Corrupted

by Alexis Noelle

  I bite my lip trying to get a hold of myself. He figured out where I went. He’ll bring me back eventually. I cry silent tears and Jordan’s arms tighten around me, quietly letting me know that he is here for me. I bury my head in his shirt the fear taking over my entire body.

  “Warehouse is always kept locked.” Shooter’s tone is clipped, his answers short.

  “I’m looking for her.” My uncle’s demonic voice is hard and determined. I hear footsteps and then a bunch of yelling and shuffling.

  “This is my place and you ain’t looking for shit without a warrant. We ain’t got no girl here. Just because you can’t hold onto your own, doesn’t mean you’ll get free rein here.” Oh my God. Please don’t let him come over here. I shake against Jordan’s chest as I mentally picture the closet door swinging open. “Just ‘cause you brought a badge, don’t mean you can trespass wherever ya want.”

  “Shooter, calm down now.” The officer’s tone is steady. A moment passes and you can hear a pin drop. “Simon, we don’t have any right to search the place. I told you we could come ask, that’s it.” I can imagine my uncle’s face turning red in anger the way it always did. My limbs shake as visions of him breaking free from the boys and ripping this door open flash through my mind.

  My hands grip Jordan’s t-shirt as if I’m holding onto it for dear life. His hand comes up and runs through my hair. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead and I lay my head on his chest. I try to focus on his breathing letting the deep breaths anchor me to him.

  “I suggest you two gentlemen get the fuck out of here. Next time you wanna barge in here without an invitation you better come with a goddamn warrant.” Shooter’s tone is rough and I can tell he is losing patience.

  “You do know that if you’re caught with a minor, you’re all fucked.” My uncle’s voice seethes at them, his contempt dripping from the tone of his voice. Footsteps sound followed by the slamming of a door.

  My body sags against Jordan’s, my legs unable to hold up the weight of my body. His arms catch me, lifting me off my feet. My entire body is shaking. My head is spinning with the thoughts of how close he came to finding me.

  Is this it? Will they kick me out? Where will I go? Shooter said any problems and I was out.

  Jordan opens the door and I cling to him. Fear and anxiety are running rampant in my body right now. He starts to walk, I can hear the brothers calling him, but he just keeps going. Where is he taking me? When he puts me down, I open my eyes. I’m in my room.

  “Give me a minute, Sweets. I’ll be right back.”

  I lay there hugging the blankets as I try to calm myself down. My body curls into the fetal position as it always did when I was trying to defend myself from the evils I faced in my family. My uncle is a monster; he has already had two of his wives die from “suicide.” Which in our community means that they were not obedient and he beat them to death. From the little I have heard, he has a problem with not knowing when to stop and he ended up killing them. When I was told that he would be my husband it was like a death sentence. I was never cut out for that life.

  I had never felt like I fit in even when I was a kid. I always questioned my mother when she would tell me what would be expected of me, or when she would teach me things “I would need to know.” I think she always knew I wouldn’t be a good fit in the community, maybe that’s why it was decided I would marry Uncle Simon. Out of all the men in the community, he was by far the hardest on his wives, everyone knew it. While they claim that God tells the prophet whom the girls should marry, I always thought that was a lie.

  The door opens again making me jump. Jordan walks back in and comes over to me. He sits down and pulls me so that my head is resting on his lap. He doesn’t say a word; we both just sit there as he runs his hand through my hair.

  “Do I have to leave?” I finally break the silence. I need to know my fate.

  His hand stops moving in my hair. He lifts me so I’m sitting in front of him. “Is everyone happy that those assholes showed up? Fuck no. That doesn’t mean we will turn our backs on you. We gave our word to help and protect you and we damn sure meant it. Pres is actually tearing Twisted a new asshole because the cops snuck in behind him.”

  “I just hate feeling like I am a burden to everyone.” I look down as I fidget with my hands.

