by Forgy, M. N.
Chapter 7
Simone
Standing in a floor to ceiling window of a suite of the Outlaw Casino, I look down upon the streets filled with motorcycles. Everyone is here for Gatz- to show their respect, some here not to show their support. Now that I’m here word has gotten out about Gatz possibly being gay, or bi-sexual and some members of affiliated clubs are outraged.
The authorities blocked off the entire strip of Vegas, urging tourists to explore other attractions of the Fabulous Las Vegas for the day as things are predicted to become violent.
Earlier today a fight broke out in front of the club sending three men to the hospital, none from the Outlaws’ club though.
It’s sad, why does someone’s sexual preference make them any less of a human than the person standing next to them. Gatz is gone, we should be focusing on a loss rather than people being offended.
The funeral was beautiful, but I felt detached to everything around me as the child in me kicked and moved around. What if Gatz is the father, did my child just lose its father? What about Kane, he doesn’t even want to acknowledge the unborn baby inside of me.
I was distracted, wondering what would happen to us now. The plan was to live with Gatz, have a baby room and be the crazy idea of a family. Eyes fell on me from everyone. The Outlaws stared at my growing stomach, and I felt targeted. Kane did nothing as he stood next to me like a cold statue. I didn’t feel protected or that Kane even cared about the baby, to be honest, if Veer showed up right then I’d probably be in the grave next to Gatz.
That was the last I saw Kane today, well, actually he took me up here and told me to stay before marching right back out. I didn’t even get a word in edgewise.
Sighing, my eyes searching the bikers down below, a familiar truck heads the opposite way of all the motorcycles down on the strip, Kane’s truck. Drawing in a deep breath, my hand palms the tinted glass as he drives away.
My gut knots as the idea he’s leaving me sinks in the pit of my stomach. Deep down I knew he was getting rid of me. Gatz is gone, and Kane’s obligation to him is gone too.
I was nothing to Kane, and never will be.
Doesn’t he care that this might be his kid? Hand on my stomach, I cry. I cry for my unborn child and Gatz. I cry for everyone but myself because this isn’t about me.
The door to the room suddenly open, but I don’t turn around to see who it is. Their presence is just confirming what I’m thinking. That Kane is gone, and I’m alone.
“Simone?” It’s a female voice. I hang my head, waiting for her to disclose the information I know she’s about to spill. “Look, there’s no easy way to tell you this—”
“He’s not coming back,” I help her, and I hear a deep sigh. I turn, finding a beautiful blonde wearing a sheriff’s uniform.
I frown, the uniform throwing me off.
She looks down and realizes what has me concerned.
“I’m the president’s ol’ lady, weird, I know.”
I don’t say anything, it’s fucked up on so many levels. Here I thought me having two possible baby daddies was unconventional, this lady takes the whole fucking cake.
She takes a step inside, her hands fidgeting with one another. “The men sent me because they thought me having a vagina would make this easier,” she scoffs, a meek smile brightening her round face. “But yeah, Kane is gone. He said the only reason he kept you was because of Gatz, and now that he’s gone… he doesn’t see any reason to have you around.”
“That, or maybe he’s too chicken shit to admit he was gay with Gatz, and I’m living proof of it,” I snarl. It doesn’t much matter why he’s gone, it doesn’t change anything.
I clear my throat, the sting slicing through my heart. I didn’t love Kane, in fact, we pretty much hated each other but for him to turn his back on me during losing Gatz, is something I’ll never forgive him for.
“What now?” I croak. Are they going to throw me out on the street?
“You’re ours, and under our protection for now.”
“You mean until the baby is born, and you guys find out if it’s Gatz’s or not?” The bitch in my voice can’t be stopped, I’m abandoned, losing two men in my life in one day, and just plain tired.
She closes the gap between us instantly, her face perplexed.
“No, I wouldn’t let them do that.”
Her doe eyes take me aback, she doesn’t know me, doesn’t owe me anything. Why would she stand up to her president boyfriend for me? Maybe she doesn’t know the whole story? Maybe she’s just telling me what I want to hear?
I hiccup, the sob I’ve been stifling making its way up my throat. I’m exhausted and mentally drained.
“I think I’m going to go lay down,” I whisper, the urge to vomit making my mouth water.
“Of course, if you need anything, my name is Jillian. Just… just stay up here so you and the baby are safe, Simone.”
Glancing over my shoulder at her, I don’t say a word. Hiding in a dark room seems to be the only thing I’m good at anymore. “I know this is not ideal, but if Kane can just turn his back on you that easily, he’s in no position to be in your or that baby’s life.” Her attempt at comforting me warms me, I needed to hear that.
“Thank you,” I cry, the baby kicking me inside making me want to cry harder.
Jillian smiles but doesn’t say another word before leaving and shutting the door.
