Axel gets in on the driver’s side and starts up the GTO letting it purr as Jason lights up a cigarette and tosses me the pack.
“Get me the fuck out of here.” I light up and rest my head back as Axel peels out. Closing my eyes, I let the open window blow away all the bad memories.
Except again, I can’t seem to rid myself of those thoughts as a pair of bourbon eyes appear and blink up at me. For a second, I give in and let her sink into me.
“So, what do you want to do first? Get pussy or food?” Axel grins as he looks back at me.
“Both. And I need a place to crash. I’m not staying at my dad’s shithole.”
Jason looks over his shoulder. “We got an open room for you at the clubhouse.”
“Thank fuck.” Axel swerves around a corner and I reach to hold on. “Come on, man, I just got out. The last thing I need is for you to get pulled over.”
“I’m fucking starving. Let’s get some beers and food, then Edge can fuck.” I look out the window. Even the gray freeway looks fresh… different.
I always took all this—my surroundings, friends, food—for granted. Even as a kid when I lived on peanut butter and stale bread, I could still get out and go see Dolly and the boys.
Prison strips you of all that. It takes away your dignity. You become a number not a person, a way for the state to make money. Being treated like an animal makes you start to behave like one. I went into prison thinking I was tough. I’ve come out knowing two things. First, I’m not tough; I’m a survivor, and second, I’m going to be a Disciple until the day I die. Gone are the days of trying to keep a part of myself for Dolly. Gone is the fantasy that good things can happen.
Things happen that are good and bad. That’s life.
“Edge?” Jason’s voice draws my focus to him. “You okay, man?”
I frown. “Yeah.”
Climbing out, I notice both Jason and Axel exchange glances and I don’t give a fuck. They didn’t spend a year and a half locked up, fed to the fucking wolves, having to participate in things that the mind never wants to witness.
The big wooden door to the Dirty D, one of our Disciples bars, swings open. Two girls spill out laughing, both in stripper heels but neither sporting the body for the pole.
One’s tall and the other is shorter, both brunettes. My cock gets hard as I stay back and Jason and Axel enter the bar.
“Hey.” They smile at me as they smoke and try to stand straight in their five-inch heels.
“Hey.” I take a drag and toss it to the pavement. “Which one of you is going to suck my cock?”
Both blink, but the taller one starts to blush so I grab the other one’s hand. “On your knees and don’t forget to swallow.” She looks unsteady as she starts to follow me around the back of the club to the alley. She kneels but mumbles how she’s not really that type of girl. I grab the back of her thin dark hair.
“I got out of prison today, so if you’re not that kind of girl, stand up and don’t come back to a Disciples bar.”
“Holy shit,” the friend whispers. “I’ll take care of you.” Her small breasts go up and down in excitement.
“Fuck you, Vicki. He picked me,” the other one says as she drops her purse and kneels, clumsily trying to unzip my pants.
“Christ,” I sneer. Having no patience, I push her hands aside to release my thick, hard cock.
“Oh. My. God,” both say as they look at me. I almost smile.
“Suck,” I demand.
“Your dick is freaking huge.” Her eyes look all wrong as they blink up at me. I lean my head back against the brick wall and let her blow me. The other one squirms and licks her lips as my cock goes in and out of her friend’s mouth.
“You, watch and make sure we’re not disturbed,” I grunt out to the girl.
The sloppy one tries to deep throat me. The thing is she’s shit-faced and not very good at giving head. And my cock is at least nine inches. So deep throating is gonna make her gag, maybe even puke considering the condition she’s in.
“Come here.” My eyes narrow in on the friend whose eyes dart around while she makes sure we’re alone. I don’t plan on taking long, but the girl is inept. So, I grab the neck of the friend who definitely seems turned on.
“Spread your legs.” She does, and my hand goes from her neck to her drenched cunt as I finger fuck her. Her loud moans are exactly what I need. I shoot my load in the sloppy one’s mouth and she gags on it. I couldn’t care less. At least I can see straight again.
