by Anne Malcom
Her words, her kind eyes maybe just the fact I was functioning on little to no sleep and suffering from Asher withdrawals was the reason I stepped out of the door and into her arms, sobbing. The entire story of Bex’s overdose, everything came tumbling out.
After I had finished, she’d pulled me out her arms to regard me with sad eyes.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Life hasn’t stopped delivering you punches has it?” she mused in sympathy.
I laughed bitterly, rubbing my eyes. “I guess not,” I said slowly.
“Well, I would ask why Asher isn’t here, helping you with this, but I’m thinking it’s the same reason why Gwen, Amy, and I aren’t privy to this. You think you have to handle all this alone.” She gave my shoulders a squeeze. “I’m not gonna tell you to call him, fill him in. That’s your choice. I’m not going to offer to pitch in financially because I know you won’t take a dime.” She rose her brow slightly at how my frame flinched at this. “I am going to offer what I can. What you’re going to accept. I’m going to stay here. Hang with Bex while you go to work,” she decided.
I shook my head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
She pursed her lips. “It’s a good thing you’re not asking then,” she said.
I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. So I let myself take the help that she offered. The help she offered without judgment, without expecting anything in return.
I dragged myself into my car. I was tired. No, I don’t think there was a word to explain what I was. My days were spent watching Bex like a hawk. Caring for her. Her entire body was crying out for a fix, and no matter what her mind wanted, the body was hard to say no to. So I watched. Didn’t sleep. And when she was sleeping I opened my textbooks with bleary eyes, thankful that by some small miracle my teachers had let me study from home under the guise I was suffering from mono.
Somehow I managed to plaster a smile on my face for my entire shift, though my tips told me it wasn’t as convincing as my recent tequila-filled grins. I was swearing off anything mood altering for the time being. My mind was taken up with the various things I had to get done, on top of making sure my best friend successfully survived heroin withdrawals and mentally calculating the days I had till my next assignment was due, one that my college career hinged on. No pressure. All of this had the underlying taste of longing. For Asher. Somehow, with my life being one kidnapping away from a soap opera or bad reality show, I missed him. I felt like I was going through withdrawals too. That my body was itching for him, yearning for my next fix.
I pulled up to my apartment with those things battling for the forefront of my mind, Asher winning hands down. It was then, a delightful sort of irony took over when my headlights illuminated a familiar Harley. Two of them in fact. My tired body soared, renewed energy coming from the fact my next hit was so close. Reason went out the door. All the reasons why not. So it was in my eagerness to get to the elation his presence promised that I forgot to check. Do what I always did when I pulled into the parking lot of my dodgy apartment building in the bad part of town. I didn’t need to. Asher’s bike was there. Asher was there. It meant safety.
Safety that obviously wasn’t guaranteed when I was slammed against the door I’d just shut.
“You think you can hide behind your dogs,” a rough voice hissed, a huge body pressing me against the car.
I could only see a dim outline of the figure in the darkness of the parking lot. His hand pressed painfully against my throat. Terror pulsed through me.
“There’ll be a time when they get sick of that snatch when they throw you aside.” The hand not at my neck trailed down my side.
My heart beat furiously, and my eyes were glued to the door of my apartment, willing it to open. I struggled to contain my panic, my airway cut off both from the pressure of his hand and the terror creeping up my throat.
“Or maybe they won’t,” the voice continued slowly. “Maybe that pussy will keep them entertained. It doesn’t mean that one day when they’re not expecting it, we’ll take what we are owed.” The hand moved to my breast, and I cried out, the sound silenced by the pressure at my neck. “Maybe we’ll just take it now,” the voice mused.
“Dude, we gotta go,” another figure emerged from the darkness.
The hand at my throat loosened and the head moved. “We’ll go when I say we go,” he snapped.
His distraction gave me the opportunity to bring my knee up to connect with his crotch. I felt satisfied with the grunt of pain he emitted, and the fact he doubled over enough for me to dart out of his hold.
