by Bourne, Lena
In the distance, I can hear bikes approaching. Horse looks in the direction the sound is coming from, then turns to me when two bikers turn the corner onto our street.
“There’s our replacement now,” he says. “And these guys ain’t prospects either.”
I’ll have to take his word for it, since I’ve yet to be introduced to most of the other club members. So far, I’ve only met Griff, Horse, Piston and a couple of younger guys they seem to hang out with all the time.
“You can get that dinner now,” Horse informs me. “But be at the bar by nine. Griff wants you to meet the execs and introduce yourself to them.”
I nod, keeping my face neutral to this news. Being introduced to the execs is more than I hoped for. In fact, it’s weird that it’s happening so soon. I’m untried and unknown, and the only reason I’m around is because I saved Griff’s sons and he hired me to watch their backs. Is that why I’m meeting the execs? Or does Griff suspect I’m not who I say I am? Do some of the others?
I assure Horse I’ll be there then take off before the other bikers even reach us. I gotta call Cross and tell him about this.
* * *
The town’s streets are not exactly jam-packed, but none of them are empty either, since it’s that time of day when most people are off work and running errands. There’s just enough cars and pedestrians on every street I turn down that it’s impossible to be sure I’m not being followed.
What if the Sinners suspect I’m not who I say I am? What if the meeting tonight is actually my date with an execution?
I ride fast, trying to outdistance those fears. What choice do I have? If I want to stay here, I gotta go to the meeting.
Eventually, I find myself in the business district of the town. A couple of men in business suits are smoking by the entrance to a plaza with a dry fountain in the center, while a janitor pushes a cart across it, going from one trash can to another to empty it. The cars driving by here are few and far between, and all are dark, business-like sedans. I’m about as certain as I can be that I’m not being followed as I stop at a taco truck parked on the sidewalk in front of a glass high rise building.
I’m not a huge fan of Mexican food, and I just had it last night, but the truck is parked in a nice open area with excellent views to all sides, and few places to hide for whoever, if anyone, is following me.
I eat beside my bike, turning this way and that every so often and absolutely nothing catches my eye as being out of the ordinary. More businessmen pass me, including two women in sensible, dark, knee-length skirts and blazers, interest plain in their eyes and their coy smiles as they eye me. I ignore them. I’ve never been attracted to goodie-goodies, and besides, one woman to worry about is more than enough at any one time. None of them stopped at the taco truck, while I was finishing my food, I’m now actually more worried about getting sick from the meat than being followed.
It’s time to go make the call.
I ride out to the gas station me and Stormi passed on the way out of town last night, then go straight into the toilet. This place is sort of on the way to the clubhouse, and stopping here is something I can explain away if anyone saw me, much easier than I can explain being seen talking on the phone somewhere outside.
The toilet is empty, but it smells like more than one someone died in here recently. The floors and even the walls are streaked with dirt in all shades of black and brown. The toilet bowl in the stall I enter is encrusted with something so dark green it’s almost black. Thankfully, Cross answers on the second ring.
“How’s everything, Ace?” he asks.
“Better than we hoped for. Or worse,” I say.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, into the split-second pause I made to take a breath.
“Can I talk plain?” I ask him.
“Yeah, it’s a secure line,” Cross says.
“They bought my story and took me in without a problem. Griff even gave me the job of watching over his sons. He wants to introduce me to the execs tonight,” I blurt out, talking fast in an effort to fix my blunder before.
When I finish, Cross doesn’t say anything into the silence right away.
“I’m hearing that you doubt it’s a reward sort of thing for saving his sons?” he finally asks.
“When he asked me to watch over his sons, it seemed like something he wanted me to do on the low-down, like a favor to him personally, not so much the club, so I thought it meant he trusted me. But meeting the execs so soon…I don’t know…it seems like it’s happening too soon.”
“Yeah,” he says after another long pause. “Do you think it’s a trap?”
The only thing my gut is telling me clearly is that I gotta go back and get Stormi if I’m gonna leave. As for the rest, it’s still a complete toss up.
