What Doesn't Destroy Us

by M. N. Forgy

  I may have just lost my mother for good this time, but is she really that big of a loss? Her words are what hurt me the most. It isn't surprising that she can't stand the sight of me, but hearing her admit it is like a knife through the heart. The stinging is becoming too much; I can feel my eyes welling up ready to spill unshed tears.

  “Dani? What are you –“ Shadow stops mid-sentence when he sees my distraught state. I didn’t even see him in here I was so wrapped up in my own turmoil. “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head in response.

  He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. I nuzzle my nose into his grease stained shirt and inhale deep. His woodsy smell mixed with grease is a welcoming scent, it relaxes me on the spot.

  “My mom is what’s wrong. How can she say those things?” I mumble into his chest, my hands clenching his shirt like a lifeline.

  “You would be surprised what a mother can say to her child.” He pushes me to arm’s length and examines my face.

  “What the hell, Dani, your face is all red. Did that bitch hit you?” I can see his eyes dilate with anger, his jaw clenching as he moves my head side to side by my chin.

  Suddenly, I hear heavy footsteps coming our way. I spot an open office door and shuffle into the space between it and the wall. Peeking out through the hinges, I see Locks coming into the garage.

  “Shadow, you see Dani run out here?”

  “Nah, man, I haven’t.” Shadow acts casual, looking for something in a red tool box.

  “She just got into a major fight with her mom; she bolted out of the club running this way. Bull sent me to find her, make sure she was okay.” Locks pulls out a red pack and plucks a cigarette from it with his lips, he doesn’t light it, just lets it hang loosely from his lips.

  “These women, I tell you what; I’m not here to fucking babysit. Not sure what the fuck the Prez was thinking bringing these bitches here.”

  “I think he thought they are his family,“ Shadow replies, shuffling through more tools.

  “This ain’t no place for bitches; that’s all I’m saying, brother.” Locks pulls out a black lighter from his pocket and lights his cigarette. Shadow takes his focus off the red tool box and looks in Locks' direction.

  “Really? What about Babs?” Shadow asks.

  “That’s different.” Locks crosses his arms and widens his stance.

  “How so?” Shadow asks, leaning up against the tool box.

  “No drama.” Locks quips back.

  Shadow scuffs at Locks' comment. “Right. Wasn’t it about five months back when Babs caught you with your pants around your ankles, fucking Candy?”

  Now I get why there is so much tension between Candy and Babs, and what Babs meant by Locks cheating.

  “Yeah it was, and I reined that shit in. Babs knew better than to fucking say a word or else.” Locks takes a drag from his cigarette.

  Did he seriously just say “or else”? What does that mean? Does he hit her? Is that what it’s like being with one of them, they can cheat on you and if you say anything they hit you? My chest suddenly feels heavy, the throbbing in my head becomes apparent again.

  “I'm not here to have a therapy session with you; if you see Dani tell her to get her ass to the clubhouse.” Locks turns and walks away, his heavy footsteps trailing him. Shadow looks at me and nods when it’s clear. I walk out from behind the door, and look at Shadow. So many questions to ask, but I don’t want to offend him. He instantly cups my face with his greasy hands and looks right into my eyes.

  “Breathe, Dani. Some men fuck around on their Ol’ Ladies; that’s just club life.” He says it so calmly, like it’s a social norm.

  “I don’t think I can be an Ol' Lady,” I whisper out in confession.

  Shadow smiles. “I might be an asshole, but if you were my Ol’ Lady, I wouldn’t fuck around and I would never raise a hand to you. Just the thought of you being in pain makes me want to kill. Do you understand me?” His tone is austere, his face serious; I know he is telling the truth. How could I think that Shadow would be like that? He claims to be a beast, and he may be with others, but never me.

  “I understand.”

  He leans his forehead on mine and rubs his thumb on my cheek. His touch is so sincere and caring. I could be Shadow's Ol' Lady if he wanted.

  “Good. Now come here; I wanna show you something.” He smiles the most boyish smile I have ever seen as he grabs my hand. We pass a few motorcycles and proceed to the back corner of the shop.

