Silver Bastard

by Joanna Wylde

  Okay, then. So much for that plan.

  Trudging back to the car, everything swirled through my head as I tried to figure it out. So many things fucked up in my life, but at least there was one problem I knew how to fix.

  Every pair of jeans I owned was dirty.

  So were my panties, sheets, bras, and everything else. I got in my car and drove over to Danielle’s place for our weekly manicure/laundry party because no matter how shitty life gets, you still have to wash your clothes.

  —

  “I got this new pink polish yesterday afternoon,” Danielle announced when we finally got settled at her table, looking pleased with herself. My whites hummed in the background, her washing machine whirling and swirling from a closet in the hall. “Think I might color my hair to match. Yay or nay?”

  “What?” I asked, trying to focus. My whole world had changed, yet here we were, talking about nail colors.

  So weird.

  “The pink?” she prompted. I blinked, collecting myself.

  “Oh, it’s cute,” I told her. “Sorry, I had a strange morning.”

  “How’s that?”

  I took a deep breath, wondering where to begin.

  “So, my mom called last night. She says Teeny lost his shit. She asked me for money to leave him.”

  Danielle’s eyes widened as she set down the nail polish. She didn’t know the full story about my life back in California, but she knew enough to realize this was a Big Fucking Deal.

  “Seriously? After all this time she’s actually considering it for real?” she whispered. “What did you tell her about the money?”

  I shrugged. “I told her no. She wants two grand and I don’t have it. Then she said I was a horrible daughter and if he kills her, it’s my fault.”

  “What. The. Fuck.” Danielle said, her face turning fierce.

  “Puck said she’s just trying to get money out of me. He’s probably right—she’s always trying to get money out of me.”

  “Wait.” She held up a hand. “Rewind that thought. Why is Puck part of this story? Oh my God, was he at your place?”

  Puck. Last night came flooding back to me and I shivered. I’d been trying very hard not to think about him or the apology I still owed him. God, why did it all have to happen at once? My past was crashing down around me like a tidal wave. I couldn’t catch my breath.

  “That’s a loaded question. It’s complicated,” I told her, closing my eyes. Complicated? Now that was a fucking understatement. “I did something stupid last night.”

  “What?” she demanded. I didn’t answer. “Holy shit, did you sleep with Puck?”

  “No!” I insisted.

  “You’re lying,” she sad flatly. “You’re a really crappy liar, Becca—you need to work on that, because it’s an important life skill. So how was he? I’ve always wanted to get him naked . . .”

  “Danielle!”

  “No, no. I won’t go there, obviously,” she insisted. “But I’m your friend, Becca. Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”

  “It’s really messed up,” I said slowly. “I never told you this, but Puck and I had sex down in California.”

  Her brows raised and her mouth dropped. Literally. Just like a cartoon character.

  “Wow. But weren’t you like twelve or something?”

  “I’d just turned sixteen. He was twenty-one.”

  “That’s fucked up, Becca.”

  I shrugged. “Where I come from, it’s not a big deal. I mean, it is a big deal, but it wasn’t his fault. He had no idea how young I was, and if anything he got set up. My stepdad arranged it.”

  Danielle swallowed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Teeny gave me to Puck. He’d just gotten out of prison. Like, gotten out of prison that day. They were having a party for him, and I caught his eye. That’s when Teeny told me to make him happy or I’d pay. You come from a nice family, Danielle—mine was different. Shit like this happens all the time, especially in motorcycle clubs like the Longnecks. The world is full of evil people. And it’s not like I’m the only one, you know—all kinds of girls end up following bikers home. Sometimes they’re underage. Sometimes they want to leave and they can’t . . .”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “It is what it is,” I replied quietly. “And Puck wasn’t the first. The others were . . . awful. I actually enjoyed it with Puck, at least until things got rough.”

