by Sarah Bale
Bash surprises me by saying, “It’s a good idea. It won’t be easy, but if we do this, we’ll be setting ourselves apart from other clubs in the area. I vote yes.”
“Thank you, Bash.” I turn to the others, “I’ll give you some time to think about it. For now, enjoy the rest of your night.”
My brothers leave one by one. A few stop to tell me they think it’s a good idea. I don’t miss the ones who roll their eyes. Those are the ones who will more than likely leave. Good fucking riddance. I’d rather lose a dozen men than have a hundred who don’t really have my back. Fucking Psycho is a prime example. He lived under my roof, following my rules, all while waiting to fuck me over. And he would have succeeded, but Olivia stopped him.
I turn, facing my club officers. “Well, that’s done with. We’ll have Church again in a month. See where we stand. In the meantime we need to find a warehouse. Maybe something with on a few acres so we can have the clubhouse there, too.”
King stands, grabbing his bottle of Jack, and leaves without saying a word. Razor follows suit, leaving Bash and me.
“Will the Prospect let you know when she’s settled?” The hoarse whisper bares his pain.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He stands and I feel the urge to explain myself.
“She would have got hurt again.”
“What?”
“If she had stayed, she would have gotten hurt. Maybe even worse.”
I know. I’ve seen it happen before.
I go on, “This is to protect her.”
“Sure, Saint. Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.”
He brushes past me, leaving me alone in the room. When I made the decision to send her away, I knew the others wouldn’t be on board at first, but I hoped they would at least see that I was right. That this was the best thing for her. And us. And that no one would get hurt this way.
My phone rings and I reach into my pocket, answering it. “This is Saint.”
“Just letting you know that she’s moved in, Prez.”
“Good. Was her roommate there?”
“No, sir. She left a note saying she was celebrating with her parents.”
Shit.
“How did Olivia seem?”
“She was quiet. Didn’t talk much but thanked me when I was finished.”
“Good. I want you to sit outside the house until her roommate shows up.”
“Will do.”
I end the call, hating the surge of emotions that assaults me. She shouldn’t be alone right now. Fuck. I’m reaching for my keys in my pocket before I realize what I’m doing. What the fuck am I thinking? I can’t rush over to her place to make sure she’s fine. I’m the motherfucker who sent her away. But I can’t stay here. Not when I feel her presence everywhere.
I send my club officers a text, letting them know I’m leaving. Going outside, I go to the garage, getting into my F-150. I’m not in the right mind to be on my bike tonight. Taking off, I leave the clubhouse and the ghost of Olivia behind. I drive, not paying attention to where I’m going. When I stop, I let out a bitter laugh. I might have left one ghost behind, but apparently I’m going to face another one tonight.
Putting my truck into park, I kill the engine. The gates to the cemetery are wide open, inviting me in. My boots sink in the manicured grass as I make my way toward the lone weeping willow that looms in the distance. I run my hand over the white marble tombstone before sitting on the stone bench with my surname inscribed on it.
I clear my throat. “Didn’t know I was coming tonight. Would have brought flowers if I had.”
Talking to her grave felt unnatural at first. As time went on, it was like she was right there with me. Hell, sometimes I think I feel her sitting next to me on that damn bench.
“I think I fucked up. I let someone in. Someone I knew didn’t belong in that world. She got hurt because of me. Just like you.”
When I swallow, my throat burns.
“She reminds me of you, to be honest. Even though she’s seen some shit, she still has a way holding onto hope. Being around her was like taking a deep breath of fresh air.” I swallow. “I can’t bear for her to go through the same thing you did, and I know in my gut that one way or another she’ll end up dead, too. Just like you, my little dove.”
Closing my eyes, I allow myself a moment to feel everything I normally keep locked away in my soul. Her face. The way she smiled at me. How I held her until the last breath left her body. How my world went dark after she was gone. But thoughts of another trickle in and I let myself mourn the loss of Olivia, too. She’s never going to be the same because of this, but at least she’ll live. And that’s what I’m going to remind myself of until the day that I die.
At least she’ll live.
2
Olivia
I toss and turn all night, but at some point I finally fall asleep. My face is a puffy mess when I wake up, giving away all my secrets. My heartbreak. The fact that I cried myself to sleep. The only blessing is that my nose isn’t still red and swollen. Showering helps a little. By the time I dress and put on makeup, I look like a different person, even if I don’t feel like one.
I open my phone, scrolling through social media. For some reason I hoped there would be a text or something from them. Of course, there’s not. I mean, they’re done with me. Why would they bother to check up on me? Great. There goes my semi-good mood.
Grumbling, I go into the living room. Lucy’s still sleeping, so there’s not anyone to talk to. I flip on the TV before cursing under my breath. We don’t even have cable yet. Awesome. I make my way to the kitchen, looking in the fridge. There’s enough miscellaneous items that I can make pancakes or eggs and bacon. Razor’s face crosses my mind, and I remember when I cooked bacon and omelets for him and the others.
“Pancakes it is,” I mutter.
I’ve been cooking for a while when Lucy comes into the kitchen, yawning.
