by M. N. Forgy
Shit hits the fan. My hair is pulled, my dress ripped. I claw, and slap and punch at anyone in my reach. Glitter coats my arms, and my bra strap is ripped off me.
“Hey! Hey!” Saint jumps in the middle, trying to split the fight up. I’m violently shoved out of the bathroom and into the hall wall. My chest rising and falling with adrenaline.
The girls start shouting at me to get out of the club. That I don’t belong.
I want to jump back in there and finish this, but my tits are falling out of my ripped bra.
“Go!” Saint hollers at me, trying to keep the mess of girls in the bathroom.
Forcing myself to walk away, Zane stands at the end of the hallway. His shoulder leaning into the wall, he casually rubs his chin with one hand. The smoky lights above casting just enough light upon him to give him an eerie vibe.
Glancing my way, he does a double take and pushes off the wall.
“Addie, what happened to your face?”
His voice angers me. He angers me. Why am I hanging on for him? Why do I care? Why does he care?
I shove him as hard as I can, and he gives me a hard stare.
“Why her?” I slap him, and his eyes widen. “Are we friends? Are we just friends? Huh?” I keep laying my hands into him, shoving him into the crowd. Everyone stops and stares at us, and my eyes begin to water.
Teeth baring, and cheek hurting so bad, I push past him and hurry outside.
Bobby is just climbing out of the driver side of my Jeep, and I slide up behind him. Kiss him on the cheek and get inside.
“Thanks, Dad.” It doesn’t go unnoticed I call him Dad. I do that time to time, depending on my mood.
“Addie?” Bobby’s voice wavers, but I put the Jeep into drive and get out of there.
My tires screeching as Zane appears in my rearview mirror.
I’m so angry. Why does it have to be this hard? Why does Zane have to be so damn complicated? And why Baby, what is so special about her?
* * *
A tear slides down my cheek and I feel humiliated. This is crazy. I told myself I wouldn’t get to this point again and here I am.
Rolling my windows down to get a breeze, I exhale a breath. I flick the radio on, trying to drown out the voices in my head. “Ghost” by Badflower is on, and I tap my fingers on the gear shift.
“Home. When I get home things will be better. I will pamper myself, and be away from the world I can’t fathom.
* * *
Zane
Standing in the driveway, I stare at the red taillights of Addie’s Jeep as she drives away. Her face was cut as if someone hit her. Only one person would be dumb enough to do that. Baby.
“What the fuck was that about?” Bobby hisses, stomping up behind me.
Rage whispers in my ear and my fingers strain as the urge to hurt someone or something. It’s unbearable.
“You going to answer me?” Bobby presses.
“I’ll take care of it,” I bite out through clenched teeth.
* * *
Turning where I stand, I march back into the club.
Everyone is dancing, drinking, and practically fucking. Oblivious that one of our own was just assaulted.
“Everyone out!” I yell above the music. Saint and Rad look at me in surprise from the couch. It’s the first time I’ve ever raised my voice. I wasn’t even sure I had that kind of volume in me.
“You heard him, get the fuck out!” Rad waves his hands toward the door. Shoving a chick off his lap.
“Party’s over!” Saint has my back.
The music cuts and everyone starts riveting out the double doors. Amongst the crowd, I spot Bull sitting at the bar, smoking a cigarette casually. The older he gets, the less he cares about parties.
His head lowered he blows smoke across the countertop, eyeing me.
“I don’t think much of bitch fights in my club. Especially when one of them is the daughter of a member.”
“I know,” I mutter.
“Fix it,” he demands. One of his biggest rules being no bitches at the club, for this reason alone. He must have seen everything go down which looks bad on me but least someone agrees that what just happened shouldn’t have happened. Addie is ours.
Anger bubbles in my chest like a bad infection. The thought that Addie was hurt in my own club making me hostile and uncontrollable.
I need to leave and get my head on straight before I even attempt to piece this shit together. I’m liable to fucking kill someone in here if I don’t get some fresh air. I need relief, something to take my anger out on.
“Take care of cleaning this place out. I’ll be back,” I tell Saint. He nods, shoving hang arounds out the door.
Climbing on my bike, I text the anonymous number that is my morphine. The only number saved into my phone. The one line into the underworld that very little people know about.
Hit me. - Z
Three dots pop up almost instantly.
House, is replied back. My mission will be waiting for me at my storage unit. Also known as the “house” to throw off anyone who might be tracking my phone.
“Where are you going?” Delilah cuts through my anger like a hot knife into cool butter. Tucking my phone into my pocket, I glare at her.
“Move,” I growl, the beast inside of me rattling its cage to come out. I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t think I ever would, but this dark thing inside of me is unpredictable. I cannot tame it, I can barely control it.
“No, tell me where you go when you get like this? Ever since we were kids and you got upset you would run off for hours, Zane! Why? Where do you go?”
I rev my motorcycle up, my eyes stabbing into hers to get the fuck out of the way. I can’t tell her. My father promised me not to tell anyone.
Fed up with me she scoffs, throwing her hands up at me before stomping off. Surely cussing at me.