“I’m feeling good today. Just got out of jail and all so I’ll reward you.” I rub her clit, and as she reaches for me. Her cunt spasms and squirts causing me to step back. I don’t want it on my boots.
Axel comes around the corner, and his eyes take in the scene. “Christ, man,” he says, throwing his head back to laugh. I zip up my pants as both girls look a little stunned. The one that squirted reaches for me as if she’s going to join us.
“I didn’t say you can touch me.” I scowl, already walking toward Axel.
“Wait.” The girl who blew me stands up and clings to her friend.
Axel and I ignore them as we enter the dark bar. Some crappy pop song I’m not familiar with is playing. It must be new. The smell of booze on the old green carpet is strong. My eyes adjust to the darkness as the whole bar erupts into loud applause.
“What the fuck?” I smile as I look around. My band of brothers is here.
The Disciples.
Even old-timers showed up, as well as some new faces I’ve never seen.
“Welcome home, brother.” Axel pats my shoulder letting my family greet me, and for the first time in years, I feel at home.
DOLLY
Eighteen years old
I spent my eighteenth birthday in my shrink’s office listening to her explain why I have a recurring nightmare that I’m being strangled. It’s rather stupid and I’m over it. The one good thing that did come out of our talks is that Karen has made it easy to blame everything on the “incident.”
I can’t stand school: the incident. A teacher tries to lecture me about how my grades are in the toilet: the incident.
Troy has not been charged with attempted murder or rape, nor will he be. Somehow, while he was recuperating, he had a mysterious drug overdose and his parents put him in a home to get care, I guess.
You don’t fuck with the Disciples. I learned that firsthand the morning they were going to sentence Edge after the hellish night that became the first of my recurring nightmares.
I woke after barely drifting to sleep. At most, I slept maybe forty-five minutes, but it didn’t matter. I knew what I had to do. I was going to testify. No way was he going to jail for being a hero. My hero.
The thought of living without him was unbearable. He saved me and now I needed to save him. I dressed to impress, classy and yet young, vulnerable. When I went to open my bedroom door it was locked.
I had become a prisoner. A fucking nonexistent human being. I was expendable and I never felt more alone than I did that day.
It changed me. Suddenly my dad was not my hero. He was exactly what my mom bitched about yet always put up with.
She was right—he never put us first. That morning was a huge wake-up call. The club will always come first even if he has to sacrifice his own daughter and an innocent for it.
The moment he locked my door, I was done.
Done with him and the club. It didn’t matter that I spent hours screaming and kicking. My dad had decided, and my mom followed.
After Edge was sentenced, my mom let me out and told me I needed professional help. It sounded so pathetic I laughed in her face.
So, I started seeing Karen. Karen who always looks so put together yet probably crumbles in the dark early mornings when her secret truths come out and no one’s around.
She diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder. When she announced it, I had to bite my bottom lip not to scream no shit. But she doesn’t know the truth. I’ve had my heart to
rn out, been betrayed. The attempted rape is nothing compared to the actual truth: I lost Edge.
So yeah, I might be a little fucked up.
But the biggest reality check was when the club decided what was best for Edge and me.
The Disciples decided that I couldn’t visit him.
Of course, I didn’t listen… until I did.
So fucking stupid, yet I got the point the first time I made it over to the jail to visit him. I gave my name and boom, I was asked, no forced into a small room with only a chair until my dad picked me up.
I was told no writing. Nothing. He was supposed to disappear from my mind until he served his time.
I still wrote to him and my mom said that if he wanted to, he could reach out to me.
He didn’t, and it doesn’t matter anymore since the sting of him never even trying makes me want to berate myself even more. God, he didn’t even try to use a code to let me know he was thinking of me, like make a collect call and hang up. Nothing.
Things like school and friends and being popular don’t seem to have the same shine to them anymore.
