by Jaci J
If I’m being honest, El has saved my ass as many times as I’ve saved hers. There’s no debt owed there. She comes running every fucking time I call her without fail. She was there when things fell to shit with my dad, comforting and ready to listen. She moved back home, left college behind, when my mom died and I needed her. I leaned on her that year I was a prospect. She fed me, forced me to sleep, listened to my complaints when it felt like I’d never be handed my cut. She’s been there through more shit than most women would bother putting up with. I should be fucking thankful.
We grew together from unfair and sad circumstances, built on years of friendship and love. El means more to me than I even know. What I get from her is something I can’t get from my brothers, and I sure the fuck can’t get it out there in the real world. El’s the only one I can get it from, so whatever shit I have to go through to get it with her, I will.
Ellison
“Fuuuuuck!” I practically gag on the stream of annoyed noises leaking from my lips the moment I step inside the dim and dusty bar. It’s so busy tonight. Angela is swearing up a storm at the bar, and Kim is almost in tears, a tray teetering in her hands.
Rock took me for a ride on the back of his bike, and we just rode. There is nowhere I would have rather been than on the back of that bike with him.
My perfect day didn’t last long.
One of the girls called in sick, and I was called in to cover. I don’t cover. I’m the last resort. But, here I am, and I’m un-fucking-happy about it.
I just got here and I already want to leave.
“You gonna be okay over there? Chokin’ on somethin’?” Rock chuckles to himself. Glad he finds pleasure in my misery.
“Shut up.” I don’t want to hear shit from the man who doesn’t hold a normal nine-to-five, or a midnight to whenever the hell I actually get out of here, sort of job. Rock works whenever the mood strikes, while the rest of us work our asses off for nothing in particular. Must be nice for him.
Trudging my grumpy ass across the room, I duck around the bar and disappear into the stockroom. Chucking my purse in the little cabinet in the corner, I spin around, ready to get this shit over with, and run right into Rock.
“Hello,” I grumble sarcastically as he grabs my shoulders.
“Listen,” he starts in. He’s staring down at me with those intense eyes, his gaze steady.
“Holy shit, Rock. Really? Already?” I sag, letting my arms fall to my sides. He was being so great today, and now we’re back to domineering.
“You about to cop an attitude, babe? Save that shit for your customers, ‘cause I don’t have time.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ve got shit to do, so I’ll be gone for an hour. Think you can keep your attitude in check and your ass outta trouble?”
Why is he so fucking handsome and so damn irritating?
“It’s gonna be hard, but I’ll try. No promises though,” I say as I pull my hair up into a sloppy knot on the top of my head. I don’t want to be here, and I want my appearance to reflect that. If I could, I would put on grungy sweats and a stained T-shirt.
Passing a small dingy mirror, I groan. I still look like I kinda want to be here. My make-up is nice and natural, yet sexy enough to get the point across. Goddamn it. “I hate this place.”
“Quit.”
If only.
Walking up to Rock, I grab his cut and tug all six-foot-two of him down to my level, eye to eye. God, so handsome. Kissing him roughly, I pull away and work to get every last bit of lipstick off as I can. Make-up removal and bitch repellent. “Don’t do that shit,” he groans.
“What?” I feign ignorance, rubbing at my eyes next. I woke up with hopes of a good day, but being here blew that to shit.
“Get all pissy ‘n start takin’ it out on your pretty face.” Knocking my hands away from my face, he frowns.
“Meh.” Make-up implies I care about how I look, and I do not care tonight.
“Too much fuckin’ attitude for your own damn good,” Rock mutters, walking out the door and into the hall. “Keep your eyes open, babe, and keep that damn mouth of yours closed. Got enough shit goin’ on, don’t need you startin’ more. T will be here in a minute, so you’re good.” Looking me up and down, he waits. “You good?”
“As good as I’m gonna get.”
“Be a good girl,” he laughs, and closes the door behind him.
Be good? Yeah, right.
***
Arms loaded with boxes, I push my way through the stockroom door with my back. It swings closed behind me with a thud.