I didn’t hesitate. “Asher,” I screamed with my husky voice, running past the stationary second form. I heard muttered curses from behind me as my apartment door opened.
“Asher,” I screamed again as my run across the parking lot seemed to take forever.
“Lily,” I heard his bellow.
The screeching of tires had me looking over my shoulder to watch a black car zoom out of the lot. Because I was looking one way and running another, I smacked into something, hard. Luckily that something was warm and smelled musky and safe. Hands reached out to steady me.
“Flower,” Asher said urgently.
“A-sh-ash,” I wheezed, clutching his shoulders. A fist tightened around my lungs, the terror and the exertion of my short fight and run already catching up on me. This time, it wasn’t anxiety or fear strangling me. This was real, my body’s response to the incident moments before.
“Lily, your inhaler, where is it?” he demanded sharply, immediately registering the reason for my strangled breathing.
I was frozen for a split second, then out of instinct, I reached for my bag on my shoulder. My panic intensified when the realization hit that I must have dropped it in the struggle. I pointed at my car while the wheezing got worse.
Calm. I told myself. You’re safe. Asher means safe.
“What’s going on … shit Lily, are you okay?” a familiar and concerned voice asked with urgency mirroring Asher’s.
“Get her bag from the car, now,” Asher demanded, lifting me into his arms. The dim light illuminated his attractive face, tight with concern. “You’ve got more inside, right?” he asked while striding with apparent ease up the stairs to my apartment.
I nodded. “Totally soap opera,” I wheezed between strangled breaths. I would’ve laughed if I had the ability. And wasn’t scared out of my wits.
“What?” Asher frowned down at me.
I didn’t have time to reply.
“Lily! Oh my God is she okay?” A pale looking Bex leaned against the door, regarding us in horror.
“Get her inhaler, now,” Asher barked at her, and she scrambled to comply.
“I’m fi-fine, it’s n-not bad,” I tried in vain to reassure him.
He frowned down at me once more and settled on the sofa, positioning me so I was on his lap.
Bex thrust my inhaler at me, and I self-consciously puffed on it, aware of the many sets of eyes focused on me at that moment. As my breathing calmed, I felt Asher’s hand on my chest relax, though his body stayed tight and his hand didn’t move.
“Okay, I had a fuckin’ internal struggle the entire way back in here,” Lucky said, bursting into the room, his attractive face worried. “I know handbags are like a chick’s sacred space, and no man should venture in without express permission, but it seemed like life or death. Someone tell me what the fuck I’m looking for in here before my hand gets bitten off by some handbag urchin hiding in the depths of this colossal thing,” he pleaded with his head bent, riffling through my bag.
His head snapped up, and he focused on me, on what was in my hand and realization dawned.
I couldn’t help the giggle that burst out of me at his face, and the fact he was holding my baby pink tote, one tattooed hand still elbow deep. When he saw where my eyes were focused, the muscled arm immediately retreated. A tampon came attached to that muscled arm, he looked down in horror and quickly dropped it. He gingerly held the bag by
its handles, holding it slightly away from his body like it was an undetonated bomb. This made me laugh even more.
“Is she okay? Are there drugs in that? If so, I’ll take a toke when you’re done,” Lucky deadpanned, nodding to the bag.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Asher shake his head and Bex rolled her eyes from her spot in front of me. When my laughter finally faded out, the seriousness of what had just happened crept back in.
Asher lightly touched my chin so I was focused on him. Despite everything, I drank in every aspect of his features, as if we’d been separated for months. I was aching for my fix. For his lips on mine. His body on mine. My need almost outweighed everything else around us. Almost.
“What was that? Why are you guys here?” I asked before he could go all alpha and demand to know if I was unharmed and untraumatized. I was sitting on his knee close enough for him to see no immediate bloody bullet wounds.
