Chicago Defiance Box Set Part One

by K E Osborn

  The creek of the screen door hinge annoys me as I roll my eyes while stepping through the back door. You think for a place that has oil on tap, he’d make an effort to fix the damn squeaky door.

  While striding through, the smell of tobacco smacks me in the face making my anger bubble to the surface straight away as the theme song for reruns of M*A*S*H plays in the background.

  My feet pound heavy on the cracked linoleum as I race into the living room to see him sitting in his recliner, feet up, cigarette dangling from his lips, his oxygen nasal cannula up his nostrils, and a fifth of Jack on the table next to him.

  For fuck’s sake!

  Waltzing in, I grit my teeth and slam my hand down on the kitchen counter which juts out into the living room, the old leftover takeout containers still here from last night’s dinner. He turns his head to me as he pulls another drag from his cigarette but then turns back to watch the television not seeming to care.

  “Jesus Christ, Dad, when the hell are you ever going to learn?” Turning, I pick up the trash and shove it into the nearby bin liner that’s open on the floor, half-filled with trash.

  He chuckles grabbing his tumbler and throws back the Jack not seeming to care. “Spanner, I don’t have much time left on this earth, kid. I may as well live it how the bloody hell I want to.”

  Anger bubbles up as I throw the bag on the floor, trash flying out of the bag and scattering on the linoleum as I race into the living room and stand in front of Dad blocking his view of his favorite show.

  “Hey, I’m watching that.”

  I point at him, my chipped and barely there red nails getting right up in his face. “You listen, and you listen good... I haven’t been on this earth for twenty-three years to watch you fail in the last years of yours. You’re a good man, Smokin’ Joe. You raised me right. Taught me how to fight. How to protect myself. How to be a strong, independent woman. You think Mom would have liked to see this man…” I wave my hands around in anger, “… the man you’ve become?”

  Dad sits up in his chair and glares at me. “Don’t ya talk about your mother, Ayla…” He takes another drag of his cigarette trying to calm himself and shakes his head while I glare at him. “She’d hate to see this shit. She was the most perfectly beautiful woman, and the man I am now is not bloody worthy of her.”

  Slumping my shoulders, I let out a small sigh as I move past the coffee table and slide into the three-seater beside his recliner. “Dad, you can stop. You can’t change the fact you have emphysema, but you can delay the outcome. If only you’d try.”

  He looks at me with dull eyes and shakes his head. “What’s the point, baby girl? I’m knocking on death’s door. I may as well get there sooner…” he pauses, and his eyes glisten as his mouth curves into a smile, “… then I can be with your mum.”

  Taking a deep breath, I grit my teeth. “But what about Heath. What about Bowie… what about me, Dad? Don’t we matter?”

  His shoulders slump. “You and your brothers are better off without me, Ayla. The shop’ll be yours. You and your brothers run it far better than I ever could. You just have to remember to gain the respect you deserve, Spanner. You’re as good as the blokes… better even.”

  “We are not better off without you! But thanks, Dad. Maybe you should take some leave from the shop? Heath, Bowie, and I can look after everything. You just rest. Take it easy, yeah?”

  He takes a drag on his cigarette, his breath catches in his throat then he coughs loudly, cough after wracking cough. I sit here knowing there’s nothing I can do to help him.

  Especially, when he won’t help himself.

  He finally butts out his cigarette and turns up the oxygen level for his nasal cannula. The slow whooshing sound is like heaven to my ears as his coughing slows, and he takes deep, heavy breaths. My knuckles are white with tension—I didn’t even realize my hands were balled into tight fists. My nails dig into my skin, and it’s then I realize I need to release my fingers. So I spread them out to let go of the tension while Dad finally pulls in some much-needed air.

  “You need to lay off the smokes, Dad, they’re killing you,” I murmur, and he chuckles.

  “Yeah, baby girl… they are. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. Damage is bloody done. So giving up ain’t gonna do me nothing but make me antsy. So why bother? Baby girl, you’re gonna have to let me go sometime.”

