by Jc Emery
Instead of spending any more time thinking about Ryan, I’ve been focusing on moving forward. I have an appointment with an admissions counselor at Redwood College in the coming days, and just yesterday, I got my new mobile phone. When Jim and I were at the shop the other day I asked him where I could get a phone, and, much to my surprise, he had several burner phones. It’s nothing fancy, but it does the job, and Jim says the club’s covering the cost.
My phone chimes, letting me know I’ve received a text. It’s from Nic, telling me she’s outside. I roll my shoulders and stretch my sore muscles. I’ve been working at fixing up my room for most of the day. It’s almost looks like someone lives in here now. Shoving my phone in my back pocket and grabbing my hoodie, I rush out of my room. My room has a sliding glass door that opens onto the front deck, and there’s a sliding glass door in the rec room next to my bedroom. I could leave the house out of either, and they’d both be closer to Nic’s car than the front door, but I can hear Ruby’s voice in the kitchen. I don’t want to run out without telling her where I’m going.
Approaching the kitchen, I realize only too late that this was a bad idea. Ruby’s seated at the breakfast table, laughing with Ryan, whose back is to me. Picking her beer up, she meets my eyes and waves me over. Entering the kitchen, I see Jim and Ian in the other two chairs. A long, glass pipe lays on the table, remnants of burnt weed scattered about. Two silver lighters sit in front of Ian. The air is heady with the sickly sweet scent.
I’m standing behind Ryan when he leans back in his chair and gifts me a devastating smile. His gray eyes wrinkle in the corners. Caught off guard by his demeanor, I don’t see it coming. He reaches his right arm behind him and around my waist, pulling me in and down on his lap before I can even make sense of the movement. I knew he had long arms, but that was like some sort of octopus move or something.
Shocked, and unable to control my reaction, I twist in his lap and glare at him. His bloodshot eyes and exaggerated pupils make my chest feel like it’s on fire. Of course he’s being playful, he’s high. Every emotion I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay boils to the surface in one swift motion. Barreling back with my left arm, I swing around and make contact with his right bicep. He laughs.
“Stop it!” I scream, leaning into his face. The volume makes him jerk backward and drop his hands from around my waist. I just need him to stop touching me. This on/off switch he has where he can so easily be attentive and present and then a moment later be so cold and callous is making me crazy. I can feel it in my bones. I think it might actually be making me insane.
Taking advantage of his surprise, I move off of his lap and stand just as my phone chimes. Nic. She’s still out in the car waiting for me. I don’t have time for Ryan’s shit. I move away from him and look up to leave. I’d forgotten about Ian, and Jim, and Ruby. They clearly haven’t forgotten about me. Each has a different look about them, and yet every arched brow and pursed set of lips tells me that none of them approve. Whether they disapprove of the way I spoke to Ryan or his attention toward me, I don’t know.
I look down for just a moment before forcing myself to raise my head. Looking Ruby in the eye, I softly say, “I’m sorry”. Her eyes widen, her lips thin out, and just when I think she’s going to scold me, she throws her head back and her body shakes with silent laughter. Soon Jim and Ian follow. I don’t have any earthly idea why they’re laughing until they taunt Ryan for getting yelled at.
“Nic’s here. Can I still go?” I ask.
Ruby composes herself as much as she can and says through her laughter, “I keep telling you, you don’t have to ask permission. Just be safe, and call any of us if you need anything. And keep an eye out, okay?”
“Where are you going?” Ryan asks. Setting a switchblade knife on the table, he leans over and grabs the pipe. He flicks open the blade and scrapes the debris from the bowl of the pipe and blows on it. He doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Out with Nic,” I say, reluctant to give him too much. I want him, but not like this. I want him to just be better. I’ve seen the better side of him, and I have to believe there’s more of that underneath the surface.
