by Ella Goode
“That was not a very nice conversation to listen to.” Her voice trembles a little.
“It’s not what you think.” I half rise and hold out my hand as if I can hold back her tears with a gesture.
“Okay. Then explain it for me.”
“Thank Christ,” I breathe. Michigan hasn’t moved, probably because he’s afraid the whole amazing thing is going to blow up in our faces. I start talking. “We want you in our lives. We gave you those claiming bracelets because we want you to wear them all of the fucking time, not just when you’re with us. We suspect your old man is pretty strict, right?” I pause and continue when she nods. “So far we’ve had to make up a couple of stories to get you with us but we don’t want to continue doing that.”
“What do you want?” she asks in a quiet, small voice.
The fear in her voice galvanizes Michigan. “We want you. All the time. In our beds. In our lives. What about you?”
She exhales deeply and steps into the room toward Michigan and me. “I want you both but you’re right. Father does not believe in premarital sex and he isn’t going to approve of me sleeping with you. I need to find my own place.”
Michigan growls. “You can move in with us.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. I mean, I could but I also need a new job. Father’ll consider me dating the both of you too sinful for me to have a place in the church. The last church secretary had to leave because she got a divorce. Father said it was unseemly and that the church staff had to be above approach." She gives us a wry smile. "Even having sex outside of marriage is enough to get me in hot water with him."
Michigan’s eyebrows shoot into his forehead. "Sounds like ninety-nine percent of your church is going to hell then."
"It's okay for you to sit in the pews and sin but not in the church office.” She hesitates. “And I’d like to have my own place just in case.”
"In case of what?" Michigan frowns.
"In case we dump her," I interrupt. "Isn't that what you're thinking, baby?"
She flushes, but straightening her shoulders she says, “We've known each other for only a short time. You say it's serious and I feel like there's something special between us. I've never felt the need to lie to Father or break rules just to have something or be with someone. But with you two, the compulsion is so strong I can't resist. How do I know it’s the same for you? You’ve had other women before, shared other woman. You could be tired of me next week; then I wouldn’t have a job or a place to live.”
She lifts her hair that she’s wrapped in a ponytail. “I get that this is my own insecurity talking but when I was in the bathroom I kept asking myself. What am I doing? I have no ability to keep these two men interested. They are motorcycle club members. The hottest women in the county flock to your doorstep and I’m a fool for believing I can hold the interest of both of you. So yeah, I’m scared and getting my own place and a new job will do a lot in making me feel more secure.”
Michigan looks like he wants to protest but I hold up my hand again like some stupid traffic cop. “Okay, but until then one of us is dating you and we’ll find time together. It doesn’t have to be at night even though we want to wake up fucking you like this morning.”
She turns a deep, interesting red as we all contemplate this morning’s activities.
"Is this just about sex then? It seems to me you two could get that anywhere."
"It's not about sex," Michigan says impatiently. "There's a lot more to it. You know that."
"I don't know anything. That's the problem," she protests. "I've never dated. Never had another man."
"Is that what you want? Another man to see if we're good enough?" Michigan's voice is sharp but behind the anger, I hear echoes of vulnerabilities and I hope Annie can hear it too.
"No, I know you're good enough. It's me. I'm insecure and I don't want to be a needy, insecure girl. I've got money saved and I'm going to look for a new job. Maybe I can take online courses to get a degree in something like bookkeeping. That way I'm not dependent on you for every little thing and I won't become a clingy, whiny girl in need of reassurance every five seconds because that's how I feel right now. And honestly I've never felt that way before. I don't like it."
After her outburst, she stares miserably at her hands.
"Baby, you've got nothing to be worried about. We'll like it if you're clingy and needy. We want you to need us but I understand what you're saying. You get that apartment and new job but make sure that you're sleeping with us and if you need anything, we're here."
“I just want us to last," she says.
"Same here." Michigan’s voice is rough with emotion.
Mine is too but I manage to nod and say, "When you find a place, you let us know so we can check it out. Okay?"
"Yes, that's fine with me."
Michigan snorts. “Fuck. You think what we have is something ordinary? I’ve never been so hard, come so long or felt so good as I did with you. My dick wants to live inside of you.”
“Mine too,” I volunteer. “And frankly, Annie, you’re too horny to be let out on the town of Fortune without one of us with you. One or both of our dicks will need to be with you at all times so you don’t attack the poor, unsuspecting men of our town.”
“Don’t fucking joke about her being with another man.” He points an angry finger at me. “No one’s dick gets in her pussy but yours or mine.” He turns to Annie. “You hear me? That pussy is ours and no one else’s.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” she cries. “Just you two.” Her eyes widen. “Gosh, I sound terrible, don’t I? That I want two of you.”
“Nah, just think of us as one guy with two dicks.”
“What?” Michigan and Annie both shout. I topple over with laughter.
I’m still laughing when Michigan hustles us out of the hotel. He carries the helmet we bought Annie at the Harley store in the giant mall across the street, with his saddle bags tucked over his shoulder. Her hand is clasped in his and I follow along, watching her sweet ass sway gently.
“Are you staring at me?” she calls over her shoulder.