  We stop in front of a black, mean looking car; I have never seen anything like it. I have never seen a car so sexy in my life; it screams muscle.

  “It’s a 1965 Shelby Mustang; it was my dad’s.” He pulls a grease rag from his back pocket and rubs a smudge from the hood. I walk around the car, taking in its beauty; its masculinity.

  “I like it a lot. It’s sexy.” I look up and his face lights up even more than it already was. He is so cute with that boyish grin of his. Boys and their toys.

  “Man, you keep getting better and better.” His grin turns wolfish and he winks at me, making my panties pool with desire. Looking at him and this sexy ass car, all I want is him to bend me over it and have his way with me.

  “I see that look in your eye, and trust me I’ve already thought about it. It’s too risky, though,” he replies back. It’s crazy how he can read my mind so easily after the short time we have been around each other.

  “Can you take me for a drive?” Maybe if we get out of here we can have some fun in the back seat. Good God, listen to me; I sound slutty.

  “Nah, I've still gotta get a motor. It’s an older car so it’s harder to find.”

  Damn.

  “Dani! Dani!” I hear my name being called from the clubhouse.

  “I better get.” I start walking past Shadow and he grabs my hand, stopping me.

  “See you at five, Firefly.” I just smile at him and walk away. He slaps my ass hard as I pass and I squeal with delight.

  I’m sitting in the same chair for the third time today. My fingers pick and scratch at the dips and grooves of the wooden table as I wait for the awkward silence to break. My father is sitting at the head of the table with a bottle of Jack sitting next to him and twirling a shot glass between his thumb and forefinger. On the opposite side of the room, my mother is pacing the floor; her hands on her hips then crossing them in front of her chest. I guess it’s time for family therapy; where’s our shrink when you need her.

  “These bitch fights are going to stop; I want you two to make amends now. I won’t have this happening in my club any further.” My dad finally breaks the silence, his voice calm and collected, yet he is staring right at my mother as if he is only speaking to her.

  “Your club; that’s all that matters to you, always has been. Some things never change,” my mother rants as she continues to pace the floor, not even glancing in our direction.

  “You knew the level of dedication I have for this club when we were together. That’s never changed, Lady.” His voice rises slightly; I can tell he is irritated with her.

  My mother stops pacing and leans on the table with her hands. She stares directly at my father. “It's Sadie. How many times do I have to tell you that?” she practically screams at him.

  He sighs heavily before twisting the cap off the whiskey and pouring the amber liquid to the brim of the small glass. “I won’t have you putting your hands on my daughter ever again.” His voice and face are a warning to my mother. He tosses back the shot, letting the whiskey jet back into his throat. He doesn’t even flinch.

  My mother slapping me isn't the first time; she slapped me a lot when I would go off her path of righteousness. This, however, would be the last.

  My mother’s face is red, her nostrils flaring with rage. “I’m leaving today; now!” She looks over at me questioningly, silently asking if I’m going with her. I turn my head away, avoiding her inquisitive look. There’s no way in hell I’m going with her.

  “You
can’t, we haven’t found that douche-bag ex of yours. It’s not safe,” my father explains, his voice calmer.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll take my chances,” she says with disgusted humor in her voice. “I take it you’re not coming?” she finally verbally asks me.

  I stare ahead at the wall, avoiding both my father's and my mother’s questioning faces. I don’t know if my father wants me to stay and I don’t want to go with my mother. If my father doesn’t want me here, I would rather live like a homeless person than go back to the puppet my mother wanted me to be; not after having just discovered who I really am. She turns on her foot and throws her arms up as if washing her hands of me.

  “When I was pregnant with you I thought nurture would win over nature. I should have seen the signs as you grew older, but here I am being slapped in my face for the decision to keep you as my daughter.” She turns and looks at me, her eyes swelling with tears. I take it she thought about aborting me when she found out she was pregnant; that really doesn’t surprise me.

