Poodle

by K. L. Savage

  “Then his name is Saint Asshole because what he did to Melissa was not cool. I’m going to kick his ass when I see him again,” Sarah plops down in another rocking chair that’s on the other side of the bed.

  “Really? What did he say to you?” Doc prods, and I have to grip the chair to keep from screaming.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I grit.

  “Um, Tongue is ready to slice out Poodle’s tongue for how he treated her, Doc. Melissa accidentally touched Poodle, and he whirled around and told her to, ‘Not fucking touch him and that she can’t just go around touching people.’ He screamed it at her. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind, and if anyone knows how serious that is, they know Poodle is about to be in some deep shit.” Sarah huffs and cracks her knuckles, preparing for a fight that won’t happen.

  Still, the sight of her willing to stand up for me makes me feel good. I’m not used to having people in my corner.

  “Did he really? That’s interesting.” Doc sounds more intrigued the more he thinks about it. I can see the medical reasons of Poodle’s outburst swirling in his head. “That’s different than his usual behavior.”

  “It’s fine. It isn’t a big deal. Poodle doesn’t liked to be touched. I crossed a boundary. It’s fine, really. Him yelling at me hurt, but it isn’t because of him that it hurt; if that makes sense.”

  “It does.”

  “Now I’m lost,” Sarah speaks over Doc, and it makes him smile from how blunt she is.

  I’m pretty sure that if it wasn’t for them two, I would have left this place a long time ago. My future here is up in the air, at best. I have no idea what I’m doing here anymore. I’m stagnant. Unmoving. And I feel trapped. I don’t know how to get out of the box I’ve put myself in. If I don’t stay here, where do I go?

  “I think that’s a story for Melissa to tell you. It isn’t my place to share. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all; right, Melissa?”

  Oh, no.

  I know that look.

  It’s the look that tells me he wants me to trust Sarah and tell her more about who I am. He’s been onto me about being more open with Sarah for months now, to let her in, and maybe I’d feel better and not so alone. The last thing I want to see in her face is pity or worse—she’ll think I’m a whore too.

  “I … I don’t know.” The tight feeling is back. My skin wants to rip open. I don’t want to relive the memories again.

  “Hey.” Doc’s squats down and becomes eye level with me. His blue eyes are filled with concern and understanding, not an ounce of judgment or pity. I like that about him. If he feels those things, he’s great at masking them. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but I promise, trusting your friend will make you feel better than you think,” he whispers, to not let Sarah in on what we’re talking about. I close my eyes to take a deep breath when my chest starts to feel smaller.

  “I need to go. I have a supply run to make. Make sure nothing happens to these guys while I’m gone. Okay? I don’t think anyone else knows how to stitch besides Juliette. So no gun fights, and tell Tongue to keep his knife to himself.”

  “I heard he almost stabbed Poodle. He tossed the knife at his head. And Tongue doesn’t miss.”

  I gasped at Sarah. “Tongue doesn’t even like me. Why would he do that?”

  Doc snorts as he checks the fluids for Moretti before he walks out the door. “Tongue is a different breed of animal. He likes you just fine, but he also isn’t used to people standing up to him. He’s a dog that barks and bites, but he’s never met a dog smaller than him that bites back; make sense?”

  “I don’t bite. I’m pretty weak if you haven’t noticed,” I say with bitterness. I hate it too. I want to be better. I don’t know how to get past the nightmares in my head.

  “You’re far from weak, Melissa. You’ve endured trauma that most people will never experience. You’re healing, and guess what? I saw how you stood up to Tongue in Jersey. You faced a person who doesn’t blink when it comes to killing, but you made him blink at you. Melissa, that’s a big deal. Give yourself more credit. You deserve it.” Doc looks at his watch and curses. “Shit ,I need to go. Call if you guys need me.”

  “Will do,” I say, and he squeezes my shoulder. I don’t like to be touched more than that by a man.

  “Be safe,” Sarah says and stands to hug him. She squeezes tight, and Doc grunts from the force.

  “If I get out of here without my ribs being crushed, I’ll be okay.” He chuckles.

