by Jc Emery
Mary, Fish’s long-time girlfriend, stands up first. She sets down the catalog she’s been looking through and bridges the distance between us. She reaches out and gives me a quick hug that’s tolerable enough and says, “Hey girl.”
Pulling back, Mary makes room for Barbara to stand and take a step toward me. Barbara and Chief have been together for years, and even though she knew he wasn’t faithful, she’s loved him with everything she has since the day she climbed onto the back of his bike. In his own way, he loved her just as much. Her face twists as she sets her eyes on me. Her chin trembles, and she shakes her head. For the first time in years, I find myself rushing at someone to wrap my arms around them. As I grab a hold of Barbara and pull her into me, I suddenly feel the weight of her grief and the club’s loss. It’s not until this moment that it really hits me. My throat is so dry and my eyes water, but I fight it off, gulp down the whimper that nearly escapes me, and suck it up so I can focus on Barbara. She lets her body sink into mine as her hands clutch into my back and dig in painfully. I bite my lower lip to keep from vocalizing my struggle to keep from crying out in discomfort.
“Shit,” she says and slowly pulls back. She’s at least a good six inches taller than me and has a broader frame, but she wears it well. Her black hair is a mess atop her head, and for the first time in years, I’m seeing her without makeup. Wiping her eyes and sniffling, she gives out a frustrated laugh.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner,” I say. When Dad went to jail, Barbara was all over me and Jeremy. If Ruby and Jim hadn’t taken us in, she and Chief would have. She never hesitated to step into the role of mother when I needed one after my own bailed. Not that I ever really thanked her for it. Guilt swims in my belly, making me uncomfortable in her presence. She shakes her head.
“I was such a mess. I wouldn’t have known it even if you’d tried to reach out,” she says.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask. Barbara’s eyes slide over my shoulder to the table in the corner that houses the only other Lost Girls in the room—Chel and Dawn. Her jaw tightens and her eyes narrow at me. For a brief second I think she’s going to chew me out. Barbara has never made a secret of how she feels about the women who hang around the club. She had a few cautionary words for me the first time she showed up at the clubhouse and saw me with Torque, one of the club members who has been locked up for the last year.
“I’d kind of like it if it was just family here,” she says and wipes her damp hands on her jeans. My face heats and I nod.
“I’m sorry I interrupted.” I put my hands up and give her an apologetic smile. I move to step away from the table when she reaches out and grabs my hand. My eyes fly up to hers, and she shakes her head.
“Not you, baby,” she says. Her eyes slide over my shoulder to the corner where Chel and Dawn sit, and she hisses, “Them.” My jaw goes slack, and I fight to make a sound. My brain is fighting the good fight, trying to tell her that I’m one of them and that even though I’m more selective than either of them is, I’m still a Lost Girl. But God help me, I like this. I like the way she’s treating me like I’m family, and I like the way that makes me feel. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m part of something.
“Um, are you sure—about me staying?”
“My feelings would be hurt if you didn’t,” she says sternly. I bite back a smile and lift my chin.
“I’ll, uh, ask the girls if they can make a beer run or something,” I say. Turning around and making my way across the room, I have to take several deep breaths to calm myself down. The sideways glances both Chel and Dawn are giving me make me want to go to Duke’s room and hide in there until he can take me home. But I go anyway, because this isn’t about me no matter how much I want to make it about me.
“What’s going on with The Hive?” Chel asks, referring to the three Old Ladies across the room. I look down and shove my hands in my pockets. We Lost Girls have always considered the Old Ladies like a hive of bees. Ruby’s the queen, and the rest of them buzz around making sure she’s happy and having her back when she’s not. It’s the reason that, contrary to popular belief, Ruby is the most powerful person in this town. Because if she’s not happy and Jim doesn’t fix it, then she tells her girls about it and then each one of them will tell their Old Man about it. Then when the brothers are sick and fucking tired of hearing about it, Jim finally does something about it.