  “You aren’t. From what you’ve said and the way your body reacted to hearing his voice, I’m glad you got out of there. Don’t doubt your place here.” I look into his eyes and I believe every word. Within my family everything was held over your head. You were taught that you should be thankful that you were even being fed.

  “What is my place here?” I am so unsure of myself, so insecure. That’s how my family liked you. They didn’t want women to be confident in themselves or feel good. If you were then you might start to think for yourself and the whole system would fall apart.

  “Your place here is that you are a part of this family. You are one of us. You are home.” His eyes stare into mine.

  Home. It was a word that to most people, was something that was taken for granted. My home for most of my life was hell. Adjusting to that word meaning something good would take some getting used to. It is definitely going to be an adjustment being here, and realizing that everything I knew before was wrong.

  “I need to go talk to the guys. You okay?” I nod. He pauses before standing up, the two of us just looking at each other. I remember the way it felt when he kissed me. His lips were soft, his touch gentle. I want to feel it again.

  He stands quickly and exits my room.

  Wishful thinking.

  It’s Thanksgiving and I’ve been at the club for a little over six months. Everything still seems so foreign to me. The guys have been welcoming for the most part and are constantly telling me that I’m family. I guess in a way I just don’t feel it.

  I feel like I’m just passing through, without any real purpose here. My days and nights are spent cooking and cleaning. I’m so scared that I won’t live up to what they want from me and I’ll be out on the street.

  There isn’t much for me to do here. I can’t leave the clubhouse. My family is looking for me and since I’m a minor and I’ve been reported missing, the MC could get in a lot of trouble for having me here. The guys have seen my uncle around town and the missing posters are still circulating. This means I can’t go to school either. Tracie has been bringing me books and stuff to read from the library and I’ve talked to her about taking a GED when I turn eighteen so I can at least have a diploma.

  I make three meals a day even though Shooter only told me I need to make dinner. It helps to pass the time and I know the boys appreciate it. I usually give one of the guys my grocery list and they go out and get all the supplies. Usually the day after one of their parties is my busiest mainly because the place is a mess. You might think I would get resentful but I don’t. If I wasn’t cleaning or cooking, I’d just be sitting in my room. It’s lonely, but it’s safe.

  As much as I hated it, there are things I miss from my old life. I miss my siblings, my sisters, the way we used to talk and laugh as we would be cleaning up and doing our chores. My sisters are the only part of my life that I still hold onto as being good, and something I want to remember. I miss the sense of family I had even if at times it was skewed.

  Jordan always stays close to me and I’m not sure what to make of it. He is cute; I’ve never had a crush on a boy before. Mostly, I think that’s because all of the boys I ever knew were like the men in my family. I could have never been with someone in polygamy. I hated that life. How could you love someone and then be with someone else? I always believed that if you truly loved someone that they would be the only one you wanted. They would consume your every thought. That’s at least how I thought it should be. It was almost as if the wives were just used as baby making factories to carry on the man’s name. I wasn’t sure any of the women were ever truly loved. I didn’t want that for my life.

  I check the food I have
in the oven as Jordan comes walking into the kitchen. “Smells amazing, Sweets.” I smile at his nickname for me. Sometimes it gives me hope that maybe I mean something more to him. “Still think it’s crazy that you can cook like you do at your age.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

  “Well, we started learning how to cook once we were old enough to reach the stove.” I mix the cake batter for dessert as his eyes watch me carefully. “In my community cooking, cleaning, and being a good wife was what you needed to be perfect at. Since girls started to get married at fourteen, they wasted no time in teaching us everything we needed to know. You couldn’t become a wife and show up not being able to cook or anything.” I shrug my shoulders trying to make what I’m saying sound normal even though I have grown to understand it isn’t. Just by listening to all the passing conversations between the guys and Tracie I have realized how strange our ways really were.

