by Ana Jolene
For years I watched my ma deal with bad guys, getting herself caught up in the world of drugs and watched as my whole world got submerged in a storm of addiction. I was thirteen and had never touched drugs in my life, but I didn’t have to snort a line myself to know what it did to you.
“Where’s the food, Ma?” I asked when she started digging through the empty pantry. The money I brought home was supposed to be enough to last us through the week. Instead of packing our home with food, my ma stocked the kitchen cabinets with packets of cocaine. Her movements were getting frantic and jerky as hysteria mounted within her. “Where’s the food, Ma?”
“Food? I need . . .” Her eyes trailed to the other cabinets. She’d discover them empty, both of food and her drugs. “Don’t look at me like that!” she snapped.
As she continued to trash the kitchen, I stood my ground, not moving to help her as our home got ransacked. Luckily, Lennon was sleeping so she didn’t have to witness this. There was a part of me that wished I could spare my sister of every ugly detail our life had become.
Finally, Ma whipped around and laid her crazy eyes on me in accusation. “You threw them out, didn’t you?”
“I did what I had to.”
That simple admission had changed everything. It was in that moment that I realized the person before me wasn’t my ma. She hadn’t been for several years now. I just didn’t want to accept it before now. She was an addict, caught on coke. She would never be the mother Lennon and I needed. Because a mother would never do to her child what she did to me next.
Ma attacked, screaming at the top of her lungs in a furious rage. Her hands clamped around my neck as she squeezed and squeezed, cutting off my air supply. I slammed into the wall behind me, seeing stars for a second before I tried to pry her hands off me. But her grip was strong, powered by a need greater than her love for me. “You little shit,” she cried as tears wet her face. “How could you do this to me?”
Lacking air, I couldn’t respond . . . How could I do this to her? Look at what she was doing to me! This was worse than watching her make herself sick in our living room as she cut up lines on the table. Even worse than watching her rot away in a bed while her daughter slept starving in the room next to her.
“Stop!” I gasped when her hands let up. But they only eased up for a second before her nails clawed at my face, drawing blood with each of her strokes. I cried out as pain radiated through me. Sharp talons dug deeper into my forearms, slicing skin as she pushed me down and continued to hurt me.
In my mind, alarms blared through my head as I tried to process all this. “Stop!” I cried out again. “Please, Ma. You’re hurting me! I’m sorry! Stop! Please.”
I was on the floor now, curled into the fetal position, protecting my head as best I could. Ma hovered over me but it might as well be a stranger hurting me right now. There was no recognition in her eyes.
Behind her, I caught Lennon’s small figure in the corner of the room as if she had appeared from smoke and shadows. She probably woke up because of all of Ma’s shrieking and my cries of pain. I wished I were stronger then, taking the pain she dealt with a wicked hand in silence so that it would spare the sight of Lennon seeing her ma this way. But it was too late for that. “Stop!” She cried out when she saw me, bloody and defeated, no longer fighting against her blows.
“No, Lennon!” I shook my head, not wanting her to get involved.
It was too late; Ma had caught sight of her and moved towards her, snatching her by the arm and tugging her hard. “Ahh!” Lennon shot me a terrified look over her shoulder as Ma dragged her out of the room. “No! Let me go!”
I tried to get up, but couldn’t. Pain shot through my side as I attempted a second time.
Seconds later, Ma returned, still crying as she picked me up by the arm and dragged me as well. I struggled, but weak as I was from hunger and the recent beating, it was hard to free myself from her tight lock on me.
My eyes grew wide when I saw Lennon trapped in Bishop’s crate, curled over as she wept. Bishop had died two years ago but we hadn’t removed the crates since then. More important things occupied my mind, like making money and filling our starving bellies. Had I known that my dead dog’s crate could be used against me, I would’ve gotten rid of the piece of shit a long time ago.
