Peaches: MC Romance (The Unholy Confessions Book 1)

by Laura Christopher

  "You look like shit" she looked nervously around, no doubt looking to see if Brandon was coming. They didn't get on, at all.

  "Well, thanks?" always one to say precisely what she thought, Claire did not know how to hold back. One of the reasons I loved her so much.

  "You need to see a doctor or something."

  "I'm fine, I just need some ice cream" maybe some sugar will make me feel a little better. It was worth a shot, at least.

  "The she-devil hasn't got you all on a lettuce diet again, has she?"

  Laughing out loud as Mr. Bronx walked past us towards the exit, eyeing me as he passed. I shook my head. "No, Camila learnt her lesson last time."

  As the captain of our team, Camila had made us all do this stupid diet were all you ate was lettuce and corn. When none of the cheerleaders could hold themselves up, let alone anyone else, the coach put a stop to any more of her stupid diets for the team. Although I am pretty sure if she really wanted to, Camila would do it again and not give a single damn.

  Looping my arm through Claire’s, "Come on, I need some sugar, you can drive."

  "Oh god, you must be sick if you're willing to let me drive."

  Poking my tongue out at my best friend, we walked through the double doors, to freedom from this hell that they called school.

  Claire really was one of my favorite people in the entire world.

  She was my best friend, usually just outside of school. We barely glanced at each other inside of it, and it ate me up on the inside. I knew that I should be a better person, but this is just how it had been for so long. Since junior high, that is, I had been pushed into cheerleading by Brandon and my mom. While Claire was more into getting her hands dirty and the debate team kind of activities. The one thing that would never change, though, was that she was my best friend, and we always were there for each other. I envied her at times because she knew exactly who she was and was not afraid to show the world. No matter what they had to say about her, and trust me, there was a lot that people had to say.

  Widening my eyes as Claire pulled up outside of a shop that was not the ice cream parlor.

  "Ummm, Claire," nodding my head to the blackout windows. "This is not Unicorn Scoops."

  "Don't be mad," she said, keeping her hands on the wheel and eyes straight ahead at the shop she had parked us in front of.

  "Oh god," dropping my head into my hands, I waited for her to explain why we were parked outside of The Unholy Confessions Tattoo Parlor.

  "Look, I just want to have a look again, and then we can get you your ice cream."

  "Your mom is going to kill you," and she would. Claire was just like her mom, strong as hell in personality. "Wait, did you say again?"

  "What she doesn't know…"

  "For the record, this is a bad idea!" looking up as the parlor door flew open and a short, skin head man stepped through it, leaning against the wall. "Isn't this place run by that biker gang?"

  Everyone in town knew about them, heard the stories of the trouble they got up to. Not that most of that was probably true, but with shows like Sons Of Anarchy, I think people fueled the fire with rumors. Probably.

  Claire nodded her head. "Come on, let's just take a look."

  Looking down at the red and black cheerleader uniform I was wearing; I could not contain the groan that escaped my lips. Why had I not changed before leaving school?

  "This is ridiculous, Claire, you are not going to get a tattoo," Was she?

  "Yeah, I am, and maybe you should too unless you will let me actually take you to see a doctor?" she has lost her damned mind.

  "Nope..." stumbling over my unstable feet, she just gave me a look that said more than any words could.

  Maybe I really did need to get checked out by the doctor or something. Brandon's words from earlier were rolling around in my mind. Did they really think I was on drugs? I wasn't, I knew that, but at the same time, I had no idea what was actually wrong with me.

  The small man watched us, with these hard, cold eyes as we passed him, smoking as he leaned against the wall beside the blacked-out window.

  "You gotta be over eighteen" his voice was rough and as cold as his eyes. Those very eyes were currently roaming my body, No doubt seeing the high school cheerleader outfit, thinking that we were younger.

  "Good job we are then," was all Claire said, not daring to even look at the man. On closer inspection, I could see he was wearing one of the biker gangs' leather vests. The word 'Pinky" in hot pink thread on the right side of it. What did that mean?

  I watched as my best friend pushed the door open to the tattoo parlor with no care in the world, as if she had done it a hundred times before.

  Hesitating behind her, my eyes were still a little blurry. I felt like I was minutes away from passing out, breathing in through my nose, and blowing of my mouth, my feet finally began to follow my best friend who was already halfway inside of the parlor.

  "Come on, Nala"

  The scent of fresh coffee and burning candles filled my nose when the door closed behind us. The walls were covered in an array of colorful prints, tattoo designs, and one of the most prominent wooden crucifixes’ I had ever seen. The letters ‘U’ and 'C' carved deeply into it along with a giant skull. It was kind of beautiful, in a way.

  Claire was too busy looking at the tattoo designs on the wall to see when a man walked from the back of the parlor.

