by Xyla Turner
“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 had 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 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 that she didn't have to see that thong. My father went and grabbed a pair of my Moms ‘fat’ jeans and suggested she put those on instead. Kylie was a good sport and knew my family was just a sarcastic bunch, but it was done in love.
“Don't you worry, this dinner, I think I know just the thing to fix them. They are really going to fall out of their chairs,” Kylie was 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 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 had good times, because my parents were absolutely truthful about everything. Including my father giving Razor the riot act when 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 he had 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 choking.
“Shay, I'm serious.” Kylie whined.
“That's awesome!” I kept smiling. “That's a story that should 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 work 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 downtown for some of the services that we provided. Razor thought it was a predation, 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 and run like that of a Fortune 500.
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 the 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 a biker, 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 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 but making a goddamn difference for other people too.
“Bronx? That you?” Razor called as I walked into his outer office.
“Yeah, got the mail.”
“Why the fuck do you get the mail when one of the prospects can do that shit?” Razor asked me this at least once a week.
“Fuck if I know. I like to go downtown and feel a part of the small town life.” I replied sarcastically like I did when he asked me every week.
Razor knew I was originally from Harrisburg, a much bigger city than Manor. I just got used to the silence but everybody knowing everything about everyone in the small town, was annoying. I lived quiet and private. Razor was the only one that knew shit about me and besides my cousin, Trey, who still lived in Pennsylvania’s capital, that’s the way it would remain.
Razor shook his head; then he stopped, and his sharp, serious eyes were on me again. This caused me to cease my movements to the chair and said, “What?”
“Motherfucker!” Razor shook his head. “It's you, isn't it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He threw a tennis ball at me and said, “Fuck me, it is you.”
I caught the softball near my knees with one hand and threw it back.
“I have no fucking idea what you are talking about.”
Which I really didn’t.
“Son of a bitch!” He stood up. “Brother, look me in my eye and tell me you’re not fucking Shay?”
The fuck?
I blinked.
“Come again?” I asked slowly.
Razor’s eyes squinted at me, then he shook his head and whispered, “Fuck me.”
“Brother.” I took a step towards him. “Do you want to tell me what the Sam Hill you're talking about?”
We were toe-to-toe.
Razor looked at me square in the eye and said, “Shay’s, uh, seeing someone. Kylie said it was just sex, but it's been going on for a while now. I thought maybe since you made it a point to go downtown where she works, y'all were hooking up.”
He stopped talking, but those Razor eyes were assessing me. When it came to Shay, he did that. We didn't discuss feelings or shit like that, but he knew I was all about her even after our situation, she stopped fucking with me, and I let it be. Razor kept telling me to talk to her and make that shit right, but I figured she was better off without me. I wasn't better without her, but I was prepared to carry that cross.
My nostrils slowly inhaled the stifling stench in the air and pang to my heart almost caused me to choke. Then I released it and said, “Nope, it ain't me.”
I dropped the mail on his desk and left my friends office.
“Brother,” Razor called after me. “Bronx!”
I had no words left to share so I kept going.
My bike ended up at Peppers, and I should have taken my ass home. Someplace that didn't remind me of the Shay. Her and Razor’s fiancée, Kylie, were the best of friends and for the most p
art inseparable. Half of me knew the chances of her coming tonight were in the eighties, and the chances of Shay joining her was in the nineties. So why I brought my sorry ass, there was not wise.
I didn't sit with the guys because I didn't feel like being bothered five beers ago and after that, I was just in a piss poor mood.
My percentages were correct, because right after Kylie came through the door, so did her fucking friend.
Deep down, I knew she wasn't mine even when I spread it far and wide that no Guardian was to touch her. I laid claim, but I no longer had intentions to take her for myself. I wanted too.
God, I wanted too.
But I couldn't do that to her. Not another one.
Kylie went to the back of the bar, where the offices were located and left Shay alone. There was my chance to confront her alone, but I stayed in my seat.
She wasn't mine.
Two minutes later, another tall guy approached her, but they looked like they were having a disagreement. Anybody in their right mind and was from this town would not approach Shay like that, so he had to be from somewhere else. It was not because she could spit fire, but she grew up in this town, her, Kylie and the other woman, Lori were the sweethearts of the area.
Nobody fucked with them. Even before Kylie and Razor hooked up, nobody messed with them, ever. And they damn sure weren't about to start in front of me.
My legs were moving as fast as my inebriated state would allow me. When the guy saw me approaching, he looked ready to leave, then he stopped and stood there.
“You lost?” I growled.
Shay turned around and exhaled loudly, “I'm fine.”
I ignored her and asked the man again.
“Are you lost?”
When I looked down, I saw he had his hand wrapped around Shay's upper forearm. It was a possessive grip like he knew her.
Intimately.
Holy fuck.
This was the guy, and I had one too many drinks.
My glare turned from him and landed on her face.
“So, this is the guy you're fucking?”
Her neck snapped up, and those angry eyes hit mine.
“Are you drunk?” She hissed.
My body bent down as I moved in her space.
“Fuck, you care? You're fucking this guy and bring it in my face. Take your drama out of here.”
I wasn't sure if I was making sense, but all I saw was red.
“Blair?” A man called.
My head whipped up to see how that fucker knew my real name.
“I don't believe this shit,” the man muttered. “It is you.”
I blinked, then looked at him closely.
Fuck me.
“Greg,” I called as recognition hit me.
“Yup.” He looked up to the ceiling and huffed.
“You two know each other?” Shay looked between the two of us.
“Yeah,” Greg answered. “We do.”
“How?” Shay asked.
I quickly intervened and said, “It doesn't fucking matter. Now take your drama out of here.”
Shay turned all the way around to face me, then she said, “There is no drama, now get the fuck outta my face. Both of you.”
