Loner

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Which has been hard to do since Sin has me trailing some junkie who lost big at the last card game.

  Ironic, I know.

  Instead of playing Texas Hold’em with Pinky tonight like we planned, I’ll be parked across the street from a halfway house and she’ll be stuck here with “Mommy Dearest”. Sliding my arms into the leather vest that declares me a prospect, I make my way into the kitchen and find Kelly at the stove. A shock considering the girl lives off microwaveable popcorn and Ellio’s Pizza.

  “There are pigs flying somewhere,” I say, walking up behind her.

  “You should give up on the biker thing. Clearly your true calling is to be a comedian,” she replies. I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. It’s kind of Pinky’s thing. It’s part of her sarcastic personality and as predictable as it is, it’s also cute—well, most of the time.

  Standing beside her, I glance down at the meat in the skillet.

  “Did we run out of frozen pizza?”

  “Just for that, you don’t get any tacos,” she retorts. Lifting the wooden spoon, I watch her blow on the piping hot meat before opening her mouth and taking a bite. Theatrically, she closes her eyes and moans as if she’s just tasted the most delicious thing ever.

  “I’ve never had a taco,” I admit, watching her chew in fascination.

  Swallowing, she slices her eyes back to mine and stares at me like I just confessed to killing six people.

  “Shut up,” she says, filling the spoon with more meat. “Open your mouth,” she demands, lifting the spoon to my lips. Without hesitation, I grab her wrist and lean forward wrapping my lips around the spoon. Staring at me expectantly, she grins as I chew.

  “That’s good, Pinky,” I tell her, taking the spoon and helping myself to another mouthful.

  “Yeah? Well, I’m just about done here. I just need to put the meat in the shells and add the toppings then we can go back to your room and I can kick your ass at poker.”

  “About that,” I start, placing the spoon back. “I need to take a raincheck.”

  Pretending I don’t notice the disappointment in her eyes, I wink at her.

  “You’re going out again?”

  “Yeah, Sin needs me,” I tell her, watching her shoulders slump. “Why don’t you call one of your friends? If you want, I can drop you at one of their houses on my way out.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she says quickly, forcing a tight smile. “If I decide to go out, I’ll just have one of the guys drop me off. Don’t worry about me,” she adds, turning around. Watching her take the skillet from the stove, she dumps the pan in the sink and starts to walk past me. Reaching out, I wrap my hand around her wrist.

  “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “I wasn’t really hungry,” she snaps, pulling her hand away from mine. Confused by her outburst, I shove my hands in my pockets. Rocking back on the heels of my moto boots, I study her.

  “You’re mad,” I accuse.

  “Nope, not mad,” she says with a shake of her head. “You do you, Linc and I’ll do me.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I bite the inside of my cheek.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says with a sigh before turning around and starting for the door. Pausing, she turns and looks over her shoulder at me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Yeah,” I nod. “That shit goes both ways, Kelly,” I warn.

  I suppress the urge to tell her to stay the fuck away from Shady too, knowing I got no right. No right at all. She disappears out of the kitchen and I turn to the sink. Grabbing a shell, I scoop some meat into it and take a taco for the road.

  I spend the next three hours parked on the corner of the halfway house, waiting for the junkie to make a move but he never does. My phone rings in my pocket and when I pull it out, I notice it’s Sin.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” he barks into the phone.

  “The same place I’ve been for the last three hours,” I tell him. It’s the same place I’ve been every night but, detecting the hostility in his tone, I leave that part out.

  “Yeah, well, I need you to drag your ass down to The Jukebox and grab Kelly before she makes another mistake that costs me fucking money,” he growls.

  Running my fingers through my hair, my hand tightens around the handlebar as I wonder what trouble Pinky could possibly get into at some hole in the wall karaoke bar.

  “The fucking apple don’t fall too far from the tree,” Sin continues his rant. “One of the guys from the Freedom Riders spotted her there and said she’s three sheets to the wind. You go grab her ass and fucking get rid of that fake as shit id she has.”

  “I’m on it,” I tell him before disconnecting the call and revving my engine. Peeling away from the curb, I speed through the streets and make my way to the highway. Twenty minutes later, I park haphazardly in front of The Jukebox and spot the slew of bikes that belong to the Freedom Riders MC. Pushing my way through the front door, I squint against the fog of smoke and elbow my way through the crowded bar as the beginning chords of Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’ starts to play. My eyes dart around in search of her bright pink hair but come up short. That’s when I hear her shriek the first few notes of the song.

  “Just a small town girllllll, livin’ in a lonely world…” she wails.

  Jesus, fuck—she sounds like a squealing pig.

  A collective round of boos breakout around the bar and a few assholes start shouting for her get off the stage.

  “Get off the stage and come sit on my lap,” one shouts.

  “Thank God she’s a looker,” another calls out.

  Someone whistles and I fucking lose my shit. Stalking through the crowd, I make way to the stage. Ignoring them, Kelly continues to screech the words of the song and I eye the DJ in the corner. Meeting my gaze, I slice my hand across my neck telling him to kill the song. The music comes to a halt but, Kelly doesn’t seem to notice and continues to embarrass the shit out of herself.

