Tainted Love

by RC Christiansen

  It is what it is though, he’s a grown man I figure, so, if he wants to ride without protection, who am I to say otherwise?

  He’s deliberately slow with his speed this morning… probably because he’s not wearing a helmet, fucking brat.

  Annoyed, I pull out ahead of him and engage the clutch and grip the throttle until I hit eighty, feeling the intense pressure of the wind against my chest. I feel free, no longer angry or guilty; it’s just me and the bike navigating together, and I love it.

  I pull in behind the Club and hop off the bike, turning to wait for Pax to enter the lot. I can hear his bike less than thirty feet away as I remove my helmet and stretch. He comes barreling in beside me and comes to a screeching stop, and I can tell he is pissed as he hops off the Harley and fucks with his wind tousled hair.

  “What the fucking fuck, Kirsten? You had to be doing eighty back there! Do you have a fucking death wish?”

  His attitude is complete bullshit… Mr. I don’t have to wear a helmet.

  “No…” I say, crossing my arms, “I was simply trying to have a bonding moment with the bike.”

  “That’s not what that was, and you know it,” he says, yanking the helmet from my hands. “If you can’t be responsible when you ride, you can’t fucking ride, Vix.”

  I scoff and follow him into the Club as he slams the door behind us, pushes me into the wall, and begins searching my pockets.

  “What the fuck, Pax? You’re being an asshole!”

  “And you’re being a brat!”

  “A brat?” I yell. “Oh, I can show you a brat!”

  I bite his arm that’s pressed against my chest holding me in place, but he doesn’t even flinch as he finds my bike keys, waves them in front of my face, and smiles.

  “You are officially grounded,” he says as he shoves them in his pocket.

  “You can’t fucking ground me! They’re my bikes… now give me the keys back.”

  “Or what? You gonna bite me again?”

  I stare at his cocky face, feeling my blood boil and decide to walk away. He is such a dick right now.

  I pour myself a drink and sit at the bar, watching as he pulls out a book and starts to read at one of the tables.

  Seriously? What the fuck? Since when does he read?

  Now I know he’s just being a douchebag and trying to teach me some sort of Pax is boss lesson. He’s probably going through hate-fuck withdrawal, and this is my punishment.

  Without thinking, I launch a beer mug across the room and nail the wall with it, the sound of it shattering on impact startling us both.

  “Are you insane?” Pax growls, slamming his book on the table. “I should record you right now so that you can see how much you look like your crazy mother!”

  Instantly, my hand grabs another mug and I smash it exactly where I stand, as every nerve in my body twitches.

  “Say it again, Whiskey, I fucking dare you!”

  “I don’t think I need to,” he says shaking his head. “I’ll see you later, when you’re done behaving like a lunatic.”

  I watch as he walks toward the door and it takes everything in me not to throw another mug straight at his head.

  When I hear the Harley pull away, my heart sinks in my chest, and I can’t help but feel stupid and pathetic, I’m behaving exactly like my mother, and I know it.

  By the time I get the shards of glass swept up, I feel much calmer and pour myself a drink while I sit, thinking. I know I need to get this burden off of my chest already. I have to tell Pax the truth so we can move on and I can stop being such a bitch.

  I start the long ass walk up the Hill, thinking of all the ways I can break the news to Pax, also contemplating all of the various ways I can apologize. Not just for lying either, or for supporting Verna financially in her decision to cut ties with a part of their past. What I really need to apologize for is losing my temper and treating him the way I did, but I’m not sorry about speeding on the bike, that was absolutely on purpose.

  I finally reach the house after an hour of walking and I head to the back. Not finding Pax in the guesthouse I wander over to the main house, knowing he’s probably hounding Natasha for something to eat. I enter through the kitchen, spotting both sets of bike keys on the countertop. I shove them in my pocket and head into the sitting room.

  “Pax, what the fuck are you up to?” I call out. “We need to talk about a few things.”

