by A. C. Bextor
“I told you, Hem is Mace’s brother, and Shame is Hem’s best friend and well, we all kinda grew up together. I’ve known them all since I was five.” The way she talked about them, so fluent and familiar, made me wonder if Hem and Shame understood how lucky they were to have always known her.
After that day, I found myself searching for Sadey at every turn. Club dinners, events, parties, wherever there was a chance she’d be there, I was sure to be, as well. Often, she didn’t talk to me as she was too caught up in her quest to make Hem see her as a woman so she could become his girl. I thought it was just another sense of sweet that was Sadey – a child’s crush, nothing more.
My mind is brought back to the present as Cherry climbs into the truck, dressed in slightly less-provocative attire, I explain a few things to her about my past that only few are aware of. “My friends are the same friends I’ve had since the seventh grade. You’ll probably be inspected, harassed, and question my sanity before the end of the night. I can assure you, though, they’re good people; they won’t hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” She’s annoyed. Before I can reply, she mumbles, “Fine.” She’s pouting at me, arms held tight around her waist in a defiant pose.
Reaching over, I nudge her knee with my fist. I attempt to garner the attention she’s only giving to the outside world as it passes by through the window.
Fail.
She’s really pissed. “Hey, woman. Lighten up. I never said you looked bad, but you can’t wear that shit to The Ward. It’s a bar, Cherry. We’re not in Ohio and we aren’t with the brothers.”
The anger her tone carries in the small confines of the truck causes me to wince. “Ace, I was with the brothers in Ohio when I was taken by Greyson, remember? Pretty sure I can handle your ‘friends’ without your protection.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I just…” I don’t know what.
Her voice softens. “It’s okay. You’re making me nervous, though, so just let it go how it goes, okay? I’ll tell you if I need something.” She sighs, turning back to the window and looking at the passing cars and highways. “I’m glad to be out of the house, Ace. I’m pretty sure, from what you’ve told me, your friends are going to be entertaining.”
“Yeah, well, you stay close. Bringing you in there, looking like that…” I gesture to her tight, red tank top, tighter ripped cut-off shorts, and high-heel sandals, “the sharks are going to swarm, and I’m just one man.”
She laughs at the compliment, but it has to be said again and again: Cherry is beautiful.
Christ, not beautiful, she’s fuckin’ hot.
As a man, I’m allowed to look with admiration. As a friend, I’m not allowed to ogle. Her dark hair, near black in color, falls past her shoulders. Her eyes, being the darkest blue, can only be compared to the ocean’s deepest depth. In addition, that fuckin’ tight body she has, although short in stature, is framed to perfection, coupled with a challenging and defiant attitude. It’s enough to send my head spinning on a daily basis. I’m not oblivious to her, but that said, it’s also completely different for someone like me who only wants to protect her from ever having to relive the events of her past.
Cherry was a motorcycle club whore. This means she decided to make herself sexually available to any man who wore the Lights of Peril club colors. Her body was used for sex, and she offered it in turn for a place to belong. Club whores weren’t members, so they weren’t loved or protected. They lingered at the bottom of the club’s population, but in a sense, they were still accepted. Cherry was sweet, honest, and caring, and I never believed that was where she belonged.
Because of her decision to affiliate herself with a motorcycle club, the dangers of doing so were carried with it. Cherry is a victim of rape. I’m in no way trying to make her feel less beautiful because of this, but fuck if I’m going to allow her to parade around in a place like The Ward without some goddamn clothes on.
Christ, the woman is going to get me killed or just off me herself.
“You’re not thinking about following me around all night, are you?”
“Yep,” I answer, leaving no room for negotiation or doubt.
“You goin’ to go to the ladies room with me when I have to go?”
“There’s a door, right? I’ll stand behind it.” If it keeps her safe, I see no issue.
Rolling her eyes and giving me a disgusted sigh, she turns toward the window while saying, “You’re impossible.”
“And, you’re naive.”
