Sugar and Skulls: Rebel Skulls MC Book One

by LM Terry

  Sugar and Skulls

  Sugar and Skulls

  LM Terry

  Sugar and Skulls

  Copyright © 2020 LM Terry

  Published by LM Terry

  All rights Reserved

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form, either electronically or by mechanical means without prior written consent from the author. Brief quotes are permitted in the instance of reviews or critical articles. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is intended for readers 18 and older, due to adult content and language. This is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, events, or incidents come from the author’s imagination and are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Just Write. Creations and Services

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to anyone who has had to show their mean side. Don’t ever feel guilty for protecting what is yours.

  “Sometimes being too nice is dangerous. You have to show your mean side once in a while to avoid getting hurt.” ~ unknown

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Jesse ~ 10 years old

  ◆◆◆

  The other girls are waiting on the curb for their turn on Rick’s bike. I’m sitting on the ground doodling with sidewalk chalk. Everyday their mama shoos us outside to play. Sometimes we roller skate but today they are taking turns on their brother’s bike. Rick is the only one with a bike. It’s a big family so there’s a lot of sharing that takes place here. I’d never ask for a ride and he’s never offered to give me one. Not that I would want to ride with him. I’m content sitting here in the sun creating my pictures.

  My stomach growls and I think about going in to see if I can sneak a piece of bread or something. They feed me here, but it isn’t like grandma’s food. I think Janet puts a full saltshaker of salt in everything she makes. Luckily, their dog, Mop, likes salty food because I wait until everyone leaves the table and then I give him mine. I try to eat it, but I just can’t.

  I don’t know how long I’ll be here. The lady in the suit told me I had to stay until they found my Aunt Renee but I don’t know how long that will take. I’ve never met her. My mama died when I was little. Grandma said mama took too much medicine and it killed her. I don’t know how that happens. I looked at grandma and grandpa’s medicine bottles and it says right on them how much to take, clear as day.

  Grandpa said my mama was a bad egg. I don’t know what that means but he told me I was a good egg. I don’t know how he could tell one way or another. You can’t tell if an egg is bad unless you crack it clean open.

  Anyhow, I don’t really mind it here. There is always something to do. The Ditsworth’s have eight kids. Four boys and four girls. The girls are around my age and they are nice. I like them. They let me follow them around all day and did I mention they have roller skates?

  I do miss grandma and grandpa though. Like a lot. So much that I cry myself to sleep almost every night. I’d give anything to go back to living with them. I’d even give up the roller skates to go back home.

  I take my whole hand and smear over my drawing. Perfect, now it looks like a real sunset. A shadow darkens the sidewalk in front of me. I squint, shielding my eyes from the sun to find Rick hovering over me.

  “Want a ride on my bike?” he asks, his forearms draped across the handlebars.

  “Um, I don’t know,” I say quietly, dropping my eyes back to my sunset.

  “It’s real fun,” Cindy tells me. “Go on.”

  “Okay.” I stand up and dust my chalky hands on the front of my t-shirt.

  Rick motions for me to sit on the banana seat in front of him, so I do. He tells me to put my feet up on the middle of the handlebars with my hands beside them. I don’t know about this. It doesn’t feel very safe, but Rick is bigger than me. He’s a teenager so he knows what he’s doing. The other girls ride with him all the time and they’ve never crashed.

  We take off and ride a few blocks till we get to the school parking lot. I’m worried I’m going to fall off, but Rick is nice and puts his hand on my hip, so I don’t slide off the seat. We ride for a few minutes in circles when I notice that Rick’s hand is not on my hip anymore. He must not know where he is touching me. With my legs like this my shorts are riding up. He doesn’t know. My cheeks heat and I wonder if I should tell him. He would probably be embarrassed if he knew cause I sure am.

  Rick continues to circle us around the parking lot and I’m starting to feel more uncomfortable. I hope he takes me home soon. I don’t like this. The longer he digs around the more it hurts. He must know what he’s doing.

  In school they taught us that people shouldn’t touch your private spots. But, Rick is. He’s touching my private spot. Panic bubbles inside me. My eyes dart around the empty lot, looking for help.

  Does he do this to his sisters too? Or just me?

  “Isn’t this fun?” he whispers in my ear. I shake my head no and he laughs. It hurts and I want to go home. Tears are threating to spill down my cheeks. I try to sniff them back. I don’t want Rick to think I’m a cry baby. I’m not a cry baby.

  Suddenly, he stops, and both our feet drop to the ground. I look up at what made Rick stop abruptly. A man is standing in front of us. A scary man with pictures all over his skin. “What’s going on here?” he asks as he lights up a cigarette, blocking our way.

  “Just giving my sister a ride on my bike,” Rick answers.

