They both look at me.
“Thought I heard the door open and shut,” I explain.
“Probably a prospect checking it out,” Road offers as a reasonable explanation.
That must be it. I nod.
Twenty years in the future – Drummer
“Once Truck had come back to the club, you didn’t stop trying to get them together.”
Peg’s right. “She’d been good for him. Gave him what he needed, even if he thought he didn’t want it.” As I think back, I remember how sneaky I’d been.
“Would you have still tried to push them together? If you’d been able to see into the future?”
I take a moment to consider the question. At the time I had seen nothing beyond two people who had a need for each other. Truck needed someone to lean on, a friend, a companion and a lover. Someone who’d have his back and always be there for him. Allie, with her compassionate spirit and common sense approach to life which had been gained from experience not read in books, was just right for him.
She needed an escape from the life she’d fallen into. I’d had no doubts had her family been supportive, she’d never have ended up living the way she had. Oh, she liked sex, I knew that from experience, but hopping from one bed to another out of duty, that wasn’t the woman she was underneath.
Peg’s right, I had pushed them together, thinking I was doing right at the time. But the suffering that followed was something I’d never expected. There were no signs, nothing had served as a warning.
“We all suffered, Peg.” I take another sip of my whisky. “Christ, that year, fifteen months. Some of the worst trauma I’d ever seen in the club.”
“It was longer than that. Took years for them to fully recover.”
He’s right. None of us were unaffected. We’d faced up to our enemies, I’d killed men with my bare hands, but none of us had had the skills to fight what was coming.
“I don’t know,” I answer him at last. “If a crystal ball had warned me what was on the horizon, maybe I’d have done something different. Sent Allie away, kept them apart…”
“Two souls may still have gravitated together,” he observes in his wise way. “Not saying you did wrong, Drummer. But you’re right, those were dark days.”
Chapter Sixteen
Allie…
I want to kill Marvel.
As I stand, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me, I wonder, what else did I expect? Men here are never going to see me any differently. Angry at myself, I wipe a useless tear from my eye.
I’d gone shopping as I’d planned, spent some of Drummer’s money buying some more of the fifties’ style clothes I’ve fallen in love with, thinking I’m finding my style which isn’t wearing hooker clothes. Buying cosmetics, and perfume that wasn’t heavy with musk. As I’d put on my new clothes and lightly covered my face with the minimum of makeup, I’d been filled with confidence. I’m becoming a new woman, perhaps discovering the me that had been underneath the whole time.
I’d started my shift playing bartender, and all went well. Sam had actually remarked how much the dress suited me. While Sophie and Becca had given me shrewd looks, I brushed off the thought that they may think this was just another attempt to steal their men. I knew it would take a long time to convince them I wasn’t a threat anymore.
Sure, I’d had admiring glances, but not the lewd ones I used to get. Even Tommy had noticed.
“Allie!”
“Hi Tommy.” I smiled at him. “Want a soda?” At his eager nod, I found the cola that he loves and I kept a special stock of just for him, and passed the can over the bar.
He’d stared, then said shyly, “You look pretty.”
“Aw, Tommy. Thank you.” It’s odd that his compliment made me blush. “That’s sweet of you.”
“Tommy sweet,” he grinned back, nodding vigorously.
“Whatcha up to?”
“Washing bikes.”
With that explanation which seems to remind him what he’s supposed to be doing, he wandered off.
Hound had caught my eye and winked. Tommy’s care when he cleans the machines he’s so in awe of means he’s trusted to do the job he loves, and which the other prospects find tedious.
After Tommy left, I continued to enjoy myself until Truck came in. I noticed he looked like he was hurting, but it was understandable after overhearing he’d been working out with Peg. I hoped the sergeant-at-arms wasn’t being too hard on him.
Seeing him had been difficult, but I forced myself to politely hand over a beer to him, and then take myself elsewhere. But a summons for another drink had me back in his direction in time for Marvel to try and draw me into their conversation. A few well-placed sentences which reminded me I could change how I look, but never the way these men saw me.
I’m a whore. In their eyes, I always will be. No wonder Truck said what he did. A sweet butt never becomes an old lady.
“Where did you disappear to?” Pussy, looking flushed, reappears from the direction of the crash rooms, and beckons to a bottle behind me.
I pour her a vodka. “Drummer’s given me one of the suites.”
“Wow.” Her eyes open wide. “You too good for us now?”
I shrug. “He offered, I accepted.”
She barks a laugh. “You’re leaving me with the terrible twosome?”
I hadn’t thought about that. Diva and Paige came here at the same time, and had been working the streets together long before that. I open my mouth to apologise, when Pussy stops me.
“I don’t blame you. You’ve got a chance to get out of this life. Me? I’m stuck with it for as long as they want me.”
“You ever think about doing something else?”
She considers my question seriously. “I enjoy biker cock too much. I worry about getting old, but, hey. I’ve got a few years left in me yet. They,” she throws her head back, “are getting older as well.”
Doesn’t mean they won’t prefer someone younger.
“Watch Marvel,” she leans in and warns. “He was pretty angry. Said something about whores who don’t know their place.”