His face searched mine, resting on my mouth for a moment. “Want to tell me if you’re okay first, flower? Then we’ll get into explanations. On both sides,” he added ominously.
See? Alpha male protectiveness. There must be classes on it.
My back straightened, and I felt my face flame upon the realization that both Lucky and Rosie, who was unusually quiet in the corner, had seen me sucking on my inhaler after having a small tussle with random men and running a couple of meters. These guys dodged bullets without a breaking a sweat, maybe not Rosie, but I knew she could take care of herself. Me? I wheezed and whimpered after a minor altercation.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly, my eyes moving downward self-consciously.
Again, Asher’s hand moved to make our eyes meet once more. I noticed his hand was still resting lightly on my chest.
“You were just attacked in your own parking lot, no one expects you to be fine, Lily,” he told me quietly.
I met his eyes. “I am,” I replied firmly. “I won’t be if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on.” I moved my eyes around the room. Lucky had gingerly put my handbag on the ground and was watching me with knitted brows, his gaze kept flickering to Bex, with something that looked like annoyance and concern. It was something I’d never seen on him. Granted, I didn’t spend huge amounts of time with him, so I wasn’t exactly flush with knowledge of his facial expressions, but it seemed unusual. Rosie was sitting across from us, her eyes were glued to Asher and me, her brows knitted with worry. Bex looked at her hands.
The silence hung heavy in the room for a moment before Bex looked up with watery eyes.
“It was because of me,” she whispered in a voice I didn’t recognize. Broken. Defeated.
“It is not because of you,” Lucky interrupted with a face like a hurricane. “That’s the last time you’re laying the blame of this shit at your pretty little feet, got it?” he commanded roughly, his eyes locked in some sort of stare off with Bex. I watched in amazement as she held it for a moment then nodded, looking away. Lucky’s jaw was hard and he kept watching her. Bex never lost stare-offs, never. Even though Lucky may have been a scary, albeit well-tempered biker, she normally wouldn’t have flinched at his stormy gaze. But today she did. Her mask had been ripped off, now she was battling with her demon, and the vulnerable girl underneath peeked out. It broke my heart. Reason number a million and one why I wished my mom was still here. To heal her. To help me fix her.
“They were here because they’re the scum of the earth who consider women property and don’t like it when they get told otherwise,” Asher cut in.
I restrained a snort. Despite the sorrow edging into the forefront of my mind, I couldn’t help but see the irony.
Asher saw something in my face. “We never see women as property, flower. Not our club. Women aren’t possessions to be owned and traded. Any fucker that thinks that is someone that needs to taste lead,” he declared hotly.
“And who are these specific ... fuckers?” I asked softly.
Lucky, who had been seriously regarding Bex, let out a choked sound. We all looked at him. He waved his hand.
“Sorry, shit. I’m well aware of the need to teach these fuckers a serious lesson. But I wasn’t even sure you could utter the word ‘fuck,’ Lily,” he told me seriously.
Despite myself, I grinned. I was the only one.
“You know Bex’s boss?” Asher asked, getting us back on track.
I nodded. “I’ve had the displeasure.”
His face tightened. “The strip club serves as a recruiting tool for his main business, peddling flesh,” he stated flatly.
I nodded again.
Asher looked at me in surprise.
“You knew?” he asked.
“No, but I’m not surprised. That guy gave me the serious heebie-jeebies,” I declared, my concerned eyes on Bex. I didn’t know where this story was leading, but it wasn’t anywhere good for my troubled best friend.
“Bex?” I said slowly, needing the rest to come from her.
“I said no,” she told me quickly, as if I would doubt her, judge her. I would never do either. We all did what we had to do to survive, to make it through. There were choices that people had to make that weren’t pretty or ideal, but they were necessary.
“Or I may have used more colorful words than a one syllable response, just to get my message across.” She grinned, a glimpse of the old Bex shining through. “I thought that was the end of it. Obviously not,” she finished.