“And where exactly is out with Nic?” He pulls a plastic baggy from his jeans pocket, sets it on the table, and pulls off a chunk of weed. Putting his elbows on the table, he rests his cheek against one of his hands and looks at me. This is the way I like him, even if I’m not crazy about the question. More freedom or no, I still have men ordering me around and keeping tabs on me. I guess some things never change.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “This town is like three miles wide. How far out can we really go?” I raise my arms, palms up, and lift my shoulders.
“When will you be back?” His voice lowers, but not in a peaceful, calming manner. With every word, he sounds more detached than before. It’s unnerving how his stare penetrates everything within me. Every lesson I’ve been taught about manners and kindness, even the ones I’ve learned by the back of my father’s hand, fall away when Ryan’s around. Frustrated, I look to Ruby. She’s watching Ryan carefully.
“Let it go, son,” Jim says, breaking the silence. His deep baritone reminds me who’s in charge around here. He and I have developed a rapport over the last couple of weeks, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t intimidate the hell out of me.
“Bad move, Pop.” Slowly, Ryan turns his head, facing the opposite direction. Dropping his elbows from the table, he leans back in his chair. “You drag two charters across the country, shoot up fucking Carlo Mancuso’s house, take his kid, and after all of that fucking effort, you’re letting her walk out of this house without having a man on her?” I tense the moment his words register. I try to fight off the panic flaring in my chest, but it’s no use. I lock my jaw, taking deep breaths in order to keep my irrational stupidity from being too obvious. Of course it’s about that. For a brief, ignorant moment, I thought he might possibly be worried about me.
“This sounds like club business,” Ruby says, pushing away from the table. Ian watches guardedly, eyes moving between Ryan and Jim.
“Stay,” Jim orders, pointing his finger at her, then down at her chair. I’ve heard him snap at the guys before, and I’ve heard him cop an attitude with a parts rep over the phone. I’ve never heard him sound as mean as he does in this moment. He sounds so much like Ryan, it’s unnerving. Probably wisely, Ruby sits back in her seat, pushing her hair over her shoulder and folding her arms.
My phone chimes from my back pocket again. I silence it as quickly as I can, fumbling over the buttons in the process. Leaning back in his chair, Jim stretches his arms out and slinks down in his seat. “This isn’t club business, it’s family business.”
“Whatever’s going on between you two,” he says, pointing at me and then Ryan. I find myself unlucky as his eyes travel to mine and stay put. “It ends now. I don’t want you thinking you’re going to be on the back of his bike, or in his bed. You’re not one of them whores like your friend, and you’re not Old Lady material.” Tears well in my eyes, not so much from the order he’s laying down as much as from the humiliation of him saying this in front of everyone else.
Though Jim’s speech feels like it’s gone on forever, it’s really only a few seconds. Just enough time for Ryan to push off from the table.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done here.” Jim stands, his voice echoing off every nook and cranny in the house.
“You can consider this family meeting over,” Ryan says. As he stands from his seat, he jabs his index finger into the wooden table. “I fuck who I want, when I want, and how I want. Don’t get going on some power trip, Old Man, and start thinking you own me. I ain’t Ma.”
Disappearing from the kitchen, Ryan leaves the absolute most uncomfortable silence in his wake. I stand awkwardly for a moment before heading toward the front door. Just as I reach out and pull on the knob, Jim walks up behind me. He’s spitting mad from the look on his face, and the set of his shoulders. I turn around to
give him my full attention, like I was raised to do for a man in a position of power. In a faux-friendly move, Jim leans against the front door, effectively shutting it.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to him, but that little tantrum he just threw is the kind of shit that’s going to get him killed. You reign in that pussy of yours, or it’s going to end up costing him his patch.”
“I don’t,” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“I don’t want you to think I’m the villain here. I’m just a guy, trying to do what’s best for my family and my club. He’s third generation Forsaken. I’m not going to let a piece of ass fuck that up for him.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying desperately to keep the tears in my eyes from falling down my cheek. The words I’m sorry are so played out, I can’t even stand it. My body feels like it’s being covered with slime and dirt as they spill out of my mouth. I feel like it’s all I ever say anymore. I’m sorry for trying to save my brother. I’m sorry for betraying my brother’s trust. I’m sorry for not being pretty enough, or sexy enough, for Ryan. I’m sorry for being too young, or I’m sorry for being too naïve. I’m always sorry, and I’m sick of it.