  “I’ve heard he’s wild,” she murmured. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Yeah, but he stopped when I asked him to. It was sweet in a fucked-up way. Then things got ugly. Puck told one of his friends that I wasn’t good enough and Teeny heard about it. He beat me up the next morning.”

  Danielle swallowed.

  “You don’t have to tell me this. I mean, I know I told you to spill and I’m here for you, but I wasn’t trying to force you to open up if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it feels good to talk about it,” I admitted. “The only other person who knows it all is Regina. Anyway, Puck found out what happened and he was pissed. Like, really pissed. He was on parole—could’ve gone back to jail. So he kicked the shit out of Teeny and took me home with him. Like, I got on his bike and we left. I’ve never been back and I haven’t even seen my mom since then . . . He brought me to Callup and the club asked Regina and Earl to take me in. They did and you know the rest. So that’s me and Puck. It’s a clusterfuck.”

  “Damn,” she replied, frowning. “And now he lives across the roof from you. Are you okay with that?”

  “I think so,” I answered. “I have such weird feelings about him. He scares me—they all scare me. Sometimes when I see a biker, the bottom of my stomach twists and I want to throw up a little. At the same time, I’m probably only alive because he stepped up and saved me. The Silver Bastards were good to me, Danielle. Really good. They were outnumbered, you know. Rescuing me was a big risk. On the ride home, Boonie promised that they’d protect me as long as I needed them, and they have. Last year—when I told Regina I wanted to start beauty school—she talked to Darcy about it. We went to coffee and she told me all about what to expect. Did you know she’s got both her massage and cosmetology licenses? Darcy can even do permanent cosmetics. She also told me she’d help me find a place when I’m done, either at her place or through one of her contacts.”

  “I always wondered what it was between you and the club,” Danielle said softly. “I mean, I knew shit was complicated—usually people gossip when someone new moves to town. But nobody gossiped about you. The club shut it down.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “So what’s going on now?”

  “Things changed after my ride home with him the other night. Probably won’t surprise you, but there’s tension between us. Always has been, but I’m an adult now. I tried to talk to him about being friends and he made it clear that when it comes to us, it’s all or nothing. I told him no. Then he saw me with Blake.”

  “Blake?” she asked, sitting up straight. I flapped my hand at her.

  “Settle down, big girl. He wanted a haircut after school. I didn’t think about closing my shades, so Puck watched us and Blake took off his shirt like he always does, you know? Puck saw me with Joe the other night, too—you know, at the Moose—and I guess it’s been bothering him. We talked for a while on the roof, then he asked for a haircut. I said yes and he came inside. Long story short, we made out and he got me off on the couch. Then my mom called before we could do anything more.”

  Danielle didn’t say anything for a minute. Then she stood and walked quietly over to her fridge and pulled a bottle of Fireball out of the freezer. Opening it, she handed it over without a word.

  I drank straight from the bottle, cinnamon burning my throat. I managed not to drop it as I coughed. Danielle took it back and sucked down some for herself before setting it on the table between us.

  “That’s officially the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever heard. How are things between you and Puck now?
”

  “Well, he told me Mom was just playing me and I got mad at him. So I called him a rapist and kicked him out of my apartment.”

  Silence.

  “He didn’t rape me,” I added. “He saved me.”

  “You win,” she said after a pause.

  “Win what?”

  “The fucked-up prize,” she replied. “I thought I would, because Blake and I—never mind, doesn’t matter anyway. So you called him a rapist and kicked him out because he said your mom might be trying to play you?”

  “Pretty much. He also wanted me to have sex with him after, said I left him hanging. I tried to apologize to him this morning but I couldn’t seen any signs of life in his apartment. Of course, he might’ve been ignoring me. Probably not his favorite person right now. What the hell am I going to do, Danielle?”

  She cocked her head, thinking.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to be happy.”

  “Give me more to work with. Do you want Puck?”