  “Oh, sorry.” Sarah lets go, and her hands clap against her legs when she puts her arms to her sides. She walks around the end of the bed, then plops in the chair next to mine.

  We sit in silence, and the cold air kicks on causing me to shiver. I hate how gloomy this basement is, especially when the room of doom, as I like to call it, is in the corner. I clear my throat and stand to leave when Sarah’s hand flies to stop me. I really don’t want to talk. I want to nurse the wounds Poodle gave me and go into my room, sleep, and sleep some more.

  “My adoptive father was an asshole. He killed his foster kids, and I was next. I escaped, but not without injury. If you’re concerned about what I’m going to think of you, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re my friend. I’m not going to judge you for something that happened to you.”

  My throat is dry, and my tongue is fuzzy like I licked a ball of cotton. I sit down and lean back in the rocking chair, and I debate if I want to tell her my truth. I think about Poodle and what his truth is. He buries it like I do. I want to dig for it, and if I’m honest with myself, I wish he’d want to dig for mine. It’s obvious he doesn’t care enough.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you.” There’s nothing worse than the unimaginable happening. Sarah seems to have healed, which is great. I’m happy that she can so freely talk about it and accept what happened to her. Speaking my truth is too hard; it makes it so real. I like to think of it as a bad dream because now that it isn’t happening to me, it feels like a lifetime ago; almost like it didn’t happen at all, but it did.

  “It happened a long time ago. The MC helped me heal, and Boomer actually killed him. Blew him up, so it was over for me. It isn’t over for you, is it? That’s what helped me get better, Melissa, knowing that my abuser was dead.”

  “They’ll never be dead,” I say without thinking.

  “They?” Sarah lays a hand on my knee and falls forward to try to look at my face. “Melissa, you can talk to me. If you want peace, the men here at Ruthless can give you that.”

  I blink away the tears when face after face of every man who ever used me flashes in my mind. I’ll never forget any of them. “You’d think I’d forget them over time, but if anything I remember more about them. Their breath, the weight of their body, the pores on their face, their eye color… Everything,” I say. I wipe my hand on my jeans when a tear falls off my chin and lands on my knuckle. I don’t want to talk about this here where Moretti might hear me. I stop speaking and lace my fingers together.

  “Do you want to talk about it here? Or we can go to my house and sneak a bottle of rum. Get drunk while we talk. If you still want to. I know down here feels more like a grave with how cold it is.” Sarah looks around the room and all the stainless-steel shines from the fluorescent lights.

  “That sounds perfect. But what about Reaper?”

  “Psh, he’ll be fine. He can sleep in the guest room while we have a girls’ night. He will live.”

  I’ve never had a girls’ night before. “Seriously?”

  She nods. “I need a girls’ night. There’s the cut-sluts, and Becks is in a league of her own. She massages the guys and then leaves, so she doesn’t hang out. There is a big shift between the ol’ ladies and the cut-sluts around here. They don’t like us because they think we invade their territory, when really, they were nothing to begin with. They are here for the single guys to fuck; that’s it. It’s really just you and Juliette. Joanna works and goes to school. I don’t see much of her
. It’s nice to have actual friends around here who aren’t trying to fuck every member she sees.”

  I’ve seen the cut-sluts in action. Sucking dick wherever they want, fucking wherever they want; including the couch which is why I never sit there. It makes me think of Poodle. With a man like him, I bet he fucks women every night. Is that why he doesn’t want me? I’m not wild enough, maybe? Well, I don’t ever plan to be. I’ve lived and experienced enough wild to last me a lifetime. He can continue to have sex with the cut-sluts, for all I care.

  I do care.

  Ugh, I care so much. I imagine his body, all sweaty and mid-thrust. I bet his groans are deep and loud, and his hair, oh man, I bet his hair would fall against my chest and tickle me just right. Thoughts like that are better left in the imagination because I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to do more with my body when more is what men took from me for years.

  “Where did you go?” Sarah asks, her blonde brows creasing in the middle as she stares at me.

  “Thinking about venting and drinking with my friend?” I stand and reach out my hand, hoping she’ll take it. Doc is right; I already feel better talking to Sarah, and we haven’t even gotten to the real stuff yet.