“Why are you saying this to me?” I ask, knowing better, but I do it anyway. He loosens his stance, and brings his hand up to my face. Gently cupping my chin in his palm, he raises my eyes to meet his. I fight back the urge to turn away, knowing he’ll just get his way in the end anyway.
“Because you talked,” he says and lets go of my chin. Rounding the corner, toward the other side of the house, he disappears down the hallway that leads to his and Ruby’s bedroom. Everything slowly comes into focus. The conversation outside of the motel cabin and Ryan’s sudden change in mood that night suddenly makes sense. Before that, he freely looped my pinky in his, joked with me, and smiled at me. He drew me in with every touch, with every word, and with every unspoken hope that I let build in my heart. I thought we could work through all of his mean, and his angry. But this, I don’t know if this is something I can fight my way through. Or if I should. For all the club’s talk of freedom, these men are no freer than my father’s men are. They’re all just soldiers in another man’s army.
I rush out of the house and down the drive just in time to see Nic backing up her old sedan. I wave her down, and she stops the car, as I close the distance between us. Now that I’m close enough, I can see the firm line of her brow and the pout of her lips. She is really displeased with me, and I can’t have that.
Getting in the car and plopping in the seat, I throw my hands up in the air and grovel my ass off. “I am so sorry.”
She purses her lips, narrows her eyes, and swings the Corolla out of the drive and onto our desolate dirt road, before gaining speed and flying around the corner onto Sherwood. Neither road is very wide, and she’s going a little faster than I’d like, but I remain silent. I had to beg her to come pick me up tonight then kept her waiting. She’s obviously not happy with me.
“I hate that house,” she grumbles, but doesn’t offer up anything else. I try, unsuccessfully, not to take her comment personally. But that’s my home—for now. The things Jim said to me were positively unnerving, but there wasn’t really anything I could argue with. He didn’t threaten me or hurt me. He just laid it out for me. I’ve no doubt that he’ll do what he thinks he has to in order to keep things the way he likes, but for now, as long as I avoid Ryan, I think I can stay on Jim’s good side. I do have, after all, a lifetime of practice at toeing the line for a powerful man. I know this part all too well. It may make me sick to my stomach to think of going back to being that person, but it looks like I don’t have a choice. Ryan is off-limits. And not in that ”he’s no good for you” kind of way, either. Jim said I would end up costing Ryan his patch or his life. I can’t let either happen.
Chapter 17
Men seldom, or rather never for a length of time and deliberately,
rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against.
- Thomas Carlyle
“DO YOU REALLY want to head back to the house and watch a movie?” she asks. She’s calming down some, which is good. I rest my head on the headrest and close my eyes.
“Not really,” I say. I try to keep Jim’s harsh words from infiltrating my mind, but it’s tough. I want to be shocked, and maybe even appalled, at the way he approached the situation. But I’m not. My father may have said everything with thinly-veiled code words and under the guise of concern, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t ever mean. Because he was. And Jim’s mean, too. Ryan isn’t any better. And I guess all women like me, stuck in their world, can do about it is to learn how to play along.
“Do you ever get sick of it?” I ask, allowing myself to vent for the first time in months. The last time I really let it out was with Adriana right before Sal’s wake.
“Sick of what?” Nic asks, turning her head just slightly. She drives into town and turns before she hits Main Street. I’ve no idea where we’re going, nor do I care.
“Everything,” I say a little louder than I intend to. “People bossing you around, people being mean, people being selfish. Just all of it. I kind of just want to forget.”