Lennon’s tears flowed more the closer I approached until I was also shoved and locked inside the crate beside her. There was metal all around us, caging us in like a prison. Shock and fear kept me silent until Ma left, shutting the door behind her. I couldn’t believe this. She had locked us up like we were animals! “Are you okay?”
“What did she do to you?” she cried, sobs still wracking her small body.
“Don’t worry about me. We need to figure out how to get out of here.”
“It—it’s locked.” She pointed at the padlock that sealed the crate shut.
“Fucking bitch.”
“Dylan . . .” She seemed shocked by my words, but at that point, I was beyond caring. No mother would ever do this to her children. We were no more important than a misbehaving animal, put away for doing something bad or inconvenient. I expected the anger. I even expected the freak-out. But I never thought that Ma was capable of this. I may have deserved this. But Lennon didn’t deserve an ounce of her hatred.
There were only two things Ma loved in her life. She loved her music. And she loved her drugs. She had never loved us.
I closed my eyes and weighed the only two options I had: I could stay or I could run.
My eyes landed on my baby sister who looked so damn young in the crate beside me. She had suffered so much. Someone had to be around to protect her. But already my strength was waning. What if I couldn’t be that person? What if I couldn’t protect her from our mother anymore?
Lennon looked just as defeated as I felt. She never once complained, but I knew she had to be sick of everything too. Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t stand to see her like this. I would stay, I decided. For Lennon, I would stay and protect her against the monster our mother had become.
“Lucky? Lucky!” Pulled back from the drugging sense of my past, I looked into the concerned eyes of my best friend. A crease had formed between Hastie’s eyebrows. “Are you okay, man?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, still rattled by the mirroring events of the present and the past.
“You sure? I’ve been calling for you. She came out.”
She did? I was immediately moving towards the cell, finding it empty. “Where is she now?”
Hastie canted his chin to the side. “She’s with Kitt. She’ll be fine. He’ll take care of her.” When I simply nodded, Hastie was quick to call on my silence. “You sure you’re okay?
I turned, meeting his eyes. “Everything’s fine,” I told him even though we both knew I was lying.
SIXTEEN
Stewing
Seven
Ninety percent of the people in Neptune’s either came for the drinks or were looking to get laid. The other ten percent were people like me, looking for an escape so that they could think and sort out all the fuck-ups that were happening in their pathetic little lives. As I sat at the bar, nursing the drink that Hanna had poured for me, my mind went back to the other night.
I shouldn’t have let Trey take me home. The buzz of alcohol had faded and regret was the only thing I felt in my gut now. I knew I should’ve stopped him when his mouth hit mine, desperately seeking the desire I didn’t have for him. But I hadn’t and that was a grave mistake.
The hollow feeling remained even as he filled my body. Truth be told, it wasn’t much different than how it was with the other faceless men I had been with. Despite the fact that Trey and I were friends before this, the chemistry hadn’t translated into passion. Why? Were we just not compatible or was it because my mind was preoccupied with someone else?
In my wilder days, I learned early on that sex could mean different things to different people. A lot of the time, it was just about a physical rel
ease, no less important than eating and breathing. Most unattached men were looking for this. Then there were the others who were interested in the emotional side of sex. Of feeling things that their own hand couldn’t do. In those rare, precious moments, however, it was about expressing your love. Sex with Trey had been none of the above.
I hadn’t been strong enough to tell him that when he took me home in the morning. Or when he told me he’d see me at work and kissed me goodbye before leaving. Why was I such a coward?
Maybe there was a little bit of truth behind that talk about liquid courage. Because here I was, sitting at the bar in Neptune’s, sucking back the shots in order to figure out how to tell Trey about how I felt about him. Or rather, what I didn’t feel.
Behind the bar, Hanna double-fisted two bottles of alcohol, flipping them upside down with a flick of the wrist as she poured shots. The phone rang and I watched as she set the bottles down to answer it.
Indy emerged from the back, still in the process of tying an apron around her waist when she shot me a smile. “Wow, hitting it hard, huh?”
