by L. Grubb
“Alexis Newman, don’t even think about putting yourself down because of a man. That’s not the Alexis I know and love. At the end of the day, it’s his loss. Not yours,” she says sternly to me, much like a mother would.
“I know, I know. I just thought maybe he was different with all the ‘I want to try more with you’ bullshit he spewed the day before we left to come home.”
“He will realize soon enough what he let slip through his fingers, babe. Don’t let it eat at you. Hey, plenty more fish in the sea I say.” She winks at me as she picks up her glass and takes a small sip.
“I guess so.” I gulp down the rest of my drink, the bubbles tickling as they go down and refill the glass to the brim, taking another large gulp. “To be honest, I just wanna get shit faced and forget about him and his stupidly, perfect body.”
Lauren laughs. “You crack me up, babes.”
We call in to a local Chinese restaurant, ordering currys and king prawn balls. My tummy grumbles making me realize I hadn’t eaten much today, just breakfast twelve hours ago.
“I heard that rumble, chick.” She raises a brow at me, questioning me with her eyes if I have eaten today or not.
“I skipped out on lunch because I went for a run instead. I had a muffin at breakfast this morning, that’s about it. Yeah, safe to say my stomach is hungry.”
She tuts at me. “You should be eating more if you’re running, Alexis. That’s just silly.” She continues to ramble on about my eating habits until a knock at the door finally stops the onslaught.
I breathe a sigh of relief as she gets up and struts to the door to grab the food.
A ding from my phone distracts me from Lauren returning with the heavenly smelling food.
Cobra: We need to talk. D
I stare at my phone in disbelief. Fucking really? We needed to talk days ago. Why now?
Alexis: You’ve made it perfectly clear, there’s nout to talk about. A
Cobra: Please Alexis. I need to explain. D
Alexis: Tomorrow. Tonight I’m celebrating. Not that you would give a shit. A
Cobra: Celebrating? D
I don’t reply, just chuck my phone on the side table and get up to grab plates for the food. When I return, Lauren is looking at me.
“What, Lauren?”
“Who were you texting with a scowl on your face.” She starts digging into her food.
“Cobra has decided to finally pipe up,” I reply, inhaling the scent of the glorious food.
“And?”
“He wants to talk. We know nothing good is going to come out of ‘talking’ anyway. But I agreed to meet tomorrow seeing as I have the rest of the week off.” I shrug like it’s no big deal and dig into my fantastic food.
Cobra
I’ve been a dick. A complete and utter dick. I pulled away from Alexis to save her from my dreaded demons. If she gets too close, she’ll crash and burn. Like I will if my club ever finds out what I did.
I miss her. I miss Alexis. With every fiber of my being. I didn’t think it was going to hurt, we only knew each other a few days, but she was a different girl, one of a kind.
Apart from the run we had at the beginning of the week, I’ve been moping about like a bear with a sore head. One too many times in church this week, I’ve had someone smacking me upside the head for loss of concentration. I’ve been told now if I don’t buck up my ideas, I won’t be involved in club business, all decisions will be in the hands of them morons.
I rub my temples, needing just one sane thought to come through to tell me what the fuck to do.
Alexis. Text her. No, I won’t be welcomed with open arms. She’s probably spewing venom with the way I left and haven’t called her.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I have a text written out and ready to send to her. Fuck. I don’t even make fucking decisions of my own body anymore.
Fuck it, it’s sent. Whether she replies is a different story.
Alexis: You’ve made it perfectly clear, there’s nout to talk about. A
Well, she text back and I guessed right, she isn’t happy with the way I have left things. Not that I’m completely surprised.
Cobra: Please Alexis. I need to explain. D
Might as well try and rock the boat, she doesn’t understand that I need her. She doesn’t understand my mind only calms down when her gorgeous presence is around.
Alexis: Tomorrow. Tonight I’m celebrating. Not that you would give a shit. A
Celebrating? Celebrating what? I text her as much. What could she be celebrating about?