I readjust the strap of the leather bag and then speed up to throw an arm around her shoulder. Annie’s only about six inches shorter than Michigan and eight inches shorter than me. It’s not a strain to walk with her as it is with other, shorter girls.
“Yup. You have a first class ass and world class legs. I like watching them work.”
“I like them digging into my ass,” Michigan says.
“I like that too or her ankles by my ears. That way when I’m fucking her I can really pound into that ass.”
A couple passes us as we exit the lobby and the man looks like he is about to have an apoplexy while the woman is intrigued.
“Shut up,” Annie chastises as she realizes the couple is eavesdropping.
“Shut up about your ass or your legs? I guess I can talk about your perky-ass tits and how I like sucking the whole damn thing into my mouth.”
“Oh my god,” she says and drops her chin into her chest.
Michigan’s chest is shaking with repressed laughter.
“Why don’t you ever talk about me like that?” I hear the woman ask her man.
He mumbles some reply. I don’t care who hears me praising my woman. If she’s a little insecure then I’m going to do my level best to make sure she has no reason to doubt that I’ll never look at another woman as long as I have her.
Chapter Thirteen
Annie
We stop at the outskirts of the city, about fifty minutes away from Fortune, for a late lunch, early dinner.
In the diner, I’m squished between Michigan’s hard thighs and the wall. He hasn’t stopped touching me since we left the hotel and I can’t say I mind it. Easy’s been full of affection as well. I guess they are working hard at trying to prove that I’m not just a one-night or three-night stand but someone they truly want in their lives forever.
Forever.
I
t’s hard for me to wrap my head around it.
“Tell us what you do as church secretary,” Easy invites after our food’s been delivered. Big hamburgers for all three of us because gosh, I am so hungry after the workout they’ve put me through. “Maybe we can help you find a job.”
“I don’t care what I do, so long as it pays okay. I’d be okay with working the cash register at the gas station or bagging groceries. You know I even applied to Mallory’s when I graduated from high school.”
“And they turned you away?”
“Yes, everyone did.”
“That’s really fucking weird, don’t you think?” Easy asks between bites.
It was frustrating at the time, but weird? I shrug. “I don’t know but I was really grateful that Father took me in and let me have the church secretary position. He had other applicants. Anyway, let’s see. I pay the bills, log in all the donations, send out tax information to our parishioners, put the church bulletin together, keep track of prayer requests, deaths, births, special announcements. I can play the piano too.”
The two sit there with their mouths half open. Finally Michigan shakes himself.
“All of that? I thought you said you were a fucking secretary.”
“I am.”
“No, sweetheart.” He sets down his burger and shifts in the booth so he can look me in the eye. “You’re a bookkeeper, secretary and receptionist all in one.”
“Okay. Do you know of anyone who needs a bookkeeper, secretary and receptionist?”
A broad grin spreads across his face. “I do.”
“Judge needs an office manager at his custom shop, Wheel’s Up,” Easy explains. “He’s been complaining about it forever and if this shuts him up, the entire club will be kissing your feet.”
“Don’t force me on him. I want him to hire me because he thinks I’d do a good job, not because I’m sleeping with the two of you.”
“No one makes Judge do anything, so trust me, he’ll only be hiring you if he thinks you’re competent. But you are, so there’s no worries. You go home, work this out with your dad and let us know when you’re ready to meet Judge.”
“This is happening so fast.”
“Is that a complaint or a compliment?”
“An observation. I want it to happen but I’m scared and excited at the same time.”
“Hold on to the excitement, then, baby. It’ll all work out.” Easy’s so confident that I can’t help but smile back at him.
After eating a little more of my hamburger, I ask something I’ve been dying to know since I first learned about the existence of the motorcycle club in town. "How’d the Death Lords come to be? Or can't you say?"
I didn't know all the rules of their club.
“It’s no secret.” Easy’s powerful shoulders move under his leather cut. I noticed that they rarely go out in public without them on. Actually, now that I think about it, they are almost always wearing them, even inside their clubhouse at the outskirts of town. The few times they haven’t been wearing their leather vests with the colorful patches declaring them to be part of the Death Lords motorcycle club is when they’ve been in bed with me. And even sometimes, they’ve taken me with their pants just shoved down to the hips and their colors still draped around their shoulders. “Judge’s granddad moved here with some other vets from Worthington. They all shared a love of bikes and the road and kind of formed a loose association with them that became more formal as time went on. When they went to bike meets or shit like that, guys would talk and swap stories and I guess that’s how they came to put the Death Lords together.”
“There are rumors that the Death Lords are into some not so legal stuff,” I ask carefully.
“We’re no angels,” Easy admits. “But we’ve got a code and we follow it. Citizens—non-club members—should be left alone so long as they don’t interfere with our business. We’re just trying to enjoy our lives, protect our way of living without hurting others. Is that going to be an issue?”
His tone is light but he’s dead serious. I think of all the sin that goes on in the church and how so many people treat tithing and appearance at church once a week as a get out of jail free card. Easy and Michigan’s way of life is more open in the sense that they don’t hide who they are or how they want to live. They aren’t ashamed and I love that. “No, it’s not a problem.” Some imp inside me makes me ask, “Do I get a special name like you guys?”
