by Andi Rhodes
“What did you just call me?” Joker growls.
“Oh grow up. There are worse things than ‘asshole’ that I could’ve called you and you know it.”
Piston takes a step toward the pair, but I reach out and grab his arm, stopping him. If anyone is going to step in, it’s going to be me, but for now, Charlie wants to handle it on her own.
“The way I see it, Joker, you’ve got two choices,” Charlie says matter-of-factly.
“And those would be?”
“Well, you can keep sulking because I managed to get something done that you couldn’t or,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, “you can say ‘thank you’ and be grateful that you’ll now have a new way to obtain original parts that you might not otherwise find.”
“What the fuck way would that be? I don’t work with just anyone.”
“That’s the best part.” Charlie’s face lights up as she smiles. “You don’t have to work with anybody. I do.”
“Huh?”
“Let me break it down for you. Old Man Nickels is a collector. He’s got everything and anything you could ever want when it comes to vintage motorcycles.”
“You’re telling me that your old boss is willing to work with a man that he’s never met, that he’s going to hand over whatever I need?”
“No, I’m telling you that he loves me and he’s happy to help me out… once I apologized for bailing without telling him, but that’s beside the point. He wouldn’t give you shit.” Charlie chuckles and shakes her head.
“I thought you said he works on cars, not bikes,” I say, not quite putting the puzzle pieces together.
“He does, but bikes are his passion.” Charlie shifts her position so she can see all three of us when she speaks. “That’s how we bonded. Like I said, he let me help out at the shop but after work he would open up the storage unit he had at the back of the property and tell me stories about his youth and about each and every part he had tucked away.”
“That still doesn’t explain why he’s giving you these parts. They’re worth a small fortune,” Piston questions.
“Old Man Nickels has no family left. Never married, never had kids. When we realized that we both had a love of bikes, I became like a surrogate daughter to him.” Charlie’s eyes grow distant, almost like she’s in another place, another time. “Man, I thought I knew all there was to know about motorcycles. He proved me wrong and taught me so much.” Her gaze clears and she shakes her head as if to dislodge the memories. “Anyway, he’s not getting any younger and he wants to see his collection be put to use so, I asked and he said yes.”
Joker stands still and silent for a few minutes, seeming to take in all of the information. At first he’s tense, frustration rolling off of him in waves, but he soon relaxes. Whether he’s simply resigned himself to the fact that Charlie did something he couldn’t or whether he’s truly accepting her, I have no idea. At this point, I’ll take either because both are progress.
“Thanks,” Joker mumbles.
“What was that?” Charlie taunts.
“Fuck, I said ‘thanks’, okay?” he snaps back.
“You’re welcome, Joker.”
Charlie blows out a breath and appears relieved. She’s not stupid so she knew the entire time she was talking that that could have gone a completely different way. Charlie comes to me and wraps her arms around my waist when she reaches me, her cheek resting on my chest. Just as my arms go around her, she straightens and throws a look over her shoulder.
“Joker?” she calls.
“Huh?”
“The seafoam blue would look killer on that bike.” She shrugs. “Just sayin’.”
Joker shakes his head and just as he starts to turn back toward the bike, I see the corner of his mouth tug up in a grin.
“Fuck, I’m beat.”
Piston stretches next to the Harley he’s working on. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize we’ve been at the shop for five hours. It’s late and no doubt there’s a party going on at the clubhouse without us. I know Joker and Piston probably wanna get back so they can find some pussy, and I’m sure as hell ready to get Charlie back to my room.
“Let’s wrap it up and head back. We can pick up where we leave off tomorrow.”
We all start to clean up our stations. Charlie helps me with mine, although she's spending more time distracting me by running her fingertips up and down my torso. The shop’s AC doesn’t always work, so I stripped down to my jeans earlier, as did Joker and Piston. Too bad they were there or I’d have stripped Charlie down too.
“Can I come back tomorrow?” Charlie asks.
As much as I want to say ‘yes’, I don’t. Charlie doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to be voting on letting her go and if the vote is in favor of it, she won’t be able to come back.
“We’ll see,” I say.
Once everything is put away and we’re ready to go, I swipe my T-shirt and cut off the bench and head toward the swinging door. Charlie’s ahead of me, and she steps through, holding the door open for us with an outstretched arm. When Piston walks past her, he stops and pivots to stare at her wrist. His gaze darts from her wrist to my bare chest and back again.
“Huh, ya both have the same tattoo.”
Charlie’s face turns scarlet, and she ducks her head. I absently rub my fist against my pec where the simple black infinity symbol is nestled among the vibrant colors of the tattoos surrounding it.
“No they don’t,” Joker insists as he steps closer to inspect both of us. He points to my tattoo. “See, Fen has the Infinite Motors logo and—”
“Dude, not real comfortable with you fucking staring at my chest.”
“Wait.” Joker holds up a hand and he narrows his eyes. “I was there when Pony did that logo ink. Now that I think about it, you already had the infinity symbol.”
“You don’t know shit. You were high as hell that day,” I argue.