I know she cares, but it’s too late for me. It’s not her. It’s not my family. It’s something I was born with, and it grew into something much bigger than I ever expected.
* * *
Racing through the night on my motorcycle, I dart in between cars and trucks. The reaper of the night laughing beside me as I drive erratically, as if I have a death wish. Maybe I do. It would make a hell of a lot more sense of why I am the way I am.
The traffic lights just ahead turns yellow and I give my bike all it has, twisting the throttle back I play with fate and race through the now red light. Cars slam on their brakes, and horns blow as I barely miss getting hit. A grin pulls at the corner of my lips as my heart pumps harder than it has in a while.
Jesus, I’m really fucked up.
* * *
Pulling into the storage unit’s parking lot just outside of the city, I ride up to unit number 666. I didn’t pick it, it was given to me. It was as if fate dealt me the tarot cards for mass murdering.
I press my right thumbprint into the lock and it beeps before unlocking and revealing a gold Skelton key.
Fisting it, I unlock the def-con lock that holds my deepest secret. One that would put me on death row if ever discovered. The secret my father taught me to perfect. Pulling the metal door just enough for me to fit under I shut it, and turn to fish the string to the light in the dark. A lonely light bulb sweeps back and forth displaying weapons of all grades sitting on dusty shelves and knives that have killed unsolved murders.
Cobwebs maze around the area, the light not quite reaching the darkest corners of the unit.
Taking a step forward my boot kicks something.
A yellow envelope.
My mission.
Sighing, I bend down and pick it up. Upon opening it, I find my target.
Subject: Teagan Fisher
Age: 47
Location: Works at Hampton Bar until midnight.
Reason for Hire: Rapist who escaped the justice system.
My eyes flick to the left finding an image of Mr. Fisher.
Egg-shaped head with dark hair greased back. Bird nose, a
nd dimpled chin. His almond-shaped eyes stare into me telling me it’s his time.
My hands begin to shake thinking about the adrenaline rush about to poison my veins, but when my eyelids blink, I still see Addie’s bruised face. My anger getting hotter by the second.
I need this kill, it’s the only way I can think like a normal person.
Shutting the file, I try and shut Addie out of my head and pick my poison to end this motherfucker.
When blood sprays into the night offering the reaper a sacrifice, I’ll be gifted with the answer of what I’m meant to do with mine and Addie’s relationship. The Devil will give me the answer. He always does.
I stall. Wait, did I say relationship?
No, it’s not that. Whatever we are, it’s not that. But it’s a friendship I don’t want to fuck up because my dick decided I never met a girl like Addie, and I realized I never will.
Pulling up to the location given to me, the Hampton Bar, I turn my motorcycle engine off. Straddling my bike, I pull on my favorite pair of black gloves and look the place over. It’s some kind of nightclub. I’ve never been to this place before, then again, I’m not much of a social person. The idea of me dancing at a club is comical.
Palm trees decorate each side of the entry, the pink double doors propped open so you can see inside. Strobes of purple and blue lights dance and weave across the floor and I swear to God I’m about to have a stroke from it.
Putting my bike on its kickstand I head toward the building, my heart slowly begins to pick up its pace. Girls tripping over their heels walk out of the building and into the parking lot, staring at me as I walk past them. I ignore them. They’re so drunk they won’t remember seeing me. The vessel in my neck pounds with anticipation, and my teeth bare down to nearly cracking. The hunt is part of the fun part, you can tell a lot about a person just by where they hang out. Let’s see who Mr. Fisher is. Stepping inside the club the air is thick and smoggy, but I spot my victim almost immediately. He’s dancing in the middle of the dance floor standing at least a foot taller than everyone else. At least I think that’s dancing, hell I wouldn’t even call this shit playing through the speakers, music. He’s wearing a white button-up that is unbuttoned halfway down his hairy chest, and tight black looking pants with ridiculous looking shoes.
Cracking my neck, I wonder if I should just step up behind him and do this or wait for him to get away from the crowd. I won’t be dancing if I go out on the dance floor and that will cause me to stand out. Dad’s first rule of killing: always blend in. I sigh, becoming impatient. Like a drug addict staring at their next fix, I have to wait for the right moment. You only get one shot.
The song changes from techno to another song that is just as noisy. It’s starting to give me a fucking headache.
Mr. Fisher slips through the crowd making his way toward the back of the club and I walk the wall, keeping an eye on him.
He passes the bar and heads down a dark hallway. He’s using the restroom. Perfect.
Pulling my hoodie up, I weave my way back down the hallway, the darkness smelling of mold and cheap beer. My boots stick to the grimy floor as if passing people have spilled their drinks and nobody bothered to clean it up. Pushing the ad covered door open there are three stalls without doors, and one cracked sink. Mr. Fisher stands at one of the three piss stained urinals making beat noises with his mouth. Should I let him see me? Should I do it before he knows it’s coming? My ears rush from the amount of blood pushing through my veins. I’m practically fucking giddy at the thought of killing him.
I step up behind him, my front nearly flush with his back. His eyes meet mine in the smudged mirror above the urinal, his eyes widen with alarm, and my heart relaxes seeing his face. The look of horror, the last fleeting breath before I take his eternal soul. His chest pounds and yet I find solace in what’s about to happen.