“Barbara was wondering if you guys can make a beer run or something,” I say then wince. Lifting my head and looking Chel in the eye, I say, “She thinks we’re low for the number of charters that are coming up.”
“She couldn’t have asked me herself?” Chel says. Her eyes narrow up at me, and her tone is petulant. I scrunch up my face in frustration and work to keep my mouth shut. Chel knows damn well why Barbara isn’t going to speak to her directly. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that Chel’s hurting, too.
“You know that’s not gonna happen,” I say.
Dawn scoffs and rolls her eyes. She blows out a breath and says, “It’s not like every one of these guys doesn’t fuck around. That’s bullshit. Barb knew the score when she hooked up with Chief.”
“Look,” I say, now beyond annoyed that I’m having to go there. “Barbara’s just lost her husband. Her kids have lost their dad. She doesn’t want to be in the same room with the woman who’s been screwing her husband on the regular for the last two years. Is that okay with either of you?”
The chair she’s sitting in makes a horrid scraping sound as Dawn stands and puts her hand on her hip. “Listen, bitch. Just because you’re on the back of Duke’s bike doesn’t make you anything but his latest slut. So do us all a favor and get off your jizz-stained pedestal and wake up. You’re not Old Lady material,” she says. Chel squeezes out of her chair and folds her arms over her chest as she moves away from the table.
I take a step forward and pull my hands out of my pockets. All I can see every time I look at her is the scene from that night I walked in on her riding Duke. Try as I might—and I try really hard—I can’t forget the way she stared at me that night. The memory doesn’t come up often, but when it does I can’t help how pissed off I end up being. I thought at the time that she just liked it when people watched, but the way she’s going off right now makes me think that maybe she’s got a thing for Duke and that was some kind of power play.
And fuck that.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” I snap. From behind me, chairs scrape against the concrete floor and footsteps close in. Dawn’s eyes dart over my shoulders before they fall on me again. She jerks her chin up and smirks.
“You know what they say—can’t make a wife out of a whore,” she says and licks her lips. Looking me up and down she chuckles. “Like mother, like daughter, huh?”
Chapter 21
Shoving her chair out of my way, I close the distance between us. Dawn is an inch or two shorter than me, but she’s curvier in all the right places. My chest heaves in anger, and my body is so fucking tense I think I could throw my fist through the brick wall behind her head. We may not know each other very well, but it’s no secret that my mom was a club slut who never could settle down, and it was fucking cheap of Dawn to bring my mother into this. And today of all days? She can’t know, but the damage is done and it doesn’t matter.
“Shit. I’ll go get Duke,” one of the prospects says from behind me. I purse my lips as adrenaline rushes through my veins and psyches me up for this shit. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a fight with somebody aside from Duke. I’m seriously overdue.
“Keep talking, bitch,” I say. She looks to her left and smiles then nods her head. She’s dumber than she looks if she thinks this shit is going to be cool with the club.
“I can see why you like him, though. He’s hot and knows how to use his dick,” she says. “What have you done to him? The guy was desperate for a good fuck. Apparently he hasn’t had that in a while.” I take another step forward, a
nd we’re standing chest to chest, both of us knowing that there’s no going back from this moment. The shit she’s saying about Duke kills me, but I can’t show her that. I can’t show any of them how much it hurts to hear her say that he was with her that night.
The Old Ladies have all been through this, and, in their own ways, they’ve had to claim their spot beside their man. It might not always be this public, but it almost always goes down like this. Old Ladies have to be tough, and if I want this—and I do—I’m going to have to suck it up and be strong for my man and our kid.
He may come in really late at times, but he’s been in my bed every night he can be. She could be lying, but some of the brothers are in the room. The vibe always changes when they walk in. It’s like a cloud of testosterone blankets everything in the confined space. I don’t think she’d lie in front of them. While they tolerate a lot of shit, flat-out lying about this kind of crap isn’t something they’re very fond of.