  Laughter joins the chanting boos as I make my way onto the stage.

  “Pinky, what the fuck are you doing?” I call out.

  Narrowing her eyes into tiny slits, she turns to me and continues to shriek the lyrics butchering the beloved classic. The musician buried inside me can’t take it anymore and I reach for her. Defiantly, she pulls back and nearly trips. Raking my fingers through my hair, I glance around contemplating the thought of dragging her out of here by her pink locks.

  That’s when I spot the guitar standing in the far corner of the stage.

  Balling my fists, I tune out Kelly and stare at the Gibson. I haven’t played a single note since Savannah’s death. Figuring if she couldn’t sing then it was only fair I never played. A self-inflicted punishment I never gave much thought to until this very moment. I told myself I was never meant to be a musician anyway, that the days of making music, beautiful fucking music, were just part of my past. I was the son of Cain and my destiny was the club I was becoming a part of. I was even starting to believe it.

  So, why was I now strapping a guitar over my shoulder and finding my tune?

  Pinky, that’s why.

  Finding the melody, I start toward her. The godawful singing stops as she turns around and pins me with her wide eyes. Ignoring the shock flitting across her pretty face, I lean into her.

  “If you’re going to do it, you do it right or don’t do it at all,” I whisper.

  The crowd grows silent as I strum the guitar and pick up where Kelly left off.

  “Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants a thrill,” I sing, arching an eyebrow at Kelly. A smile spreads across her face urging me to continue. “Payin’ anything to roll the dice,” I croon.

  My hand moves quickly, matching the beat as the song pitches and the crowd starts to applaud my efforts.

  Kelly gives up on singing—thank fuck, and instead she dances alongside me. The rush I get is
unexplainable. Getting lost in the song, I fall deeper into the music and as I sing the final verse, I fall deeper into Kelly’s smile too.

  “Oh my God,” she shouts over the crowd. “I had no idea you could sing,” she squeals throwing her arms around my neck as I lower the guitar. Riding the high, I wrap an arm around her waist and draw her closer. Angling her head back, she stares up at me from the long fringe of her eyelashes and grins. “It makes sense though seeing as you said you were from Nashville.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, zeroing in on her glossy lips.

  Why am I just noticing how pretty she is? Or how full her lips are? And, why the fuck is my dick twitching?

  “You’re trouble, you know that?” I ask huskily.

  Apparently, that’s funny because she throws her head back and laughs, creating beautiful music I didn’t think she was capable of.

  “Maybe so,” she says. Her eyes gleam with mischief proving me right. “But, I’m your favorite kind of trouble, music man.”

  Fact.

  And another fact?

  I’m fucked.

  Chapter Eleven

  Okay, so confession? I totally went to The Jukebox tonight with the intention of Linc showing up. The dive bar is also a notorious hangout for the Freedom Riders MC. Knowing that and pairing it with the fact I couldn’t sing for shit, I took to the stage looking for trouble. You see, I thought if I started a bar fight one of the Riders would call Sin and he would order Linc to come and get me.

  I didn’t plan on him showing up before I got the chance to wreak havoc. Nor did I expect him to completely blowing me away with his voice. And, let me not forget Mr. Music Man could play the guitar…like really play! Linc was full of surprises and I suddenly wanted to unravel all of them.

  I don’t know when it happened but somewhere over the course of the last year he became the one person in my life I was genuinely happy to be around. The person I felt most comfortable being my wild self. The person who didn’t judge me or want anything from me but my company.

  He’s my favorite part of every day.

  “You hungry?” he asks.

  After our performance on stage, well, his performance—I don’t know what you would call my stint. Anyway, after that, he took my hand and the rest of the people in the bar vanished. It was just him and me. He led me outside and now, he’s still holding my hand as we walk toward his bike.

  “Are we going to pretend you didn’t just blow Journey away?”

  “That’s the plan,” he pauses. “Well, that and food. Are there any tacos left over?”

  Pulling my hand out of his, I stand still and place both hands on my hips. His gaze moves from his empty hand to me.

  “Linc, you’re an amazing singer,” I press, ignoring the heavy sigh he releases. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He doesn’t answer me at first and I can detect the anger in his eyes. Confused as to why he can’t just take a compliment and answer the damn question, I open my mouth to try a different approach. Before I have a chance to utter a word, he lifts a finger to my lips and shakes his head.

  “Don’t,” he half warns, half pleads. Dropping his hand from my lips, he lifts it and combs his fingers through his hair. “Let’s not ruin this by bringing up my past.”

  This.

  Okay, so do you want another confession? I think I’m attracted to Linc. No, I know I’m attracted to Linc. I mean, it’s pretty hard not to be. When you spend so much time with someone, I think it’s inevitable. You see deeper than what is on the surface—not that the surface is hard on the eyes, because it totally isn’t. I sometimes find myself fighting not to stare at him.

  “This?”

  “You and me,” he clarifies. My belly does a somersault and I immediately blame it on the alcohol because a girl like me doesn’t get gaga over a guy.

  No sir, this girl knows better than to fall for words.