I tap my thumb against the phone screen, impatiently waiting for her reply. But it doesn’t come. I sigh and chuck my phone onto the bed beside me. She’s agreed to talk tomorrow, that’s a good start.
I walk out of my room in search of a beer, just to calm my frazzled nerves. When I turn the corner and enter the main room, I notice Chip is sitting with his laptop at one of the small round tables that are scattered around. He looks up when I pull out the chair opposite him.
“Ah, you decided to show your face then.” He smirks, leaning back and crossing his arms.
“Shut it, Chip. Not in the mood.” I look toward the bar and notice Brandy is, again, working the bar. “Bottle of Bud, Brandy!” I shout across to her.
“Coming up, handsome.” She winks over at me. I roll my eyes.
“Persistent whore, that one. Right?” Chip says to me.
“Got that right. She won’t leave me the fuck alone.” I cross my arms on the table and rest my head on top. “She was a shit lay, and I won’t ever return back to that.”
Chip howls out in laughter.
I stare at him like he’s grown an extra head. It wasn’t that funny.
“I’m getting her being a shit lay is why everyone won’t go near her anymore.”
Okay, that’s amusing and laugh along with him.
“Here you go, hunni.” Brandy places the bottle of Bud on the table in front of me, looking at me expectantly.
“What, Brandy?” I sigh, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms across my chest.
“Just thought we could have a little bit of fun later? It’s been a while,” she purrs, running a finger along my arm.
I shudder in disgust. “It’s been a while for a reason, Brandy.” I glare at her. “No thanks, not now or ever again.” I turn my attention back to Chip. I can see her just standing there with her mouth agape. “You can go now,” I say in a bored tone, not giving her the satisfaction of looking at her again.
She hurumphs and storms off like a petulant child, I sigh and shake my head. “What’s she even still doing here?”
“Beats me.” Chip shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly, taking a pull from the Bud he already has.
We sit there in silence for a beat before his computer starts chiming.
“Shit!” Chip roars into the room.
“What’s up?” I say, suddenly alert.
“Hell Riders. They’re outside this compound right now,” Chip replies, frantically pressing the keys.
“Where is everyone?” I stand from my chair.
“Church room.”
“What? Without me?” I shout, eyes bugging open. What the fuck?
“You’ve had your head so far up your own ass, Cobra, that they didn’t want you in there this evening,” Chips says, still completely concentrating on his laptop.
I growl and storm toward church room, shoulders tense and jaw clenching. I burst through without knocking, not giving a fuck.
“Hell Riders are outside the compound. Just thought you should know.” I turn back around and head back to Chip to see what’s going down. This can’t be good.
At the corner of my eye, I see a flash. Turning to look through the glass, patio doors, I notice a glass bottle, on fire at the end from a piece of rag, shit, it’s a Molotov Cocktail; laying there, burning, in the freshly mown grass.
“EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK DOWN. NOW!” I scream across the room.
Everybody d
ucks down, just in time for the explosion. I hear the glass crack under the pressure. Thankfully, it doesn’t crumble, thanks to it being bulletproof glass.
I stand, rubbing off the floor dust from my jeans and walk in a slow pace toward the garden. Through the cracks in the glass we can hear motorbikes revving and screeching off, fast.
“Fucking cowards!” I boom, kicking at a nearby chair. I pull my hair in frustration, feeling the strands leave my scalp. “FUCK! They got away. Again!”
“Chill it, VP. Church, men. Now,” Prez barks out into the silent room.
We all pile into the church room, taking our usual seats. The tension in the air is thick like the humidity in the Arizona Desert. Every man sat with straight backs and scowls upon their faces.
“Chip, tell us, what did you see?” Prez lights a cigarette and offers one to me, which I take all too happily.
I light up, blowing the plume of smoke above me in a loud exhale. The cigarette calming my wrecked nerves and anger.
“My laptop dinged to say the front cameras picked up loud sounds. I looked and saw their bikes and vests stopping just in front of the courtyard. That’s when the VP ran out of the room to grab you,” he explains, scrubbing his hands down his face.
