nothing, so his presence wasn’t welcomed. I got in his face about it, and he barked back at me. Said something about parading my men in front of him. Bronx had never talked to me like that before, so it caught me off guard.
It must have been a full moon that evening because Bronx and I weren’t done arguing yet. After I went to rip Apollo’s jugular vein out of his neck, Bronx carried me out of Peppers, slapped me on the ass and started to scold me for being so impulsive. I had the distinct feeling he was talking about other things. I was semi-drunk, so I tried to broach the conversation with him, but he cut me off and asked, “you wanna have this dance?”
The way he said it made me think twice about going there with him. He seemed pissed and not about me going off on his friend but something else. That was nearly a year ago, which was the last time I was on his bike. Since he didn't trust me to go home, he put me on his bike and brought me home. Just as he was about to go into the dance, he received a call and had to leave.
No surprise there.
LATELY I WAS FEELING discontent and I had an to make some changes.
Just an inkling.
At that moment, I was okay with shuffling papers just like I was okay with screwing a guy for nine damn months.
Who does that?
“Hey, back so soon,” Oscar, the security guard, greeted. “Get a little in for me?”
I threw my straw at him as I walked passed the security desk.
“Shut up,” I hissed.
“Well, did ya?” He kept at it.
Oscar always knew when I got some action during lunch because he said my hair no longer looked like the perfection that I walked in with. Everyone who really knew me knew I took hours doing my hair. I refused to get a perm or relaxer for my thick locks, so I was forced to straighten, braid or twist the beehive into miraculous wonders. Lori and Kylie always called me crazy for waking up at six in the morning just to do my hair, but I always told them these are my black girl problems. They needed to read some of our natural hair magazines or watch YouTube.
I recently made Kylie spend the night with me and sit in the bathroom while I took one hour and ten minutes to straighten my hair and apply my makeup.
She fell asleep twice and said that if she had to do that every fucking morning, she'd do a Sinead O’Connor and cut the shit off. Razor might have had a problem with that, but he'd take her any way he got her. She was the one to break the President’s rule about younger women. He was forty-four with a birthday coming up and she was thirty-three, the same age as me.
“Yup.” I put my nose in the air and walked to the stairwell of the small office space and went back to my cubicle.
But not before I heard Oscar mutter, “Bitch.”
He was our trusty security guard, and he'd been there as long as I had. We were friendly and sometimes talked since I was often bored out of my mind. Manor wasn't known for their high traffic of nurses.
Oscar was having a dry spell lately and tried to live vicariously through anyone who was having sex. Which was everyone except for him. Even our librarian was getting it on with someone, because the woman had a a scarf around her neck, in some crazy attempt to hide hickeys.
When I reached my desk, I called Kylie at Peppers. She was the event coordinator there, so her hours started around noon.
“Hey, girl,” she answered.
“Hey,” I replied. “Still no word from Lori? She's been on my mind lately.”
“I know,” her voice dropped as she continued. “Razor told me he thinks she went away to get help, and that's why her parents called a meeting with the Guardians to stop them from looking for her.”
“Really?” I gasped.
“Yeah, but that's between us.” Her voice was still low.
“Gotcha.”
That bit of news provided an ounce of relief because it was yet another clue about why our friend just up and left without so much as a word. Why it took six damn months to get any hint of a reason was absurd.
“We still on for Friday?” I asked.
“Wouldn't miss it.”
That was my girl, ever since high school. She was the mayor’s daughter, and everyone either walked on eggshells around her or totally ignored her. To me, she just seemed a bit scared but hid it behind bitchiness. So when no one challenged her response during our government debate, I did and instead of an enemy, I got a friend for life.
“What should I wear?” Kylie asked.
“Your regular,” I said before I thought about it. “Well, these are my parents so make sure you ‘bra’ those girls up because you know they'll tease you all night about those nipples of yours showing.”
She erupted in laughter and was probably thinking about the time she wore low cut jeans, and my mom asked her where the rest of her jeans were because she would find them for her just so she didn't have to see that thong. My father went and grabbed a pair of my mom’s ‘fat’ jeans and suggested she put those on instead. Kylie was a good sport and knew my family was just a sarcastic bunch, and it was all done in love.
“Don't you worry about this dinner. I think I know what will to wear to fix them. They are really going to fall out of their chairs,” Kylie said while still laughing.
“Girl, please don't get them riled up. You do know they will stop this dinner and take you shopping.”
“Ha!” she laughed. “That does sound like something they would do, but I got this Shay. I'm telling you, they will be so shocked, they’ll pass out.”
Oh, good Lord.
About once a month, my parents had a dinner that I needed to attend because according to my father I was chained for life as I would always be his baby girl. I made Kylie and Lori attend those dinners because they were chained for life if I had to be. This had been happening ever since I moved out of my parent’s house, so before it was just Lori but now it was just Kylie. We always have good times, because my parents are absolutely truthful about everything. Including when my father gave Razor the riot act the night Kylie brought him after they were engaged.
She didn't seem worried about my father grilling him because when her father tried to grill Razor, he shut them all down. Something about how he has property and investments and shit. Kylie was like a bird, and he'd make sure she flew as high as she could go and he’d protect her with his life till he had none left. It was some serious biker shit, but Susan and Phillip Mills shut up and welcomed him to the family.
“Razor’s out today, but he said next month, he’s got you.”
“Cool. I know he had that recertification at the bar. You sure it's not too much for you to leave?” I asked.
“Nope, I'm good,” Kylie answered. “I look forward to these dinners. Family meetings with my mom and dad are just ugh, nowadays. They are back in love, and I swear I think they're having sex at the table with their eyes. I do not want to see that shit.”
I laughed out loud causing me to almost choke.
“Shay, I'm serious.” Kylie whined.
“Th
at's awesome!” I kept smiling. “That's a story that needs to be written.”
“I’m not reading it.”
“Such a bitch,” I said.
“And you still love me,” she replied.
“Whatever, okay. I got to go and really do my job now,” I said.
“Ha! When do you do work?” Kylie retorted.
“I started today.”
We both laughed.
“Bye.”
“See ya.”
2 - Spilled the Beans
BRONX:
It had been quiet for the past few months in Manor, and no one would ever hear a complaint about that from me.
There were a few jobs that we were hired to do out of town, but those were quick and we were back within a couple of days.
“Yo, Bronx, anything good?” Charlie yelled as I walked past the bike shop in the Guardians’ compound.
“Not today, maybe something tomorrow.”
Part of my duties included getting the mail from our P.O. Box that was located downtown. We utilized it for some of the services the Guardians provided. Razor thought it was a necessity, and I agreed with him since people all over the map knew about our services. We still received mail at the compound, but Razor wanted our businesses to operate like one. Since the mail could get lost at the club, so he set up a mailbox.
That was why he and I clicked from the beginning. The man was a forward thinker and not only did he put his money where his mouth was, but Razor also lived his life in a way that let you know it wasn't about a quick dollar or momentary pleasure. He sacrificed, bled for the greater good of the club, put up his own money and resources so it was sustainable in the beginning for the takeover and he empowered, not minimized or ostracized the other brothers.
Too deep for most bikers, but the Guardians were more than that, and when I saw he was the real deal, I was down.
Most of my life, I hadn’t come by real shit. Superficial shit, always. Wannabes and fake shit, most of the time. But the real shit, barely ever.
So although I lost some brothers when I aligned with Razor, I gained a real brotherhood that was about more than a ride and a fuck. This was about making a goddamn difference for other people too.