  He isn’t answering me as I make my way through the foyer and head upstairs. I can hear the sound of the shower running in the washroom and laugh to myself; he totally would want to shower in the main house. It’s like a spa in there and so much more luxurious than the guesthouse.

  I turn the corner and see Pax as my heart stops dead. I inch my way closer and stare at his ink covered arms wrapped around what appears to be my mother’s naked frame through the fog of the shower door. I take yet another step closer, feeling dizzy, but I shake my head and I’m not damn well leaving until I know it’s her… and motherfucker, it’s her all right, I couldn’t possibly mistake those bleach-blonde locks.

  You’ve seen enough, I tell myself, as I back away and stagger into the hall trying to find my composure. I breathe in deep, begging myself not to overreact, not to cry, just put one foot in front of the other.

  Escaping out the back door, I stop in the middle of the yard, my heart pounding in my chest, and the tears streaming down my face.

  Kings don’t fucking cry, stop crying!

  It hurts to breathe, and I’m caught in a moment of madness wondering if I should grab a fucking butcher knife and kill that cunt. God knows I want to. Fuck it.

  I glance over at the lawn tractor and smile as I wipe my face on my sleeve and swallow. I can’t help but laugh as I crash the thing through the patio doors and straight into the sitting room as glass falls all around me, and I don’t give a single fuck as I hit the lever and turn on the blade. The sound of it grinding up the rug under the tires is fascinating, and I can’t help but continue to drive it into every table and piece of furniture, cursing Satan’s name until I look around and see that the entire room is now just as scratched and broken as I feel.

  I leave the thing running and hop off before I saunter my way into the garage and key the fuck out of the Beamer and Mother’s Cadillac, making good and sure I leave my name where she can see it. Then I start that shit with fingerprint command and back it the fuck right through the garage door. The impact sends wood chunks flying all around me, nailing the roof, and landing all over the driveway.

  I put it in park, storm back inside, and straddle the Hog before I start and rev the engine as the exhaust billows in while I walk it backward as far as it will go until I hit the wall. I watch the gauge until the RPM’s hit max and then I punch it out of the garage as I hit the throttle again and open her up. Fuck you guys! I think to myself; I’m seething inside.

  Those fucks are so lucky I don’t have a Goddamn gun. The tears just keep coming, making it hard to see, making me more livid. The angrier I get, the harder I turn the throttle as the pounding in my mind and chest fill me with nothing but rage.

  I barrel through the stop sign and keep the bike pinned to the max as I see the Club approach up ahead. I’m not sure if the Harley can take out a wall but I’m about to find out. I laugh to myself. I glance at the speedometer, happy as fuck to see it redlining as I shut my eyes and let the bike take me through the tin wall. The sound is extremely loud as I slam down as hard as I can on both brakes, the tires screeching as I blow through the bar counter and come to a hard stop. Bottles of liquor smash all around me and the rush is like nothing I’ve ever felt. I shakily dismount the bike and look behind me at the damage, stunned I’m still alive.

  I guess it helps being the daughter of Satan.

  I’m positive it’s the adrenaline coursing through me that’s keeping me going as I chug from the bottle of Jack and slide down the wall to the floor.

  Think, Kirsten, what are you doing… what’s next?

>   My hands are trembling as I try to get a grip on myself, wondering where to go from here. Angered that my lips taste like Pax, I smash the bottle against the floor as hard as I can and reach for the gin.

  My world is a fucking sham and I realize that no matter how much money I have, it’s useless when I have nowhere to go when it falls apart.

  I feel my phone buzz in my jacket and squint my eyes to see it’s Pax on Satan’s phone. I don’t care what his excuse is, I always knew this would happen. I ignore his messages, dump the bottle of gin over the phone, and pick up my helmet that rolled its way over to the wall and I smile.

  That which doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger, right, Satan?

  I pull myself to my feet, shove my helmet on, and make my way out to the Ninja, happy I took both sets of keys.