Chip was a big guy, so to see him nervous was quite unnerving.
“Are you still in with their security cameras?” Prez asks, looking intently at Chip.
“Yes.”
“Check to see if they’ve returned, that way we know where the fuck the assholes are for now while we clean this mess up. Then, we’re scoping out their compound, waiting for them to leave.” Prez bangs his fist on the gavel board, outrage coloring his face.
We all stare at him, blinking. Prez doesn’t get angry often. But when he does, he’s a scary motherfucker.
“We’ll find a way to destroy these nobodies once and for all,” he continues, yelling at no-one in particular.
“We’ll formulate a plan, Prez. But, we plan it with precision. None of our well-beings are worth running in, all guns blazing,” I voice, reasoning with him.
He blows out a smoky puff of air, sitting back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. “Okay. Planning starts tomorrow. Grab some prospects and clean the backyard of all that shit. I’ll call the guy that fixed the glass the last time shit hit the fan.” The bang of his gavel signals our dismissal, and we file out in dead silence.
“Marcus, Phil and Lomax. Come with me,” I yell across the room to the three prospects sitting on the tatty, worn sofas, focused on the news.
They jump at the sound of my booming voice. “What’s up, VP?” the youngest of the three, Lomax, asks when they’ve walked over.
“We need to clean the yard. Get rid of the mess,” I tell them with a stern expression.
These three are known for not doing as they’re told, we’re being careful with information around them.
“Sure, VP,” they reply in unison, following me outside. The smell of the cocktail and fire permeates the air with a foul odor that makes us cover our noses with the backs of our hands.
“That’s gross,” Marcus muffles behind his hand.
We all grimace when we get closer to the evidence. It just gets fucking worse.
I notice something flapping inside the unbroken bottle and bend to retrieve it. Turning the bottle around in my hands to try and make it out. I squint into the glass. Nothing. I end up smashing it against the tree. More work for the boys, I chuckle to myself. I pick up the piece of paper and read it with an intriguing eye.
Crusaders
You may want to say goodbye to the ones that you feel closest to.
They’ll be the ones we eliminate first.
I stare, wide eyed at the note. Not many of us have any family outside of these walls, but some have Old Ladies that live in their own houses. Fuck.
“Clean every last bit up, boys. I need to show something to the Prez.”
I leave them to it and walk inside, finding Prez at the bar with a tumbler, two fingers full of amber liquid and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“Prez,” I say as I come up behind him.
“What?” he replies, in a gruff, hoarse voice.
“You need to see this. This was inside the bottle.” I place the note on the bar next to him, watching his head turn to read it from his position. The cigarette drops from his mouth, landing somewhere on the dirty floor, and his face turns red.
I stomp out his cigarette which has rolled over to me, then look back at Prez’s face.
“Everyone’s Old Lady needs to be here. They’re on lockdown,” he says through clenched teeth before stomping off, I’m guessing, to look for Kristine.
I pace around the main room for about ten minutes before Champ comes up to me with a look of concern.
“You okay, man?” he asks, a little wary because of my obvious mood.
“Yeah. You calling Lauren back? Old Ladies are on lockdown,” I prompt him, passing him the note.
“Shit. She isn’t gonna like this, dude.” He rubs the back of his neck absentmindedly, and scans the note for the fourth time. “Shit.”
“I know.” I shrug. “I’m heading to bed. Too much shit in one day for my small brain to handle.”
He laughs, slapping me on my back as I waltz past.
I slam the door once I enter my room, shaking my one and only shelf.
I flop on the bed, belly first and scream into the comforter; all the pent up anger coming out. Breathing hard, I flip onto my back and stare at the peeling paint on the ceiling.
“This is fucked up,” I mumble to myself.
I continue staring at it as thoughts swirl through my head. I should steer clear of Alexis less she gets hurt, in more ways than one, but there’s this connection that I can’t help but pursue. I can’t stay away, and I know this is a selfish move. I can’t let her get hurt. Ever.