He’s right, though. I already had the symbol, but there’s an unspoken rule among the Soulless Kings. No member is to ever get a matching tattoo with a chick. It’s dangerous territory and the second it happens, the chick tends to read more into the association than is there. Not only that, but since we have an in-house inker, we’re not always of sound mind when the needle is vibrating into our skin. No good decision is ever made while high or drunk.
I wasn’t drunk when Charlie and I got our tattoos at the local shop. I was stone-cold sober and knew exactly what I was doing. Breaking rules and branding myself as hers.
“High or not, I remember what I remember.”
“Hold up,” Piston interrupts. “Is that where the name of the shop came from? That damn symbol?”
Charlie’s eyes dart to mine at that question. I’ve never told anyone why I chose the name I did and I don’t feel like telling them now, but they’re not giving me any other choice so I give a curt nod.
“Why would you do that?” Charlie asks, incredulously.
Through this entire exchange I’ve kept calm, controlled, but that one question of Charlie’s and my control snaps. I pull my T-shirt over my head and put my cut on, covering up the evidence of my decisions, my sins.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?” I growl once I’m fully dressed. “Dammit, Charlie, you were my world, even after you left, there was a part of me that wished you’d come back.”
“Seriously?” Joker asks. “You thought she betrayed you. How could you want her to come back?”
“Because she’s everything,” Piston answers for me when no words come out of my own mouth. “To him, she’s everything.”
“This is so fucked up.” Joker pulls his shirt over his head and shoves his arms through the sleeves. “She’s a Black Savage and you’re a Soulless King. I don’t know how the hell anything between the two of you ever worked in the past, or if it can work now, but shit. Even I have to concede that you two seem perfect together. In some weird, twisted way, the two of you work even when everything in the universe says you shouldn�
�t.”
Charlie’s gaze shifts to Joker, and before I realize what she’s doing, she launches herself at him. When he catches her out of instinct, air whooshes past my lips as I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and at the same time, my heart cracks.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that my brothers are coming around and accepting Charlie, but it means nothing anymore. Not when I know we’ll be voting on letting her go. Not when I know that the vote will be in favor of her going back to the Black Savages. Not when I know that she’s still got one foot on that side of the MC line.
How am I supposed to be happy when I know that, in less than twenty-four hours, that feeling will likely be ripped away from me… again?
Chapter Nineteen
The hatred and bitterness he’s held for so long oozes from him and spills onto the bed, drowning the peace we’ve found together.
Charlie
I start to follow Piston and Joker to the clubhouse, but Fender takes my wrist, and I spin toward him.
“Let’s stay in my cabin tonight,” he says, nodding into the darkness and the trees.
I open my mouth to protest, comment on how I don’t think the others would like that or whatever, but I let it go when I identify the serious and maybe even sad expression etched into his face.
I nod and let him guide me to the break in the trees where a small gravel path lies. We walk hand in hand in silence while crickets chirp and leaves rustle from tiny animals scurrying about. I like the Soulless Kings’ property more than the Black Savages, I realize. There aren’t as many trees there, other than a small section near Leal’s house. It’s less serene.
Will I ever stop comparing the two?
“You’ve done really good with getting everyone to accept you.”
I turn my head toward Fender and raise a brow that he can’t see because he’s facing forward.
“I don’t know about that.” I turn and look straight ahead. “There are still some that won’t even look at me.”
“Piston and Joker like you… the others will come around.”
I don’t plan on replying, but I can’t prevent the scoff that escapes me. Fender stops walking and tugs on my hand, so I’m forced to do the same and I swivel toward him.
“What was that?” he asks.
“What if I don’t care if anyone else ‘comes around’? Why does it matter so much? We both know you can let me go at any time if you really want. It isn’t like you’re going to kill me, so at some point this has to end.”
He recoils like I’ve just slapped him in the face, and it sobers me some. I suddenly regret saying anything at all.
“I know,” he agrees finally, letting go of my hand and shoving his into his pockets. “It isn’t about getting them to agree to letting you go.”
“Then what is it about?”
I know the answer the second the question leaves my mouth, and my face falls at his somber expression. They’re his brothers, his family. He wants them to love me because he loves me.
Does he love me?
“Do you want to leave, Charlie?” he asks.
“Would you let me if I did?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and it feels like it’s taking an eternity with the way my heart pounds in my chest. It’s weird and I can’t fully understand it myself, but I’m conflicted on which way I want him to answer.
I don’t want to leave.
I don’t know at what point I realized that today, but it’s singed into my brain now, as permanent as a tattoo. I love my family, so damn much it hurts, but I don’t belong there. I don’t know if I belong here either, but I know I belong with Fender and this is where he is.
I don’t know if he loves me, but I love him.
My heart skips when the thought comes into my mind, and I silently scream the words.
I love him.
But how can you love someone who’s made you a prisoner?
“Fender, am I free to go or not? No more bullshit with the other brother’s opinions. You’re the president, you make the call.”
“It isn’t always my call. Why the fuck can’t you get that?” he says with a shake of his head. “We don’t do things like the fucking Black Savages.”