I stared down at my drink. Yeah, well, if she had done what I had, she’d be drinking herself into a stupor, too.
Just then, Hanna’s voice boomed over the music and chatter in the dive bar. “What?” Her tone had gone hard, her expression morphing into panic and disbelief. Brows knitted, I shot a worried look at Indy. “All right, I’ll kick everyone out,” she said before hanging up.
“Hanna, you all right?” When she turned around, I encountered wide eyes, thinned lips and an overall pale cast to her tanned complexion. “What happened?”
“We need to get everyone out. Now. I’ll explain later.” In a voice booming with authority, she yelled, “Everybody out! This place is closed for the weekend! Sorry for the inconvenience but everybody needs to haul ass and get the fuck out. Right now!” Naturally, there was a lot of confusion from the crowd. “You heard me! Everybody out!” Some early drunks expressed their displeasure loudly but there was no time to waste. Between Hanna, Indy and me, we managed to get all the customers and staff out within the next few minutes. When it was only the three of us, I turned to Hanna and asked what the hell was going on. It wasn’t that often that Neptune’s had to be shut down completely. It was bad for business.
“Glory MC’s riding in fast,” she explained. “I don’t know the whole extent of it. Knuckle refused to tell me over the phone, but he sounded frantic.” She shot Indy a wide-eyed look and her voice lowered into a panicked whisper. “It can’t be good.”
That admission put my best friend into an immediate state of worry for her boyfriend. If anyone knew just how bad and how quickly it could all go to shit, Indy knew and her eyes revealed her uneasiness. It caused my own anxiety to multiply.
In the distance, I could hear a roaring thunder spread across the sky. “Come on,” Hanna said. “Prop the doors open and get out the medical kits. We need to be prepared for anything.”
I swirled around to face her. “Medical kits?” Did she really think someone was injured?
It made me think of the last time Neptune’s was shut down. It was when a bomb had gone off in the parking lot. Then before that, Neptune’s was made into a makeshift hospital for the wounded after some attacks. My heart began a pounding rhythm as the thought of harm coming to Lucky formed in my mind.
Well, it wasn’t just Lucky in particular. The thought of anyone in Glory MC being hurt caused a bolt of ice to lance through me.
The rumbling got louder until I could make out the small figures dressed in black, approaching at a brutal pace in the sun-drenched streets. Like a menace, Glory MC rode in fast, careless to the rocky road before them. Knuckle led the pack, eyes covered with black shades and a grim look. Hanna approached him as he parked in front of Neptune’s. “Are you okay?” she asked, concern marring her features.
“I’m fine, baby,” Knuckle reassured. “But remember that girl I told you about before? The one Brennan tried to sell off to me in a deal?” As Hanna nodded, her expression told me that she’d reached the same conclusion as I did. They had found her! Relief and disbelief oscillated within me.
Now knowing what to look out for, I watched as the rest of Glory MC slowed to a stop, engines cutting off one by one. A lone vehicle pulled up into the packed parking lot.
Beck quickly emerged from the driver’s side, moving swiftly to the back where he opened the door. I peered in, wanting to get a look at the woman who was brutally abused and offer some assistance. I’ll admit, a bit of curiosity powered my actions, too. “Seven,” Beck said in a firm, but still friendly voice. “Give us some space, please. She’s been through a hell of a lot.”
“Oh.” I stepped back. “Of course. I only wanted to help.”
Beck smiled thinly. “I know, but we’re gonna carry her in and I don’t want to accidentally smack you in the face with one of her limbs.”
I nodded before stepping back further to give him more space. Kitt came out of the vehicle next, canting his head towards me in greeting. He put his arms back into the vehicle and wrapped them around the figure inside. My eyes flew wide when I saw her. “Oh my God.”
The girl shielded herself from the sun as if it were acid to her skin. She looked so frail that I was afraid she might shatter under Beck and Kitt’s handling. But surprisingly, both sergeant at arms hefted her up gently, careful not to jostle her more than necessary as they moved towards the open doors of Neptune’s.