I breathe in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, closing my eyes and flitting into a restless sleep.
Fuck it. I give up. I roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, still fully clothed from the night before. Quick shower to wake me up then I’m riding to Alexis’. I can’t wait a minute longer to see her beautiful face.
Jumping into the hot shower, I groan with pleasure as the water cascades over the tense muscles of my shoulders and back. I tilt my head back to get my face in on the action, eyes closed. Alexis’ pretty face flits through my mind and as if it was a movie playing behind my eyes, I see her stripping from a cute little, silk, baby doll nightie. FUCK.
I squeeze my dick which is as hard as a rock and slide my hand up and down, using the shower water for easier gliding. I start pumping harder, harder then I have in a long while. Fuck me, it feels good. Behind my eyes, Alexis takes her perky breasts in hand and pinches each nipple with equal fervor. So close, so fucking close.
Her hands move lower, down her abdomen and disappear between her thighs, and I’m done. I come spectacularly over the tiled walls, moaning out her name loudly.
I stand there for a few minutes, hand wrapped around my shaft and breathing heavy. I open my eyes, and the fantasy is gone. Alexis is gone.
I quickly clean myself, washing shampoo into my hair. I rinse off, jump out of the shower and dry off in a matter of seconds.
Walking into my bedroom, I dress in record time and shove my shit in my pockets, ready to face Alexis.
Walking toward the main room, I bump into Trixie, a club whore, evidenced by her being absolutely buck naked.
“For the love of God, woman! Go put some fucking clothes on!” I yell at her, sneering with a look of disgust.
“I was coming to see you, baby,” she coos, smiling coyly at me and devouring me with her eyes.
“No, thanks,” I sneer, walking around her, heading to the bar for a bottle of water to clench my thirst.
I empty the bottle in one, throwing it in the trash can before venturing outside in the crisp morning air.
I reach my bike, smiling at its beauty. My bike
is my baby. She’s beautiful with a gold trim and dark blue detail. I shove my helmet on my head, tapping on the top to make sure its on correctly before swinging my jean clad leg over the leather seat to straddle the Harley.
I turn the key to rev it to life. Nothing like the rumbling engine of a Harley Davidson to wake you up in the morning. I breath in and sigh in contented bliss, vibrations reverberating through my entire body. Fuck yes, this is the damn life.
Two prospects manning the front gates, open them when I approach. I nod my head in thanks and head off in the direction of Alexis’ apartment.
Alexis
I wake with a start, bolting upright in bed. I sit, stock still, listening intently for the noise that startled me awake. Birds chirp outside my open window above my head, the ticking of my old fashioned, alarm clock. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Knock. Knock.
Ah shit, that’s what woke me. The damn door. I glance at the clock on my oppland oak veneer nightstand. Eight in the morning! Are you shitting me right now?
I groan and swing my legs out of bed, reluctantly.
I look down at myself and my old short shorts and tank, shrugging before leaving my bedroom to get the stupid door.
The knocking comes again just before I reach it, my brain smashing the insides of my skull. Ouch. I need coffee.
I open the door to find a fresh looking Cobra standing on my welcome mat, hands tucked into his pockets. He looks sheepishly at me, a shy smile playing on his bow shaped lips. I notice the dark circles under his eyes, the only thing out of place on his handsome, rugged face.
I lean against the door, folding my arms across my chest. “What do you want, Cobra?” I ask, my voice cold and emotionless.
“To talk,” he replies, his eyes pleading with me.
I sigh deeply and open the door wider. “Come in, then.”
I put my back to him and walk to the kitchen to make coffee.
After making two Lattes, I place one in front of him on the breakfast bar as he sits on a steel plated stool.
I stand opposite, cradling my hot drink with both hands and taking a small sip. Mm, bliss.
“Talk then, Cobra.” I glare at him, my eyes full of hostility even though my heart is pounding wildly in my chest. I can’t believe he showed up.