  I drop my eyes to the hand Rick just had in my shorts. Blood is caked along the nail of his finger. My eyes slowly rise up to the man standing in front of us. His eyes are where mine had been…on Rick’s hand. His gaze rises to meet mine. “Is that so?” he says. Smoke rolls out of his nose like an angry bull.

  “I’m…I’m not his sister,” I sniff, pushing Rick’s arm off the handlebar so I can get out from between his arms. I stumble a few feet away from the bike and cross my arms over my chest. The man crouches down in front of me.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks.

  “You’re not supposed to talk to stra
ngers,” Rick grumbles beside me. The man gives him a look that shuts him up real fast.

  He looks at me again. His eyes are so pretty. They don’t match the rest of him. His eyes are blue green. When he turns his head, they change color. Just like my mood ring. It was mamas. It’s the only thing I have of hers, well had. I’m not sure what happened to it after grandma and grandpa died. It’s usually blue when I wear it but one time I got angry at the paper boy for throwing grandpa’s paper in the mud and it turned black. That’s what this guy’s eyes look like, like he’s caught between angry black and calm blue.

  “My name is Jesse,” I tell him. I don’t know why I tell him. Usually I don’t talk to adults much. But, this guy made Rick stop his bike so that’s something.

  “Jesse, just the girl I was looking for. Your daddy sent me to give you a message. He wants you to know that he’s real sorry for what happened to your grandparents and he’ll be coming for you soon.”

  “I don’t have a dad.” I chew on my bottom lip, sad that this guy has the wrong Jesse. If I had a dad then I could live with him and I wouldn’t have to eat Janet’s salty food every day.

  “You do and he’ll be coming for you as soon as he can.” He takes my chin in his hand. His hand is black, there is a skull inked over the entire thing. His skin peeks out where the eyes, nose and mouth are. “Now, one more thing. Don’t let this little prick touch you ever again. I see you’re a nice girl, Jesse, but sometimes you have to be mean. Especially if you are protecting what’s yours. Got it?” He tips his head and his eyes catch the sun making my heart all gooey.

  I glance at Rick nervously, nodding my head slightly.

  “Go on, head back to the house. Prick will be along shortly.” I want to giggle at how he keeps saying Rick’s name wrong, but I don’t.

  Instead of running home like the scary man told me to, I hide behind a tree on the corner of the lot and watch them. The scary man stands in front of Rick and it looks like he’s really scolding him.

  He takes Rick’s hand and holds it up in front of his face and bends his fingers. It looks like it hurts. And. Then. They. Snap. Rick screams and I cover my mouth so that I don’t do the same. The man looks up and his eyes meet mine. I take off running and don’t stop until I get back to the house.

  I take two steps at a time until I get to the bedroom I share with the other girls. Watching out the window I see Rick walking his bike home with one hand. His other is cradled against his chest. Snot and tears are running down his face. I’ve never seen him look like this. He’s always Mr. Cool.

  I think Mr. Scary knocked him down a few pegs.

  Janet rushes towards him. I push the window up a crack so I can hear them. “Rickie, what happened? Oh my god!”

  “I fell off my bike,” he grumbles.

  He didn’t tell on the scary man with the pictures.

  Grandpa had pictures too. He told me he got them when he was in the Navy on a big boat. He said they were his secrets and that he had them tattooed onto his skin so he could take them to the grave. I don’t know what that means but I guess he got his wish.

  Janet gathers all the kids into her van and off they go. I’m sure she just forgot me in the rush to get Rick to the doctor. It’s okay. I like being alone. It gives me a chance to sneak into the pantry for bread.

  After I have my fill I head to the tiny bathroom we all share and pull down my pants. There’s some blood in my underwear. I think he scratched me. I still don’t know if he knew what he was doing or if it was an accident, but it hurt so I don’t think I’ll be riding on Rick’s bike anymore.

  Rick has to wear a cast for a long time after that day. He doesn’t talk to me and he doesn’t ride his bike. Which is good because if he asks me again I’ll have to be mean like that guy told me to and tell him no. I don’t like being mean.

  Unfortunately, once his cast is off he goes back to giving rides again and I have to be mean and tell him no thank you. I always add the thank you, so it doesn’t sound so mean.

  One night at dinner Rick decides to sit next to me at the table. I’m patiently waiting for him to finish so I can give Mop the rest of my too salty pasta, but he’s taking forever. The other kids have all left the table and it’s just the two of us. Janet has her back to us as she busily washes dishes and cleans up the kitchen.

  “How come you never want a ride on my bike anymore?” he asks.

  Maybe he didn’t know he was touching me there. Maybe that man broke his fingers for no reason. I start to feel bad. I shrug my shoulders and continue to push pasta around with my fork.

  Rick puts his hand on my leg, and I freeze. Slowly he moves it up, up, up. My eyes dart to Janet, silently pleading to her. Please turn around, please turn around.