I felt like I’d missed something. “That’s why those thugs were here? To bully you into prostitution?” I guessed.
The way the air turned wired had me thinking my guess was correct. I glanced over to a hard-jawed Lucky.
“Thing one and thing two came knocking at the door, trying to intimidate the little female into letting them in or they’d huff and puff and blow my house down. Didn’t count on the fact I’d seen way worse than them. And I had bigger, badder, wolves on speed dial,” Rosie spoke for the first time, grinning, as was her way. Growing up with bikers had her slightly insane. In a good way.
“I don’t get it,” I said, furrowing my brows. “Carlos may be an asshole, but he can’t expect you to go back working there after that? What did he have to gain from it?” I asked Bex.
She shrugged. “The fact I’ve got nothing else. That I need to eat.”
My eyes popped out. “You’re not going back there?” I asked in disbelief.
She obviously hadn’t been to work in the past few days, for obvious reasons. Reasons that hadn’t been shared with the group. Reasons I tried to remind her of with her mind. The slippery slope of addiction was one thing that should have scared her off, this was another. Like she said, she had to eat. Sometimes we didn’t have the luxury of choice.
“Since I’ve been sick,” she enunciated the word as if to remind me. “I’ve obviously been missed. My ass is the only reason that place makes anything. That and my boobs,” she winked.
“So you’re going back?” I repeated with distaste.
“She’s not fuckin’ setting a toe in that shit hole’s direction,” Lucky growled, his eyes glued to Bex.
She straightened. “I am,” she argued.
Another stare off. This time Bex won.
Lucky sighed and shook his head. “You wanna take your clothes off, show the world that sweet ass, you’ll be doing it at our club. Where I can keep a fuckin’ eye on that ass,” he declared. “And where no one puts a hand on you trying to sell that ass,” he added roughly.
Bex opened her mouth as if to argue. I knew she was doing it just to argue, the Sons club had a good reputation, and they treated and paid their girls well. No drugs were tolerated on the premises either. She’d talked about moving there before, but couldn’t justify the commute. I had yet to tell her about my mom’s house and the lack of commute. When I did, she would realize that Lucky was solving all her problems. Therein lay the rub.
Bex may be different than me in every other way, but in this, we were the same. We didn’t want these men riding in on
their Harleys fixing our problems as if we weren’t capable of living life until they came along. On giving them power. Taking that agency away from us. No matter how decent, how good looking, how much we might care about said men, our lives were not set out to be sorted out for us. We needed this. To be in control of our lives. Or at least grab on to the illusion of control. Without it we had nothing.
“It’s a good idea,” I murmured before she could argue.
I knew how she felt, but I wasn’t going to let her pride take her back there.
She glared at Lucky then glared at me and was silent.
Lucky took this as a yes. “You won’t be swinging your ass around any pole until you’re better. What’s wrong with you? Have you been to the doctor?” he frowned at her, his eyes trailing over her sunken form, her pale skin. He was smart. He wouldn’t stay ignorant for long. Especially, if he was interested in the way I thought he was.
“I’m fine,” she ground out.
His brows furrowed further. “Bitches around here need to stop saying they’re fine when they’re obviously not. Every man worth his salt knows that if uttered by a woman, the word ‘fine’ could signify a fuckin’ apocalypse,” he muttered.
He got three female glares at his words.
He held his hands up in surrender.
“We haven’t seen the last of them,” Asher ushered the conversation back to the more pressing matter than the semantics of women’s vocabulary. “Carlos knows you’re my Old Lady. For him to authorize this, for them to do that with my bike in the parking lot…?” he paused, hands around me tightening, “they’re not fuckin’ around.”
“If what they said to me was anything to go by, they most certainly are not,” I said quietly, almost to myself. My stomach dipped. Or more accurately it felt like I’d swallowed razor blades. When it rained, it poured. Then it stopped raining and lightning set everything on fire.
Asher went rigid. “What exactly did they say?” he clipped dangerously.