  The timer on the oven goes off letting me know the turkey is done. I open it, standing back a minute and letting the heat escape before reaching in to grab the large roasting pan. As I lift it out one of the handles slips splashing scolding juice on my wrist. Instinctively I open my hands dropping the pan to the floor and yelping from the burn. “Shit!” My hand immediately goes to my mouth as the first curse word I’ve ever said leaves my mouth.

  The pan luckily lands right side up so the food isn’t ruined. Jordan rushes over picking it up and lifting it onto the counter. His hand then takes my wrist, inspecting the red blister that’s already starting to form. “You okay?” I nod. He walks me toward the sink turning on the faucet and running cold water over my wrist, the coolness soothing my skin. When he starts to laugh, I glance sideways at him. “Sorry, we all were runnin’ bets on when you’d finally jump the gun and dirty up your pretty mouth.”

  My face and cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I’ve actually never cursed. It was just really hot.” His smile only grows wider. “You don’t have to enjoy it so much.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He bends down wiping the juice that spilled. Thank God, knowing me I probably would have slipped on it. “‘Cause I won.”

  I shake my head and laugh. “Well, congratulations.”

  “Want help taking this stuff out?” He stands next to me.

  I look at the island with all of the sides and turkey then nod. “Yeah, especially if you plan on eating it, instead of sweeping it up off the floor.”

  We laugh as we start to bring things out to the tables. Any of the brothers who don’t have family close or family they want to visit are here. Once all of the food is set out Jordan calls everyone in.

  We all sit down and as I look around me I let this holiday sink in, absorbing how different it is from my Thanksgivings in the past. Adults separated from the kids. Most of us scared to speak out of turn or be too loud and disturb our parents. There was always an underlying tension, a fear of being reprimanded.

  Now I am in a place where most people would be scared to walk into. With people that most people cross the street to avoid.

  And I feel safer than I ever have before.

  Sixteen.

  Two more years.

  I look over at Lucy across the room. The things I want to do to her are fucking disgusting. That doesn’t stop them from playing through my mind every damn second of the day. Her body is maturing, her curves becoming more defined. With each day it becomes harder to not touch her. Since the day I found her in that warehouse, I haven’t wanted to leave her side. Her face and those big eyes haunt my every thought.

  You would think after everything the girl’s been through that she would be jaded, and untrusting. She’s the complete opposite. She’s embraced the guys and our life. Everyone has really grown attached to her.

  Not only is the girl gorgeous but she is everything any of us could hope for in an old lady. I catch the brothers looking at her sometimes and it makes me want to rip their damn eyes out. The day she turns eighteen I’ll get my patch and my girl.

  I’ve seen her looking at me, almost begging for me, and it kills me. If she knew how much I wanted her, it would make resisting her that much harder. So I have to sit here and let her think I don’t want her. I have to reject her, and walk away from her.

  I end up having Venus suck my dick each night just to keep me sane. Lucy works me up with every thing she does. Every move, every word, makes me want her even more. I always wait ‘til Lucy goes to her room to do anything with Venus, but I can’t lie and say I’m not picturing her face the whole time. Imagining it is her mouth around me, working me.

  “Hey.” Lucy walks up to me. Her black jeans hug her hips and the red t-shirt she has on is playing peek-a-boo with her toned stomach. “What’s up?”

  My dick. I thank God I’m sitting at this damn table. “I gotta go on a run with the boys tonight. So I’ll be leaving around six and won’t see you ‘til morning. You need anything you can text me.” The disappointment on her face isn’t lost on me. If she only knew the thoughts running through my mind. I wonder how she would react. If she would run the other way, or embrace the idea of being mine.

  “So you’ll still be here for the barbecue?” Her wishful eyes look up at me.

  “Yeah.” Today is one of the family days we have. There are no club whores, the old ladies spend a rare day at the club with the kids. Families come to visit and everyone just has a good time.

  “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you then.” She smiles at me before turning and walking across the room.