Warm tears stream down my face, the baby moving with my hysteria as I make my way to one of the adjoining bedrooms. It’s decorated in purple and golds, modern-day furniture placed perfectly around the small space. I crawl onto the fluffy comforter, my fingers strangling the material as I cry harder than I’ve ever cried.
I don’t cry for Kane, or Gatz, or myself. I cry for my child because look what I’ve got us into.
The dominos just keep fucking falling.
Mac
The chick with purple hair bobs and slurps on my dick. I can’t remember her name, who cares. Lowering my head back, I close my eyes and take a drag of my blunt. My fingers are sticky from the electrical tape on them as I was working on a project for the club and cut it. I was putting GPS on all our bikes. Couldn’t find a Band-Aid so I fixed it the best way I knew how. That’s what I do, I’m the tech guy.
My phone chimes, I ignore it trying to focus on the warm mouth wrapped around my cock. The suction pulling at my taut skin. It’s been a rough fucking day, and I need the distraction.
My phone vibrates and begins to ring.
“Fuck,” I hiss, grabbing it off the side table. It’s Lieutenant Lopez. Bitch is driving me crazy. I swear she thinks we’re a thing or something. I saw her two days ago, and I knew better than to. Stage five fucking clinger, man.
You okay baby? Just checking in and seeing if you needed someone to talk to. – Lopez
Great, now she wants to talk about our feelings. Whatever the hell we were doing, it’s done now.
A knock at the door has me dropping my phone on the table.
Machete enters, his red hair everywhere and his crazy fucking eyes landing on the bitch bobbing up and down on my dick. The way he’s staring makes me a little uncomfortable, and I fidget.
“What the fuck, man?” I finally say something.
“Zeek wants you,” he informs, his damn eyes finally looking at the floor. The woman lifts her head to glance at Machete, and I gently press on the back of her head, putting my cock back into her mouth. She’s not done yet.
“I’ll be there in a second,” I tell him, watching the bitch slob on my knob.
Suddenly the girl scrapes her teeth on my tip, and I wince. Irritated, and tired, I push her off me.
“You’re done. Fuck!”
“Sorry, I’m not used to sucking on a pierced dick,” she informs with a ditzy tone, wiping off her mouth with her hand. Shifting onto her hands, her small tits come into view.
Getting off the bed, I pull my pants up, I need to get to church before Zeek comes after me. Last time he
made me sit in church naked for being late.
“You want to fuck though?” she nearly begs, I chuckle in reply. Thirsty chicks - same shit different day.
“Got business, babe,” I smile, grab my phone off the end table, and head to the chapel. I grab my dick; a slight sting still present from her nipping it.
The club smells decent as it was just rebuilt, the smell of pussy and beer gone. We will have to work on that. A dark shadow looms over the main room, a piece of plywood covering a recent broken window.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Someone threw a brick through it,” Felix, our vice president, says solemnly. He points to the bar, and a dusty brick with the word ‘fag’ spray pray painted on it.
Closing my eyes, I harbor my anger and rein myself in. People are fucking ass backward.
Heading into the chapel with Felix, all eyes are on me as I enter.
“What?”
Zeek smiles. “Have a seat,” he gestures toward my seat at the end of the table.
Slowly I make my way to my seat, not liking the tension in the room. It’s been a rough fucking day, so the shit-eating grin on Zeek’s face has me on edge.
“What?” I ask again.
“Simone is staying with us.”
“Simone was the one Gatz and Kane knocked up, I know who she is.”
“You are to watch her, keep her safe,” Zeek continues. Opening my mouth to protest, I close it. Surely, I’m fucking high and heard them wrong.
“Take her shopping for diapers, rub her swollen feet,” Felix adds before laughing, and the rest of the men follow.
“You’re fucking kidding!” I bark, standing where I sit. How am I going to fuck bitches and do drugs with a pregnant chick around? She’ll talk my damn ear off the whole time and I’ll never get any work done.
“I’m not. That may be Gatz’s child and we are going to make sure she has everything she needs. Pack your bags, buddy.” Zeek laughs, slamming the gavel down.
Collapsing back into my chair, I rub my hand over the stubble on my chin. I can’t fucking believe this.
A biker and a pregnant chick. This should be fucking interesting.
Chapter 8
Simone
Commotion in the other room wakes me. My eyes are crusty from crying and swollen. Using my hands, I push myself up onto my elbows and try and look through the bedroom door, but I can’t see anyone.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Scooting to the side of the bed, I grab an ashtray off the nightstand and waddle to the doorway. There are condiments out of the fridge sitting on the counter, but I still don’t see anyone. Well, if they’re making something to eat they obviously aren’t here to hurt me.
I take a step out, my eyes bouncing all over the room for who might be in here with me. Maybe it’s Jillian again.
“You want one?”
I scream, swinging the ashtray behind me. It thumping as I make contact with the intruder.
“Fucking hell!” A man bends over, grabbing his forehead where I hit him. Gasping, I take a few steps back and drop the ashtray to the floor.