“He practically begged me to suck his dick,” she says. “Glad I did, too. He tasted sweet as ever. Would have fucked his brains out, but he had to go. Some pathetic bitch can’t even pay her light bill without his help.”
Without thinking about it, I reach up and wrap my hand around her throat and shove her backward, which throws her into the brick wall behind her. Her hands wrap around my wrist, trying to pull me off. She gives it as much force as she can, her eyes grow wide, and she gasps for air. But she went too fucking far, and every bit of rational thought has left me. I don’t know how she knows about the electric bill being past due, but her mention of it makes me feel like total shit. Worse than anything else she’s said.
Leaning in, I squeeze her throat and say, “You wanna talk shit, baby? Let’s talk shit. First of all, I don’t give a fuck that you sucked his dick, because he’s in my bed and he’s licking my pussy. He is mine. So again, fuck you. And I hope when he came, he did it in your mouth, and you swallowed—because that is the last time you will lay a finger on him.”
Strong hands wrap around my upper arms, gently guiding me backward, but I fight it off and lean in to her ear. Duke keeps his hands on my upper arms, but stops pulling. Very gently, he gives me a squeeze as a show of support. The scent of Duke’s soap wafts up my nose and has me on an emotional cliff. My body jerks in desperation to be left alone. He can’t be here, not now.
“Third, I guess you don’t know who I am,” I whisper into her ear, hoping he can’t hear. “I’m the bitch who has his baby, and that’s something you’ll never have.” I remove my hand from her throat and step back. I run right into Duke and have to swat him away. The last thing I want is him touching me right now. Dawn’s face is a purple-red as she strains to suck in as much air as she can. She bends forward and places her hands on her knees and continues to wheeze.
As I turn around, I find most of the club standing in the room. Nobody is saying a word, not even Mary, who has a small smile on her face. They’re all so silent that it’s unnerving. I just want somebody to hoot or laugh, or even to get pissed. Maybe Barbara could cry or something. But they don’t.
I walk away, and the farther I get, the further it sinks in that I just totally flipped out on that chick. She’s a stupid, mouthy whore who has no business copping an attitude like she does, but that shit was intense in a way I never want to feel again. Before I realize it, I’ve walked into the hallway that leads to Duke’s room. I blink at the walls on either side of me that are covered in framed photos of the club during various decades. Boots stomping against concrete sound behind me, growing louder with every passing second. I suck in a gasp, bringing myself back round to what’s going on, and I dart the rest of the way down the hall and into Duke’s room. I’m closing the door behind me when Duke shoves it open and strides in. He shuts it behind himself and leans against it.
“That bitch is gone,” he says. The last thing I want to hear is his voice in this moment. I can hear it as clearly in my head as if it just happened—he’s lying on the couch, and there she is fucking riding him. In my brain he’s telling her to get with the program. He sounds so distant and cruel—not at all how he sounds when he’s with me. But still, there he is. He’s fucking her, and I can’t unsee it no matter how much I want to. The images morph into something different—something I haven’t seen, but now will always feel as though I did. Dawn crawls down his body and takes him into her mouth. Closing my eyes, I place my hands over my face and force myself to focus on my breathing. The image continues to slice into my brain and heart. My stomach churns, and if the imagined visual of Dawn with her mouth around Duke’s dick doesn’t wane soon, I think I’m going to be sick.
He walks forward, invading my space. And he’s all soap and leather and sweat with a hint of maple syrup and some Jagermeister. His hands wrap around my wrists. My right wrist throbs under his touch. I’ll have to look and see how bruised up it is later. I fight against his hands as they pull mine away from my face, but it’s a losing battle. Dipping his head, he gets in my face and holds me close.
“Talk to me,” he demands.