  Fuck you, Pax, if you think you’re ever gonna find me. Hearing sirens in the distance, it’s safe to assume I’ve been ratted on, so I take one last look around and leave the Hill, knowing there is nothing left for me here.

  I don’t know where I’m going but I plan to drive this bike until it runs out of gas and then figure it out from there. Maybe I’ll become a drifter, who the fuck knows… I mean shit, who needs a home that feels like the pit of hell. Who needs a boyfriend either? Not me goddamnit. Not me.

  I continue to tell myself it’ll all be fine, I’ll be okay if I just keep driving, embrace the spirit of the highway and the road that will lead me away from the pain.

  Away from the truth.

  Away from hell.

  I make it another eighty miles before I have to pull over to fuel at the rest stop. It’s dark and I’m literally exhausted, no longer running on adrenaline and heartache.

  After I fill the gas tank and park the bike behind a motel just in case that piece of dick is looking for me, I wander inside and pay for a room. It’s a shoddy looking place but what does it matter? I’m not on vacation, I’m on the run.

  Inside the room, I toss the keys onto the table, march straight for the minibar, and chug back the first airplane bottle I see, trying to stuff down my urge to cry. The only person I want to talk with about this is Whiskey, God, why the fuck is that? UGH!!!

  Who was I kidding anyway? Me and Pax… as if we would have made it anywhere great together in this life. I’m a liar and he’s a cheat. We come from two different worlds and I was an idiot to think I could ever outdo my mother’s tactics. God! I was so stupid!

  I savagely twist off another plastic bottle cap and slam the contents, exhaling the burn of the alcohol, but it sure as shit isn’t helping me right now. There is only one thing that will help me at this point, and I know it.

  I grab my purse and head outside; the air is cool as I scan the dark street for anything that resembles a bar. Up ahead, I see a flickering sign and start walking in its direction until I get close enough to see it’s some kind of biker hang out.

  It’ll have to do. I walk closer and study a solid row of motorcycles lined up in the parking lot and instantly feel unnerved about what I’m doing, until Pax’s face floods my mind and the pain in my chest reminds me why I’m here.

  I lean against the brick wall, debating if I should go in or just wait out here as the faint sound of classic rock music echoes through the wall. I’m cold and tired but I know I won’t be able to sleep with these horrible feelings of hate weighing down on me like this.

  The bell chime on the bar door makes me jump as I take in three men exiting. Two of them look mean and burley, kind of like Pax except bigger with long dark hair and less tattoos. The other is shorter than the first two, his hair blond, also long, and they are all wearing matching leather vests.

  The blond one stops to light a cigarette and drops his lighter. As he turns around to pick it up, he halts and his green eyes lock solid on mine. Then he crosses his arms, looks me over from head to toe, and taps his buddy on the shoulder.

  “What do we have here?” he asks, smiling waywardly. “You lookin’ for a ride somewhere honey?”

  I shrug, my heart pounding as the other two men stand there and light up cigarettes as well.

  The first one bends down to pick up his lighter and then walks closer to me, lighting and then blowing the smoke from his cigarette in my direction. He’s not more than four feet from me as he reaches out his hand and offers me the cigarette.

  “The names Chiv,” he says bluntly, “and there’s no need to be shy, sweetheart, what’s your name?”

  I take the cigarette and smile.

  “Vixen… and I’m not shy,” I inform as I take a drag. “I’m horny.”

  “Is that right?” he asks cunningly. “I think I can you help you out with that… in fact, I think the three of us could take you on a wild ride if you’re down for some group action.”

  I look behind him at his friends and take another drag, thinking about it. It would absolutely fuck with my bleak reality and I’m always down for a good fuck, but this is a tad over the top, even for me.

  Shit, how am I going to get myself out of this one?

  I flick an ash on the ground and exhale the smoke into Chiv’s face, doubting his name is short for Chivalry.

  “Just you, not your friends, and only if you have protection on you… do you?” I ask, trying to hide the crack in my voice.