  Smiling, I reach out for his hand taking it in mine. His wrinkled, tough skin feels like leather against mine. “Yeah, but can’t you try and hold out for a few extra months… for me?”

  He groans. “Shit… fine! I’ll cut down. There, we compromised, okay?”

  Letting out a small laugh, I nod. It’s not what I wanted, but if he smokes at least one less cigarette a day, I’ll be happy. “Thank you, Dad. Now, what are you having for dinner? You can’t have takeout again.”

  He snorts out a groan. “Don’t even worry. Tell me about your day with the Defiance.”

  Sitting back on the sofa, I smile as the image of Sensei rolls through my mind. His broad shoulders, his eyes the color of deep ochre, holding a heavy tone that seemed to reflect in the expression on his face. They’re such a marvelous mix of brown, it was intense to look into them. A raw tan and caramel, sprinkled with flecks of chocolate describes his eyes more appropriately. They burn with a fire that echoes of a life full of mystery and draw me in with just one simple look. There’s an air about him, not just in his appearance, but in the way he holds himself, in the way he speaks.

  His head is shaved on one side, his scalp covered in an intricate tattoo design that follows down his neck and disappears under his shirt. The other side of his head is laden with shoulder-length dreadlocks, but they’re the well-kept kind, not the tatty ridiculous type that can make men look like hobos. His earlobes hold ear gauges adding to his grunge appearance. They’re not massive ones, just big enough to make a statement. He has a subtle nose ring through his septum, and I didn’t miss the fine facial hair which makes him look tougher if that’s possible. He screams badass, and that’s what attracted me to him instantly.

  Scratch, the other biker who was there was hot, no doubt, with his long hair and not to mention that killer scar in his eyebrow. But there’s just something about Sensei which had me going from the minute I saw him. I don’t know why. I’ve always been more into the all-American bad-boy type, but there’s something about this grungy guy that’s really gotten my panties in a tangle. And I know he was in a knot over me too. I know the look guys get when they’re trying to tame their hard-on, and Sensei was definitely trying to tame his beast.

  “Ayla?” Dad asks raising his brow at me.

  I widen my eyes. “Sorry, what?”

  He chuckles. “Where did ya go? I completely lost ya.”

  “Sorry, my mind wandered off.”

  Yeah, to think about a hot-as-fuck biker.

  He grunts. “So, did ya sort shit out with that Sensei bloke? He sounded gruff on the phone?”

  Nodding, I smile. “Yeah, he’s going to bring the bike around for spare parts. I’m not too sure when, though.”

  Dad tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Tomorrow sometime. Guy called and told me, but I had a coughin’ fit and hung up on him before he gave me a time.”

  Smirking, I roll my eyes. “Okay, well, at least I know he’ll be here tomorrow. But for now, you need to rest. You stay in, and me and the boys will take care of everything tomorrow.”

  He takes a long breath and looks at me fondly. “I sure did raise you right, baby girl. Fuck knows how. One old fart raising three kids on his own.” He shakes his head, and I give him a smile.

  “You did a great job with us, Dad. We all turned out okay.”

  He chuckles. “Well, you and Heath are fine. Bowie on the other hand…”

  I let out a small laugh. “Hmmm… yeah, I get your point. Hey, do you have Sensei’s number? I’d like to check what time he’ll be here tomorrow?” I ask trying to be subtle.

  Dad smirks bu
t grabs his cell. “Check the last number. That should be his.”

  Checking through the call register, I grab the number and then program it into mine.

  I think I can have a little fun with this.

  “Right, want me to cook you some food before I go?”

  He waves his hand through the air at me. “Fuck off! Go on, get outta here and stop worrying about your old man.”

  I stand up with a huff. Leaving him here always puts me in two minds. He made his choice to move out of our family home. The one Heath, Bowie, he, and I shared with Mom. When Dad moved out, it was like losing Mom all over again, but I understood his motivation. He said it had nothing to do with Mom not being at the house anymore, but I don’t buy that. Though, the theory of him being here out the back of the garage so he’s closer to it, is sound. If he’s feeling under the weather at work, he doesn’t have far to go for some easy rest.