  “I’m staying. I can never be the person you want in a daughter. I never did feel like I fit your mold. After being here, I feel like I know who I am now.” The words slip through my lips almost as a whisper. My father hasn’t objected so far; he must want me to stay.

  “You think you know who you are now, but there are only four things you can become in an outlaw club like this: a whore, a junkie, a prisoner or dead. Don’t come running back to me, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She glares angrily at me and then at my father. “I already called a taxi. You two enjoy each other. You're both monsters in the same.” She turns on her heel and leaves. She just walks out of my life that easy; like I was a used car she no longer wanted.

  I feel wet warmth cross my cheek, stinging the cuts Candy left behind. My fingers rub the tears my eyes unknowingly shed.

  “Here, you might need this.” My father slides the small glass, half full of the amber whiskey, across the table. I toss it back and feel it burn all the way down my throat and into my stomach. My body instantly becomes warm and relaxed. My eyes water and it makes me cough at its lingering assault.

  “What now?” I ask, unsure if this is what he wants; if he wants me.

  “We’ll tie up some loose ends, make sure everything is safe, and get you set up on your feet, Darlin'.” His face and voice are sincere; I can tell he wants nothing more than for me to stay here.

  “You're my blood. You're always welcome here and always protected, Dani.” He pats my shoulder. “Besides, I kind of like you.” I look up at a smiling Bull, wrinkles framing his bright green eyes.

  I guess this is my home now. With that thought, my pursed lips turn into a smug grin.

  -------------------------------------

  I walk out to the courtyard at the appointed time of 5pm to find Shadow already waiting by his bike. He’s wearing snug blue jeans, a white shirt and his cut. His dark hair is all messy on top, as usual, and he has the laziest grin when he sees me walking toward him. Just the sight of him makes me tremble with arousal. Every day I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into his web.

  He hands me the helmet and revs up his bike. The roar coming from the chrome pipes screams up my spine. I put my helmet on and climb on the back of his bike. He grabs my legs and pulls me closer, making me smile. In a flash, we fly forward and are out of the courtyard and hitting the pavement. His smell is intoxicating; his spicy shampoo mixed with grease. I can tell he tried to wash off all the grease but the smell still lingers. I love it; it’s so masculine.

  Looking out at the sunset, I see big gray clouds swarming the sky; looks like a storm is brewing. I wonder where Shadow is taking me. This should be interesting. Still, I bet anything he has to offer is better than the blind dates my mother used to set me up with; they always took me to the finest places and threw cash, or their family name, around like it was flattering; it wasn’t.

  I feel the bike slant off to the side of the road bringing us back to the beach he took me to a week or so back. I’m not complaining. I love the beach and this could be romantic. Then again, Shadow did say he didn’t do romantic.

  I slide off the back of the bike and hand Shadow my helmet. He takes it and hands me a red and black checkered blanket from one of the saddle bags.

  “Go find us a good spot; I’ll follow in a sec.”

  I take the blanket and make my way down to the warm, sandy beach. The breeze has picked up making the waves crash onto the beach. I pick a spot and throw the blanket down. Sitting on a corner, I take my shoes and socks off and dig my toes into the warmth. Feeling the grainy sand squish between my toes is amazing; it is so relaxing. I need this after the last twenty-four hours I have had. The thought of Candy and my mother makes goose bumps rise on my skin. I haven't been at the club long and I have already managed to wreck havoc. What a mess.

  I look behind me to find Shadow setting down a red cooler and kicking off his boots and socks.

  “What’s in the cooler?” I ask, lifting my chin toward it.

  “Eh, my attempt of being romantic,” he responds, chuckling.

  He opens the lid and pulls out a Tupperware dish with sandwiches cut into triangles, then he pulls out another dish with cheese and grapes, followed by two beers. I am in complete shock, my mouth has fallen open and my eyes are as wide as saucers.

  “I know it’s not a five-star restaurant or anything fancy, but this is about as romantic as I get.” He rubs the back of his neck and eyes my reaction. He thinks I hate it; that I’m mortified he would make me sandwiches for a date, but the truth is, I love it. I hate that he thinks I’m some high-class broad from New York that’s impossible to please. I bet everyone at the club thinks that.

