by Emma Creed
“That’s not the bit I’m worried about… well not as much.” He starts turning all weird again. “Look, girls like Maddy, I assume have, like base rules and all that kinda shit.”
I give him a look that tells him he’s gonna have to be a lot more specific. “Dirty Souls school of fuckery, kinda skipped past the whole first base unit,” he tells me scratching the back of his neck internally cringing, and I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I do a good job of holding off both.
“You know what, this was a real bad idea. I’m gonna get going. I’ll figure it out.” He turns ready to leave.
“No, wait.” I stop him standing up by tugging at his arm. “Of course I’ll try to help you. I’m just a little shocked that’s all, you’re telling me you’ve never kissed anyone?” He’s silent for a while and eventually lets out a long breath before he answers.
“I’ve only been with women from here,” he admits.
“You mean club sluts like Mel, right?” As much as I hate him suffering, I can’t resist a sly dig, purely for my benefit.
“Right.” He nods. “And those kinda girls get shared around, not that that shit bothers me. I always glove up. But when it comes to kissing, I can’t think of anyone who would willingly put their mouth near anywhere Squealer’s put his dick. You get what I’m sayin’?” He looks at me, and we both pull the same face at the thought. “Well, not without some kinda tongue condom on or some shit,” Jessie adds, and we both laugh before things turn serious again.
“Anyway, kissing’s kind of personal, you’ve seen how Skid kisses Carly, there’s more to it than just sticking your tongue down a bitches throat. It ain't ramming your dick in someone to get yourself off. You need real feelings to kiss someone.”
“And that’s what you want with Maddy? What Skid and Carly have?” I ask the question, dreading the answer because I know it’s gonna shatter me to pieces.
“I don’t know what the fuck I want with that girl.” He slumps back and draws his fingers through his hair. “I know this whole thing is a bad idea, but I can’t stop it, Hayley, I’ve tried. I’ve tried staying away from her but I can’t. It’s selfish, but the thought of her being with anyone else stops me breathing. You understand, right?”
“Yeah, I understand,” I assure him, trying to catch a breath of my own while holding tears in at the same time. I take his hand in mine. Despite every single one of his words stinging me raw, I see real pain behind his eyes.
“You got nothing to worry about,” I tell him softly. “When the time comes, just tell her everything you just told me, only do it without words.” He looks at me a little confused and when the penny drops, he half smiles back at me.
“You think I’m doing the wrong thing?” he asks me softly, as if my opinion matters to him and all I can do was shake my head.
“I’m bad for her, Hay. I don’t wanna hurt her.”
“You won’t,” I assure him, my eyes swelling with tears.
“How can you be so sure?”
I pull my hand from his, and tuck it inside his cut, pressing it against his firm chest.
“Because, Jessie Donavon, buried deep down beneath all the fucked up shit, and those impeccable pecs, you’ve got a heart. One that beats solely for the people that you care about. If Maddy Summers is one of those people, she’s gonna be just fine.” I can feel tears starting to slip free from the corners of my eyes, so I stand up, I’m about to walk away when his hand wraps around my wrist and drags my hand back to his chest.
“You’ll always be one of those people, you know that, right?” he frowns. I nod back at him with a smile that takes every strength inside me to pull together.
“I got loads of school work to do. I should get on.” I slide my hand away from his chest and grab my bag from the table.
“Yeah I promised to help Skid shift some stuff out of his cabin, it's being decorated,” he says, leaping up from the table and placing a kiss on my forehead. “Good talk,” he speaks against my skin.
“Yeah, good talk,” I whisper, watching him stroll out of the door.
I go to my room and shut the door behind me, then back up against it and slide down into a ball on the floor. Tears stream down my cheeks, like the dam that’s held them for so long has finally been broken. I don’t know how long I sit there, but it’s long enough for my eyes to ache as much as my heart.
Wiping my eyes on the back of my hand I scramble forward to the bedside table, open up the top drawer, and take out a pen and paper. I bleed all my pain on to the paper, then seal it into an envelope and write his name on the front.