“Dang girl. I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Didn’t have much of a chance to show off my skills in the dorms.”
I hate that even cooking reminds me of the clubhouse. Shoving the thought aside, I push a plate toward her.
“How was your summer?”
“Good! My parents finally met Andrew. They love him. In fact, he’s supposed to play golf with my dad soon. Can you believe it?”
“You’re still dating?”
This actually surprises me. Usually Lucy only dates guys for a few weeks before getting bored.
She grins. “Yeah. You missed out on so much while you were sick. How are you feeling, by the way? I feel so bad for not visiting you in the hospital, but I was just so busy.”
Wonder what she would do if I told her the truth – that I wasn’t sick over the summer. That I had been shot - twice - trying to help a motorcycle club from someone who had betrayed them, and all while working with the FBI.
Forcing a smile on my lips, I reply, “Better than I did a few weeks ago. What else did I miss?”
“A bunch of parties. Game night at Andrew’s apartment with his roommates. Oh, speaking of, Chase keeps asking if you and Bash are still dating.” She peers at me. “Are you?”
The blood drains from my face. “We broke up.”
She gives me a sympathetic look that breaks my heart. “I’m so sorry to hear that. He seemed like a great guy.”
He was.
They all were.
I nod. “Thank you. We just couldn’t get over our differences.”
You know, like the fact that I lied to infiltrate their world, so I could help the Feds. Yeah. Just that little thing.
“That sucks. Well, if you want to jump back in the game, I’m sure Chase will take you out. Or maybe even Mitch, their other roommate. He needs to put down his video games and get a real-life girlfriend, if you know what I mean.”
My stomach churns. I know who Mitch is – because he hired me for sex once. He, of course, hasn’t seen me since, and p
robably doesn’t even know who I am. But I definitely won’t be going on any dates with him. Ever. In fact, I won’t even cross paths with him again if I can help it.
“I’ll keep that in mind. For now, I’m going to focus on school.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I can’t believe we have to pick up our books today. Think you can hook me up with a discount at the bookstore?”
“I’m actually not going back there this year.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Really?”
“No. I made enough over the summer that I don’t have to work. Well, at least, not until we graduate.”
“Holy cow, Olivia. Does this mean you’ll have more time to go to parties?”
I lift a shoulder. “Sure.”
“We are going to have one hell of a year, my friend.”
She rambles on about all the fun we’re going to have while she finishes eating, all the while I fight back tears. It’s hard to believe it happened yesterday. It feels like longer and, at the same time, it feels like it’s happening over and over. Probably because of the pain I feel each time in inhale.
When she’s finally finished eating, I go outside and sit on our front porch while she gets dressed. The morning air is humid, as if summer is refusing to give into fall. Somewhere down the street, someone mows their lawn and even farther away I hear some kids laughing as they play. I have to give it to Lucy’s mom – she picked a quiet little neighborhood that within walking distance to the campus, so we don’t even have to drive.
Lucy comes out and says, “I’m ready. I went back and forth on what to wear.”
“You look great.”
She grins. “I do, don’t I?”
Lucy chats as we walk. “It’s going to be weird not staying in a dorm.”
“Weird, but nice.”
“True. Hey, what are your thoughts on going to a party in a few weeks? It’s at one of Andrew’s friend’s house. Kind of a back to school kind of thing.”
“Sure.”
“Really?”
I glance at her. “Yeah.”
“Awesome!” She grins. “I still can’t believe you’re willing to go.”
Being shot by an outlaw and then dumped by four guys will do that to a person. “Yeah. I spent most of the summer in bed. I’m ready to have fun.”
That part is true. I run my hand over my stomach, where I was shot. The spot is still tender and, according to the doctor, will take some time to completely heal.
“Is it a pool party?”
“I think so. Why?”
Because I’ll have to wear a one piece so no one asks about my scar. “Just want to make sure I bring my suit.”
“Oh! We should go shopping today! See if we can get any end-of-the-summer deals.”
I’m about to agree when I see a very familiar face ahead.
“Oh crap. I forgot my student ID. You go ahead and I’ll meet you at the bookstore.”
“There’s the Olivia I know.” She laughs. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on.”
I laugh along with her. “You’re right. I’ll hurry.”
She nods and crosses the street, going toward the campus. I wait until she’s gone before heading toward the coffee shop. He goes inside, so I follow. A soft snort escapes my lips when he sits at the table in the back.
Agent Hill smiles and I want to punch him.
“Care for some coffee?”
My gaze narrows. “What do you want?”
“Believe it or not, I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I don’t believe you. What? Have another undercover mission for me to go on?”
“Olivia, I understand your frustrations, but you were paid well for the job we asked of you. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is you picked me because you knew I was Razor’s type and that he wouldn’t be able to refuse when he saw me. You threw me into their world and didn’t even prepare me for that lifestyle.” Saying Razor’s name makes me flinch, but I go on. “And then when I needed help, you weren’t there. No one was. And I got shot and Jas might not ever be the same again.”
And they threw me away, as if I meant nothing. I don’t add this part, though.