“So no, I’m not free to go then?”
My chest tightens, even as it mixes with relief. Fuck, this is confusing.
He stares at me another minute, his head tilted to the side as if to study me. With his jaw tense, he squares his shoulders and pulls the key to his bike from his pocket. He fumbles it in his hand a few times before extending it to me.
I reach out and carefully take it, pulling back slowly like I’m waiting on him to change his mind.
“I’ll let the guys at the front gate know they’re not to stop you.”
“Okay,” I say, still waiting to see if he’ll change his mind. He doesn’t blink, the key feels heavy in my hand. Too heavy. My hands begin to sweat and become slippery against the metal.
I slip the key into my pocket and shrug when Fender gives me a funny look. “I think I’ll hold onto it.”
A smile spreads across his face, and he takes my hand again. We walk the rest of the way to the cabin and decide we both need a shower.
I set the key on the bathroom sink and climb into the shower that Fender already has running and is spraying his head. He’s facing away from me, and I weave my arms around his waist, hugging myself to his back.
“Are you not going to leave?”
“No,” I whisper, the word feeling more like relief than defeat. It isn’t me giving into him. It’s me giving into myself.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t want me to.” My voice breaks, despite my determination to keep it even. A string pulls inside me and every bit of strength I have unravels with each tug. Tears burst from my eyes, and I’m thankful for the spray of the shower to hide them.
Fender turns in my arms and hugs me back while I softly cry into his chest. I wonder if he has any idea why I’m crying. If he has any idea how many times I’ve thought about this, about us being together, and if he has any idea how long I’ve spent telling myself I couldn’t have it. Have him.
“I’m yours, Charlie,” he whispers, the words almost swallowed up by the water bouncing off porcelain.
I cry harder and Fender rubs a hand over my back, whispering the words over and over.
“I’m yours.”
“Favorite color?”
“Green.”
“Green?” I ask, raising a brow. “I thought it used to be red.”
Fender shakes his head and continues tracing an invisible line on my bicep. We’ve been laying in bed for hours, catching up on all the things we missed in the four years we were apart and learning some old things that I hadn’t known. Like apparently, Fender was on the swim team in high school. He was good, too. Broke the school record for best time.
“Red makes me think of blood ever since…” he trails off, but doesn’t pause long before he blinks and is back in the present. “Green makes me think of home. The pines outside and the green after it rains.” He lifts his gaze to my face and pins me with his stare. “And your eyes.”
I smile at him before looking out the window to see the ferns just outside Fender’s cabin. I could get used to this view.
“Your favorite color is still blue?”
“Like the sky on a sunny day.”
Fender nods and looks to the ceiling while he thinks of a question to ask me. We’ve nearly exhausted this game, but it’s nice just to talk to him. To laugh with him, smile with him, be with him. If I had known it could be this way, I would’ve come home a long time ago.
“How did you become president of the Soulless Kings?” I ask, taking his turn but realizing I want the answer. It didn’t surprise me at all to see Fender remain loyal to the club he was brought up in, but to see him as the president? It still doesn’t feel real.
Fender shifts like he’s uncomfortable, and I scoot off his chest. He rolls onto his s
ide and smooths a strand of hair out of my face.
“After you left, our clubs went to war. We’re still there, but it isn’t quite as brutal as it used to be. We came to a sort of unspoken agreement to stay away from each other until…”
“Until I came back?”
He nods. “During the next six months or so, I became obsessed with avenging my parents, so I spent every waking minute plotting, planning, carrying out counter moves.”
“You proved your loyalty,” I say, realizing where Fender is going with this. I hate that it’s the case, but it makes sense. Losing everything and filling with hate will give anyone the drive and determination to get where he is.
“And my competence. Prez got sick, and Tiger, our VP at the time, got taken out by a Black Savage. Prez chose me to take Tiger’s place. The brothers agreed with him when it was put to a vote. Then when prez died…”
“You were voted to take his place.”
Fender’s thumb rubs a circle on my shoulder. I take a deep breath and process the information.
“If I had known what would’ve happened. The war that would’ve started… Maybe I could’ve stopped it.”
“No one could’ve stopped it,” Fender says with certainty. “When there’s that much hatred involved, there isn’t anything anyone can do to stop it… Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted it stopped.”
My eyes narrow and I shift onto my elbow with my head in my hand. “You just said you lost your vice president. You said it was a war.”
“It was a war that needed to happen.”
“Fender…”
He breaks my gaze and slowly pulls his hand away to rub it over his face. I can see so clearly the war he wages not just with the outside world, but with himself, in his head. The hatred and bitterness he’s held for so long oozes from him and spills onto the bed, drowning the peace we’ve found together.
Fender’s wrong. It didn’t need to happen. I don’t know the details of why it happened and never got the chance to ask my father before he died, but I know it didn’t need to happen. It shouldn’t have, none of it. Maybe it’s because I was younger, but I don’t remember thinking I could make a difference with the tension between the two families. Now I’m not so certain that’s true. I wish I would’ve stayed to find out…