I had wondered about her sudden appearance. She’d taken the heat off me by attracting Marvel’s attention. He isn’t going to cause trouble for me, is he? I nod my thanks for her warning, while worrying what would happen if he complains to Drummer. Would the Prez have my back? Probably not if the men start questioning why I’m still here. I am not an old lady, I’m under no one’s protection. Maybe I’ll need to get on with making those plans for my future, sooner rather than later.
At least Truck’s having fun, I notice as my eyes catch sight of him.
He hasn’t come back to the bar, but Road’s kept him supplied with beer. Marvel, his appetite having been satisfied by Pussy, is sitting with them, and they’ve been joined by Shooter and Drifter. Someone’s got out a deck of cards, and by the groans, Truck seems to be winning.
“You look tired, Al. Want me to take over for a while? Close down for you?”
The prospect, Hound, has appeared in front of me.
I am tired. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Nah. Not many left here now. They’ll all be gone soon. I’ll need to be tidying up anyway, might as well serve a few beers. Ain’t no hardship, Al.”
I take him up on his offer. I am tired, but before I go to bed, I’ll have to think about jobs that don’t need skills or education. Now I’ve realised the Satan’s Devils will never change their view of me, I know I’ll have to move on. And soon, before Marvel complains about me and tries to pressure me to return to my previous line of work.
I leave via the kitchen, stopping to make myself a sandwich, then carry it up to my suite. I’m putting the key into my door, when the main one opens behind me. Like any female would, I turn to check who it is.
It’s the last man I expected to see.
Truck.
“What are you doing here?” we both ask simultaneously,
He waves to indicate
I should answer first.
“Drummer’s given me this suite.”
His eyebrows turn down and meet in a V. “He’s given me that one.” He indicates the opposite door.
Well. This is awkward.
“I’m going to bed.”
I turn the key in the lock. Suddenly a hand comes down and covers mine, preventing me from pushing on the handle.
“Al, look. I’m sorry for what Marvel said. But…”
“But it’s what everyone’s thinking, Truck. What you’re thinking,” I huff. “A leopard can’t change its spots.”
He looks down to where his hand covers mine, then sighs. “I’m sorry, Allie.”
Yes. He’s sorry that he can only see me that way too.
“I’m going to leave.”
“Leave?” his eyes sharpen.
“It’s the only thing I can do.” Drummer may have suggested that I give him time, that he’ll come to see me as something else, but he won’t. Not when his brothers are comparing stories about what I used to do. If he ever dared show he was interested in me as a woman, they’d never let him forget my past. Probably ask him if I still use my tongue a certain way, whether I deep throat him how I used to do them. I can’t move on and leave my past behind me, not while I’m still here.
I might be uneducated, but I’m not stupid. Truck isn’t going to come around given time, and I’m not leaving in the hopes that he’d follow me, even if I was able to land a job which didn’t involve working on my back. My past will always be there, always be between us.
A look of anguish comes over his face, and he pulls his hand back, allowing me to go into my room. But as it no longer feels like the sanctuary I thought Drummer had been offering me, not when Truck’s staying next door, I hesitate before stepping inside.
What if he brought Diva, Paige or Pussy back to his room?
I can’t stand even thinking about his cock being near anyone else.
If I was still a sweet butt, I’d have an excuse to try to get into his bed.
But even as the thought comes to me, I know I’ve moved on. If the only way to have Truck is to pretend to be something deep down, I’m not, I won’t go there. Suddenly I know, when I find a man, I don’t want to share.
Would I ever find someone?
Not while I can’t get a scarred biker out of my head.
He turns to go into his room, stumbling when he puts his weight on his left leg, and swearing quietly.
“Peg went hard on you, didn’t he?”
“You could say that,” he replies through gritted teeth, putting his hand down to rub his sore muscles.
I hate seeing him in pain. “I could massage that for you.”
His face hardens. “Massage,” he repeats. Then growls, “Not having you anywhere near my dick, Allie. Don’t even think about it.”
I open my mouth, then shut it. I wasn’t offering anything other than to ease his pain, but I doubt he’ll believe that.
It’s at that point I realise the futility of getting him to see me as anything different. He doesn’t, and will never, trust me.
And he’s never going to trust I can leave my past behind.
Without saying anything else, I push down on the handle, open my door, step inside and close it without waiting to see him disappear into his.
I could let the events of this evening overwhelm me, or I could use them as a kick up my ass to get on with my life which won’t involve anything connected with the Satan’s Devils.
The next morning I go down to the clubhouse, and knock on the office door next to Drummer’s.
As I expected, Mouse is where he normally is, half hidden behind his banks of computers and screens. The thick air also comes as no surprise, tinged as it is by the strong smell of cannabis.
Mouse looks up, eyes me, then nods toward the seat opposite as he lights up a joint.
“Allie, what can I do for you?”
Mouse, like Peg, was one of the brothers who never used a whore’s services. Now he’s got his own old lady, he’ll never have need to. It’s refreshing to speak to a man who has no carnal knowledge of me, or expectations in that direction.
I stare down at my hands. This is embarrassing, the resolve I’d had when I left my suite begins to disappear now that I’m faced with one of the most intelligent men on the compound.