I don’t even pretend to myself that I’m going to give it to him. I stopped doing that years ago.
Another tear rolls off my cheek and splashes on to the fresh ink, blotching one of the s’s in his name. I hold the letter in my hand and watch as one tiny teardrop spreads among the letters, blurring them and making an inky mess on the envelope. Then like always, I blot the envelope to my lips, reach under my bed and pull out the shoe box.
Opening the lid I place it on top of all the others, I’d tossed the other items to make space years ago, keyrings and stones no longer mattered to me, but my letters held their value. Letters Jessie would never read, feelings Jessie would never discover, and words that will forever remain hidden in a shoe box.
“We got company,” Nyx calls out, banging on the door while church is still in session. It has to be something important for anyone to have the balls to interrupt us.
“Check it out,” Prez instructs Troj, who leaves the table to step outside. He returns moments later with a panicked expression that has me up on my feet.
“Fuckin’ Feds,” he says. “CCTV’s picking them up turning off the bottom road, we haven’t got long.”
“Clear the vestry,” Prez calls across the table. Sending Squealer and Screwy straight to work, they head straight for the back room where we keep some of our gun supply. Thorne leaves to grab the cage, while me and Troj follow the temper twins into the vestry.
They already have the back doors open, and Thorne quickly backs up the transit so we can start loading. We work as fast as we can, hoping that Prez can stall the feds long enough for Thorne to get to the track we keep clear in the woods. The track that leads off our border and on to the Indian reservation the other side. They’ve made it clear they don’t want us on their territory, but in cases of emergency like this one, they’ll have to fuckin’ deal.
For once I’m thankful that our supplies are low, seems like we did our deal out in Nebraska at just the right time.
I slam the van door shut when we we’re cleared out and bang hard on the back, signaling for Thorne to get the fuck out of here, and we all breathe a sigh of relief when he disappears into the tree line.
We take a second to catch our breath before we walk out of church and cross the yard as coolly as we can manage.
I light up a cigarette and watch the fed van along with two cars skid to a stop outside the club entrance where Prez waits, standing on the threshold with his arms crossed.
The back of the van bursts open, four armored officers spill out, and chaos fills the yard.
“Arms up. On the ground,” one of them calls out, and knowing they don’t have shit on us so long as Thorne is still moving we all lower on to our knees, Prez included.
The cigarette still hangs from my mouth as I drop to my chest on to the rough, dusty ground and wait to find out what all this is about.
“We’re looking for Tobias Saunders,” one of them says, his polished boot kicking dust into our faces as he walks a line in front of us. Who in the ever-loving fuck is Tobias Saunders?
“That’ll be me,” Skid says, keeping his hands behind his head as he kneels up. An officer immediately steps behind him and cuffs his hands behind his back while he reads him his rights. It confuses the fuck out of me because I know Skid’s real name, and it sure as hell ain’t Tobias fuckin’ Saunders.
We all watch with the same confusion as he’s loade
d into the back of the van and the doors slide shut behind him, and just as quickly as they arrived, the feds leave.
“Your brother’s just brought you about an hour’s head start,” Prez turns to Chop as he speaks, and then everyone else's eyes do the same. “Soon as they run Skid’s prints they’re gonna know he ain’t who he’s saying he is.”
Chop nods in agreement.
“You’re Tobias?” Troj asks Chop.
“I thought all that shit got buried fucking years ago,” Chop replies, brushing his hand through his beard. If it weren't for the fact his younger brother had an equally impressive amount of facial hair, they would never have just pulled that off. There’s a decent age gap between them, the fact Chop keeps himself in shape and Skid looks older than his age sometimes makes us forget that. I just hope it will fool the feds long enough for Chop to get clear.
“It wasn’t legitimate, we got someone on the inside to fiddle the warrant,” Prez says, clearly thinking hard about what to do next.
“Hey, you know I’d have stepped up if I’d had a clue what the fuck was goin’ on,” Troj tells him.