I’ve been here a total of sixty-eight minutes, and I’m already wiped. I’ve served, I’ve filled orders, and I’ve stocked shelves.
T had to split before Rock could make it back. Emergency, he said. I’m fine with it. I don’t love the constant watchful eye of either of them.
Walking around a row of metal shelves, I set the boxes down. Squatting, I flip open a lid and pull out a bottle. Ninety-nine Bananas. Gross.
The stockroom door opens and closes a minute later. “Yeah?” I holler, setting the bottle with the rest on the shelf. No one answers. “Hello?” What the hell?
Sticking my head around the shelf, I jump in surprise the moment my eyes land on the person loitering by the door. Michael is standing there, one hand shoved deep in his jean pocket, the other clutching a handgun. His thin lanky body’s covered in all black, with a Raiders cut covering his shoulders.
Fuck.
Standing up, my stomach drops. Not in fear, but in sickness. My brother looks horrible; hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, pale skin. He’s on death’s door. In the few weeks since I’d last seen him, he’s aged by years.
“Michael, what are you doing here?” Bikers travel in pairs and packs.
His glassy red eyes jerk from side to side quickly. “Y-you alone?” he asks, and his voice cracks.
“Yeah, but why are you here?” I walk closer to him, but he only takes a step away from me. He’s jumpy and twitchy, and he doesn’t trust me.
“You gotta get out.” He looks behind him at the closed door.
“Mike?”
“Came to warn you to get the fuck outta town while you still can.” He’s high. I can tell by the way he’s using the barrel of his gun to scratch at his scabbed and scarred arms, digging at his open wounds.
“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask calmly. Our mom picked up shop and moved years ago, leaving me here alone to rot. She moved from one small shithole town to another, clear across the country. There’s no way in hell I’d go there, and even if I did, I don’t have shit for cash to get me there. Not that Rocky would actually let me go. “You came here to warn me?”
“You need to get away from Rock ‘n his club. They’re no fuckin’ good. They’re gonna use you.” Right. So what does he do exactly?
“Rock’s a good guy.” Saying it sounds stupid. Michael knows Rock, knows he’s not a good guy. “He won’t let me get hurt.” And that is the truth. Rock might be crazy reckless, but he’d never do anything to hurt me. Not intentionally anyway.
“You’re stupid to think he won’t throw you right into the middle of this shit.”
“What shit?” Something’s going down, something big. It’s been brewing for a year. Twice a week Church, running from border to border. Someone shot up the Y. What exactly it is, I don’t know. Really, I don’t care. Club business is just that, club business. My curiosity doesn’t belong anywhere near their shit.
“The war.” he says, pounding on the club patch on his chest. “We’re tired of The Disciples thinkin’ they run this shit. We’re entitled to a piece of the pie too, Ellison,” he yells, his red eyes growing wide and crazed. I take a step back. “They don’t wanna share, then fuck ‘em! We’ll take what’s owed to us.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it has nothing to do with me,” I say carefully.
“Might not, but he’ll use you. They’ll use you!”
“For what?” What coul
d the Disciples possibly get out of me? I don’t have money, and the only club ties I have are with them and my brother. “Michael—”
“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid, Ellison. They use everyone. Do whatever the fuck they gotta do, ‘n they don’t care who they shit on. We started this shit, ‘n we’re gonna finish it. Killed one of ‘em already, ‘n I’ll kill the rest of ‘em.” Oh Jesus.
“Killed who?” But I know. I’m not sure why pushing for more matters, but I ask anyways. “Who did you kill?”
“That old ass Disciple,” Mike cackles. He’s as high as a goddamn kite. “Ripped his motherfuckin’ eyes out. Cut his face off his body.” The pride in his voice is sickening. My stomach rolls and my heart aches. I’ve always loved my brother for no other reason than he’s my blood, my brother, but right now, I know he’s no longer alive. The brother I loved is dead. The drugs have killed any remaining pieces of the man I used to know, and whatever’s left will be wiped clean by the Disciples.