Without Edge, the drive to succeed disappeared. Shattered. I tried to explain this to Karen, thinking she might understand and help. But she sat behind her large dark wooden desk. Her tight white pantsuit and pumps made me wonder how she made all her money. It definitely couldn’t be from helping people.
I tried. I was honest and poured out my feelings. Even tried to get her to take me to see him, anything. I mean if I brought my therapist, I figured they’d be forced to let me see him. But it seems money can buy you everything: even Karen’s loyalty.
I needed to talk to him, tell him things. Maybe it would have helped with my nightmares. When I told her all this, she looked shocked then nodded and told me to continue to wear my neck guard at night and keep writing in my journal about what happened.
Fucking worthless.
Somehow, I squeaked through and graduated, then threw away all my college acceptance letters I’d received before my life went to shit. Instead, I enrolled in beauty school in Sherman Oaks.
I moved out of my parents’ dump of a house. This time, I happily used Karen’s words and told my dad I needed a loan to go to school and get an apartment. He said no to both, but I dragged his ass into Karen’s office for group counseling and left with him agreeing.
He even went so far as to promise me my own salon when I graduate. I’m not stupid anymore. It’s not because he wants me to succeed, but rather he needs a new place to launder money. Still, I don’t care. I’m amazing at this. Beauty, hair, makeup, it’s what I love. So, I’m going to let him buy me the shop and I’ll make it a success.
“Baby Doll?” Doug leans his face close to mine. “Are you going to sit there daydreaming or are you going to get your ass in the shower so I can put your makeup on?”
He’s wearing those black leather jeans he loves so much. I smile. He stepped out of the shower at my place a few minutes ago and smells fresh and clean.
“You’re lucky. You can get ready so fast.” I stretch and pour us another glass of cheap Merlot.
“No more wine. It’s turning your teeth purple,” he snaps and takes the glass from my hand, then steps back to look at me. I roll my eyes. “Well, besides some Bud Lite, Merlot is all I have.”
“Go take a shower. We can drink at the club. I’ll get Michael to buy for us tonight.”
“Perfect.” I laugh and step into the bathroom, calling over my shoulder, “I guess I can whore myself out for a couple of shots also.”
Turning on the light in my tiny bathroom, I strip off my clothes. The mirror is still steamed up from Doug’s quick shower, and I can’t see myself.
I turn the water all the way to scorching. I’m nervous, have been for days, so wound up my muscles need the hot water to calm me.
I don’t know what it is. It’s not like this is my first time clubbing. Far from it.
I roll my head back, letting the hot water soothe me while Doug’s favorite band, the Cure, plays in the background.
“God, my poor neighbors,” I mumble as I bend to shave my legs. The music’s so loud it’s vibrating a little, bouncing around my pink-and-black-tiled shower. Robert Smith whines about pictures of you. It’s one of Doug’s favorite songs.
As I become more relaxed, I hum and shave the other leg. A sense of comfort surrounds me—I have Doug and he will never let anything bad happen to me.
We met the first day I showed up at cosmetology school. I looked up into his sad brown eyes, which mirrored mine, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s told me all his secrets and I told him mine. We’re the best together, each of us accepting the other’s crazy with no judgment.
He’s twenty-one, bisexual, and sexy as fuck. I adore him. His tall, thin body makes both sexes go wild. Lately, he’s been sporting the Jim Morrison look.
My shower door clicks open; the vintage flamingo on the glass makes me happy. Reminds me of an old Hollywood movie or something. Doug stands with his phone in one hand texting as he hands me a Bud Lite.
“Aww, I love you,” I say and take a quick guzzle. I love to drink in the shower. It’s fun.
He glances up. “I think you should wear the low-cut silver lamé dress I got for you.” Pocketing his phone, he takes a swig of beer and points the bottle at me. “With red pumps.”
“Love it. Now get out. You’re letting the cold air mess up my relaxing shower.”
“You want me to order pizza before we go?” He rolls his neck, ignoring me as he drinks his beer.
“Not if you want me wearing that slip of a dress.”
He nods. “You’re right. Our dinner will be tequila. I’m going to make a phone call. Hurry up.”