My feelings for Cherry are these: She’s tries to be a good person, but she hasn’t been loved enough from anyone in her entire twenty-one years to show her how the bad decisions she’s made have affected those that love her. Although I’m not about to make it my mission to change this, I’m also not about to let her go out on her own and get hurt again.
Cherry and I have had sex multiple times throughout our relationship. She made herself available to me without question or commitment during a time when I was trying to prove to myself that my feelings for Sadey were merely a product of loneliness and they would pass. I spent my days fucking random club whores to fill a void I now realize could never be filled.
I’ll admit I’m only cautiously optimistic for her future. Cherry hasn’t led a good life. In comparison between the two of us, I’ve seen less tragedy in my years than she has. One thing I need to remember is to take care of her with kid gloves. Cherry uses drugs as an escape, a means to forgetting her tragic past, but she’s promised to stay clean and work hard to prove she can be a good parent.
I’m proud of her for not assuming that, right now, she’s any kind of parental material. She loves her son Decklan enough to keep him away from her until she’s well enough to be what he deserves.
Making our way through traffic, my mind drifts once again to the past. After initially meeting Sadey, my feelings for her grew. Without knowing how she felt about me, I kept how I felt hidden from her and others. Eventually, she and I took our friendship another step: I kissed her and she kissed me back. Even though it wasn’t the emotional tie that holds couples together, she made me feel important. I mattered to her.
“You’re a good person, Ace.” She said this to me as we were hanging out in my room at the clubhouse. She was perfect. I should have told her how I was starting to feel about her; maybe it would have mattered and changed the course of what was to come.
“I’m fuckin’ up. Hem’s gonna kick my ass out of here soon.”
She laughed and rested her hand on my chest gently. “He won’t. I’ll handle Hem. His heart is bigger than his brain and he may be upset right now, but he won’t let you fail if he thinks you belong here.”
Her voice, her smile, her ability to accept people for who they were – that’s what drew me to her. “You don’t belong in this place, bug.”
“Bug?” She questioned the nickname I had given her. It wasn’t something I contemplated over. It had just come to me in that moment and stuck.
I leaned in and kissed her again. She wrapped her fingers around my neck, pulling me into her gently, waiting for the explanation. I gave her the only one I could come up with at the time. “Bug. As in… cute as a…”
Of course, being Sadey, she took it the only way she could have: literally. Laying her head back down on my pillow, she announced to us both in surprise, “Oh, God, I’m an insect.”
She was laughing again, and the infectious innocence of that laugh was something worth trying to claim. I wondered at that moment why she wasn’t taken and who the fuckup was who once had her, but let her go.
After that day, I never stopped referring to her as Sadey Bug. I also never stopped trying to make her mine. Unfortunately, no matter how much I tried to keep her attention, her feelings for Hem wouldn’t waiver. It wasn’t the club president she was in search of. She didn’t care about his position or power within the organization. It was just the person that he was. He loved her in all aspects of her life; loved her, protected her, cared for her, but never in the way she desperately l
onged for.
I thought eventually that she would see Hem for the jackass I once thought he was. I was going to be ready for her to come to me anytime, anyplace, anywhere, while carrying with her the heart he broke. I would’ve been there to catch her fall, but she never did. I wasn’t ready for my own broken heart, and I hadn’t given thought at the time that no one was going to catch me when I fell.
And no one did.
Back then, I was an asshole to everyone except Sadey, I admit this. It wasn’t until the night I was patched in as a member of Peril that all-out hell broke loose and, with the help of an entire fifth of whiskey, I finally let myself succumb to my feelings for her and made them known. It almost got me killed.
All this being said, I was never given the chance to show Sadey how I truly felt about her. The day I found out she was pregnant with Hem’s child, I crumbled inside. He was so fuckin’ oblivious to her love for him. He didn’t understand that by being offered this love, it was a chance to grow old with a woman worthy of everything this life has to offer.
She waited a lifetime for a chance just to be noticed by the man. Accepting they were about to have a child together was one thing, but the day he asked her to marry him in front of his entire club, a part of me didn’t just crumble, it died.