“Come on, Michael.” I try to get closer, but he holds up the gun. “Don’t be like this.”
I know this will be the last time I see him. Once Rock finds him, it’s all over for him. There’s no way he’s getting out of this alive.
“Lou had a family,” I say in vain, but he doesn’t care.
“Fuck his family, ‘n fuck you for carin’ ‘bout him.”
“I care because he was a human being.” Lou was a decent man. He didn’t deserve to die like that.
“That shit’s gonna get you killed, El. Carin’ ‘bout those fuckers. I’m warnin’ ya. Get the fuck outta here, ‘n get the hell away from Rock.”
“I can’t.” I love Rock way too much to leave him.
Michael starts to shake his head, but there’s a loud knock on the door that has him jerking around.
“El? Baby?”
Fuck. It’s Rock.
My heart sinks.
I knew it was only a matter of time.
Michael instantly starts to pace, clutching his gun in agitation. “Michael, you gotta get out of here before Rock busts down that door.” It’s only a matter of minutes before he does.
“El?” Rock shouts, his banging getting louder. “What the fuck?”
Torn, I turn towards the door, ready to open it when my brother sighs, heavy and deep. He’s tired. Looking back, he watches me and waits. He knows where my loyalties lie.
“I have to let him in.”
Michael stares at the door for a moment, and I wonder what he’s thinking with that gun in his hand and Rock on the other side.
“Fuck him,” Michael shouts, waving his gun towards the door.
Jesus, this is not happening.
“Seriously, Mike. He’ll kill you. Go out the back door.”
“Open this goddamn door, El! Who the fucks in there with you? I’m startin’ to get real motherfuckin’ stabby out here!” The door rattles, and something cracks on the other side.
Rock will tear that door down with his hands to get to me. Nothing gets between him and me. He’s made that perfectly clear, on more than one occasion.
Turning back to my brother, he’s halfway to the side door on the other side of the room, his bony back to me. My heart beats slowly, sadly, for my brother. “Michael, I love you.” I tell him, knowing it’ll be my last chance. I’ll never see him again.
“Last chance,” he says over his shoulder. “Get out or die.” The light shines on his sunken, hollow cheek, casting a demonic glow to his shallow features. He looks so sick.
“I can’t,” I whisper, sucking back the emotions bubbling to the surface.
“Fuckin’ stupid,” he spits resentfully as he steps through the back door.
I watch him disappear without another look or word. My body sags in relief and grief. I’m relieved that I won’t have to watch the Disciples tear my brother limb from limb, and the grief is knowing that that was the last time I’ll see him before Rock tears him limb from limb.
For a long time, Rock and my brother were all I had. My chest aches at the thought of losing a piece of life. My brother and I might not be close, there’s no relationship there anymore, but he’s still my brother.
“ELLISON!” Spinning around, I watch the stockroom door bow and the wood crack. “Open the motherfucking door!”
Walking over, I grab the bolt, but before unlocking it, I give the empty backdoor one last look.
He’s gone.
I unlock the door.
Seven
High Highs
Rock
“Open the motherfucking door!”
I’m breathing hard. My arms hurt and my knuckles are burning. The pressure in my head feels damn close to the point of exploding. I might just stroke the fuck out right here, standing in the damn doorway.
How the fuck do things that start so good end so fucking bad? Today started out good. Should’ve figured it wouldn’t end that way.
“Ellison!”
The door gives and Ellison stares at me with cautious eyes.
Something like relief mixed with anger swell in my chest at seeing her breathing, very much alive. Happy as fuck she’s okay, but mad as hell at her. For what, I don’t fucking know yet. I take a deep breath and pray like hell I don’t hurt her.
“What the fuck, Ellison?” She looks confused. “Why the fuck was the door locked?” She shrugs. “Why. Was. The. Door. Locked?” I slow that shit down for her.
Nothing keeps me from her. Not a door, not another person, and sure the fuck not her.
“Umm…I don’t know.” Leaning her side against the frame, she blocks the door.