“I think I should go to the meeting,” I say. “If it’s legit, it’s my ticket in, just like we planned. If not, I’ll get myself out. I think I can handle a bunch of Sinners. They’re not exactly stellar at anything, from what I’ve seen so far.”
“When’s the meeting?” he asks.
“Nine, at the clubhouse,” I tell him. “In Griff’s office, which is behind the bar.”
“Call this number by ten, a missed call will do,” he says. “Otherwise I’ll assume it went wrong.”
“Yeah, will do,” I say, swallowing hard.
“We’ll be in place to get you out,” Cross adds and suddenly my chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy and stuffed up as it did a second ago.
I’ve never been afraid to die, but it still feels good knowing my brothers are near and watching my back.
“And the snitching?” Cross asks. “Did you find anything out yet?”
“Not much,” I admit reluctantly. “Though the sons seem to believe they can do whatever they want, even in front of multiple witnesses.”
Predictably, he asks me to explain more fully, and I give him a full report of yesterday’s incident at the construction site. I also tell him all about Griff’s subtle hints that he’s about to move against the Knights and us.
“You’re right, it’s not much,” Cross says once I’m done talking. “But things are moving in the right direction.”
The main door opens with the sound of hard plastic hitting tile and I mutter, “Gotta go”, and hang up.
I stuff the phone in my pocket, rattle the toilet paper dispenser for a bit then flush and exit my stall, hoping the guy who came in didn’t hear me talking. Whoever it was went directly into the other stall, and I don’t linger inside. A bike is now parked on the far side of the gas station, and I’m almost certain it wasn’t there before I entered the toilet.
But I’m no longer as paranoid as I was. I’m sure I can handle my share of the Sinners, and with my brothers standing by to offer backup, I got nothing to worry about at all.
10
Stormi
Horse was livid. I don’t think Ace realized just how angry he was. When Horse is angry, he’ll do crazy shit. I’ve seen it, I’ve almost lost my life to it. I didn’t want it to happen again right then and there, so I played nice with Horse, apologized like a good girl even though it made bile come up my throat, and fled. I was protecting both of us, and I have no idea if it worked, but it’s the only way I knew how.
Horse didn’t follow me inside like I expected him to, and him and Ace have both been gone all day. I wish they’d come back soon, if for no other reason than so I can finally find out if Ace is even coming back. Horse has killed for dumb slights.
Less than two months ago, me and Brenda spent all night scrubbing out blood that had soaked into the untreated wooden floorboards of the bar after some guy dared to suggest Horse has a tiny cock. He does. That’s why that guy is now dead. I’ve been seeing his face all afternoon, the moment when his mocking smile changed to the shock of being dead playing and replaying in my mind. Did the same thing happen to Ace today? Somewhere far from here? Will I never see him again? Please, no.
It’s almost eight and th
e bar is still mostly empty, though that’s not so unusual for a weeknight. It’ll start filling up around nine or ten. A group of the older guys are drinking in the corner, talking to each other and ignoring everyone else, Brenda, Piston and me. I’m leaning on the counter, staring at the door, and trying not to think. Brenda and Piston are talking, but it’s all just noise to me.
She’s been putting the moves on him lately, and every once in a while her bubbly giggles reach me. They make me sick. Piston might not be as bad as Horse, but he’s not a good guy either. Whatever nasty, sick, violent thing Horse starts, Piston always helps him finish.
Griff startles me as he storms out into the bar after opening the back door so fast and hard that it bangs against the wall. He barks a few sharp words to Piston, who then follows him to the back like the obedient little dog he is. Griff and his sons. The big dog and his two little puppies. All three of them are vicious as hell though.
Brenda comes over to my side of the bar to dump Piston’s empty beer bottle in the trashcan at my feet. This is my place. Near the trash. Almost in the trash. Fucking shit, Horse as good told me I’m never getting out of here alive this morning!
