by Jc Emery
CHAPTER 14
January
15 months to Mancuso’s downfall
Just as we round the corner behind the library and are about to step into the school’s back parking lot, I see his familiar Harley off to the side. It’s old and a little beat up, but Jeremy loves that bike, and I don’t blame him. I have a lot of good memories of that bike. But that’s not what I should be focusing on right now.
Diesel is across the lot near the entrance, resting against the side of his bike waiting, telling me that there’s been some kind of mix-up in the schedule today. I feel like a kid who has to choose between Mommy and Daddy in the divorce. I guess if that’s the analogy I’m going with, then Jeremy is Mommy because he’s a huge bitch.
There is an annoying, distracting giggle coming from behind us. Tracie’s face hardens as she turns around. It’s maybe half a second before I turn around, but by the time I’m barely catching the sight of the leather vest, Tracie’s already trying to block my view and drag me in the opposite direction. I won’t be moved, though.
I look back, wishing I hadn’t. Jeremy has a girl whose name I don’t know pushed up against the lockers, with one of his hands on her hip and the other pressing against a metal locker beside her head. His body is leaning into hers, keeping her in place. I can’t see either of their faces, but their actions and intent are unmistakable. Flashbacks of that night in the clubhouse slam me from all sides. I’ll bet he’s going to get laid. She’ll give it up easily for him because he’s Jeremy and he’s on his way to being Forsaken. And maybe it will break her heart, or maybe she won’t give a damn. But it doesn’t matter how she feels. I’m too consumed with my own humiliation at thinking he and I could have been something to care if she’s going to be the next one he hurts.
From here, it looks like he’s trying to inhale her. They’re kissing pretty hot and heavy for being on school grounds—especially since he doesn’t even go here anymore. And all I can think is that he is a serious fucking asshole, and if he likes inhaling things so much, maybe he should inhale his own dick. It’s not like he has no idea that I could see him, but he doesn’t care.
The girl runs her hands down his arms as she leans in and presses her body against his lower half. She lets out a breathy sigh and giggles again. And I want to smash her fucking skull into the metal locker behind her head. What a stupid bitch. It’s not like he’s saying anything charming or trying to woo her. All he’s doing is shoving his tongue down her throat.
Not that he’s so bad at it.
Still—asshole.
Tracie tries to gently guide me away from them, but I can’t help myself. I can’t help but hate her even though she’s likely to fare no better than I have.
“Come on,” Tracie whispers. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re so upset, and it’s not like you’re together.”
I don’t move. I want him to know I’ve seen it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Aunt Ruby over the years, it’s this: Forsaken men are tough, but Forsaken women are tougher. Old ladies are expected to handle shit that nobody else can or would be expected to. They have to be both a raging bitch and know their place. I don’t want to be someone’s old lady, but I don’t know what else I’d be, then. I grew up with the club and all it means. I know better than to talk about club business, and I know the score if any of the brothers gets busted. Having a little taste of what it’s like to be with a Forsaken man, I don’t think I’m cut out for life with a civilian. Honestly, I don’t think they’re going to be able to handle my temper tantrums. Grady tantrums are something special. Even if I don’t want the heartache of being with a biker, I don’t know anything else.
“Hey, asshole,” I shout. If the wrong person were to hear that—Forsaken or school official—I could get myself into a good bit of trouble. But I don’t care. I’m always in trouble these days for one thing or another anyway.
Jeremy pulls away, and his eyes shoot to me immediately. He zeroes in on my presence but doesn’t even have the decency to look upset about my having caught him. Then again, this is the jerk who got a blow job in front of about thirty people. We’re not dating, and we’re certainly not a couple. I thought he gave a shit about me, but it’s becoming painfully obvious I was wrong. It’s only my heart that can’t let go of us. Everybody else—especially he—has moved on.