“I’m pretty much always sick of people,” she says flatly. She swings the car around the corner and parks on the side of the road. Everything is mostly quiet, with the exception of a well-lit, two-story house up ahead that has a large, loud crowd assembled in front of it. Turning off the car, she twists in her seat to look me in the eye.
“Listen, I don’t want to piss you off, but I think you need to hear this whether you want to or not. The club seems cool and all, but it’s not. The guys may be okay on their own, but the patch owns them. I know you’re kind of here by default, but just don’t forget this, okay? The club destroys people.”
I fight the urge to tell her she’s wrong and that they saved me from a life of misery—or worse, no life at all. Had Ruby and the club not shown up, I might be like Sal right now—with a bullet in the center of my throat, my dead body on display in the center of my father’s front parlor. That would be good for business. Nobody would be stiffing him on their protection money.
“Is this about your dad?” I ask. Before I can say anything else, she turns and opens the driver’s side door and gets out. I follow suit and fight to catch up to her as she hurries down the street toward the party up ahead.
“Sorry,” I say. I feel like I can’t get anything right lately—not with Jim, not with Ryan, not with Nic. The only ones who I don’t seem to be pissing off are Ruby, PJ, and Tegan. Even then it’s spotty with Tegan. She’s kind of a grouch late at night.
“I’ll be ready to talk about my shit when you’re ready to talk about your shit. Until then, let’s just get too fucked up to think about everything that’s wrong with the universe, okay?”
The closer we get to the house, the more intimidated I become by the prospect of walking inside and being amongst all of these people. Michael’s told me about every single party he’s ever went to in varying degrees. He’s always been most fond of regaling the debauchery that goes on—and he’s often a part of. Why he thinks his sister would want to hear about him getting laid, I’ll never know.
The heavy thumping bass rattles everything around me as we near the house. We pass by similar houses, all simple two-stories that show their age, sitting center on narrow lots fenced off in chain-link. People, mostly college-aged, stand around in the front yard drinking beers and talking in small groups. As the crowd thickens, Nic takes my hand and pulls me through the sea of people until we reach the front steps.
Stopping, she looks around, bites her bottom lip, and leans in. Her brows draw together as she says, “Go on in. I have to make a call.” I just nod my head and make my way up the steps on shaky legs. Where in the hell is she going? She brings me to this house with no one I know, in a part of town I’m unfamiliar with, and she takes off less than a minute later?
At the top of the steps, I turn and survey the pe
ople around me. For the first time since I left New York, I’m in a crowd of people where not a single one of them seems to be wearing a leather vest, nor do I hear any Harleys in the distance. Despite being a little nervous about the fact that Nic left me here, a bubble of excitement starts in my chest and begins to spread. I’ve never been to a house party before, at least not outside of the fourth of July party that Ruby and Jim threw, but I don’t count that. Everyone in attendance was affiliated with the club in one way or another. But here, it looks like I’m out from under the watchful eye of the club. A grin slowly creeps up on my face, and I can’t control it.
“You look way too happy to be here,” a masculine voice says from beside me. Slightly startled by the intrusion into my thoughts, I jerk away and shoot the perpetrator a dirty look. He’s a young man, close to my age, if not a bit younger. He has broad shoulders and a firm jaw, both of which I’m sure he’ll grow into. His brown eyes look almost black under the dull porch light. Giving me a sheepish smile, he shoves his dark hair off his forehead and blows out a breath.
“Sorry,” I say, waving at the crowd before me. “I was just thinking.”
“About,” he prompts.
Without even considering it, I say, “This is the first time since I got to town that I’m not entirely surrounded by leather vests.” I give him an encouraging smile, but it falls flat. His face drops, his lips forming a line.
“You’re with the club.” It’s more of an accusation than anything. I bite back a snide remark and opt for remaining silent. I expect some kind of vindication of how awful the club is—something along the lines of what Nic said in the car—but instead, he just walks off, leaving me in my place. My first meeting having gone over so well, I decide it’s best just to keep to myself while I wait for Nic to return, just a moment later.