I’ve been trying not to think about that, but every so often it just hits me like a bolt of lighting. Ace is probably already dead.
That, more than anything else made me flee that scene this morning the way I did. I know how it works around here—piss off Horse or any of the others and die. That threat has been hanging over my head, since the morning I bought my freedom with my slavery. But to have that fact flung at me in no uncertain terms after I just returned from spending the best night I’ve had in months, in years, was too much for me. And it’s still too much each time it assaults me like this out of the blue.
“So, you and Piston seem to be hitting it off,” I say to Brenda in a biting yet quiet voice. My anger and my fear need an outlet, or I’ll lose the last few of my marbles right here and now. “You do still remember he killed Josh in cold blood over a couple thousand dollars, right?”
She straightens up from dumping the bottle in the trash can and just glares at me. The stony, dark anger on her face is making mine flare even higher. Anger is better than sadness. I always knew that. I’ve always lived by that knowledge. So I don’t feel any sadness, or pity, or compassion for her, or for myself, as I glare back. Those things are useless beyond words. I learned that early. When no one cared about my sick sister, my grandmother, my absent mother, my unknown father, me as I took every job I could to help ends meet. I sucked off my gym teacher for money when I was fourteen, for fuck’s sake. But after that, I turned to stealing. It was easier. Until six months ago. Now I’m in hell, paying for all my sins. And a few more receipts have come due today. What else is new?
“I plan to stay alive and I will have an easy life while I do it,” Brenda responds in a near-silent whisper that somehow still cuts like a knife. “Piston isn’t like the rest of them. And he’s sorry for what happened. It was an accident.”
I snort at that. “Right. They were gonna kill us that night too. You do realize that, right? We were gonna bleed out into the dirt just like Josh did, if I hadn’t spoken up.”
“How could I forget,” she says, grinning meanly. “Stormi, my savior. And where’s your savior? I haven’t seen him all day. You sure he’s ever even coming back?”
Her words cut, but not as deep as she meant them to. I’ve spent all day worrying about and imagining Ace dying. I’m so tired from that I just can’t care anymore. Not for myself, not for Ace, not for anything or anyone. Even my sister’s failing health is just a whisper at the edge of my awareness. I have no idea why I’m even still alive. And I’m pretty sure I won’t be for long.
“I don’t need a savior,” I tell her. “And I won’t surrender my soul to the very people who’ve made my life hell like you think I should either. Or like you’re doing. It’s all I have left.”
That’s at the heart of why I’ve refused to listen to her advice to suck up to Horse more, but I’ve never been able to put it into words quite this clearly. Is that because Ace showed me I still have a soul and a heart left last night? God, I hope he’s alright.
The thought, the fervent wish bordering on a prayer, assaults me out of nowhere, making my chest quiver with something that is the exact opposite of burning anger and bottomless despair. It’s so different it just swallows both of those up and makes them nothing.
“Don’t you dare judge me, don’t you dare,” Brenda hisses at me. “I do what I have to do. It’s what I’ve always had to do.”
“You’re the one who’s always judging and criticizing me, and giving me advice on how to live my life, Brenda,” I say. “But you can’t take it when I do the same to you? What the fuck?”
I’m not even faking the confusion in my voice. She’s been my best friend since middle school, but I’m seeing her in a whole new light right now. A harsh, unforgiving light. She’s hard through and through. Her skin and flesh are the only soft things left about her.
She just glares at me, and I’m pretty sure she’s not saying anything, because she’s trying not to slap me.
“How about this?” I say sarcastically, even though I’m actually serious. “You do you, and I’ll do me.”
“You’re a cold bitch, Stormi, you know that?” she says, but it’s not really a question. “I gave you advice because I wanted to help you. But if you don’t want my help, that’s fine, I won’t try to help you anymore.”
She turns away from me to leave, but I grab her arm to stop her. “I’m sorry, Brenda. I was too harsh. I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it. But sometimes it sounds like all you do is judge and criticize me.”