“Sure kid, means a lot, but it wouldn’t have been no good, the crime was committed before you were an itch in your papa’s nut sack. They’d have guessed you were lying.” Chop squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll take a car from the garage and get out of town. Soon as I can, I’ll get a pre-pay and make contact from there. When you see Skid, you tell him I fuckin’ owe him.”
Prez nods, and we all watch, still in shock, as Chop races over to the garage, speeding out moments later in a silver Mercedes that belongs to the club.
“Tac, get hold of Thorne to tell him the coast is clear before the Cheyanne start shooting arrows at him. Nyx go tell Carly what’s gone down, tell her I’m getting hold of Monica the lawyer and that Skid will be back soon,” Prez orders, and Nyx jogs over to his bike and gets right on it, while Tac pulls out his cell.
“Squealer I’ll reach out to our Denver Charter, You, Screw, and Thorne get that stash out of town, I’ll call you with an address in the next couple hours,” he commands, and then he looks to me and Troj. “You two head up to Chop’s lodge. As soon as they realize they got the wrong guy those feds will be back, so make sure there’s nothing for them to add to the heap of shit he’s already in. And if anyone sees ’s Tommy tell him what’s happened and to come to find me.” We both nod, wasting no time, and jumping on our bikes to head up to Chop's lodge.
We let ourselves into Chop's place. Like everyone else around here, he doesn’t lock his doors, this club is built on trust.
“Would you really have done that, stepped up and been prepared to take the shit for another brother when you didn’t even know what it was about?” I ask Troj as we head into Chop's bedroom.
“For sure. I’d fuckin’ take a bullet for any one of your asses,” he tells me, shifting through Chop's wardrobe and pulling out an AK, followed by a machete. “You?”
“You know I’d die for this club.” I crouch down and stretch out my arm to feel around under the bed, locating a handgun between the slats and mattress.
“You ain’t got no outstanding warrants or fake names, do ya?” Troj checks as we move through to check the bathroom.
“Nah man you’re good.” I come back out, winking as I throw him the block of coke I’ve retrieved from the cistern.
“Good, ‘coz I’m too young to die, and this face is far too pretty for prison.” Troj hardly has to stretch to check the top of the wardrobe, he pulls down an old trunk and places it on the bed. When we open it it’s full of sentimental stuff, old photos and documents, the kinda shit I’m surprised a guy like Chop keeps.
“We’ll drop this off at Carly and Skid’s, best let them keep it till he comes back, there might be something in here that will help.” I grab the trunk, and we both make one final sweep before we leave. I managed to balance it on my fuel tank while we ride down to Skid’s cabin, and Nyx is still there when we arrive. He’s sat looking awkward as fuck drinking lemonade at the kitchen table. Nyx wasn’t the best choice of person to break the news that your husband has just been shipped off by the feds, the kid has the social skills of a mosquito.
“You can head off now, we got this,” I tell him, moving straight to Carly and wrapping my arm around her shoulder. Nyx doesn’t have to be told twice. With a tip of his head to Carly, he shoots out of the house before either of us change our minds.
“Why would he do it, Jessie?” Carly asks looking up at me, I’d rather take a punch to the face than have a woman cry around me. I hate it, I never know what to do.
“Hey, it’s Skid, you know what he’s like, he’ll do anything to help someone out. Soon as they realize he ain't Chop, Monica will swoop in and they’ll let him go. It won’t be long. Promise.” I shrug out of my cut and hang it on the back of the chair. “In the meantime, you can make us some lunch and me and Troj will set to work on finishing that decorating Skid’s been bitchin about having to get done.” I look over at the covered furniture and half painted living area.
“We will?” Troj looks up at me from his phone puzzled, and I give him a look that has him shifting up on his feet and taking his cut off too. He gathers up his long hair and ties it on the top of his head. “Come on then, let’s get at it.” He kisses Carly on her cheek. “The things some guys will do to get out of a little decorating, huh?” He picks up the roller that’s been left on the table and manages to get a little chuckle out of Carly.
