Skid Row Kings
Book 1
Winter Travers
Chapter 1
Violet
It was half past seven, and I should be on my way home already, but I wasn’t.
I watched the lone girl who was sitting at the far table and sighed. She came in every day after school like clockwork, stayed till five forty-five then left. Except today, she didn’t. The only way for me to get the heck out of here was to tell her the library was closing, but I didn’t have the heart to.
She appeared to be well taken care of, nice clothes, good tennis shoes and well groomed. But she was never with anyone when she came in. Even when other kids would come in to work on homework or such, she stayed by herself at the far table.
I glanced at the watch on my wrist one last time and knew I had to go talk to her. All I wanted to do was go home, eat dinner, and take a nice long bath with my latest book boyfriend. Was that too much to ask?
After I skirted around the desk, I hesitantly made my way over to her, not wanting to tell someone they had to leave. I wasn’t one for confrontation. “Um, excuse me.”
The girl looked up at me and smiled. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen, fourteen tops. Shiny braces encased her teeth, and black-rimmed glasses sat perched on her nose. “Yes?”
“The library closes at seven.”
She glanced at the watch on her wrist and hit her hand on the table. “Crud. Luke was supposed to pick me up over an hour ago. I’m really sorry,” she said, gathering her books and shoving them into her bag.
“Did you need to call him?”
“No, he probably won’t answer the phone. He’s only managed to pick me up once this week. He’s busy getting ready for Street Wars. He’s probably stuck under the hood of a car right now.” She zipped her book bag shut and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m really sorry for keeping you here so late. I know the library closes at seven, but I was so into my book I didn’t even notice the time.”
“It’s OK.” I had totally been there before. That was the whole reason I worked at the library, I got to be surrounded by the things I loved all day.
“I’ll see ya,” she waved and headed out the door.
I quickly flipped off all the lights, making sure everything was ready for tomorrow and walked out the door. “Shit,” I muttered as I got pelted with rain as I locked the door. I ran to my car, looking for the girl but didn’t see her. Was she really going to walk home in the rain? I glanced up and down the street and saw her two blocks up, huddled under a tree.
Whoever this Luke was who was supposed to pick her up was a complete douche monkey for making this poor girl walk. I assumed it was her father, but it was strange that she called him Luke.
I ducked into my car, tossing my purse in the back and stuck the key in the ignition. I cranked it up and reversed out of my spot. As I pulled up to the girl, all I could do was shake my head. What did she think she was doing? Standing under a tree during a thunderstorm was not a bright idea.
“Get in the car,” I hollered over the wind and rain. That was one of the drawbacks of the library, there weren’t many windows so I never knew what the weather was like until I went outside. “I’ll give you a ride.”
She shook her head no and huddled under her jacket. What was she thinking? It didn’t look like the rain was going to let up anytime soon. “I’m not supposed to ride with strangers.”
Well, that was all fine and dandy except for the fact me being a stranger looked a lot better than standing in the rain. “You’ve been coming into the library for months. I’d hardly call us strangers.”
“I don’t even know your name,” she said, her teeth chattering.
“It’s Violet. Now get in the car.”
She looked up and down the street, and it finally sunk in that I was her only chance of getting home not sopping wet. As she sprinted across the street, I reached across the center console and pushed open the passenger door.
“Oh my God, it’s cold out there,” she shivered as she slid in and closed the door.
“Well, it’s only April. Plus, being soaking wet doesn’t help.”
She tossed her bag on the floor and rubbed her arms, trying to warm up. I switched the heat on full blast and pointed all the vents at her. She was dripping all over, and I knew the next person who sat there was going to get a wet ass. “Which way?”
“I live over on Thompson, on top of SRK Motors,” she chattered.
I shifted the car into drive and headed down the street. “How come your dad didn’t come and pick you up?” I asked, turning down Willow Street.
“Probably because he’s dead.”
Oh, crap. Whoopsie. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling like an idiot. She seemed too young to have lost her dad.
“You can rule my mom out, too. They’re both dead.” She pulled a dry sweatshirt out of her bag and wrapped it around her hair, wringing it out.
OK. Well, things seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. “So, um, who’s Luke? Your uncle?”
“No, he’s my oldest brother. I’ve got three of them. They all work at the garage together that Luke owns, he’s in charge.”
“So, your brothers take care of you?”
“Ha, more like I take care of them. If it weren't for me, they’d spend all their time under the hood of a car.”
“What’s your name?” Here I was giving this girl a ride home, and I had no idea what her name was.
“Frankie.”
“I’m Violet, by the way, if you didn’t hear me before,” I glanced at her, smiling.
“Neat name. Never heard it before.” That would be because my mother was an old soul who thought to name me Violet would be retro. It wasn’t. It was a color.
“Eh, it’s OK.”
I pulled up in front of the body shop and shut the car off. It was raining even harder now, the rain pelting against my windows. “I’ll come in with you to make sure someone is home.”
