by Colbie Kay
He continues to sit and plead with me. “Haven, you need to listen to me.”
“I said, get out!” I pick up the plate of food and throw it at him. The well-prepared breakfast flies everywhere, and the plate hits his head with a thud.
He jumps up from the bed. “Fuck!” he yells while grabbing the plate and launching it toward the wall. It shatters into a million tiny pieces. His footfalls are loud and thundering as he leaves the room, slamming the door on his way out.
“Haven?” Chapel speaks softly from the bed across the room.
I wipe away the tears that have fallen from my eyes and look at my sister. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it.” She scoots up to a sitting position and giggles. “I can’t believe you threw that plate at him. He was covered in eggs.”
I bite my lip to keep my smile hidden. “He deserved it.”
Her laughter halts. “I don’t want to leave. Can they make us?”
Shaking my head, I reply with my tear-filled eyes on the closed door. “I don’t want to either. I don’t know if they can or not, but I won’t leave without a fight. We escaped before because we never gave up. We will fight to stay here if we have to, but we don’t give up again no matter what.”
“What are we going to do if fighting doesn’t work?”
“I don’t know right now, but I’ll think of something.”
12 YEARS AGO
My hair is pushed to the side, exposing my neck to his lips. I stare into the mirror and wonder who this person is staring back at me. Is it me? I’m older than the last time I saw myself in a mirror, but my eyes are lifeless and dim. He’s held me captive for two years now, yet this is the first time I’m seeing myself since that fateful day I left for school with my sister. My gaze widens, thinking of her. We’re held in the same cell, but I’ve been away from her for the last few hours. “Where is Chapel?” I ask, my voice so low it’s barely a whisper.
“She’s coming, too. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.” His dark eyes in the mirror and his vile tone send chills running up my spine. His revolting lips touch the shell of my ear lightly. I want so badly to jerk away, but I know no good would come of that. “She’s in another room getting ready.” He’s dolled me up in this pretty lavender dress with a slit all the way up my thigh and nothing covering my shoulders except thin spaghetti straps.
A woman I have never seen before washed my hair and put it in big flowing curls. She did my makeup and painted my nails. I don’t look like a sixteen-year-old girl. I look like a grown woman.
I should be happy and excited about being pampered for the day, but my stomach tightens because of the unknown. Why? Why do I look like this? Why do I have this dress on? Why were we taken out of our cells? We only get to leave when we are called to his bed since he prefers us, Chapel and I.
“You and Chapel are my favorite girls, you know that? That’s why I’ve kept you two for so long, unlike the others. Be good tonight, Haven, and you get to stay. Bad girls are sent away. Do you want to be sent away?”
I shake my head frantically. Where is he taking us, though? Does Chapel look like this, too?
“It’s time to go,” he announces as he stands me up. He takes my hand in his, and we begin to walk. I’m having a hard time trying to move in the high heel shoes. I stumble a few times as we step outside and over to the luxurious black car waiting for us. He ushers me inside, and I find Chapel already there. She is beautiful but doesn’t look like the fourteen-year-old girl she should be. Instead, she looks much older, same as me. Her dress is baby blue and shiny with sequin. She takes my hand in hers when our eyes meet, and I see hers are glossy with unshed tears. I’m holding back my own, which are threatening to fall because I have to be strong for both of us. I’m older, and therefore, need to take care of her.
“Where are we going?” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know.”
We stay silent the rest of the way as the car ride continues on and on for what seems like hours, but it finally comes to an end beside a hotel. As we’re escorted into the tall building, I’m enamored by the glamorous feel of this place with all of the marble and stone and statues. We’re ushered through the hotel until we’re put on an elevator that goes all the way up to the top floor.
It’s a penthouse with lots of people dressed in their best attire. Men and women parade around with flutes of champagne in their hands. They smile at Chapel and me while their eyes roam up and down our bodies.