Hissing, he stands up. His blondish colored hair falls in his eyes, intricate tattoos swirl along his arms, and that jaw of his could cut glass.
“You crazy ass bitch!” My eyebrows draw inward at his tone of voice. Our eyes lock for a few seconds before slowly trailing up and down one another. His eyes are the lightest brown I’ve ever seen with a hint of green mixed within. Like a sturdy tree standing in an emerald forest.
He’s taller than me, skin tanned, and holds a softness to his face, but there’s a sharp edge there too. It’s as if Kane and Gatz were mixed into one and made this man.
He glares, pulling his hand away from the bump forming on his forehead.
“Are you insane? My water could have broken sneaking up on me like that!” Instinctively, I place my palm on my belly. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?”
Ignoring my questions, he walks back to the counter where the lettuce and bread were left out.
“My name is Mac, and I’m the fucking babysitter.” His eyes slowly rise to mine, a chiseled smile crossing his smug face as he lifts his chin with more confidence than I can handle looking directly at.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I sass.
“I’m here for that, not you.” He points to my pregnant belly, his silver chain-looking bracelet sliding around his wrist. I shift on my back foot, and sigh. Over the past few months, death has not scared me but losing my child has. For Gatz’s club to be here and help protect a fetus that might not even be their own. That stands for something.
“My name is Simone—”
“I know who you are. The chick that got pregnant by two men, from two different clubs.” The coldness in his voice drips like ice. “Are you a biker hopper?” His tone casual as if we’re discussing a movie we just saw.
“A what?” I snap, not familiar with the terminology.
“You know, like a mattress hopper, only you’re jumping from biker dick to biker dick.” He waves around a mayonnaise covered butter knife.
My jaw drops. “That’s not who I am—”
“Are you a prostitute or something then?” His tone serious. My face burns with anger, and the urge to hit him in the head with the ashtray again flares.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
He smirks, and I can tell I’m in deep shit with this guy. This is not just any brooding biker, this is a man who plays with women’s heads before leaving you shredded and confused. The lipstick on his shirt a hint that he’s also a player.
He steps around the counter, his breath smelling of beer and weed. He towers over me a good foot, making me have to glare up at him.
“Easy, Pocahontas, I’ll treat you like a princess for a few minutes after I let you ride my cock. I won’t even judge you for liking it.” He waggles his brows, and I shove him.
“I’m not a biker hopper!” I purse my lips.
His eyes blaze of burnt green irises, and his shoulders rise. Skimming me up and down, a wolfish smile fits his smug face. He’s playing with me and enjoying the rise he’s getting.
“Cut the shit, I know what your kind is and I’m not a toy.”
“My kind?” His head tilts to the side with curiosity.
“Biker.” My lips curl with the word. “I’ve grown up working the field of outlaws, and I’ve seen how you guys live. If you think for one second you can play me like one of your club bitches… you’re wrong.”
Lifting his hand, he rubs his chin.
“Maybe I was wrong about you,” he says, his voice grave. I give a curt nod, proud of myself for taking charge of the situation. Seems I haven’t lost my touch after all. “You’re fucking stupid if you think for one second that I care about you, you’re wrong. I’ll cut that child from your fucking womb, and hand you over to the very people you’re running from, Pocahontas.”
My eyes widen, a lump forming in the back of my throat. I’ve never had anyone talk to me like this before.
“But you already knew that, right? Knowing my kind and all?”
Taking a step back, we stare into each other’s eyes, the room silent as we challenge one another.
An arrogant laugh vibrates his body, his back turned toward me, he heads to his room which is on the other side of the suite.
He shuts the door, and I pull at my hair in frustration.
Fucking Pocahontas, screw him.
Mac
Lying in bed, I pull my cigarettes out of my pocket and light one up. Blowing smoke into the room, I think about Simone. She’s feisty for being pregnant and at our mercy.
I take another drag.
I thought I’d come in here to an annoying chick down for some kink, I mean, she did fuck two guys and get knocked up.
She insulted my kind. What bullshit.
Sure, she wasn’t wrong. Bikers have been known to be ruthless and a little horny, but there’s another
side to us too. Just very few get to see that.
I glance at the door, she may not see that side of anyone if she continues to keep her walls to her bitch fort up. Nobody has seen mine, and I intend on keeping it that way.
Grabbing my iPod from my bag, I shove the earbuds in my ears and listen to “Hail to The King” By Avenged Sevenfold. Closing my eyes, I fall asleep. It’s been a long fucking day.
* * *
Weight on my chest and a piercing sting to my neck wakes me from a deep sleep. My eyes snap open with Simone straddling my body, her swollen belly sitting on my chest, with a knife pressed to my neck
“Who is the stupid one now, sleeping with your back turned?” she criticizes, fire and pain dancing in her eyes. Fisting her hips, I throw her onto her back, my arm whipping out from under my pillow, I press my gun to her head.