“Excuse me?” Jeremy says. It’s like he’s taking tips on how to be a jerk with the way he’s reacting. Then again, he does live with Duke. Or maybe he thinks that because he’s got that cut on his shoulders he is somehow better than the rest of us for being in such an exclusive club. Well, newsflash, jerk. As long as my dad is Sterling Grady, that cut doesn’t intimidate me. I doubt he’s earned the right to prospect on a formal basis anyway. He wasn’t hanging around the club the way prospects do before they’re officially invited to start earning their top rocker.
“You heard me,” I shout with my arms folded over my chest. Now that he and his cocky attitude have turned toward me, I can feel myself about to snap. Now I know why Ryan likes to start fights so much. My heart is racing and my blood is pumping in my veins. I feel like I could do anything right now, including ripping his arm off and beating him with it.
Seeing how angry I’m getting, he smirks and then licks his lips. This hallway isn’t big enough for the four of us and Jeremy’s ego as well. God, he looks so freaking cute like that. The realization that I can’t stop looking at his lips as he stares at mine has my right hand twitching with the urge to slam it into his nose.
“Just so you know,” I say and look at the girl, “he’s going to use you, and then he’s going to toss you out like you’re garbage. He’s done it to everybody. Don’t be stupid enough to assume you’re more than his newest slut.”
Jeremy pushes off the lockers and strides toward me. His voice is quiet as he speaks. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Because I hate you,” I grit out. Having him this close makes me feel insecure and like the immature brat I keep telling myself I’m not. “You acted like you like me, but you don’t. You just wanted to have sex. If that’s all you wanted, you could have said so and saved me the headache.”
Heartache. I mean heartache, but I won’t admit to that.
“I do like you,” he whispers. “But you don’t get to throw your daddy in my face every time I do something you dislike. Grady’s not just my boss. He can do more than fire me if he thinks I’ve fucked up. He. Can. End. Me. I don’t make the cut, what do you think is going to happen to me, huh? This is my life, my entire fucking future, and you run around acting like the most important thing is getting your feelings hurt.”
“Don’t put your crap on me. You chose to prospect.”
The snake-like smile that slides over his features is almost disturbing. His gaze is calculating and vicious. He leans down and gets right in my face. His nose is a few inches from mine, and his breath warms my mouth and chin. My eyes fall on his lips for a brief moment before I redirect them. Looking at Jeremy’s lips reminds me of how searing hot his kisses are. And that’s not a good road to go down.
“We’ve grown up together. Seen you at the clubhouse, around town, at school. And you didn’t look my way until I put this cut on,” he hisses. The veins at his temples bulge, and his face reddens. “I chose to prospect, but if I hadn’t, you’d never have been interested in me.”
“That’s not true,” I insist, though he might be right. We have grown up in the same town and roughly the same circle, but it wasn’t until he started on security detail around the house that we started talking. Now, thinking back on it, I’m not sure why we hadn’t hung out before. “You haven’t earned that cut, prospect. The only reason you want it is to get laid, which is just pathetic.”
“Fuck you. Everything I have I’ve earned, and this cut means more to me than easy pussy. It’s about family, and let me remind you that, prospect or not, I still rank above you—so watch what the fuck you say to me and how you say it.”
�
�You may rank higher in the club, but you’re nothing to me,” I snap. I suck in a ragged breath and fight off the frustrated tears that want to escape. I was already a little raw from my conversation with Holly and now this, so the tears might come easier than I’d like, which could serve to be mighty embarrassing.
“You’re full of shit,” he says, noticing how wet my eyes have become. “If you’re upset, why don’t you text Daniel about it?”
“What the hell does that mean?” I lift my hands and push on his chest. He doesn’t even budge. He reaches up and grabs ahold of my wrists. His breath washes over my face as he gets as close as he can.
“You texting him on our date? You want him, Cheyenne?”
“You really want to go down this road?” I eye his hands on my wrists and let my gaze travel to his strong arms and up to his thick neck. “Daniel sent me a text. I ignored it, which is the polite thing to do.”