  “It’s perfect,” I respond, my voice full of emotion.

  He scoffs at me. He clearly thinks I’m lying. Jerk.

  “I’m not lying,” I protest.

  He sits down and opens the tub with the sandwiches in it. He takes a beast-sized bite and looks out at the crashing waves. I crawl over and straddle his lap and cup his face so he's looking directly into my eyes. His cheeks, rough with stubble, feel glorious under my fingertips.

  “I’ve been to those five-star restaurants you’re talking about; sure they can be nice but anybody can throw money at someone else to cook for their significant other. This takes a lot more thought. You did this yourself; you didn’t hire someone else to take care of the hassle. This is way more intimate than anything you might think is considered fancy...” He cups my face back and lightly brushes his lips over mine, so tender and friendly I forget who is holding me.

  “So you think I’m your significant other?” he whispers against my lips, his breath smelling of turkey.

  My cheeks flush and my heart starts galloping like a horse. Shit, I did say significant other. I know labels aren’t his thing. Just taking me out on a date is pushing it and here I am saying “be my boyfriend”.

  “I... uh... I just mean...” I choke out, not sure what to say; afraid whatever comes out may push him away.

  “I’m just fucking with you.” He grins, acting amused my by panicked state. Asshole. He can act as if he is messing with me, but it’s clear he has trust issues.

  Trying to avoid the situation, I reach down and grab one of the little triangular sandwiches and take a bite. It’s the most delicious sandwich I have ever had. It is turkey and cheddar with some kind of sauce; it’s simple, yet mouthwatering.

  “This is amazing,” I mumble with a mouth full of food.

  He laughs; his laugh so deep and charming it makes me laugh with him. He leans over and wipes extra sauce that has gathered in the corner of my mouth with his index finger. He then places it in his mouth, sucking it clean. My sex clenches wanting those skillful lips on me instead of his finger. The ache in my core starts to throb. I gotta get these thoughts out of my head or I will never survive this date.

  He tips his head to the side. “How is a girl like you not taken, or ever been taken for that matter?”
he asks, biting into another sandwich.

  “Oh, well, it’s not like I didn’t try, or that I never had a boyfriend before. When I was in high school, my boyfriend and I went back to my place to fool around because my mom was supposed to be working late. She ended up walking in on us right before we were getting ready to do the deed. She was great about always catching me right before I did something she didn’t approve of. She dragged him out by his hair; I could hear my mother yelling at him all the way out the front door. He didn’t talk to me anymore after that; I’m not sure if it was the embarrassment of my mother throwing him out into the street naked, or what she said to him, but he wasn’t the only guy that kept his distance after that. I never had a date the rest of high school. As for college, my mom made it clear I was not to go partying, and that’s what college is about, so I didn’t really make friends.” I look up and see humor on his face.

  He shakes his head. “Your momma is something else,” he responds, taking a swig of his beer.

  “Tell me about it. I don’t think I will be seeing her anymore after today, though.” I feel guilt rise in my throat. I hate that I pushed her away but I feel that if I hadn’t I would never be able to live my own life. I sigh heavily, trying to push my mother out of my head; I want to enjoy our date.

  “I heard about it; mothers are a unique breed aren’t they?” I look up at him and see his beautiful blue eyes go dark; I wonder what the deal is with his mother. Where is his father? Just as I’m about to slip the questions through my lips, his phone rings. He looks at the screen and sighs heavily; his whole body becomes stiff and his mood shifts completely. He stands up and answers it.

  “You know you’re a dead woman, right?” He looks around us frantically; I look around to see if I can spot what he’s looking at.

  “Bitch, if I find you, you’re fucking dead. Do you hear me?” He looks down at the screen and then shoves the phone in his pocket. Whoever it was hung up on him. His jaw is clenched and his blue eyes look black as night. He runs his hands back and forth through his messy top before looking down at me.