  He stopped and was just standing behind the counter, watching the two of us with amusement on his face. A man might have been an understatement. He was a giant with muscles so big that the white t-shirt he was wearing was one move away from ripping apart and falling to the floor. As his eyes moved from Claire to me, I felt my stomach drop even further. If I hadn't have felt dizzy before, I would have with the way he was looking at me.

  He had the lightest blue eyes I had ever seen; they were almost translucent.

  Clearing her throat, my best friend began to speak, but all I could do was stare at him, unable to hear a damn word that was being said. I was visually assaulting this over six-foot beast of a man before me.

  Long hair that reached past his shoulders, light brown with natural blond streaks running through it, caused by spending hours on a motorcycle in the sun, no doubt.

  A deep and sexy laugh brought me out of my staring as he looked down at Claire with a sarcastic smile, just as the door we had not long since come in through opened. The short biker who had been smoking stormed through it, like a hurricane.

  "What the fuck are you doing behind the counter, man?" He shouted at the gorgeous giant man who was just smirking.

  Holding both hands up, the man I had been looking at, far too closely held both hands up in surrender as he backed away from the counter, still smirking away as if he had an inside joke.

  "Chill, Pinky, just messing with the high schoolers," running one hand through the small dark blond beard covering the bottom half of his almost beautiful face.

  "Like I told you, I'm eighteen," Claire crossed her arms, scowling up at the giant man before her.

  "And like I told you, we don't except fake IDs here, sweetheart."

  Claire stomped one foot in anger as the guy he had called Pinky pushed past him, holding his hand out, "Let's see it."

  Rifling through her wallet, Claire pulled out her driving permit and slammed it down on the counter, ignoring the outreached palm.

  "Okay then," he chuckled as I began to lean against the wall to support myself. The room started to spin slightly as I watched my favorite person in the world, my best friend, give shit to these scary looking bikers. She had no fear.

  Blowing out a breath in an attempt to get through the sensations I was currently feeling as everything started to dull around me, graying in tone.

  "Nala, are you listening to this shit?" Claire glanced back at me with a quirked brow that instantly dropped as she looked at me. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? You kind of look a mix between green and gray".

  Unable to get any word
s to come out of my mouth and on wobbly legs, I barely got two steps before everything went monochrome, and then I was down and out.

  Icey Cold.

  My entire body felt cold, as though I had been dunked into an ice bath.

  Am I on the floor?

  Wait, what the hell happened?

  A set of firm, large hands held my face on both sides, applying the slightest amount of pressure possible.

  The feeling of those fingers moving slightly made me freeze while trying to blink my eyes open simultaneously. They almost felt like they had been superglued shut. What the hell?

  Taking in a deep breath, I attempted to move my arm, spreading the palm out, confirming that yes, I was indeed laid on the floor.

  Almost out of nowhere, a sudden burst of voices filled my ears. Like someone had turned the volume setting from mute to 100 in less than a second. God, my ears felt like they had been put in a blender.

  Unable to pick out what was being said, by whoever it was. I suddenly remembered that I had been in a tattoo parlor with Claire.

  What the hell had happened to me?

  Taking a deep breath, the sounds around me seemed to drop a fraction. So much so that I just about managed to understand what was being said at the same time as I was finally able to open my eyes.

  Looking up, I found myself looking into a pair of light blue ones that I had only seen once before. The really hot muscley guy that had been behind the counter with his long hair and skin littered in tattoos.

  "Her eyes are open," another voice spoke. "Yeah, okay."

  "What did she say?" He turned his head, looking away from me.

  I began to, well attempted to try and move, but he kept me in place from merely holding my face in his large hands.

  "We gotta get her to the hospital, and Marilyn will get her a bed sorted, check her over."

  "Nala," I could hear Claire's voice, but I couldn't move to look in her direction with how he was holding me.

  "What... what happened?" How had I ended up on the floor with a tattooed giant biker gang member leaning over me?

  "You passed out," I was shocked when he spoke directly to me, "Think you can stand, or do I need to carry you?"

  "Marilyn's shift ends in an hour, you gotta get her to the hospital now, Stag" Stag?

  My eyes drifted down to the same black leather vest that the other, the short one, had been wearing. The word 'Stag' in white thread stood out like a streetlight at midnight.

  Hospital?

  No way.

  "I don't think I need to go…" Finally, able to turn my head as he released his hold on me, Claire cut off the rest of what I was about to say with one look.

  "Don't even try it missy, you have been off all week, you need to get checked out" I could hear my cell phone ringing somewhere in the background. "Just because I haven't been with you doesn't mean I haven't noticed. I knew there was something wrong at lunch. I should have made you go to the nurse then and there. Maybe you wouldn't have fainted. Jesus Nala, you scared the crap out of me!"