  “We’re easy, Pinky. We have fun together. We’re not saddled with drama or misery. There is no black cloud hanging over our heads and I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want to tarnish it with nightmares.”

  “So, I can never ask about your past?”

  “You can ask but, I’m not going to give it to you,” he deadpans. “It’s bad enough I relive it every time I close my eyes. I don’t want to dredge it up when there are so many other things we can talk about. So many other things we can do together.”

  I wasn’t expecting such a heavy conversation. I know life has been tough on him with his mother dying. I just don’t understand what that has to do with his talent. Not everyone has a gift like that and to think he’s pissing it away to be an outlaw makes me sad.

  It makes my heart hurt because I’m stuck in this life but, Linc doesn’t have to be.

  However, that’s his choice, not mine. All I can do is respect his decision and be grateful that his choice keeps him in my life.

  P.S. I’m drunk.

  It’s the only valid excuse for all these sappy thoughts.

  “Fine,” I tell him, tucking my hair behind my ears. I need to lighten this shit up before, I wrap my arms around his neck and do something I’ll regret tomorrow. Like kiss him. I want to kiss him. I want to feel his lips against mine, taste his tongue and play with that damn piercing that teases me morning, noon and night.

  Oh my God. Stop it, Kelly!

  “Now, after all that screeching you did are you hungry?” he questions, winking at me.

  “How about we skip the food,” I suggest. His eyes narrow and mine fill with mischief as I lean close. Taking his hands, I raise them above our heads and twirl under them. “I’ve got an idea,” I tell him.

  “God that frightens me,” he mutters. He spins me under his arm once more before he drags me against his chest and lifts my chin. “What am I going to do with you, Pinky?”

  “Live,” I reply simply.

  It’s the most honest answer and the one that best defines what we’ve been doing all along. We were both a little lost and whole lot lonely now we’re finding our footing in this crazy world and we’re doing it side by side.

  Maybe we’re making a mistake.

  Lord knows, I’m prone to those.

  But, some mistakes are worth making and isn’t that what living is about? Trying the things that scare you most, knowing if you fail it will only make you wiser and more experienced.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers, seeming to agree with me.

  Nodding, I follow him to the bike. Together we straddle it and as I wrap my arms around him he revs the engine. Burying my nose in the back of his neck, I drown myself in the musky scent of his cologne as he pulls out of the lot. Riding sobers me up some and stops at a light I whisper my idea against his ear.

  The light turns red and instead of replying he swings a U-turn. The grin spreads across my face and I throw my head back letting the wind carry my laughter into the dark night. Twenty minutes later, he pulls into another parking lot and dismounts before helping me off too. His fingers dig into my hips, lifting me off the bike and lowering me down until my feet touch the ground. Winking at me, he threads our fingers together and we walk toward the neon sign that reads Open All Night.

  Linc ignores his ringing phone as we walk into the shop and are greeted by a man covered from head to toe in ink.

  “Can I help you?”

  Linc turns to me and I grin back at the tattooed giant.

  “I want my belly button pierced, and he wants a tattoo.”

  “I do?” Linc asks, slight amused.

  “Yep,” I say confidently. “Just don’t go and do something crazy like tattoo my name to you. Initials are fine but, my whole name would be a little much,” I tease.

  The tattooist looks at us like we’re nuts before he asks me for my ID and whips out some fancy schmancy consent form. Handing him over my fake ID, I sign the name on the card and he disappears to make a copy of the phony photo.

  “I promised I’d take that from you, Rosita,” Linc teases. />
  “You can try,” I taunt. “It won’t stop me though.”

  “That’s my girl,” he says with a smile.

  My girl.

  My belly does another flop.

  Too bad I’m sober as shit and can’t use the drunk excuse anymore.

  The guy returns and hands me back my phony ID. Linc attempts to snatch it but, I’m quicker. Shoving the plastic card into my bra, I wink at him and follow the guy to the piercing room.

  “Well are you going to hold my hand or what?”

  Not only did he hold my hand but, he distracted me as the barbell pierced my flesh. Once it was done, and the tattooist went over the care instructions, Linc told him what kind of tattoo he wanted. Surprise, surprise, he didn’t tattoo my name. Nor did he ink my initials to his body. He did something better. He tattooed a royal flush to his arm, and I told myself it was a tribute to our favorite pastime. Was it really? I have no idea but that’s the story I’m sticking with.

  By the time we got back to the compound it was late—way past a normal seventeen-year-old girls curfew. It didn’t matter though my mother wouldn’t be waiting for me. Hell, she probably didn’t know I was gone.

  Wrong.

  Not only was my mother waiting for me but, Sin was waiting for Linc. Neither of them looked happy, and I instantly felt guilty for dragging Linc into my self-indulgent recklessness.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, keeping his eyes on Sin.

  “You. Chapel. Now.” Sin growls before pointing to me. “You want to make a mess out of your life, you go on and do it but, you keep him out of it,” he orders.

  “Come on, Sin,” Linc says. “She had a bad night.”

  “No, I didn’t,” I fire back defensively. “I had the greatest night of my life.”

  “Pinky,” he mutters. “Just go to your room.”

  He doesn’t bother looking at me as he starts for the chapel.