“Be good, both of you,” he orders through his gritted teeth, warning us and grabbing a few flutes off of a tray a topless waitress is sashaying around with. Why is she topless? He hands me one and gives the other to Chapel before reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. One pill is dropped into each of our drinks. “Drink. It’ll help you relax.”
We do as we’re told, and soon after, I begin to feel different. It feels as if my heart is going to beat out of my chest, yet I am relaxed.
A woman, well into her thirties, stands before me. My lids flutter as I fight to keep focus. “I’ll take her.” Take me? What?
She wraps her arm around mine, and we start moving. She leads me into a room and closes the door. Sitting on the bed, she spreads her legs, and I am shocked to see she is not wearing panties. I try to make sense of what is happening, but my brain is a jumbled mess, unable to think straight or have a coherent thought.
“Remove your dress,” she orders. What? She wants me naked? I don’t like this. I want to leave, but I know I can’t. “Take your dress off like I told you.” Her tone is harsher as if she’s scolding me. My hands shake as I undress. She watches my every move with a sickening smile. Tears begin to fall down my face while she stares at my nude body. “Come closer,” she demands. With every step, it feels as if my legs weigh a ton. “On your knees,” she instructs next. I fall between her opened thighs. “You’re going to make me cum.”
“H-How?” my voice quivers as I stutter that one word.
“With your tongue.” She reaches for the back of my head and forces me into her most private place.
3
Storm
“Over the decades, our club has strived to build an empire. We have shed tears, sweat, and blood for our club. Cobras Motorcycle Club isn’t known just throughout our city of Wichita or our state of Kansas, or even our surrounding states. No, we’re known across the whole goddamn fucking world! Our legacy started in the sixties with our originals. Men have come and gone, men have died, and police have taken our brothers, but we’re still here. Still standing. Still thriving. Today we have succeeded in what our grandfathers, fathers, uncles, and brothers tried to do before us.” The shouting in the room drowns out Snake’s voice as we have our last church meeting as Cobras.
He continues, “Tomorrow, our empire, our legacy will still be ours. We will continue to grow, we will continue to be on top of our game, but we will have Satan’s Sinners standing beside us. Tomorrow, we will become Sinning Cobras Motorcycle Club. We will become the originals!” Snake pauses while the room echoes with the men’s loud excitement.
“Fuck yeah!” Boogeyman roars.
Nyx howls, and others pound their fists on the table.
Snake waits for a few minutes until we’re calm again. He says, “We will build from what we’ve already accomplished. We will pass this club down to our sons and grandsons. Tomorrow is just the beginning for us, Brothers. Tomorrow we make history!”
As vice president, I sit beside Snake, smiling at the exuberance vibrating through the room. “Goddamn right!” I bellow.
Joining forces with Satan’s Sinners has been a long time coming. Snake slams the gavel on the table and dismisses church.
Snake and I remain seated while the rest of our brothers leave the room, and I look around at the space I’ve spent many years in. “I’m gonna miss it here.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He releases a deep breath of air. “It’s been a fun ride.”
My e
yes meet his. “You sound like it’s all coming to a fuckin’ end.”
He nods with a grin. “In a lot of ways, it is. Our new ride begins tomorrow, but…” his arms lift into the air, “we’re leaving this behind, and all we’re going to have left are the memories. We grew up in this clubhouse, Storm. We fucked, got drunk, got high all for the first time here. So, yeah, in a lot of ways, it’s coming to a fucking end.”
I rest my elbow on the arm of the chair and run my hand over my beard. “I get it, Snake, but we’re moving on to bigger and better shit, right?”
He mumbles, “Bigger and better.”
Righting myself in my chair, I slap my hand onto his shoulder. “Don’t be moping around here like ya’ done lost your woman, Snake.” I try to lighten his fuckin’ depressing mood.
“I did lose her here once.”
My hand slams down on the table. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Brother, pull your shit together. If you’re gonna be this sad about leaving, call Hanger up and tell him the deal’s off.”