My heart hurt, my head spun, and soon after that, I fuckin’ lost it all. The result? I left the only home, other than my childhood home with Grandma Bean, I had ever known. I was happy at Peril, but it wouldn’t have ever been possible for me to watch her love, marry, and start a family with anyone but me. I dropped my cut at the clubhouse door, hopped on my bike, and rode away.
Cherry interrupts my thoughts as I pull into the parking lot and move to stop the truck. “This is The Ward?” Her tone is questioning as she takes in its worn exterior.
“Yes. Stick close.”
She shakes her head slightly, rolling her eyes as she opens the door. “No problem there.”
WALKING INTO THE Ward with Cherry following closely behind me, the first person I recognize is Hayden. He has a woman pinned to the bar as he leans his face into her neck. She’s smiling blazingly as if looking forward to what’s coming later. Sorry for her, but more than likely, Hayden will bore of her before the night’s over and end up taking someone else home, quite possibly a couple of someones. This is his way and always has been, so unless she entertains the idea of sharing, she’s out.
Cherry stands behind me while I take in the crowded room. Standing on her toes, she talks into my ear as though she’s telling me something that’s not supposed to be said out loud. “This place is packed.”
Looking over my shoulder at her, I attempt to pacify her concern. “It is, but it’ll be all right.” I feel her tense; she doesn’t believe me. Turning around and bending down toward her face, I whisper to her softly. “Trust me?”
She nods and grabs the sides of my shirt, bunching it in her fists as a way of seeking comfort.
Hayden Flynn is the oldest person in our group of four. He’s twenty-seven, making him one year older than I am. He has dark hair, ice-blue eyes, olive skin, and a lean, but muscular, build. He’s cocky, arrogant, good-looking, and also a complete man whore. What’s worse, he’s a man whore with standards; he’s fuckin’ choosey. He won’t sleep with just any woman. He selects carefully, picking one or two from a line of women that throw themselves at him, with fervor, every fuckin’ night.
The thought of him saying two words to Cherry, for any reason, causes my knuckles to turn white in anger. One thing is for certain; he doesn’t get to touch her, ever.
Hayden’s always been like this, though. I can hardly blame him for it. His father taught him everything he knows, and from the time he hit puberty, he’s been a man-whore-in-training. When the right woman comes along, and he really feels something for her aside from lust, he’s fucked. I hope I’m around to meet her once she’s found.
Grabbing Cherry’s hand, I drag her through the crowd, looking for a place to make her comfortable. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find table.”
Cherry notices Travis as we walk toward him. He’s hard to miss. She stops my forward movement and nods her head toward where he stands. “Do you know him?”
I smile down at her as I tuck her in my arm, giving her a sense of safety in the crowd. “I do. He’s a friend of mine. He won’t say much, but that doesn’t mean anything. You’ll get used to him.”
She still doesn’t move, her eyes scanning Travis but not with fear, only curiosity. “Why does he look so pissed?”
“What?”
She continues to study him, nodding in his direction as if I can’t see his angered pose. “His face. He looks… pissed.”
“Nah, he always looks like that.”
Her eyes widen, but she stops talking and continues to follow closely behind me.
Travis Nikels stands at the end of the bar, scanning the room as he always does. He’s young, just turned twenty-three last month. His hair is strawberry-blond, matched with a closely trimmed goatee. His eyes are green, closely accented with a yellow hue. Standing about six-two, he’s the youngest and strongest of all of us. His soul is damaged, but his heart has remained kind. He’s not led an easy life, and he’s extremely quiet and reserved. He rarely laughs. He doesn’t date often. I’ve never known him to maintain a steady relationship with any woman.
Travis’s dad was murdered with a dull switchblade last year while he innocently pumped gas after work one evening. The crime happened quickly, and the assailant got away with a wallet and a watch. His life was taken for a mere couple of dollars and some change; the watch was a knockoff that held no value. I don’t think he’s ever recovered. His mother left him and his father when Travis was three, running off with a well-known drug runner that lives on the outskirts of town. Trav’s been alone ever since the murder. Without the band and his music keeping his life going with a steady rhythm, I’m unsure where he would have ended up. The boys have his back, in all ways, ensuring he stays the course.