  My eyes are glued to her ass the entire time. It sways with each step and it amazes me that the girl has no idea how sexy she really is.

  “Pres is gonna kill you if you keep staring at her like that.” I look over and Twisted is sitting next to me.

  “He said not to touch her and I haven’t.” Except for that one time in the closet. I knew she needed me. It felt right to comfort her, and it stopped me from going out there and strangling the life out of her uncle.

  “Well, you look like a damn lion ready to pounce. Don’t get me wrong she’s fucking hot but—”

  I shoot him a look. I may not be able to openly tell him to go fuck himself but he definitely knows that’s what I’m thinking. I hate that I’m stuck being a prospect ‘til she turns eighteen, especially cause some days I really want to give these assholes a piece of my mind.

  “Relax, Prospect. Everyone knows you’ve made your damn claim by now.” He gets up and walks away. All of the guys have been busting my ass about Lucy. Pres actually called me into his office the other day to remind me to keep my dick in my pants.

  “Yo.” Torch sits down next to me. “Those sick fuckers are still hanging posters and shit around town about her.” He nods at Lucy and I look over to see her laughing with Tracie. “The one stopped me when I was in town earlier. Fucker had crazy eyes. Kept askin’ me if I was sure I ain’t seen her.”

  I choke on the drink I was takin’. “Jesus Christ. What’d you tell him?”

  “I told him that the holes I like to use are full grown and legal, and that maybe he should try that theory.” I shake my head as I laugh. “I mighta set a small fire in his car too.”

  That’d be why we call him Torch. “You tell Pres?”

  “Yeah. He ain’t worried about those assholes.”

  Hopefully, we don’t need to.

  He moves to walk away, before turning back around. “Boys and I finally decided to give you a road name. Figure you shouldn’t have to wait for that too.” I look at him waiting for it. “Whip.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Means you’ve been pussy whipped for years, and shit ain’t gonna change when Lucy turns eighteen.” He laughs loudly as he walks away.

  Dicks.

  ***

  I walk outside and see everyone eating and talking. Family days at the club are an escape from the everyday crazy bullshit that goes on. My eyes scan the area for Lucy and I finally spot her standing next to Tracie. Since we’re all outside Pres told Tracie to help her blend
in. The club whores were pissed that she is allowed at family day and they aren’t. Shooter told ‘em plain and simple that Tracie is family, and given that she doesn’t sleep around with the brother she doesn’t count as a club whore. They weren’t happy but they shut their mouths.

  Her long dark hair is tucked into a hat, while her blue eyes are covered by large sunglasses. She has on tight jeans and a red tank top that has slits cut in the side. Her outfit almost matches Tracie’s.

  On my way to go see Lucy, I’m stopped by my mom. This is the first time she has been able to come to one of these. My uncle was in the MC but she never wanted anything to do with it. She met Shooter at his funeral but has never been to the clubhouse. Since I’m going to be a member, she decided she would come and see what it’s all about. She’s the only family I have around so I couldn’t really tell her no. I tried to brief her about the club and how to act before coming here, but it’s still my mom.

  “Jordan!” Her arms wrap me in a hug. “How are you, baby?”

  The fact that I’m twenty-three and my mother still calls me baby is not lost on me. “Ma, come on.”

  “Oh, you shut up! I don’t care if you are some tough biker, you’re always my baby.” A few of the brothers hear her and start to laugh. Just more shit they can rag on me about later.

  Fuck.

  “Hey Whip!” Cutter calls me. “You’re lucky you already got a road name. I would have totally voted for Baby.”

  She is gonna give them material for a whole fucking year. I see Lucy coming toward me. Damn.

  “Mom why don’t we go inside and see who’s in there.” I grab her arm and quickly pull her inside completely avoiding Lucy. The last thing I need my mom doing is talking to her. She knows nothing about the club so I’m hoping I can give her a quick tour, introduce her to a couple of the brothers that aren’t around much and then she can leave with minimal damage done.