“I guess I better grab some beers and start frying up some chicken,” she sniffs.
It’s been almost a week since Chop left the compound, being a man down means the club is busy, and that means I hardly see anything of Jessie.
Tommy does nothing to hide his frustration from me when he becomes my new chauffeur. Runaway Daddy issues aside, his bad temper is becoming unbearable. So, I decide to talk to Daddy about it.
I begged him to come home for dinner tonight, even went to the effort to cook his favourite. I invited Jessie too, in the hope I could count on him for support.
I hadn’t expected for Skid to be joining us though. Apparently, Carly is out of town visiting her family, so Daddy invited him to join us.
I like Skid, he seems the most reasonable out of all of Daddy and Jessie’s friends. Maybe he could help me talk some sense into Daddy too.
I wait till Daddy has a mouthful of spaghetti before I bring it up, at least that way he can’t cut me off.
“Daddy. I don’t want Tommy taking me to school anymore,” I blurt out, feeling a little awkward when I remember that Tommy is Skid’s nephew. “I mean, he’s clearly cut up about his Dad. I thought it might be better for Jessie to start dropping me at college again,” I recover myself, smiling at Skid apologetically. Daddy chews his mouthful, deep in thought, and I swear I can hear the clock on the wall tick while I wait for his response.
“Jessie’s too busy with club stuff, baby,” he says eventually, taking a napkin and wiping his mouth. I’m about to interrupt him, not too ashamed to beg. The thought of seeing Tommy’s nasty scowl on Monday morning is already irritating me.
“But I have been thinking,” Daddy continues, “Skid…” His eyes look across to Skid who sucks up the long piece of spaghetti that hung from his mouth before he looks up from his plate.
“Hook my princess up with a car, I want something sturdy and reliable.”
“Got just the thing boss,” Skid nods, slying me a wink when Daddy tucks back into his meal like what he just said isn’t a major deal. I’m getting a car!
Me and Skid look at Prez with the same shock on our faces when Hayley skips out the room. He crams another meatball in his already full mouth, his table manners apparently up and left along with his daughter.
“Have Tommy follow her on his bike, tell him to hang back enough that she doesn’t notice,” he muffles in between chomps. Me and Skid smirk at each other when we hear just the sort of shit we were expecting.
“What?” Prez asks when he noti
ces our reactions.
“For a moment then you had us worried, thought you were actually gonna let Daddy’s princess out in the big wide world,” I laugh.
“Now come on you both know me better than that.” He twists his spaghetti around his fork. And he’s right, we both do know him better.
Saturday comes and I’m up at the ass-crack of dawn waiting outside the garage for Skid to arrive.
“Keen much?” Skid laughs at me as he uses his huge arm to lift the shutter door and reveals a shiny red jeep. I watch hopefully as he heads straight for it, opening the driver door to pull the keys out of the ignition.
“Mine?” I ask, catching them when he tosses them to me.
“Serviced it myself yesterday, she’s all yours kid.”
“Stolen?” I check.
Skid smiles back at me and I’m far too excited to feel bad.
“I can’t wait to show Jessie,” I screech, hopping up into the driver’s seat.
“You want me to take you for a spin, get ya used to her?” Skid offers.
“No need, I’ll go pick up Jessie. We’ll probably take a trip out to Bernie’s for lunch. You want us to grab you something while we’re out?” When I stop my eyes from wondering over my new ride and look at Skid, his smile has faded.
“You love him don’t ya?” He crosses his arms and leans through the open window beside me.
“Course I do, he’s like my brot—”
“Don’t try pullin’ that shit with me,” he interrupts before I can finish. “I see the way you look at him. How you beat them pretty green eyes for him. Come on, talk to uncle Skid. “
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I try to keep my face convincing.
“I want to believe that’s true, coz if you did... Love him. I’d have to give you the warning ‘bout how dangerous it is.” He taps the door with his palm and backs away.