He sighs, as if I’m a child throwing a tantrum.
“Look at the outcome. A well-known criminal is now behind bars because of you. Two others will never be able to hurt anyone ever again. And I just received word that Nicole is coming out of the drug-induced locked-in syndrome.”
“Nicole?”
“Nicole, also known as Jas. You didn’t really think Jasmine was her real name, did you?”
My cheeks warm. “No.”
“I hear she’ll be allowed to have visitors tomorrow, too.”
A waitress passes carrying a tray of fresh muffins, and I take the moment to gather my thoughts.
I whisper, “Agent Hill, why are you telling me any of this?”
“As I said, I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. If you were employed by us, you’d be going through mandated processes right now.”
“Such as?”
“Seeing a therapist, for one.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a card. “Here.”
This makes me snort. “I have one, thanks.”
“One you haven’t seen in over a year.”
I narrow my eyes.
“That’s right, Ms. Mayhem. I looked at your record. That’s why I’m asking that you call the number on the card. Talk to someone who can help.” His eyes soften a bit. “Everyone deserves that luxury.”
“So another person can tell me how fucked up I am? No thanks.”
“If that’s what your last therapist said or made you feel, then you don’t need to go back to them. Trust me. This one comes highly recommended.”
“Like I’m going to trust someone the Feds use.”
“My daughter recommended her. She started seeing her after she was date-raped at a party her sophomore year of high school.”
The pain and love in his voice is enough to make my eyes water.
“So, I really hope you’ll give her a call.”
I pick up the card. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” He stands. “Tell Nicole I said hello.”
“What makes you think I’m going to see her?”
“It’s the same way I knew you’d help me. You’re a good person, Olivia.”
He leaves me sitting there feeling like a hole’s been ripped inside my soul. I’m starting to think I pegged him wrong. Sure, he’s a dick, but there’s a big heart under there. I look over the card, warring with myself. I’ve been on my own for so long that I don’t know if I can let someone in. Well, that’s not true. I let four men in – something I’ve never done. And look how well that worked out for me.
“What the hell.” I dial the number before I can talk myself out of it. “Hi. My name’s Olivia Mayhem. Dr. Cross was recommended by Agent Hill.”
After answering a few questions my first appointment is scheduled. I end the call feeling unsettled. I wasn’t lying when I said my last therapist was awful. Any time I tried to open up about my past - specifically my childhood - she’d ask what I had done to end up in that situation. Once, even suggesting that I had liked what happened to me. My stomach churns even remembering that moment.
I should have stopped seeing her, but I kept going back until I discovered the fantasy website. Speaking of the website, I need to go in an delete my profile. It’s not good for me, physically or mentally. I knew that before, but being with Razor, Bash, King, and even Saint showed me that I’ve been selling myself – literally- short. I deserve to be loved and I won’t ever get that while I have access to the website.
Biting the bullet, I log in. My email box is full of messages – men wanting to see if I want to have sex again. Dick pics. Videos of them jacking off. Dirty e-mails. All things that used to get me off, but now make my stomach knot. Selecting all of the messages, I hit the delete button. Canceling my account takes longer. T
hey want to know why I want to cancel. Did something happen? I think of the Devil’s Regents. Yeah. Something happened. But I finally get through all the forms -- wiping my profile, photos, and videos from the website.
I close the browser and delete the link from my bookmarks. The website was always a way for me to cope with my past. I knew it then and I sure as hell know it now. But I don’t need that kind of shit in my life. I might be alone and hurting right now, but at least I finally see my worth. And it’s something that can’t be bought. Not anymore.
My phone dings and I look at the screen.
Lucy: You get lost?
Me: Sorry! Ran into someone and got stuck listening to them ramble.
Lucy: Ha-ha! Well, I’m still in the bookstore. The line is wrapped around the building.
Me: On my way.
Making sure I have everything I go outside just as a motorcycle roars to life and speeds off. It’s close. Maybe two buildings away. I run into the street trying catch a glimpse of the bike. Was it one of them? I can’t be sure. A car honks and I flip it off before going back to the sidewalk. It was just a coincidence. A lot of people ride motorcycles. But, I can’t stop the little bud of hope that blooms in my chest.
What if it was them?
King
I take off like a pussy when Olivia walks outside. That wasn’t what I planned when I first saw her walking down the street. No, I was going to talk to her. See how she is. Tell her what an ass I am. Even seeing her with that prick, Agent Hill, wasn’t going to stop me. When she stepped outside, any plan I had went out of the window and I fled. I’d like to blame it on Saint, and how he’d shit a brick if he knew what I was doing, but I can’t. I left because I’m not ready to see her. I failed her and that’s something I’ll have to live with.
I drive with no destination in mind. My head throbs from the hangover I woke up with but being away from the clubhouse feels fucking great right now. Things don’t feel the same there, and not just because Olivia isn’t around. Jas was a part of our group for two years. And Mama Bear was there for as long as I can remember. Even though she ended up being a monster, it’s still strange not seeing her sitting at the bar, a cigarette hanging from her lips.