“Don’t touch me,” I say and struggle to free myself. He’s just so much stronger than I am. I don’t even know why I bother. Moving closer, his beard brushes against my cheek. The soft tickle is an unwelcome reminder of how much time we’ve spent together the last several weeks, and how familiar he has become. How permanent he is in my life now. Every bit of him—his touch, his smell, his movements—is something I have come to expect when I see him and crave when he’s absent. And that image that won’t go away gives me a good idea of what he does when he’s not with me. Dawn was right about one thing—you can’t make a wife out of a whore. I don’t know why I let myself get to this place where I thought there was an “us” and I started to rely on his presence.
“Stop!” I scream and twist in his embrace. The word comes out so strangled it sounds as if it’s physically painful to say. And I say it again and again until my words rise into frenzied screams. Duke takes a step back, letting me go. The relief I expect to come at the loss of his touch never does. When I open my eyes and stare him down, I see the confusion on his face plain as day. And everything feels like it’s fucking spinning.
“Did you fuck her?” I ask even though I already know the answer.
“Not lately,” he says. Despite how much I’ve been fighting this—us—it helps soothe my fragile heart that he’s answering me. Some guys won’t own up to their shit to their Old Ladies, not that we’re at that level yet anyway.
“Did she suck your dick?” I demand.
“Yeah,” he says. I can feel the panic and sorrow engulfing me as he gets closer. I press myself against the long table behind me to keep him at bay. Pressing his body into mine, he uses his hands to keep my face pointed at his—tipped up with my neck craned back so far it’s uncomfortable.
“You fucking bastard,” I say. My words are the only weapon I have left, and fuck him if he thinks he’s going to take that away from me, too. “You do not get your dick sucked by some whore and then crawl into my bed and expect that shit to be okay.”
“Calm the fuck down, Nicole. It was back before we became something,” he says. His chest practically rumbles with every word he speaks.
“Oh, really?”
“I’m sick of the fucking drama,” he snaps. He and I haven’t had drama in a while, so I assume he’s talking about with the club, but I react as if he’s making it personal anyway.
“If you’re sick of me, then leave!” I say. My words come out not as the angry shout I’d like, but as a defeated plea. I shouldn’t let that stupid bitch get to me this bad. This day is just screwing my world up.
“I’m not going to prove you right that I’m just fucking around. Newsflash, Nicole—you’re whacked in the fucking head, and you’re a crazy ass bitch. I don’t just fuck around with this level of crazy, babe. It’s too much goddamn work. So start tellin’ me what’s got you acting so fucked up today.”
“You’re my man,” I whisper,
trying to work up the nerve to tell him what’s sent me over the deep end. “I’m your woman.”
His mouth descends on mine. When our lips touch, it’s like a thousand lit candles have tipped over and onto my skin. Jolts of desperation and desire pour through me. In a flash, I’ve reached up and I’m clawing at his shoulders. His hands reposition themselves and hoist me up onto the table.
A loud knock sounds on the door as it flies open. Wyatt stands in the doorway and smirks, telling Duke they’ve got Church. Setting me back down on my feet, Duke strides out without even looking back.
Chapter 22
When Church is over, Duke comes to his room and collects me. I hem and haw about telling him about the test on the way out, and he gets frustrated, not understanding why I’m stalling. I say, “We still need to talk.” But he isn’t up for hearing it. Something’s got him charged up, and he’s like a snake all coiled and ready to strike. So instead of blurting it out or demanding that he listen, I climb onto the back of his bike and don’t say another word until we’re back at the house.
As we move toward the front door, Duke’s cell rings. He stops in place and gives my ass a pat, saying, “Go on in, baby. I gotta take this. It’s Grady.”
My nerves are so shot, and I’m so on edge that I just nod and go on inside. The lights in the house are already on, telling me that Jeremy is home. I haven’t seen too much of him lately, but the times I have, it’s been better. He’s picked up after himself more, and he’s not been as mouthy. We still have our moments, but Duke’s presence in his life seems to be creating a turn-around for my brother.