“Who was in here with you?” I heard voices, male and female. I’m goddamn sure of it, unless they were all in my fucking head, which is a real goddamn possibility at this point.
“El!” She’s not talking to me. Tight-lipped little shit. She’s just staring at me with her arms crossed over her chest. “Open that pretty little mouth and start explainin’ shit!” Before I open it for her.
Dancing on her feet, she lifts that little shoulder again to shrug me off. I’m about to grab onto ‘em and shake the shit out of her when she frowns and mutters, “Mike was here,” under her breath.
Did she really just say that?
I’m gonna kill him, then her.
Here comes that motherfucking stroke again. My eyes bug and I swear to Christ, I blow a blood vessel. The pressure is so extreme it’s painful.
“Where’d he go?” I shout, knocking her ass away from the door to get in and around her. My fists ball and my jaw ticks.
The small stockroom is empty, and all hope of a bloody death is dashed. “Why the fuck did you let him leave?” I ask as I kick a box out of my goddamn way. The thing flies across the room, bottles breaking and leaking booze through the cardboard. “The fuck is wrong with you, Ellison?”
“What did you want me to do, Rocky? Hold him down?”
Spinning around, I look at her like she’s stupid. It’s very possible she is. God, I fucking love her, but she’s on her last leg with me. “Are you shittin’ me? Shoulda let me in sooner, or called me. Yelled for some goddamn backup!” I’m pacing, trying to reel my shit in, but it’s just not working. “I was supposed to know the second you heard from him!”
“I heard from him,” she says lamely. Pain in my motherfucking ass. I love this girl, love her so much. I wanna smack the shit outta her.
“Fuck, El.” Frustrated beyond reason, I start pacing and plotting again. I was so close to getting that little cum stain. Jerking at my hair, I stop when El starts bitching at me. “Don’t do that,” she gripes, batting my hands away from my hair. I’m gonna be bald by forty.
I cannot believe she let him walk. That motherfucker is a wealth of useful information. He’s also an outlet for all this goddamn anger I’m carrying around. “I’m gonna fuckin’ strangle you,” I tell her gravely. I’m seriously considering wrapping my hands around that dainty little neck of hers and choke her to death.
Jesus motherfucking C
hrist.
“Yeah, okay.” She knows I’m full of shit. “Listen. I’m sorry, okay. What was I supposed to do?” Not let him walk the fuck outta this bar is what she should’ve done.
“El, I swear to fuck. I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.” Tearing a handful of hair out, I count backwards from ten.
“Come on. Don’t be so fucking crazy.”
“Crazy? Bitch, I’m gonna show you crazy!” But I’m losing steam. She’s smiling at me and laughing to herself. I’m glad she’s enjoying this shit.
“Calm down.”
“Crazy bitch,” I mutter, booting another box.
“I should kill you both myself. Pains in my—”
I’m done.
Scooping her ass up, I toss her over my shoulder.
“Lockdown.” This shit isn’t happening again. “You’re done.”
“Rock—” she yelps, slapping at my back.
“Locked the fuck down, Ellison.”
“Do you even love me?” El whines, trying to wiggle out of my grip. “If you do, you wouldn’t do this to me.”
“Not particularly.” Right now, love is the furthest damn thing from what I’m feeling. Deadly, sure. Stabby, shit yeah. Love? Fuck no.
“Yes you do,” she counters without a moment of hesitation.
“The fuck I do.”
“You do. Don’t do this to me.” I don’t have a damn choice now. “I’ll die locked down.”
“Fine with me, baby.” I’m good with it. One less goddamn person to worry about.
***
El’s in the room next door, pouting into a pillow. She’s mad at me, but I don’t give a shit. She can be mad until she’s blue in the face, it won’t change the fact that she’s locked the fuck down, at least until I can figure this shit out.
Carried her ass out of the bar and tossed her inside Tyler’s truck. He could deal with her crazy ass. I hopped on my bike, hoping I could catch up with the little shit stain, but no dice.