  This is the best place for him to live, and if there’s an issue, we’re not far away.

  Why I stayed in the house with my two foul-mothed brothers sometimes even astounds me. But we are close, and for the three of us, our family home brings memories of Mom, so we all stay. Even if it might seem weird for three grown siblings to be living together.

  I point my finger at him sternly. “Fine. But Dad you cook for yourself. No more takeout. I mean it.”

  “God, you’re like a freaking wife telling me what to do all the time. You do know that, right?”

  Laughing, I turn and head for the door. “Good. Then maybe you’ll learn to listen to me ‘cause I wear the pants in this relationship.”

  “Jesus Christ, kid, go home. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

  “Love you, Dad,” I call out walking through the mess of a kitchen while making a mental note to clean this up tomorrow.

  “Love ya, baby girl.”

  The screen door creeks again on my way out as I shut it and then head toward my pickup. The garage is still open, the others are getting ready to close up for the night. I give them a brief wave, and they nod their heads with a grin.

  “Have a good night, Spanner,” Vince calls out.

  “Night, Vince,” I reply to one of the mechanics. He’s been here a long time and always finds time to talk to me making sure to say good morning and goodbye at the end of the day. It’s the little things, I guess.

  Sliding into my pickup, I start it and head for home where hopefully it’s a little cleaner than Dad’s place. But living with two men, you can never really tell what state it will be in. Fingers crossed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AYLA

  Walking inside my childhood home to the sounds of Eminem’s latest album, I smirk as I drop my keys in the bowl on the buffet and round the corner to see Heath and Bowie in their usual positions on the sofa. Call of Duty is blasting on the television, and the stereo is so deafening they’re both competing with each other as to which is the loudest. The noise of the blasting gunfire and syncopated rapping styles of Marshal Mathers in sync with each other makes me chuckle as I walk in and slump down onto the sofa next to Heath. I slap his leg which makes him glance at me just as he gets shot on the screen.

  “Oh shit! Ayla, look what you made me go and do,” Heath grunts as Bowie raises his hands in the air and lets out a victorious cheer.

  “Yes, motherfuckers… I am, and always will be, the motherfucking champion. Suck it, fuckers,” Bowie calls out throwing his controller at Heath. He stands up and races off to the kitchen. “Want a beer?” Bowie yells, and I jolt my head back.

  “Remember, you’re still underage, Bowie,” I yell at him making Heath burst out laughing as he turns off the game console.

  “So… you’re saying, I can’t have a beer?” Bowie asks stopping and turning to look at me with an almighty smirk on his face.

  Tilting my head, I raise a brow as I look over at the kitchen counter and see two empty beer cans. “You’ve already had one, haven’t you, slick?” I ask.

  Bowie smiles wide while Heath bursts out laughing.

  I turn to look at Heath and lean out slapping him on the arm. “Heath, we’re meant to be setting a good example for our younger brother. Teaching him right from wrong and not leading him astray, you fucking douchebag.”

  They both laugh and Heath shrugs. “Ayla, what’s one beer now and then gonna hurt? He’s eighteen and a mechanic. He needs to act like a man.”

  I snort rolling my eyes. “Since when does Bowie ever act like a man?”

  “Hey,” Bowie calls out.

  “My point exactly.” Heath chuckles making us both laugh.

  Bowie flips us the bird. “You’re both assholes… flaming assholes,” he says sounding more like our father, he even uses the Aussie accent.

  Laughing, I raise my chin in his direction. “The answer is… no, Bowie, you cannot have another beer. But since you’re in the kitchen, you can get one for Heath and me.”

  Heath chuckles as Bowie flips me the bird again. “Fuck off.”

  I chuckle, turning to Heath as Bowie moves to the fridge. “How did the rest of the day go at the shop?”

  Heath shrugs. “Same ole, same ole. Nothing new to report. How’d you go at that biker club Dad always goes to? Guess you’ll be taking over the reigns there now?”

  “Yeah, they seem like a decent… ish, bunch of guys. Pretty easy to deal with.”