  “No,” I said slowly. “I mean, yes. I totally want Puck, as in having sex with him would kick ass. But it’s more than I can handle—he’s so intense, you know? And I have no idea what to do about my mom, either. When she called this morning she said she’d been wrong, that she needs to find her own way out, and that I’m a good daughter. Up to that point I was pissed at her, but now I just feel guilty. I want to help her but I don’t have two grand. And what if she does leave him? I mean, where is she going to live? With me? I love her and I want her to get away, but having her in my place would be really hard. I’m not sure her brain is even right—she’s gotten beat so much over the years and she’s done a lot of drugs. Realistically, I’d be way too busy taking care of her to have a relationship with anyone. I’m just too fucked up for this.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Any of it,” she said. “Let’s assume your mom is serious and actually leaves him. You can find somewhere else for her to live. Taking care of someone and living with them are two different things. I’ll even help you—women leave men all the time, and there are shelters and stuff. You don’t have to do this all by yourself.”

  “No, I want her with me,” I insisted, and it wasn’t a lie. “She’s a shittastic mom, but she’s still mine and I love her.”

  “Okay, so that means you need to get rid of Puck,” she said. “Sounds like after last night it won’t be too hard.”

  “I still need to apologize to him.”

  “Yeah, although he was being a douche, so don’t whip yourself too much. Just tell him you’re sorry and walk away. Short and sweet.”

  “All right.”

  “Now, about your mom. You say she needs two grand?”

  “That’s what she told me.”

  “She’s full of shit. She can go to a women’s shelter, hide out for a week or two, and then get a bus ticket up here. That’s reasonable.”

  “Still costs money,” I told her. “And I’m not sure she’ll go to a shelter. She’s stubborn.”

  Danielle sighed. “If she won’t go to a shelter, then she doesn’t really want to leave him and two grand won’t change anything. You need enough money to get her up here, but she has to take the first step. You can’t do it for her.”

  I nodded slowly, because she was right.

  “You’re going to be okay, Becca,” Danielle said, leaning forward to catch my shoulders. Her eyes met mine, full of love and support. God, I’m lucky to have a friend like this. “We all love you. This shit with Puck will blow over—he’ll find someone else and it’ll all be history. Don’t worry, okay?”

  I nodded again, refusing to acknowledge the tiny twinge of pain I felt. Just another symptom of how fucked up I’d gotten, because the thought of Puck with another woman didn’t exactly make me feel better.

  Nope.

  If anything, I felt like barfing.

  Hopefully that was just the Fireball.

  —

  My day got better after my visit with Danielle.

  Usually I don’t buy into the whole talking-things-through school of thought but this time it worked for me. My best friend was just so matter-of-fact and full of common sense that by the time we’d finished our nails, I felt almost human again because she was right.

  I didn’t have to do this.

  Mom made her own bed a long time ago—nobody expected me to rescue or save her. Whatever I decided to do, it was entirely my choice.

  Rejecting Puck was my choice, too. If I couldn’t handle a relationship, I couldn’t handle a relationship and it wasn’t against the law to stay single. I definitely owed him an apology, though. Would talking to him be hard? Yes. But I’d survived worse.

  Ultimately, the Mom Situation was the tough one to figure out. In some ways it would’ve been so much easier if she hadn’t called back. Our talk that morning threw me off in a big way—my mom didn’t apologize. Ever. This was way different from any of her normal tricks, and that scared me.

  What if I didn’t send her the money and he actually killed her? But how could I send it even if I wanted to? It wasn’t like two grand would just fall out of the sky.

  The thought haunted me as I drove home with my clean clothes. I stopped by Puck’s apartment again, hoping he’d be there so I could get it over with. Sometimes you just have to rip the Band-Aid off, you know? Naturally he was nowhere to be found. Instead of letting myself fester and worry, I decided to follow my original plan for the day and went huckleberry picking.

  Three hours later I had enough of the tiny purple berries to make a pie for Earl. With luck I’d get a bonus batch of muffins out of it, too. Just accomplishing something so simple made me feel better, and I even found myself singing along to my music when I showered before my shift. So what if I owed a scary biker an apology and my mom might get murdered any minute?