  She doesn’t.

  The good news is I don’t have to eat salty food anymore.

  The bad news is I won’t get to use the roller skates ever again.

  Chapter Two

  Dirk

  ◆◆◆

  "What the fuck do you mean you don’t know where she’s at?” I can hear Bill grind his teeth over the receiver.

  “They moved her. She stuck a fork in the kid’s leg,” I reply, lazily leaning against my Harley.

  “Goddammit!” he roars.

  “I’ll find her, dude. Chill.”

  “Why would my daughter stick a fucking fork in some poor teenage boy’s leg? Huh? Explain that to me, Dirk?”

  “Well, she’s a lot like her old man evidently.”

  He huffs at this, not a subject he can argue since he’s currently sitting in prison for offing a rival gang member in broad fucking daylight, in front of the courthouse I might add.

  “Why? Don’t fuck with me. My baby girl wouldn’t do that for no reason.”

  “You don’t even know her. She might be an evil little bitch like her mother.”

  “So help me god, Dirk,” he warns.

  “Okay, okay. He was messing with your girl. I caught him with his hand in her pants on his bicycle and before you freak, she wasn’t letting him. I could tell by her fucking tears. I broke the little fucks fingers. Assumed he would have learned his lesson but, I guess he has bigger balls than I thought. I may have told her she might have to get a little mean to protect herself, you know?”

  Dead silence.

  “And why didn’t you kill him?”

  I sigh. Should have known broken fingers wouldn’t be enough for Bill. “She was watching.”

  He grumbles and I hear him inform someone he has two minutes left and to fuck off. I wait for his orders.

  “Have Raffe put the charm on that social worker and find out where she is.”

  “Got it,” I toss my cigarette to the ground and fire up the bike. “What about the kid?”

  “Leave him. Hopefully, he remembers he fucked with the wrong girl every time he picks up a fork.”

  I laugh. Yeah, bet he didn’t see that one coming.

  It takes pretty boy, Raffe, a bit of time but eventually he charms the pants off the social worker (literally, I saw the woman’s bare ass pressed against the window of her office). Anyhow, he gets Jesse’s location. Bill is definitely not going to be happy. They stuck her in some Catholic boarding school for troubled teens. She’s ten for fucks sake.

  Chapter Three

  Jesse ~ Twelve years old

  ◆◆◆

  My grandma always said bad things come in threes. Now I don’t know if that’s true but if it is this should be my last bad thing. One was grandma and grandpa dying, two was Rick and his icky fingers and three, well, let me tell you about three…

  After sticking that fork in Rick’s leg, the lady in the suit told me I couldn’t stay at the Ditsworth’s no more. So, she took me to St. Mary’s home from troubled girls. She said they haven’t found Aunt Renee yet, but that’s okay. Grandpa always said she was a bad egg, just like my mama. But, let me tell you, the name of this place fits. These girls are trouble.

  I stay out of the way though and keep quiet. For t
he last two years, I’ve shared a room with a girl named Sandra, she’s boy crazy. She sneaks out every night and when she comes back she has these purple marks all over her neck. She stares at them in the mirror like grandpa did his medals from the Navy. She sure is proud of them. I think they look like she was attacked by a vacuum cleaner, but I don’t tell her that. That would be mean, and I don’t like being mean.

  It’s not bad here. It’s all girls and I like that. No boys mean no Ricks. Or, pricks. Sandra told me what a prick was and now it makes sense why that scary man was calling him that.

  I’ve been worried that the scary man did have the right Jesse and my dad might be looking for me. How would he find me here? I’m sure he was wrong though. Grandma and grandpa told me I didn’t have a dad, but everyone has a dad right? I mean I know how babies get into this world and it’s not like my mom was the Virgin Mary or anything like that. Not a bad egg, a bad egg couldn’t get pregnant by divine intervention. That’s something I learned here at St. Mary’s.

  The learning is the best thing about being here. The girls are all older than me, but I haven’t had any problems keeping up. In fact, I help the other girls with their homework and in return they sneak me candy. I keep my stash hidden under a loose floorboard cause Sister Catherine would smack my knuckles if she found them. The food here is good though so there’s that.

  Everything was going well until Sister Catherine told me I was to be an alter server at church on Sunday mornings. Not something I wanted to do. Not now. Not ever. I don’t like having everyone look at me and I’m not sure I even believe everything these folks are telling me. Grandma and grandpa didn’t go to church and I’m fairly certain mama didn’t either. But, I had no choice. So, I did.

  It didn’t take awfully long to become Father Gabriel’s favorite server. Probably cause I’m quiet and do what I’m told. After every service he always thanks me and tells me what a good girl I am. He’s nice, but he smells funny, like that smokey stuff they use in church.