  “Didn’t give you shit?” he asks, his tone more serious now. Heath jokes around a lot, but the minute someone gives me trouble, he’s on them like a fucking cougar.

  “Nah, man, they were chill. One of them was actually really hot.”

  Heath shoves my shoulder making me laugh as Bowie walks over carrying two beers and basically throws them at us. I catch the can and chuckle as I crack open the top, bubbles of foam pop through the tiny opening, and I suck them away. The bubbles tingle against my tongue as the hint of bitterness slides down my throat.

  “Ayla, I do not want to know about you and your sexual attractions,” Heath groans opening his can and throwing back a mouthful while Bowie slumps back on the sofa without a can of beer.

  “Well, I want to know, so I can harass the shit outta the next guy on your list. Like we did to that Pul guy. Remember him, Heath…” I slump in my seat and groan as they both burst out laughing. “Fuck! That was funny.”

  “That was not even remotely funny, Bowie! You two telling him we all slept in the same bed to scare him away was evil. He wasn’t that bad.”

  Bowie snorts. “Ayla, the guy told you he wanted to bring another girl into the bedroom… so, we simply lied and told him you slept in the same bed with your brothers occasionally. Did the job, didn’t it? Scared him the fuck off. Creepy bastard, he had pedo vibes about him anyway.”

  I scoff. “Jesus, Heath! He did not!”

  “Yeah… kinda did,” Heath states.

  Rolling my eyes, I shrug. “Whatever. The next guy I date is never meeting you two. You’re too protective which is weird seeing as I’m the oldest. I should be the one protecting you two from creepers.”

  They both grin.

  “But we like the creepy ones… they’re more flexible,” Bowie cheers as Heath high fives him.

  Standing, I groan as I head for my bedroom. “You’re both sick. Sick and twisted, and you’re never going to get married and have babies.”

  They both laugh as I head down the hall.

  “The bachelor life is the only life to live, Ayla,” Heath calls out.

  Picking up my step, I roll my eyes and walk into my room as I take another long drink from my beer. My room looks mostly neat, just as I left it this morning. Closing the door behind me to block out some the music and now the gamer gunfire which has started up again, I step over to my bed and place my beer on my bedside table. Yanking my cell from out of my pocket, I throw it on the bed as I kick off my boots and slide out of my greasy coveralls. They fall to the floor leaving me in my boyshorts and tank top. Pulling the tank top over my head quickly I’m now in my underwear and plonk down onto
my bed.

  Grabbing my cell and my beer, I smirk figuring Sensei seemed too uptight today, which was a sexy look for him, but having a little mischief with him tonight could be a really fun thing to do—on my end anyway. Pulling up his number, I start to type out a text, grinning like a fucking idiot as I do.

  Me: Hey sexy, thanks for the other night. You were totally amazing by the way. I can’t get your… moves out of my mind.

  I hit send chuckling to myself as I take another sip of my beer. A text arrives soon after.

  Sensei: I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number…

  Letting out a loud snort, I write back.

  This is fun.

  Me: Oh no, it was definitely you… the way you handled yourself, your flexibility, shit I knew having training in jujutsu would come in handy, but I had no idea it would make your stamina that… well… wow!

  The bitter hit of the beer slides down my throat as I smile to myself. I wish I could see him squirming right now and wondering who this mystery woman is. Man, I kill myself sometimes. His reply is longer to come in this time, but it does eventually come.

  Sensei: You obviously know information on me, but I don’t want to play games here… who the fuck are you and what do you want?

  Opening my eyes wide, I snort. “Guy’s so damn serious,” I murmur as I type out my reply.

  Me: My thighs wrapped around your face.

  I burst out laughing and then quickly press the backspace button and retype the message.

  Me: Live a little. When a lady tells you you’ve been amazing in bed, you should take the compliment… don’t you remember our wild time together?

  Sensei: I have the number of all the woman I’ve been with lately. Whoever you are, I haven’t been with you. Whatever game you’re trying to pull, it won’t work. I repeat… who the fuck are you?