I turn, grab my shampoo, and lather my short hair. The first thing I did after I graduated was cut off all my long dark hair.
I cried, but I think it was my best therapy yet.
Turning off the water, I step out. For some reason, I can’t shake my unease.
It’s so weird. I’ve been like this for days. At first, I thought it had to do with my parents. So, I broke down and called my mom, but everything was the same with them.
The only gossip she had was that since Chuckie took over as president, a lot of the guys are not happy. I guess they wanted Jason or Blade to take over. As soon as Jason got patched into the Disciples, he was called Blade. Jason is now gone. No one is allowed to call him anything but Blade.
Whatever, I couldn’t care less. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve seen any of them. They never checked on me. As soon as Edge got locked up, they were gone.
I guess I was simply a girl Edge loved… or thought he loved. I sit down on the cool toilet seat as my heart starts to race. Thinking about my past depresses me so I try to avoid it.
“Get it together, Dolly,” I mumble. It’s hard to think about him, or I’ll break out in a cold sweat. Putting the back of my hand to my forehead, I try to breathe.
I’m so sick of this, so sick of all my baggage. My unfinished business. It’s like a monkey on my back, but instead of smack, it’s Edge.
Standing up, I drop the towel and lather my body with some lotion. After I open the door to let the steam out, I grab one of my black G-strings.
Doug is pacing in a small circle in my apartment. That’s all the space we have in my place. He’s like my hero—he takes no crap from anyone. Doesn’t matter who you are. I think it has to do with his family. They’re super religious. They would not accept him and beat him and all kinds of fucked-up shit.
There’s a sadness about him, but it’s made him a fighter, reminding me that I’m a fighter too. Simply because Edge was always there to hold my hand doesn’t mean I’ll collapse now without him.
My hands go to my neck as I gently rub the small scars. Sometimes I still scratch myself when I sleep. It’s more like I claw myself, but Karen likes to say “scratch,” so let’s go with that. It’s likely the real reason my dad got me this tiny apartment.
That way, he doesn’t have to be reminded that his daughter is fucked up.
I walk around Doug, not caring that my bedroom is the size of a shoebox. It’s cute: I painted it all pinks and yellows. Doug plops down on the end of my bed.
“Michael, I don’t have time for this. If you want me to suck your cock during your break tonight, make sure Dolly and I are on the VIP list. And I want drinks all night.”
I sashay over and pick up the short silver dress with low back and spaghetti straps at the neck. Doug’s eyes narrow on my body. It cracks me up. We will never be anything but the best of friends, but sometimes he gets this territorial look in his eyes.
“I’m going, Michael. I need to get Dolly ready. We’ll see you in an hour.” He hangs up and starts to boss me around.
“Turn toward me slowly,” he snaps, and I almost kick him. I was counting on him to calm me down, not make me worse.
“You’re making me nervous,” I snap. “I thought you didn’t care about Michael the bartender?”
He jumps up and grabs my hand, spinning me so that I squeal and fall onto the bed.
“I want you looking beyond beautiful tonight.” He reaches for some powder. “If I need to stick my tongue down your throat, roll with it.”
I snort. “Whatever you need, Doug.” I sit up and close my eyes lifting my face so he can start the transformation.
The club is packed, but Michael must really want a blow job tonight because both of us breeze right in. We weave our way through the crowded dance club over to the velvet gate leading upstairs to the VIP section and give our name to another bouncer. Michael always works the VIP area. He loves to tell me this every time I see him.
A shiver of dread… excitement pulses through me as I take in the crowd. It’s loaded with suits and wannabe actresses. There’s something so wonderful about living the club life. Stay up all night dancing, drinking, escaping into another persona, becoming another person—a person who doesn’t need anybody or anything. Merely another nameless face in the crowd.
“What’s wrong with you?” Doug snaps me back to the dark club, its moving lights splashing different colors on the walls.
Repent (The Disciples Book 3) Page 11