The only reason I’m able to say these apologetic words is because Ace just walked in. As soon as he came into the bar, his eyes immediately homed in on mine with laser precision and heat, and all my anger and fear just vanished in a flood of knowing that keeping the ones you care about, the ones who care about you, close, is the most important thing in the world. Brenda is the only real friend I have here. I think Ace could become another. He could be much more than just a friend.
“Fine, apology accepted,” Brenda says stiffly. “And I’ll lay off schooling you.”
I smile and she smiles and then I embrace her, following Ace’s progress across the bar towards the counter. He’s not looking at me anymore. Why? Did Horse warn him to stay away from me?
The thought makes my hear race and my breath come in small painful jabs.
I thought he’d stop at the counter, order a drink and tell me all about his day. But he doesn’t even glance at me as he veers off toward the door that leads to the courtyard.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Brenda and dash after Ace.
I owe him an explanation and a warning. But really, all I’m looking for is a kiss and a hug from him.
“Hey, wait up!” I call after him once I’m outside, since he’s already at the far side of the courtyard and about to enter the clubhouse.
He stops, but doesn’t turn around until I’m almost next to him. That hard nothingness I see in his eyes and face wipes away all my hope for a hug and a kiss. It actually makes me doubt he even recognizes me. Was I wrong? Was all he wanted from me some sex?
“I’m kinda in a hurry here,” he tells me when I reach him.
He’s carrying his saddlebags, the blanket we slept on last night sticking out the top of the left one. Sand is still clinging to its dark red fibers. It gets everywhere, and right now it’s just about the only reminder of the night we spent together. That and my memories. It seems like he doesn’t have any of those.
Where’s the warmth his kisses showed me? Where’s the wide smile he wore as he fed me scrambled eggs off his plate this morning? Where’s the safety of his arm around my shoulders when Horse threatened to kill me? Not in his eyes or anywhere on his face, that’s for sure.
“I hoped you’d be back sooner than this,” I mutter. What I wanted to say is that
I missed him all day, but this is safer to say than that. Clearly he didn’t miss me at all.
“Did you?” he asks and the flash of anger that passes his eyes is as unmistakable as it is confusing. Why is he angry at me?
“Yes,” I say and leave it at that. I wish I could call up some anger of my own, at least a fraction of it, and tell him to go to hell for acting this way, but all I feel is sadness. Not even the crying kind, just the heavy kind that settles in your bones like the cold of a winter night in the desert.
“That surprises me, seeing as you couldn’t get away from me fast enough to suck up to Horse this morning,” he says.
“I…that was…it’s…” I can’t decide how to explain it to him without giving away too much, or too little.
He shakes his head and opens to door to the clubhouse. “You and Horse obviously got something going on, something more than what you’ve told me, and I don’t want to get in the middle of it.” He’s talking into the hallway beyond the door, the flickering yellow light inside casting pitch black shadows across his face. “I won’t be used by you to get revenge on him. I’m new here. I don’t know how things work yet. But I’d prefer to find out the easy way, not the hard way.”
My mouth’s gaping, I know it is, but I can’t close it. Anger’s finally starting to creep in over my sadness, and it’s exploding. I thought he was different. I thought he cared. But he’s just like all the other guys I’ve ever met, here and before here. He’s just looking for an easy lay. A night or two of fun with no strings attached.
“You’re wrong,” I tell him. “The only thing between Horse and me is that he’s trying to break me on top of already keeping me as a slave. The only reason I left you there with him this morning was because I could see how pissed he was at the situation, and you didn’t. He’s fucking insane. He’s killed men over childish jabs. I’ve seen him do it. And I was afraid he’d do something to you, because of how obsessed he is with making my life hell. All day, I cursed myself for not warning you about him. I should’ve warned you last night, or this morning before we came back. But I didn’t want to talk about him.” I pause to catch my breath. Just in time too, because I was about to blurt out that I had the best time of my life with him last night and this morning. It’s true, but he’s never gonna hear it from me, not after how ready he is to toss me aside right now.