Snake’s eyes narrow on me. “Fuck off, Storm, and let me have my goddamn moment.”
“You don’t need any more moments acting like a little whiny fuckin’ cunt.”
Ace steps into the room in the middle of our banter. “Storm, we gotta talk about Haven and Chapel.”
He sets a beer bottle on the table in front of me. I reach for the bottle and tip my head toward an empty seat. “Sit.”
“I’m gonna let y’all discuss that.” Snake chuckles and stands up.
I smirk. “Go fuck your Ol’ Lady. You’ll feel better.”
“I think I will.” He laughs and shuts the door behind him as he leaves Ace and me to talk.
Ace rests his head in the palms of his hands and says, “I talked to Chapel about the move, and she fuckin’ flipped her shit on me.”
I take a long pull from my beer. “Haven wasn’t having it either. I got a plate of food hurled at me.”
He shakes his head. “What are we supposed to do with them?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know, Ace. I used to think I was helping her, and now, I realize that it’s done not a goddamn thing except fuckin’ hurt her. The fucked-up part about it is, I think I’ve known for a while I was hurting her by letting her stay in that room all the fuckin’ time, but I didn’t care. I need her to depend on me. I want her to need me. If I don’t have that, what do I fuckin’ have besides this club?”
He sighs heavily. “I know I’ve done Chapel wrong and hurt her, but fuck.”
“I know, Brother. I know.”
“This ain’t healthy for them no more. They can’t live like this, and we can’t fuckin’ allow it any longer no matter how much we want to.” His eyes meet mine. “I think we need Kayla.”
I nod in agreement. “I’ll make the call. I’m heading to house three. I’ll let you know when I hear back.”
Our drug houses are located in various neighborhoods around Wichita. We have to stay ten steps ahead of unfamiliar cops, which means we’re always moving our location and never staying in one spot for long. Granted, there are dirty fuckin’ cops within the city, and they’re on our payroll, but we always have new ones and different departments trying to sniff out our whereabouts to bring us down. So far, they’ve been unsuccessful.
My bike comes to a stop at the security guard’s post. “Hey, Storm,” he greets me.
Pulling my wallet out of the back pocket of my jeans, I hold the hundred dollar bill out for him to take. “Ken,” I acknowledge and tip my head up. We pay him to keep his fuckin’ mouth shut about why we’re here and to keep other neighbors from asking questions.
He takes the money and opens the gate. I ride my rumbling Harley through the gated community until I come to the two-story stone house and pull into the opened garage. This is the type of house most could only dream of living in. It’s occupied by a lawyer and his family—no one knows of the lawyer’s dirty little habit. We use his basement, and in return, we supply his addiction. I check my phone and see that I have a text from Kayla, so I send a quick message to Ace letting him know she’s on board.
I stroll to the door that leads into the house from the garage. “How’s it going?” I ask the prospect who’s currently sitting watch.
“So far, so good,” he replies as I open the door.
Entering the kitchen, I knock on the light-colored granite countertop. “Lawyer Larry,” I draw out his name in a taunting manner. “Where are you?”
“I’m right here, Storm.” He steps around the corner. “Are you here to finish? I’m running low, but my kids and wife will be home in a few days. You know you guys have to be gone by then.”
Narrowing my eyes, I tilt my head a fraction to the side and grin. I step closer, and he stumbles backward, hitting his back on the kitchen island. I pull my blade, and before he registers what’s happening, I have it to his neck. “Are you rushing us, Larry?” My head tilts to the other side. “You worried about your sweet little wife finding out her husband’s a cock suckin’ junkie? Don’t worry, Larry. I’m sure I could fuck her so good for you, she wouldn’t give two fucks. Would you like that, Larry? Hmm, would you like my cock pounding into your wife’s pussy? Would you be more turned on by your wife or me fucking her? Do you think about her when your little prick is inside of her, or do you close your eyes and think about all those men you’ve let fuck your greedy little asshole?” I lean closer to his ear and whisper, “Don’t ever forget I know all your dirty fuckin’ secrets, Larry.”