  She grins and slaps her hand in mine. “Damn right! Let’s do this.” She uses me as leverage to hop up from her seat. “Oh!” She lays her hand on top of Moretti’s foot and closes her eyes. “We will take a shot for you in your name, Moretti, and then you’ll wake up to join us soon.”

  “Amen,” I say after her little prayer; it sounded like prayer, but it felt like I had to say it.

  “Oh, sweetie, God don’t live in this house.” Sarah laughs and drags me behind her as we make our way toward the steps. Our footsteps bounce off the walls and the metal vibrates.

  “What lives here then?”

  She turns her head so fast the ends of her hair sweep out like a fan. “A bunch of badass bikers, baby. The only religion here is motorcycles. You’ll get used to it.” Sarah unexpectedly tugs me, and it’s hard to keep up with her as we fly up the steps. She opens the basement door, and we enter the kitchen straightaway.

  I see Skirt eating pie right out of the dish, and he waves his fork and gives me a closed smile since his cheeks are stuffed. Knives is with Bullseye to the left, an open area where a dining room table could be, but it’s where the guys practice their aim.

  With their weapons, not their … you know.

  Knives tosses the ninja so fast that I don’t even see it fly through the air. It lands on the wall with a ‘ting’ sound.

  “He’s really good at that,” I say, watching in fasciation. Bullseye turns around. He isn’t even facing the wall, and with his back turned, he throws the dart over his shoulder and makes it in the red target of the dart board. “I want a cool talent,” I whine as Sarah drags me away from the show.

  That’s the coolest thing I’ve seen since I got here.

  “Melissa.”

  The slow drawl of a haunting voice crawls up my body. There’s only one voice that belongs to. Sarah stops walking and turns around, puts her hands on her hips, and cocks her head. “I know you aren’t going to talk to her and not me. What am I? Chopped up tongue?”

  “You’re still my number one,” Tongue leans in and kisses Sarah on the forehead.

  He’s tender? How can a man like him be tender?

  “I better be.” She playfully punches him in the stomach, and I know there’s a story here because I’ve never seen Tongue be close to anyone here besides Sarah. It’s odd to be up close and personal to see it, though, to see his content as he stares at her. They really are friends. “What do you want with my friend?” Sarah asks.

  Tongue’s face falls when he looks at me, and his long hair blocks his eyes when he dips his head. He reaches for his knife, and I jump back to get away from him, but he rubs it with his fingers. When I hear heavy breathing, his shoulders rising and falling in slow beats, I realize he’s relaxing.

  “She doesn’t bite, Tongue. You can talk to her,” Sarah tells him and that only throws me off more. I’m in a constant state of confusion in this damn clubhouse. Everyone is different. Everyone has their own quirks.

  “I want to tell you I don’t agree with how Poodle treated you. You let me know, and I’ll cut his tongue out for you. It will be a gift.”

  Sarah holds her hand over her mouth as she smiles and stares up at the menacing man. All I can do is blink, sputter, and hold back my vomit. I never want to witness this man cutting out a tongue. All I can think about is a tongue with a bow on it; it’s freaking me out.

  “I … um, well, Tongue, I appreciate the thought because wow, that’s … that’s really something.” I swallow, and Sarah snorts, but covers it up with a cough. “But you don’t have to do that for me. If I ever need something like that done, I will let you know.”

  He grins and, honestly, I didn’t know the man could scare me further, but he looks like the guy from The Shining. “Really? You will? It’s been awhile. Just let me know.”

  “Um, okay. Sure, I’ll … call you when I need a favor?” I say, a bit unsure. Is this conversation happening? It seems unlikely given the context.

  “I always liked you. You creep me out because”—his hand lowers—“you’re so small. Small people scare me, but you’re nice.” He pats the top of my head and then rips his hand away, as if I’m going to bite him.

  “We’re going now, Tongue. I’ll see you later. Girls’ night.”

  “Aw, I wanna come to girls’ night. You give the best facials.” Tongue’s shoulders slump, and my heart does this weird trippy thing. The man terrifies me, but seeing him sad and alone hurts even more.