Pulling the gun from my waistband, I hold it to his head and piss dribbles down his leg. I want to hang on to the look gleaming in his eyes. One of fear, and giving me power. But, I have to be quick. Pulling the trigger, the gun gives one soft tug against my palm, spitting a bullet into the back of his skull. The silencer taking most of the sound. His head bounces off the mirror cracking it, and he falls into his own piss.
I breathe in the metallic smell, and my head lolls back. The flee of anger and pent-up confusion running as free as the blood from his head. I can finally think clearly now. It’s like all the pressure, and tension just vanished as soon as I pulled the trigger. It becomes clear to me that Baby needs to go.
Looking at the sack of shit on the floor I don’t feel bad, if anything I did this town a service. He would have raped again, or worse.
This is the world my dad taught me. The one that kept me from becoming a complete psychopath.
I’m a hired hitman, and only my father knows about it. He promised Mom he would never do it again, but when he saw me starting to become like him… he started to pick up jobs every once and awhile and showed me how to take over. It was those trips I longed for. A father-son bonding over taking another human’s life.
I only accept cases such as these and this way I control my urge to hurt innocent people. I’m not proud of what I am. A monster that creeps in the shadows causing every woman to look over her shoulder. The ticking time bomb sitting in the corner drinking coffee that might explode any minute and take out a diner.
This is why I live the biker lifestyle. Nobody else would accept me.
Not if they knew who I really was, but the club would because in a fucked up way none of my brothers are that different than me. I’m just not ready to tell anyone though.
* * *
Straddling my bike, I pluck the gloves from my hands and shove them in my saddlebag. The night air cool in my lungs. Yeah, I am calmer now. I can actually think.
“Are we just friends?” echoes through my skull like a bare-knuckle punch to the head. I’ve loved Addie since the day I jumped in front of a bullet for her. But how much more of a monster would I be to lead a lamb to the mythical wolf.
Will it satisfy me to finally have Addie the way I’ve always wanted her?
Will she accept me and my way of living?
3
Addie
Finally at home I pull my clothes off and dress in a long flannel button up, the hem tickling the top of my thick thighs.
Running my hand through my hair, I gaze at myself in the mirror above my dresser. Sad blue eyes whisper to me how tired they are of feeling like this. My round face bruised from being hit, it aches like hell.
I need to quit holding out that there might be something between Zane and I. I mean, he’s kept Baby around after all this time! If it were any other guy, I would have left him far behind. It’s because of mine and Zane’s history that keeps me hanging on.
Lifting my chin with determined eyes, I inhale a deep breath.
“I’m going to find someone else. I’m going to live for me,” I tell my reflection.
Like a bad headache, the day I almost threw my career away for Zane stumbles into my mind.
“Addie, I don’t understand why you’re not going? It’s a great internship!” My mother huffs from across the table. Her blond hair looking blonder today than usual. I knew she would be mad when I told her I was thinking of waiting to go.
“I just, I want to make sure it’s what I want.” I shrug, looking across the way at people walking by. Surely there will be something here I can take.
“This isn’t like you. You were so excited for that internship.” Mother strikes the table with her index finger before slumping back into her seat.
Everyone around us continues to eat, and mind their business on the patio, but I feel like everyone is listening.
Standing, I grab my purse and slip it over my shoulder. I’m supposed to meet Zane in twenty minutes.
“I have to go,” I mutter to my mother. I knew she would be pissed, but she will get over it.
“Addie wait!”
Not want
ing to hear my mother dig any deeper and assume she knows what I’m going through, I get in my Jeep and head toward the club. My hands sweat gripping the steering wheel. Why am I so nervous?
Pulling into the club, I slide out of the Jeep and pull my maroon dress down that had ridden up from my sweaty thighs. I exhale a breath.
Walking around the corner I hear laughing, and I smile. Sounds like one of the boys are having a good time. Shit, I wonder if Zane expects me to put out. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. We are just going on a date, see what is going on between us. I’m surprised he asked me to hang out tonight. It doesn’t seem like Zane to ask someone over.
The air is thick, and two people on the back of a bike have me stopping to the point I nearly trip over my own two feet. A man has his jeans around his ankles, and a girl on top of him.
I recognize that girl.
She giggles and whips her head up, and it’s then I notice it’s not just any girl and man, it’s Zane and the waitress from Hooters. Baby.
I hiccup, my hand covering my mouth to contain the pieces of my heart breaking on the ground. I’ve never felt such a large amount of pain concentrate in the center of my chest before. I want to cry and scream. It feels as if I’ve been punched in the gut and can’t catch my breath.
Eyes filling with tears, I turn. I thought I was important to Zane, but he is obviously just like every other man in this club. Thinking with his dick, and not his heart.
Lifting my chin, I figure it out real fast. Zane is not the guy I thought he was. I need to go.
My feet start moving back to my Jeep. I’m angry, sad, and just want to get away. Away from everyone and this damn club.
I’m going to Texas. I’m taking that internship.
My rabbit hops out from under the bed, making me scream from memory lane.