  I’d have muffins for breakfast.

  By nine that night, not even the thought of muffins helped, because the dickwads (and dickwaddettes) from the Northwoods Academy had plopped their asses down in my section at the Moose. So far as I could tell, the school was one big asshole factory.

  “I thought they weren’t allowed off campus,” I hissed at Danielle, slamming my tray down on the bar next to her. She wasn’t on tonight, but she’d come in to give me moral support. Probably planned to give Blake more than that during his break, lucky boy. “Why the hell are they here again?”

  “Hell if I know,” she replied, shrugging. “Just watch out for that blonde bitch with the diamonds. I busted ass keeping up with all their fucking orders the other night. One of the guys left a damned good tip, a fifty. She swapped it out for a twenty, pocketed the difference.”

  I raised my brows. The “blonde bitch” looked like she was maybe eighteen years old, and the clothing she wore probably cost more than my car.

  “You think she needs money?” I asked, intrigued.

  “I could give a fuck—I earned that tip. If you get a chance, spit in her drink, will you?”

  Laughing, I shrugged off her suggestion. I couldn’t afford to lose another job. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t spit in the bitch’s drink, of course. I would, first chance I got. Nobody fucks with my friends. I just didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing me agreeing with the suggestion. Good to know about the tip, too—I’d keep an eye on blondie.

  Thirty bucks was half a tank of gas.

  An hour later I’d decided spitting in the drinks wasn’t bad enough. I’d never met more entitled, wretched excuses for human beings. All of them. Well, almost all of them . . . Of the ten or so taking up two tables along the back wall, there was one who seemed aloof from the bullshit. He was the clear leader of the group, the obvious alpha. They were all trying to catch his attention, but he ignored them.

  The guy was about my age, with darkish, floppy hair. I didn’t quite know just what made him different, aside from the aura of untouchability. He laughed and talked just like the others. He
wore the same uniform of overpriced, designer clothes that looked like a movie star’s version of going country for the night, and he obviously took his wealth for granted.

  I almost dismissed him with the rest . . .

  His eyes scanned the room, though, always searching. I caught them on me more than once. Like he was studying what made me work, deep inside. I couldn’t tell if he was truly a rich boy out slumming or a very cleverly disguised predator.

  Something about him reminded me of Puck.

  Just what we needed around here—more scary people.

  Things got busier as the night progressed. Teresa had brought in a live band for the night, and by eleven Danielle had grabbed her apron and started pitching in. When Teresa saw her I wondered if we’d get in trouble, but she just said, “Don’t forget to write down your hours . . .”

  That’s about the time Boonie and Darcy showed up. Ten minutes later Puck arrived, along with Deep, Demon, and Carlie. I’d been looking for him all day, determined to apologize for what I’d said the night before. Now that he was really here, though, the thought of talking to him terrified me. Still, I had to do it, and the sooner the better. I set down my tray and intercepted the group as they crossed the room.

  “Puck, do you have a minute?”

  Puck ignored me completely. It was like I didn’t even exist. I wanted to hate him for that but I couldn’t really blame him—I’d called him a rapist, and that’s a pretty big deal no matter how you look at it. Deep and Demon followed Puck’s lead and walked past without a word. The worst, though, Carlie. She didn’t ignore me. Nope. She smiled at me, and in her eyes I saw pity.

  She fucking pitied me.

  Bitch.

  Because God obviously hates me, Boonie and Darcy had already taken a table in my section, which meant I had to trail after Puck and his MC brothers like a fucking puppy to take their orders. Just how I was supposed to accomplish that confused me, what with the silent treatment and all. Boonie solved the problem by ordering a round for the entire table, and I found myself retreating back toward the bar.

  “Bummer,” Danielle whispered as she passed by, having obviously watched our little show (along with everyone else in the bar, because the situation wasn’t awkward enough already, right?). “That’s harsh.”