  “Wait! You … want to join us?” I offer, and Sarah gives me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.

  “Really? You won’t even know I’m there.” Tongue rocks on his feet and holds the blade in his hand as he speaks, so the knife slices all around. I lean back, just to be safe.

  Yeah, I doubt that.

  “I’ll bring the popcorn!” He runs to his room, and I drop my mouth open until it’s forming a big O. I need her to explain what just happened.

  “Tongue is odd. He’s a loner, different, but once you get to know him, he likes things like this. He never hangs with the guys, but I think he enjoys female company. Oddly, I get the sense he feels safer around women.”

  And in a split second, I’m wanting to not only know Tongue, but know his story. I doubt I’ll get it, but maybe if I share mine with him, he’ll let me in a bit. Out of all the people here, Tongue is the last person I expect to have a friendship with, especially when he seems so out of touch with the people around him. Poodle isn’t going to give me the time of day, and I need to start opening up and stop holding myself back from making friendships with others.

  Poodle hates me for some reason, and I don’t have it in me to be constantly disappointed by him.

  I’ve been hated enough in my life. It’s time to experience something good, something beautiful, and if that isn’t going to be Poodle, then that’s his loss.

  “I brought my knife making kit. We will make you one tonight, and you can always keep it on you to protect yourself,” Tongue says as he skids to a stop in front of me, holding two big bags stuff full. “You’ll love it. I brought popcorn too.”

  So far, bringing myself out of Poodle’s shadow—which he never noticed me there to begin with—seems to be the best decision I’ve made since I’ve been here.

  My life isn’t going to be lived in the dark anymore.

  I can’t count on others to turn on the light. I’m the switch. I’m the power.

  I have to be my own illumination.

  5

  POODLE

  The last rays of the sun paint the night sky a flaming ember. My bike grumbles, sending low waves of horsepower through the dirt parking lot. I keep the speed low so the engine doesn’t roar and wake anyone up. It’s around three in the morning, and everyone is either passed out from drinking or fucking.


  It’s the perfect time to leave without being noticed. The dagger in my cut is heavy with the promise of murder, the intention to seek blood, and wrath. I can’t wait to unleash my havoc on the damned that deserve to feel what I’ve been feeling for the last thirteen years.

  I stop at the gate that blocks outsiders from getting in and leave my bike on as I hop off, settle it on the kickstand, and open the gate enough to leave without being noticed. I glance behind me to make sure I’m in the clear, staring into the shadows of the quickening plum-colored night. No one is behind me. It’s only rows of bikes and chrome shining against the crescent moon hanging in the sky.

  I’m two-faced.

  I wear a mask to hide who I really am.

  I hear people are judged by their actions and not their nature, but in my case they are one in the same. If Reaper ever finds out about this, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll rip the heart out of my chest.

  Let him.

  My soul is black, my heart is grim, and my mind is made up.

  Love’s a culprit to my sadistic tendencies.

  I wait to get to the edge of the end of the driveway before taking a right down the road, and that’s when I let my engine go. I fly down the path, my cut whipping from the wind, and I begin to think about my target, what I want, who I want, and why.

  Usually, I get suspects from Badge’s computer. He isn’t part of the police department anymore, not since Reaper made him choose which life he wants. After the fiasco with Juliette’s dad, the previous sheriff, and how Badge claimed he didn’t know what was going on, Reaper made him decide where his loyalties laid. Badge is too addicted to criminals, though. He keeps tabs, and he never logs out of his computer.

  He makes it easy for me to snoop and find out what I need to know. I keep a list of people in my pocket at all times. Men who just got out of prison or are out on bail; men who keep getting away with horrible shit. I always make sure my targets are connected to Oklahoma in some way.

  I refuse to believe the trail to the murderer of Holly and the kidnapper of my daughter, Ellie, is cold. Someone out there has information, and I won’t stop until I find the asshole who has the answers. There were a lot of kidnappings thirteen years ago around when Ellie was taken. The FBI got involved, and the best theory they came up with was someone wanted kids of their own, but couldn’t have them, so they took what wasn’t theirs.