He gives me the time to gather my thoughts. Before the silence grows too awkward, I break it.
“I need to look for a job, Mouse. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d appreciate some help.”
He digests that. “You want a laptop so you can put in some applications?”
I could nod, get out of here with a borrowed device, and then… be no further forward than I am now. “I can’t read, or spell,” I admit, my voice deathly quiet.
A stare, but it’s not critical.
“What sort of things are you looking for, Allie?”
I shrug. “Waitressing, bartending. Something like that.”
“What about the Wheel Inn?”
“I sort of wanted to get away from the Satan’s Devils.” I bite my lip, hoping he doesn’t question why.
He’s still staring. “Sandy would be a good boss, Allie. And it caters to anyone, not just bikers.”
I’m not so sure about Sandy. Until Sam, Viper’s daughter, arrived on the compound, her old man used to get blow jobs from the whores. In his eyes, he wasn’t cheating on her, just getting what he didn’t get at home. None of us ever knew what she thought about that, but expected he was doing it with her full knowledge. And none of us ever turned him down because he had an old lady. Not that we had the choice. A member asked, and we complied. It was what we were there for after all.
“You find a job you want to apply for, I’ll help you. But talk to Sandy, Allie. You might find she has something for you. Have you thought about going into town and approaching likely establishments?”
I prefer his second idea to his first. I haven’t. I’ve no clue how you go about finding work except for standing on street corners. “That’s a good idea, Mouse. Thank you. I’ll do that.”
As I go to leave, Mouse stubs out his joint in the ashtray, and stands, leaning over the table. “I admire you, Allie. Not many girls try to get out of the life, at least not before it’s eaten them up and spat them out.”
He might admire me, but I certainly don’t feel very admirable.
Chapter Seventeen
Truck…
What’s Prez up to?
Why the fuck has he given Allie the suite next to mine? He’s cramped my style, that’s for certain. I can’t bring anyone back to my room, can’t rub her face in someone else having what I’ve made quite plain she can’t have.
If I want to go with a sweet butt, I’ll have to take her to a crash room. Even then I’d be followed by Allie’s puppy dog eyes watching me from the bar.
Well, that would emphasize it’s not her I want, just a cunt to sink my cock into.
But I’d be lying.
I don’t think she’d been offering the massage I immediately saw in my head. I think Allie was offering comfort and a release from pain. But my brain immediately went there, and I was probably far too harsh, but how else could I push her away? It wasn’t her I couldn’t trust to keep her hands to herself, but me.
The thought of her innocent touch trying to ease the kinks from the muscles in my leg would have made me hard in seconds. I couldn’t have hidden how much I wanted her touch to rise higher.
Fuck. I walk into my room and into the shower. Sure, the hot water will do wonders for my sore limbs, and my undamaged thank fuck right hand can relieve my aching dick.
My thoughts about staying in the clubhouse are sorely challenged. If it wasn’t for the fact I had the prospect transport my heavy bed and wardrobe from my apartment, I’d have walked out and gone back home.
Which is stupid. I give myself a pep talk, weighing up the pros and cons. Here I have a gym, a taskmaster who’s proved he’s going to push me, brothers to
drink with, and should I want them, women to fuck. I’m not lonely, my scar isn’t stared at or criticised, and apart from Eli begging to let him see me take out my fake eye—which I hadn’t—no one mentions my injuries at all. To them, it appears, it doesn’t matter.
Even the babies hadn’t started screaming. When six-year-old Amy had seen me, she offered me a band aid, then wasn’t bothered and lost interest when I said it wasn’t hurting, and covering the angry red lines on my face wouldn’t help. Then she’d become fascinated with my missing fingers, feeling the stumps that remain with no sign of disgust, just interest.
The old ladies didn’t give me fake sympathy. Darcy, obviously, wanted the details of precisely what had happened from a purely professional interest, but no one else seemed to want to know the minutiae of what had gone down.
Here, I can breathe. I can become whatever I’m able to. With these men beside me, having my back, I can do the best with what nature’s left me.
The pros of staying here form a very long list.
The cons? Well, there’s only one entry on that side. Allie.
Slamming my fist to my brow, I wonder why I’m letting her presence here unnerve me.
As the days pass, I find myself doing some stupid half-hearted attempts to avoid her. If I hear her door open at the same time as I’m going out, I wait until she leaves, watching her stride down the track from my balcony. Only to make sure she’s gone of course, though why, in that case, are my eyes fixed to her ass?
When I’ve been in the clubroom I’ve asked a prospect to bring me my beers, rather than getting them myself. Of course, I feel her eyes burning into me, but refuse even to look her way.
“I was like that,” observes Jekyll one night.
“Like what?” Hyde asks, looking at his watch, then nodding to have another hand of cards dealt to him.
“Soon as I was patched in. Getting the prospects to do everything for me.”
“I remember,” Hyde observes, drily.
Yeah, I’d heard the story. Hyde was patched in six months later than Jekyll. Must have been annoying to be at the beck and call of a man he prospected with.
Truck Stopped: Satan's Devils MC #11 Page 15