“That it?” he asks with narrowed eyes. It’s the same look Dad gives me when we’re wrapping up a fight. But Jeremy and I most certainly are not wrapping up anything. He’s still an asshole, and this is so not settled.
“No,” I say and pull my wrists down slowly. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he just lets his arms drop. I bring my wrists back so he has no choice but to lean in close to my face. Now we’re closer to being the same height. I press my nose to his. My chest heaves in fury. “You disgust me. You want to get your dick sucked by a whore, that’s on you. Next time don’t do it in a room full of people, asshole.”
He flinches at my comment and lets go of my wrists. I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off him. His face pales as he sucks in a ragged breath. He practically whispers the words as he says, “You saw that?”
“Yeah, I did.” His shock and embarrassment only makes me that much more angry. Why does he get to feel bad about it? I don’t want him feeling bad. I want him to have never let it happen. “I didn’t stay, though. Turns out Daniel is the better man after all. Hell of a kisser, too.”
“Nothing I hate more than a bitch who doesn’t know her fucking place,” Jeremy says in a sneer and backs up. His eyes land on Tracie, and a wicked smile crosses his face. He licks his lips and nods his head at her. “You know your place, don’t you, T? You like your place on my dick?”
Tracie shakes her head slowly. Her eyes dart from his to mine as her face scrunches and tears pool in her eyes.
“I don’t understand,” I say quietly. I can’t really feel anything right now. It’s all happening around me, and I know I should feel something, but I just don’t. I know Jeremy’s had plenty of casual sex. I know Tracie’s hooked up with Diesel, but she never said if she’s been with anyone else from the club.
Earlier I had assumed she liked Jeremy because she’s been defending him for the last few weeks. But maybe it’s not that she likes him...
Maybe it’s because she’s a slut and he’s a whore.
And I’m an idiot.
I turn around and walk as quickly as I can, and once I hit the parking lot, I run straight to Diesel. He slides his phone into his pocket, abandoning the game I bet he was playing, and rushes toward me. I slam into his arms and cry into his chest.
Diesel’s deep voice reverberates in his chest as he says, “Baby Boy did this?”
I nod my head and don’t even care that Diesel could really hurt Jeremy. He deserves it.
But he’s not the only one.
“He slept with Tracie,” I say. Diesel stiffens and unhooks me from his cut and the shirt underneath.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Follow me.”
He’s off and walking as quickly as he can in the direction I came from. I walk behind him at a slow pace, not giving a shit what he does to them. I’m barely absorbing all of it, but it’s enough to make me bitter and vengeful and want to watch Jeremy get his nose broken.
In the distance, I see Diesel walk up to Jeremy, and without missing a beat, he closes his hand into a fist and swings at Jeremy’s face. Jeremy ducks and weaves out of the way just in time, but Diesel’s screaming at him, and Jeremy finally screams back. Then he stands still while Diesel delivers a blow to his gut. Tracie screams off to the side, which sends Diesel in her direction. He grabs ahold of her by the back of her neck and is saying something to her that has her crying her stupid, lying ass off.
As the school security guard rushes up through the thinning crowd of students, who all are trying to pretend they’re not watching but don’t seem to be moving away from the chaos, I realize there’s too many witnesses. Everybody is watching, so many people are seeing this play out. I hope Diesel doesn’t get in trouble for this. Then up walks Holly from the crowd with her eyes on me. I hope I don’t get in trouble for this.
The security guard tries to get Diesel’s attention, but he ignores him and makes his way back to me. When we’re side by side and walking to his bike, Diesel says, “One of my bonus lives expired before I got to use it. I hate that shit.”
A laugh escapes me as we climb onto his bike. I strap on my pink helmet and hold on tight as we leave Fort Bragg High School for the last time.
“So you had a bad day, too, then?” I scream over the roar of the Harley beneath us.
“Nah,” he says with a smile in his voice. “Violence makes me feel better.”