“I’m fourteen years old. I can be left alone.’
“Whatever. Let’s go.” She was right, but I didn’t care. I was pretty pissed off that her brother had left her all alone to walk home in the rain.
We dashed to the door, my coat pulled over my head, and I stumbled into the door Frankie held open. “Oh my God, it’s really coming down,” I mumbled, shaking my coat off. My hair was matted to my forehead, and I’m sure I looked like a drowned rat.
“I think Luke is in the shop, I’ll go get him.” Frankie slipped through another door that I assumed lead to the shop, and I looked around.
Apparently, I was in the office of the body shop. There was a cluttered counter in front of me and stacks of wheels and tires all around. Four chairs are set off to the side, which I assume is the waiting area, and a vending machine on the far wall.
The phone rang a shrilling ring, making me jump. I looked around, trying to figure out what to do when the door to the shop was thrown open, and a bald, scowling man came walking through. He didn’t even glance at me, just picked up the phone and started barking into it.
“Skid Row Kings,” he grunted.
I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but I could tell Baldy was not happy. I looked down at my hands, noticing my cute plaid skirt I had put on that morning was now drenched and clinging to my legs. Thankfully I had worn flats today, or I probably would have fallen on my ass in the rain.
“What can I help you with?”
My head shot up, baldy staring at me. “Um, I brought Frankie home.”
He looked me up and down, his eyes scanning me over. “Aren’t you a little too old to be hanging out with a fourteen-year-old? You’re what, sixteen, seventeen?”
“Try twenty-seven.” This guy was a piece of work. He was looking me over like I was on display and he thought I was a teenager.
His eyes snapped to mine, and his jaw dropped. Yeah, jackass, I’m older than you are probably. “What the hell are you doing with Frankie?”
“She works at the l
ibrary. You know, the place you promised to pick me up from today?” Frankie said, walking back into the shop. She had managed to find a towel and was drying herself off. I would kill for a towel right now.
“Fuck,” Baldy twisted around and looked at the clock behind him. “Sorry, Frankie. Mitch and I were tearing apart the tranny on the Charger.”
She waved her hand at him and tossed the towel to me. Oh, thank you sweet baby Jesus. I wiped the water that was dripping down my face and squeezed all the water out of my hair into it.
“How the hell did you get so wet if she gave you a ride home?”
“Because I started walking home, Luke, until Violet was kind enough to stop and give me a lift.”
He watched me dry my hair, confusion on his face. “Violet?” he muttered.
“That’s me,” I said, sticking my hand out for him to shake. “I didn’t want Frankie to get sick walking home. Plus, it’s getting dark and someone her age shouldn’t be out then.”
“She’s fourteen years old,” he sneered. “I was out on the streets when I was twelve.”
“Oh, well. If that’s how you want to raise her.” Luke was a gearhead that was also an ass. I didn’t have time for this. My bath was definitely calling my name now that I was soaking wet. I tossed the towel back to Frankie and pulled my jacket over my head again. “You’re welcome for bringing your sister home.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know,” I turned to Frankie and smiled. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.” She nodded her head at me, smiling, and I turned to walk out the door. I twisted the handle, and the door blew into me, rain pouring in. I glance back at Luke one time, a scowl on his face, and figured the pouring rain was better company than he was.
I pulled the door shut behind me and sprinted to my car, dodging puddles.
Once I was safely in my car, I looked up at the two-story building and sighed. I wish I could say this was a hole in the wall garage, but it was far from that. The building itself was a dark blue aluminum siding with huge neon letters that boasted, Skid Row Kings Garage, also known as SRK Garage. There were five bay doors that I’m assuming is where they pulled the cars into and over the office part is where I believe they lived. It was monstrous. Everyone in town took their cars here, especially the street racing crowd.
I had never been here before, mainly because I have never really needed repairs done on my car. I always went to the big chain stores to get my oil changed and thankfully hadn’t needed any major repairs.
I started my car, thankful to be headed home. I turned around, the big looming building in my review as I headed down the street.
Hopefully, that was the last time I would ever step foot in Skid Row Kings garage and never see Luke again. He seemed like a total ass.
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Ready to ride with the Fallen Lords MC?
Nickel
Fallen Lords MC
Book 1
Chapter One
Karmen
I couldn’t find a box big enough to fit him in.
Well, that makes me sound like a murderer or something. Nickel, the man in question, is still very much alive, I assure you. I should probably go back a little bit and explain.
My father went to prison when I was thirteen, and I can’t remember my mother. She left before I could even have a memory of her. He always told me we were better off without her. Things were rough for us, but we always had each other. Well, I had my dad. My dad had me and beer. I can’t remember a time I didn’t smell hops on his breath.
I went to my first day of preschool and asked the teacher why her breath didn’t smell like my dad. That ended up with my dad in the principal’s office for an hour and me crying the whole way home while my dad yelled at me. That was the last time I ever mentioned my dad’s drinking to anyone. I was a fast learner and caught on quick. One mess up, and I never made the same mistake again.