"Our names came from our time in the service." Easy leans back and spreads his arms out in a pose I’m recognizing as a sign that’s he’s utterly relaxed. "I'm pretty laid back and so they called me Easy Beasley which got shortened to Easy. Made sense for that to be my road name. Michigan got called that because there were two Davises in our unit. One was from Tennessee and then there was Michigan and that's how we separated them."
Michigan, who I've learned is the quiet one, nods his head in agreement but by the way he likes to crowd me, I’m beginning to understand he needs the physical closeness. I don’t know much about his past, but I’m guessing he’s as starved for love as I am.
"Why not just go by Van?" Van is Easy's Christian name, the one his parents gave him and the name all of his family members call him.
"Road names are an important part of the club, honey," Easy says. "When you patch in, that's your new family and kind of like how married people change their names, that's how we change ours. And our pasts don't matter. It's how we treat the club, the members of the club, that matter.”
Like I said, no shame.
"So, no name for us women?" It's a joke because women aren't allowed into the Death Lords MC. That's not true for other MCs, according to Pippa, my boss at the library, but it's true for theirs.
"Yeah, Hot Stuff," Easy winks.
The ride home is a dream. Despite the late summer heat, I wear the leather jacket the two bought me because Michigan wouldn’t start the bike until I pulled it on. “Your skin’s too precious not to protect,” he’d said.
Well, when he put it like that I wrapped it around me quicker than he could say please. The rest of the things they bought me at the mall are stuffed inside one of Easy’s saddlebags. I’m having them take it home with them and when I’ve moved out into my own place, I’ll reclaim it. The silky lingerie, the chaps that I modeled for them the night before, the tight T-shirts and even tighter jeans will all be mine soon.
When they drop me off at the parish house, the lights of the house are off. There’s a note that says Father is with a parishioner tonight. I have a sudden yearning to call up the guys and tell them I’ll be right over, but instead I go upstairs to my childhood bedroom. I hide the helmet under the bed and hang the leather jacket in the back of the closet. Then I sit at my little desk and wonder what I’m going to tell my father.
Neither of them wanted to leave me, but I need to do this by myself.
Turning my hands palm up I stare at the leather cuffs that Easy and Michigan gave me. Each one is different but they both have the flaming skull of the Death Lords burned into the leather. Easy had placed his on the counter at the Brew Ha Ha telling me that if I put it on, I’d be accepting his invitation—or rather his claim. Tricia from the coffee shop told me that these were claiming cuffs and as long as I wore them no one would touch me. Together they mark me as property of the Death Lords—Michigan and Easy’s, to be specific. Michigan gave me his when he took my virginity.
The memory sends shivers all over me.
Regretfully I take them off and tuck them into my desk drawer. If it weren’t for the flaming skull, I’d wear them but the symbols are ones that Father would say are demon-like. It will be hard enough to tell him I’m leaving home, getting a different job, so even though not wearing the cuffs makes me feel naked and lonely, I’ll hold on to the thought that I’ll be able to wear them all the time soon.
***
The next morning I wake up with a bad feeling. I can’t pinpoint the cause but my chest feels tight. If there was ever a time I wish I
had a mother, it is now. For as long as I can remember she’s lived in a commune in Northern Minnesota where they live off the grid. No electricity, no telephones. I finger my cell phone and then dial a number impulsively. I can only leave a message at a local coffee shop which is owned by a relative of one of the commune members so I won’t be able to talk to her today but maybe she’ll call back soon.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Annie Bloom. I wondered if I could leave a message for Sonya Bloom."
There's a hesitation on the other end and the silence lasts for so long I wonder if my connection has been broken.
"Is anyone there?" I ask.
"Um, yeah, sorry. Annie, your mother left the group about three years ago and moved out to Seattle."
"Seattle?" I ask dumbly.
"She never told you, huh?"
"No," I reply, hot embarrassment flooding me. "She never said a word. We haven't had much contact in the past few years." Actually, none.
"Sorry, hon. She's always been flighty but I think your old man knew. They've had some contact."
"They have?" I feel like a stupid parrot.
"Yeah, sorry, I have to go."
Anger fuels me down the stairs and out of the house. I march across the short yard to the side door that leads into the church office. I can’t believe he has kept this from me. I’m an adult and I deserved to know.
Father is sitting behind his massive oak desk, a relic from the early 1900s when the church was first built. I think they built the house around the desk.
"Why didn't you tell me that Mom had moved away from St. Paul? Where is she now? When did she move? Did she try to call you?" I pepper him with questions before he even registers I'm inside the room.
He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. "Sit down, Annie. Ask your questions like my daughter and not a wild person who was raised in some barn."
I clamp my mouth shut at the admonition and sink into one of the hard-backed chairs in front of his desk. He forces me to sit there for at least five minutes, ostensibly cleaning his glasses. They weren’t dirty when he started wiping them down. This is a punishment for bursting into his office without prior notice and assaulting him with questions. I shove my hands under my legs to keep from pounding them on the desk and bite my tongue hard.