However, her eyes were solely on me.
“You’re in here fussing and shit. Nobody wants to see that. Go and fuck like you normally do. You're good at that. Fucking ‘em and getting rid of ‘em. Just do that shit off Guardian territ…”
I could have blamed it on the alcohol, but I meant every goddamn word. My heart was torn, and I wanted hers to bleed too. It didn't matter that she was doing what I had driven her to do. I wouldn't cash in on my prize, but I didn't want anyone else to have it either. It wasn't fair to her, but I did not give one fuck.
I should have also known, even in my inebriated state, Shay also had zero fucks to give.
She smacked me, hard as shit, right across the left side of my face. It jerked slightly and then she was in my space.
“Anything else you got to say to me, Bronx? Huh.” Her caramel colored skin was mixed with a shade of red hot anger. “You want to do this, right now? Want to have this dance?”
“Shay, come on,” Greg called.
“I already told you what to do, Greg. Now get the fuck outta here.” Her angry eyes remained on mine. “Now you, Bronx.”
She said my name with pure venom. I was too dumb to realize how far I'd gone.
“Go with Greg,” I taunted. “I'm sure he’ll do what you need since he has been. You haven't kicked him outta bed and refused to talk to him. Wait, is that what you're doing now?”
She went to push me, but I quickly grabbed both of her arms and pulled her to me.
I whispered in her ear, “Always knew you had claws, sure you want to scratch me? Cause if you keep laying your hands on me like that, and I'll be forced to tie you up and spank that ass.”
“Fuck you, Bronx.” She hissed as she struggled against me.
“You already did. Remember? Now you fuck Greg.”
I was so fucking dumb.
“Brother?”
That was Razor’s voice. I let her go as Greg stood there and Shay looked ready to spit fire.
“Get Kylie,” Razor ordered somebody.
She and I just glared at each other.
“Shay,” Kylie called and sidled up next to her, putting her arm around her waist. “Come with me.”
My fucking girl was ready to pounce on me and not in a good way. I fucking loved that about her. She had balls of steel and fearless as a lion. But she broke my heart that day, and she wasn't finished.
“Come on,” Kylie coaxed but Shay didn't move and neither did I.
“Brother,” Razor called me again.
There were many brothers in the room, but he was calling me to stand down. Not as a President but as a friend. He also knew, this shit had to happen.
“Come on, Shay.” Kylie forced her to turn around and at first she did, then she did a goddamn basketball move and pivoted on one foot, out of Kylie’s reach and stepped to me again, but her hands weren't up, so I didn't restrain her. This time, she got close to my ear and hissed, “I hate you.”
Then she walked away with Kylie in tow.
It wasn't a whisper because both Razor and Apollo muttered, “damn.”
I turned to them and said, “It’s better that way.”
And I went towards the door.
This time, Razor jogged after me and said, “I got you.”
“Naw, I'm good.” I walked toward my bike.
“I ain't asking,” he stood in front of me and pointed towards his truck.
I was drunk and just put the nail in the coffin with Shay, but I knew even being a former boxer, Razor would fight me to the death before he'd let me ride away.
So, I turned on my heels and walked toward his truck.
We rode on the dirt-covered back roads in silence until he neared my condo.
“You fucked up.” Razor’s gravelly voice cut through the silence.
“Not now.”
“I'm telling you brother, cause I did the same shit with Kylie. Fucked up, bad. Been telling you man and I know you shared that shit about before, but can’t let that fuck you up and her for the rest of your life. You'll suffer and so will she. Neither of ya deserve that.”
He pulled up to my place and came to a stop.
I adjusted my cut and pulled on the handle, so I could be free of more shit I already knew.
“Bronx.” Razor called.
“Not now.”
I hopped out and only staggered a little to my door. Standing in the foyer, I leaned against my closed door for support as the events of today passed through my mind like a movie. Instead of the credits rolling at the end, all I heard was, ‘I hate you.’
Before I could stop myself, a roar erupted from me as I tossed everything; tables, mail, coat hangers and chairs over.
When I finished, I heard footsteps on my porch.
“It's me, brother. I'm her
e.” Razor called as the swing started squeaking, reminding me to oil it.
Fucking Razor.
After destroying some more shit until I was too tired to throw anything else. I slid down the wall and stared off into space.
This was what I wanted, right?
To pay for my sins. To deny myself the chance of happiness or the threat that I'd do it again.
My last thought before I passed out was that I didn't want this. The pain that came with another man taking her as his, when she wasn't.
I didn't want that.
3
Let it Go
Shay:
The next two days, I was in a permanent bad mood. Greg kept trying to talk, and Kylie kept trying to analyze the ‘B.’
Yup, I was back to not using his damn name.
Ever.
I was still fuming to the point where Tabasco sauce from Texas had nothing on me. My face said it all and my body language stayed in fight mode.
Pissed was an understatement.
“Let it go,” Kylie kept saying. “I know you; you're perseverating about how to get his ass back. Let it go.”
“It's gone,” I replied a little too quickly.
It wasn't and it wouldn't.
That man would pay. I mean, the fucking nerve to insult me. To my face! In front of the guy, I used to fuck!
Oh, his ass would pay.
“You're not letting it go. Should I get the bail bond money ready?”
Normally, I would laugh, but she just might need to start saving.
“He's going to pay, Kylie,” I admitted. “His ass is going to pay.”
“Girl, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think he is paying already. Razor was at …”
As she was talking, I happened to look out the foggy window and saw my nemesis. That son of a bitch was walking down my street in broad daylight.
“I got to go. Speak of the goddamn devil and he shall come.” I started hanging up the office phone when I heard, “Shay, don't do nothing crazy.”
Too goddamn late.