I’m getting off the bike at my house when I say, “I’ll gift you my free life. I’m not going to use it. Best I can do to thank you for taking care of the trash.”
He smiles and points his finger at me as he backs his Harley out of the driveway.
“You’re a good woman, Cheyenne Grady.”
And he’s gone. The moment I’m inside the house, Grandma is on me and hugging me like her life depends on it. I hug her back knowing that she’s talked to Holly, but I don’t care. I just need a Grandma cuddle to make everything a little bit better.
CHAPTER 15
February
14 months to Mancuso’s downfall
I tentatively peek my head out around one of the wide columns that line the front porch of the Jennings residence and wait until I’m certain that I don’t hear or see anybody coming. I’m not supposed to be here. Like really not supposed to be here. In the weeks following my departure from Fort Bragg High School, I have split my time between studying for the GED test and listening in on every conversation about club business that I possibly can. But that wasn’t enough, and that’s why I’m here.
The best thing about your best friend betraying you and your not-boyfriend being a dirt ball is that it frees up a lot of time I would have spent socializing. Tracie’s sent me a bunch of text messages apologizing for the aforementioned betrayal, but I eventually got so tired of hearing about it that I blocked her number. That’s when she resorted to coming to the house. Dad was about to jump down her throat, but he couldn’t get there before Holly, who singlehandedly chased her to the curb. After the drama, I got some studying in for the GED, which I took yesterday. I’ll know whether or not I passed in a few weeks. So here I am. Today’s a new day, and I have nothing to do. My nails are painted, my hair is done, and I had nothing better to do after lunch than to put my detective skills to work.
Though Mr. and Mrs. Jennings’ house is fairly close to the road, the wide columns should hide me well enough while I survey the scene before me. There’s a neat pile of newspapers stacked near the front door and a few package delivery notices attached to the door. I swipe my cell phone from my pocket and snap a few pictures of the door before stepping closer to take photos of the individual items. The oldest package pickup notice is dated as far back as several weeks ago. A few other notices stick to the door, but only just barely, while several more have fallen off and are crumpled atop the welcome mat. Two pieces of paper with bright red bands at the top hang from the door knob. One is a notice from the water company that the water has been shut off in the house. It’s from last week. The other notice dates back to the middle of December. The bill was overdue back then, and the company was threatening to cut
the water. That was two months ago.
With the water shut off and all the stacked up newspapers and the notices hanging about, I can’t imagine that the Jenningses have been here since then. Which is weird, because their son is still in the hospital and the news has reported he’s awake. The local stations claim they don’t know specifics about his condition and what he remembers, if anything.
Once I have enough pictures of everything, making sure they’re all clear and show the dates, I stand awkwardly on the porch trying to figure out what to do next. The club needs to know about this. They probably already do, but what if, for some reason, they don’t? It’s awfully strange that Mr. and Mrs. Jennings haven’t been home in probably months now, and yet the news left that off the report. If Dad thinks the Italian mafia hurt Darren like I think he thinks they hurt Mindy, then how could he not know that Darren’s parents have left town?
Frustrated and unsure what to do next, I cautiously head down the walk to the driveway. There are more scattered newspapers on the lawn that have deteriorated into the grass with the winter rains, leaving behind soggy chunks that look like they’re going to be a pain for someone to clean up. At the end of the drive is the mailbox. It’s one of those custom-made ones that’s shaped like the house—built in a colonial style with impressive columns that serve as handles to open it up and retrieve the mail. Pulling on the handle, I peek into the box. It’s stuffed full of envelopes, stray package notices, and even a small box. I take a picture of the packed mailbox and close the door.
I take one last look at the Jennings’ home. Across the street is a chunk of land dotted with redwoods and sharp rocks. Beyond that is the Pacific Ocean. The salty ocean air is strong here, much stronger than it is in town. In one of Dad’s folders was some information on the Jennings family. I don’t really know what my house is worth, but the Jennings’ house seems awfully expensive on paper. Seeing it in person, I can understand why.