He stutters, “Y-Y-You leave h-her alone.”
With the blade still pressed against his neck, I bring my other hand up, grabbing his face, my fingers squeezing and digging into both of his cheeks at the same time. I snarl, “Don’t fuckin’ test me, Larry. We’ll be done when we’re fuckin’ done, understood?” His body trembles with fear while he tries to nod the best he can. “Good.” Pushing his face away from me, I return my blade to its holder on the left side of my belt. “I would hate for something to happen to one of our best clients.”
Walking away, I head to the staircase for the basement. Taking one step at a time, I enter our lab. Eight-foot tables are set up with mountains of heroin covering each one. Women, working naked except for gloves, masks, and goggles, line each side of the tables to cut the powder. Prospects trek up and down the length of the basement with guns in their hands, ready and waiting for someone to fuck up.
How our operation works is when we purchase, it’s one hundred percent pure uncut and only the absolute fuckin’ best heroin. Once our suppliers put it in our hands, we bring the supply to one of our houses, and our employees start working on cutting it to dilute the product, getting it ready to sell on the streets. We will make at least triple the money we originally paid for it.
As one of the prospects makes his way toward me, he says, “Hey, Vice Prez.”
“Any problems?” I question.
He shakes his head. “No, all is clear so far. We have bricks ready to be distributed.” I follow him to the end of the first table, where a storage bin sits filled with bricks of product.
I stare down into the bin. “Has it been tested yet?”
He hesitates before answering, “No, not yet.”
I sigh heavily. “Then why the fuck is it packaged?”
“I’m sorry,” he rushes to apologize.
“Listen, everyone,” I shout, getting everyone’s attention. The prospects stop walking; the women stop working. “Do not package anymore. How many times do I have to say it? The product has to be tested before it’s fuckin’ packaged. Larry is right upstairs; test it on him. Give him a sample and see if the motherfucker dies. If not, he’ll tell you how good the shit is. It’s not that fuckin’ complicated to figure the fuck out.” Pulling my gun from its holster on the right side of my belt, I turn it on the prospect and press it between his eyes. “Do you want to die?”
“No.” His voice quakes.
“If I was reckless with this gun, say my finger was shaky, and I just ac
cidentally pulled the trigger, what would happen?”
He whispers, “I would be dead.”
“Exactly!” I chuckle. “I would have accidentally killed you. So, what would happen if this batch right here had something accidentally go wrong with it?” I press the gun harder between his eyes. “You sent it out without being tested, and then hundreds of fuckin’ people shot that shit into their veins, and they died. Their deaths would be on us, and that’s not a good look for our club even though it would have been an accident. But do you know what wouldn’t be an accident?”
He slowly shakes his head.
“That money we make off of those hundreds of people would die also, and we can’t have that, can we?”
“No.”
“It would be so much better to let one junkie die from a bad batch than hundreds, right?”
He nods frantically. “Yes.”
With my free hand, I grip the back of his neck and pull him closer. I put my gun back in its holder, and his nose touches mine. “You don’t fuck with our money!” I roar in his face, spittle flying from my mouth and hitting him. “Don’t fuck up again, or you’re done with the club!” My eyes move around the room. “That goes for every single one of you!”
He bends over to grab one of the bricks, rushing to correct their mistake. “I’ll go get it tested right now!” I kick out my booted foot in front of him, making him fall to the ground.
“You’ve done enough. I’ll get it tested.” Pulling one of the bricks from the bin, I use my blade to slice through the packaging. I remove some of the heroin and pack it in some saran wrap they had on the table. “Don’t do shit until you hear from me, understood?” I tuck the heroin into the pocket of my jeans. Larry can wait; I have another junkie in mind.
Everyone in the room responds, “Understood.”
I swirl the straw around in my whiskey while sitting at the bar in the clubhouse. “Storm.” The voice behind me makes me smile.