Leaning into Cherry, I point out my best friend. “Next to the crabby son of a bitch is Toby. You’ll really like him.”
Cherry nods, still eyeing Travis with a curious stare. “Sure, I will.”
“Just trust me a little here.”
“Fine.”
Tobias Hunter has been married to Marlee for four years already. They have a young son, Maddux, who recently turned three. Toby’s only twenty-six but has the oldest soul I’ve ever known anyone to have, with the exception of my friend, Shame, back at Peril.
Toby is a levelheaded, good friend who has always had my back with Bean and Sarah while I was away and called for his help. He’s lean, with shaggy dirty-blond hair, and he’s in a constant relaxed state. He’s my best friend for so many reasons.
From here, I see Marlee isn’t with Toby right now, so it’s safe to assume she’s busy setting up equipment. My friends are in a band, “Devil’s Despair”, and they play at The Ward every Friday night. The crowds come in droves, making it standing room only. Hayden, of course, is the lead singer and also plays the bass, Travis handles acoustics and keyboard when needed, and Toby’s the band’s drummer. I have a lifetime of memories living and breathing music with these men. Comparable to a MC, this is a brotherhood: loyalty and friendship enduring all else. Other than one instance, years ago, I’ve always known them to have each other’s back.
“Hey, Ace!” Marlee in all her small authority drops the box she was holding, runs to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her cheek to my chest. “I didn’t know you were back. You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
Cherry flinches as Marlee leans her small frame into mine.
Smiling down at Mar’s full head of blonde hair, I answer after kissing her chastely on the crown of her head. “I didn’t. I got back a couple of weeks ago. I talked to Travis briefly, but since then I’ve been busy, Marlee. Sorry.”
Her bright-blue eyes widen, her eyebrows meet her hairline and as she smiles, her dimp
les appear when she looks behind me to Cherry. Cherry doesn’t make a move to respond. She’s frozen to her spot. Her hands are at my waist again, fisting my shirt at the sides. Most women don’t like Cherry, catty bitches, their hate mostly stemming from jealousy and envy.
Grabbing her hands and asking without words for her to unclench, I pull her around my body and into my side, assuring her it’s okay. She’s looking around the crowded bar, and I’m fuckin’ hoping she’s mentally thanking my ass for forcing her to put some goddamn clothes on. This will make the ride home more bearable; I’ll get to gloat.
“Cherry, this is Marlee. She’s a friend of mine.”
“Hi,” is all Cherry says in way of greeting, but offers Marlee a small wave of her hand.
Marlee, being Marlee, won’t let that subtle shit fly. It must be said, Marlee is an extremely touchy-feely kind of person. If she’s talkin’ to you, she’s touchin’ you. Cherry’s body stiffens under Marlee’s girl-hug hold. I trust she’ll get use to Mar’s ways eventually.
Once she lets Cherry go, Cherry burrows her way back to my side and under my arm, just as she was. Marlee takes note and her eyes smile into mine before she inquires on how I’ve been. “So, Ace. You look good. How are things?”
“I’m all right. I told you before I left not to worry about me, didn’t I?”
Moving her hands to her hips, she kicks her foot to the side, and Mar lets me know she’s pissed. “Well, you asshat, I worried anyway. You didn’t call or text me while you were gone, and you said you would.”
Wrapping my arm around Cherry’s neck, I pull her into me as she rests her hand on my chest. “Well, I’m home now.”
“For good?”
“Yes. Let’s get a drink and introduce Cherry to the guys.”
Settling down into a table near the stage, Cherry and I wait for the rest of the crew to make their way to us. Marlee has already warned them that I brought Cherry, and I’m hoping this persuades them, especially man-whore Hayden, not to act in their usual juvenile manner.