The night my dad went to prison, I was at home, like normal, while he was out at the bar three miles down the road. He regularly walked to the bar and stumbled home, but that night, there was a severe storm predicted to blow in, so he decided he would take the truck. That decision changed my life and made me see everything in a whole new light.
I was sprawled out on the living room floor, watching TV, when there was a loud pounding on the front door, and I figured it was my dad. It was normal for him to forget his keys and bang to get inside.
I opened the door to two police officers, with my grandma, Vivian, standing behind them. I only saw my grandma at Christmas. I knew the second I laid eyes on her, something was not right.
It seemed my father had decided to call it a night after drinking almost a twenty-four pack of beer and tried to drive home. In that three-mile drive to the house that had no turns or curves on it, my father had managed to hit a soccer mom in her minivan with her three children in the back. Only one child survived.
The police told me I had to go with my grandma until they figured something out. Meanwhile, she stood behind them, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. After they were done, my grandma barged between the two police officers and started firing off orders about packing a bag and getting all my stuff ready to go. We weren’t going to stay in the “hell hole” anymore.
While I was packing up my things, completely in shock, I heard my grandma down the hall, bitching and moaning about having to take care of me. I knew then and there that things were never going to be the same.
After she hauled me over to her trailer—that was not much better than the “hell hole” I used to live in—I begged to see my dad. Every day, she told me, and I quote, “I couldn’t see the bastard yet.”
Two weeks after I went to live with Vivian—she hated when I called her Grandma—I finally got to see my dad. After I was searched, I was led to a room with a glass wall and partitions separating small stools that faced the window. I was told to sit on the stool furthest to the left and wait. Vivian sat in the corner, pissed off that the guards said she had to be in there with me, even though I honestly didn’t want her there.
It had taken ten minutes before my father walked through the door. He looked the same as the last time I had seen him, except for the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. He sat down on the other side of the glass and picked up the phone. He motioned his hand for me to do the same. I put the receiver to my ear and held my breath.
“Hey, baby.” He always called me baby. I couldn’t remember him ever using my real name unless he was serious, and serious didn’t often happen with my dad.
“Hi, Daddy,” I whispered.
“Everything going okay over at Vivian’s?”
I nodded but didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t plan for this to happen.” My first thought was, what a stupid saying. Who the hell plans to drink twenty-four beers and then plow a family off the road? There’s probably a very short list of people who plan for something like that.
“It’s okay.” What else was I supposed to say?
“I think I’m going to be in here for a while.”
I nodded again, because it finally hit me. Seeing my father behind a thick glass wall in an orange jumpsuit was hammering it home, that life as I knew it was about to change. A tear I had been holding in streaked down my face and landed on the small ledge in front of me.
“Don’t cry, baby.” His eyes were on me, watching the tears I was so desperately trying to hold in finally run down my cheeks.
“I don’t know what to do, Daddy,” I wheezed out. My tears were coming fast and furious now. I was five seconds away from becoming an emotional, blubbering mess.
“You don’t need to worry. Vivian is going to take care of you. I had the police call her as soon as they could,” he said, trying to reassure me.
I was unable to talk. I tried wiping at the tears, but by the time I whisked them away, new ones were falling, taking their place.
“Karmen,” he sternly said into the phone. I gl
anced up and found him staring at me. “Handel’s don’t cry, Karmen. Dry your tears. Nothing can be done now but to go on and make the best of the situation we are in.”
I wiped my eyes again, willing the tears to stop. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Kleenex Vivian had pressed into my hand as I walked to the door before. My father’s words rang in my head. He always used to say, “We need to make the best of our situation.” He would always tell me that when we would run out of money or had to find a new place to live.
“I don’t know how to go on, Daddy. Vivian doesn’t want me there,” I hiccupped into the phone.
My dad shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, baby. We both have to do things we don’t want to right now. I wish things could be different, but they can’t.”
“I know,” I whispered. I didn’t want my dad to worry about me when he was in prison. I’d have to keep my fears to myself about living with Vivian.
“Go on, I need to talk to your grandma now.” I nodded my understanding. “I love you, Karmen. Please don’t forget that.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” I whispered. I hung up the phone and quickly dashed out of the room before I started crying in front of him again.
After my grandma spoke to him, we went home, where she started making dinner and told me to sit at the kitchen table so we could have a talk.
“We need to get a few things straight, Karmen,” she said, lighting a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke in my direction. “Your father told me you said I didn’t like you. Is that right?” she asked, staring me down.
I nodded my head yes because there was no point in lying.
“It’s not that I don’t like you, Karmen, it’s just that I am well beyond the age of taking care of a teenager. I’m upset with your father, not you.”
“Okay.”
“I think we will get along just fine if we both just stay out of the other one's way. I know you are thirteen years old and more than capable of taking care of yourself. Lord knows you have been taking care of that sorry excuse for a father since you were old enough to talk.”
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