  "Bloody hell, take a damn breath, girl," the one named Pinky laughed.

  Ignoring my best friend and closing my eyes again, I let out a sharp breath. Feeling as though I was either going to puke or pass out again was making my head spin.

  "Are you going to pass out again?" the one who was still leaning over me, what was it the small guy had called him, Stag, asked. He sounded almost as though he was concerned.

  Trying to sit up, I groaned as he cursed. Well, that didn't go well because I ended up blacking out all over again, only this time when I came to, we were halfway to the hospital, and I was laid across the back seat of my car.

  Waking up, I came face to face with a nurse saying words I dreaded to hear, "Your mom is on her way."

  I had been prodded and poked at more in the last hour than ever before. And the questions, Jesus.

  When they asked if I could be pregnant, I wanted the earth to swallow me up into one of those miraculous sinkholes that appear out of nowhere. Trying to explain that there was no way I could be with a child made me want to pass out all over again. I was no virgin, but I had only had sex once, with Brandon well over a year ago. So, unless it was some kind of miraculous elephant-like pregnancy, that was not what was wrong with me.

  "Your friend will be back soon, she has gone to get a coffee with the…" clearing her throat, she didn't finish that sentence. I could understand her reaction. I had been more than shocked to find that the two bikers had followed us to the hospital on some loud as hell motorcycles.

  They had a doctor friend who was waiting for us by the entrance. Marilyn, she was nice, even if she had been asking me some questions that made me want to rip my own skin off.

  However, Claire was not back soon enough because at that exact moment, like a tsunami, in stepped Patricia Reeves. My mom.

  "What happened?" standing at the end of the hospital bed I was currently sat up in, she didn't look worried in the slightest. Like any other mom would be, no, she seemed almost annoyed. No, scratch that, that is exactly what she looked like.

  Her red hair was straightened to within an inch of its life but somehow still looked glossy. She always wore too much makeup. I knew that it annoyed her that I refused to wear anything, apart from mascara, and not even every day.

  Patting me on the hand, the kind nurse moved out of the cubicle, leaving the two of us alone.

  "I passed out" minimal information was always the way to go with her.

  "What were you doing?" her eyes squinted in a manner that made me feel about an inch tall.

  "Mrs. Reeves," Claire's voice came from the doorway, surprising the both of us. Looking over my best friend's shoulder, I could see the two bikers leaning against the wall, just far enough away that they wouldn't be able to hear us. One set of pale blue eyes locked onto mine for a fraction of a second before I had to look away. "She hasn't been right all week. She fainted twice before we got her to the hospital".

  "We?" a quirked eyebrow in my direction, and I could feel myself shrink down even further. "Is Brandon here?"

  "I'll call you later, Claire," my voice sounded small, even to my own ears. I needed to get her out of here as well as the men who had accompanied us. If my mom saw them, I knew it would not end well.

  My best friend gave me one short nod before turning on her heels, not before glaring daggers into the back of my mom's head, though. Mom disapproved of our friendship and keeping distance between the two of them was the best option I had to give me a little peace in life.

  "Well then, no guess as to what caused this little trip, is there Nala?" Looking down as she spoke, inspecting her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, I cringed internally.

  "Mom," I groaned. "I really wish that you wouldn't do that."

  "What, look out for you?" her pink painted lips pouted. "How dare I?" she was like a small dictator. The dictator of my life, "Do you know how much this little trip is going to cost your father and me?"

  I was about to talk back, let my emotions get the best of me but closed my mouth instantly when the doctor walked back into the cubicle. Marilyn, the one who had asked inappropriate questions earlier. Her long, vibrant pillar box red hair shone like glitter under the fluorescent lights as she looked from me to my mom.

  "How're you feeling, Nala?" flipping a chart in her hands, she pulled the curtain closed behind her. Which was pointless because whatever it was that she was about to say, anyone would be able to hear. No matter what they think, those curtains didn't stop sound traveling through or around them.

  "She's fine, ready to go home and stop causing such a fuss" mom was furious and as she crossed her arms over her inflated chest, as her glare intensified. Now, I wanted the ground to swallow me up for a whole other reason.

  Staying silent, I just watched the doctor's face glaze over with an almost shocked expression. Yeah, welcome to my life.

  "She is not fine, Mrs. Reeves, I'm assuming?" a second or two lat
er, Marilyn turned her attention back to me. "Are you happy for your mother to be in here while we talk, Nala?"

  "Anything you have to say, I will be here for, thank you. She is still in high school and on my insurance".

  "Your daughter is eighteen years old, Mrs. Reeves, and the law stipulates…."

  "It's fine," I said, cutting both of them off from the argument that was about to explode. The more she spoke, the more I could see the anger growing between the two of them. My head was still throbbing. I didn't want to make it any worse than it was.