  “No… but I sure as fuck do!” Pax growls.

  I hear the click of what I think is a shotgun being loaded as my heart jumps into my throat. I turn slowly, my eyes wide as I take in his angered expression as he stands to my right aiming the gun at the three of them.

  “Get the fuck in the car, Vixen.”

  I look behind him and sure as shit, he drove the Beamer here, great.

  “Fuck you, Pax. I’m about to have a really nice time with Chiv here, so if you’d kindly fuck off with that thing it’d be greatly appreciated.”

  “Yeah, man, you heard the lady,” Chiv echoes.

  I jolt as Pax fires a warning shot into the air, and the sound rattles through my head and the shell casing hits the ground.

  “Next one’s gonna blow your fucking dick off, man, so I’d suggest you get a fucking move on and take your weasel friends with you.”

  Chiv raises his hands in surrender and begins to back away slowly.

  “Whatever, you nutjob. The bitch came down here looking for us, but you can fucking have her.”

  “I know I can, and I will,” he says still pointing the gun at them. “Now get your ass in the fucking car before you make me shoot someone goddamnit!”

  I look at him and shake my head.

  “I don’t give two fucks what you do anymore, so you can take that thing and shove it up Satan’s ass for all I care.”

  I walk away, fuming inside. I’m so angry my nails are digging into my palms and I feel like I’m going to unleash the wrath of fury on his ass.

  Hearing the car door slam and lock behind me, I keep walking, listening to his footsteps trailing behind.

  “Will you please just stop and talk to me, Vixen?”

  “No, just fuck off and go back to the Hill, Pax.”

  “I’m not going back there until you hear me out. I don’t know what you think you saw—”

  I turn instantly and backhand him so hard in his face, I groan from the fleet of pain it shoots through my knuckles.

  “Stop fucking following me! I can’t listen to this bullshit! You fucking wrecked everything, Pax. You are a stupid drifter and I hate you for destroying us!” I yell, pounding my fists on his chest. “And you know what else? I paid your fucking family to disappear because even they can’t fucking stand you! You’re a liar, a cheat, and a fucked-up degenerate and the only thing you were ever good for was hate-fucking and bootlegging, now stay the fuck. Out. Of. My Way!”

  He grabs my wrists, shakes me hard, and growls, completely unnerving me.

  “Are you fucking done now?”

  His eyes are raging into mine and his face is riddled with hurt as I work to recover my breathing, holding back my pooling tears and
my urge to bite him.

  “Let go of me.”

  “No. Not until you listen.”

  I try to pull my wrists from his grip, but I can’t.

  “Ugh! God, I hate you! And I need a fucking drink. Just let go so I can walk back to the motel and get one… okay?”

  “Fine,” he says letting go, “I need one too.”

  “Fuck you if you think I’m sharing, asshole.”

  “Fuck you if you think you’re not,” he undertones.

  “Shut up and stop trying to talk to me.”

  He mutters something under his breath as I keep walking, taking strides as big as I can trying to put distance between us. He smells so fucking good; it’s annoying and I hate being near him.

  I know I can’t outrun him and I know whatever he has to say is probably going to destroy me even worse than he already has… but what really sucks the most is that somehow, even with all of this pain, I still love the stupid asshole.

  Ten

  What the Fuck?

  I rummage through my pocket for the key card to the room as Pax stands leaning against the wall by the door, watching me silently with his stupid sad face.

  Fucking douchebag.

  Why does being so angry with him always seem to make him more appealing to me?

  I can’t believe he fucked my mother and yet the only thing I want to do right now is grab him by the ponytail and hate-fuck the hell out of him.

  What is wrong with me? Fuck!

  And to make things even more awkward, I swear he damn well knows it with the way he’s standing there all sexy with his inked arms crossed like he’s done nothing wrong at all.

  I push the door open and show him in, pointing at the table. The further he stays away the better.

  He clears his throat and flips the chair around so he can straddle the seat, a total Pax move that says he wants to have a serious talk.