The last to arrive was the white motorcycle—Lucky. As he came to a stop, cut off the engine, and removed his helmet, I was hit by an unusual sense of relief at seeing him unharmed. Some strange part of me wanted to run over to him and hug him. Where the hell did that come from? “You look like shit,” I told him instead.
“I feel like shit,” he agreed with a quick smile. Rings of fatigue circled his light eyes. His movements were slower, weighed down by the last few days’ events. I could tell what he had experienced had altered him already.
“Where did you find her?” Ward Three was filled with Bronson’s men. How could she have gone unnoticed for so long?
“She was held in a cell in an abandoned train station platform, surrounded by other prisoners.”
My eyes widened. “There are more?”
“They’re dead,” he replied tightly.
My mind conjured the images of a grimy old train platform, imagining how the heat would make the stench all the more unbearable. I knew without a doubt that I’d be traumatized if forced to endure that. Just how long did the girl have to stay there? No wonder her eyes were so devoid of life. She was amongst the dead already. “What did they want with her?”
“We figure she was used in a trade. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that she’s been sexually abused. Some men make objects of women.”
My gut rolled in a violent heave. That was why Beck had kindly asked me to back off. Traumatic experiences often took a while to recover from. Some never did. How could people do such a thing? Treat someone with such carelessness for humanity?
Lucky and I walked into Neptune’s side by side. As I took in the activity, Lucky was pulling off his fingerless gloves. Much like before, Neptune’s was brimming with bikers, some indulging in strong, well-deserved drinks and others, like Kitt and Beck, worked in the back room with the girl. Indy came over to embrace her boyfriend. “Are you okay?” she asked him.
“A little roughed up,” Hastie admitted. “But it’s nothing that a little time won’t heal. Besides, we have other things we need to worry about.” His eyes traveled across the dive bar to settle on the doors where the girl was.
I still didn’t know her name, but I was going to make it a priority to ask. She’d been stripped of everything else in her life. Her name would be the only thing she still owned.
Knuckle was seated at a table where Hanna was wrapping some dressing over a minor wound on his forearm. Indy went back to dishing out the alcohol to thirsty bikers while Hastie went to change his bandages. The def
eated and exhausted looks on everyone’s faces chipped at my heart. Everyone needed first aid, food, and some sleep. “You hungry?” I asked Lucky.
“Fucking starved.”
“Wait here.” I headed to the kitchen to inspect the stock. Without the cook in the house, I doubted there was anything that could be pulled from the freezer and reheated quickly. Hmm. Maybe I could whip up a hearty stew and fresh bread to fill everyone’s bellies.
Within minutes, I had the oven on full blast, the vegetables diced, and the dough already on its way to becoming bread. I was in such a rhythm that I failed to hear Lucky enter the room. “Everything all right in here?”
“We don’t have any carrots, but I still think it will turn out all right.”
He came up beside me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making stew. The bread is already in the oven.” When he simply stared at me, I said, “You said you were hungry.”
“I didn’t mean for you to cook something.”
I laid the knife down and turned to face him, wiping my hands on a towel. “Everyone out there is just as tired as you are. With the cook gone, I figured I could make myself useful. Indy’s got the bar handled, and I don’t know jack shit about first aid.” I grabbed the knife again and started cutting. “I’m better off back here. Blood makes me faint anyway.”
“Well, it smells delicious.”
“Wait ’til I’m done. It’ll smell even better.”
A genuine smile appeared on his face. “Actually, do you mind if I hang out back here with you?”
“Why?”
His hand came up to scratch his neck, his eyes never quite meeting mine. “I wanted to apologize again for that dick comment I made before I left.” His eyes lifted, sparkling with sincerity. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay. I forgive you.” I’d forgiven him the moment I saw him come back unharmed.
“I’m also tired as fuck and slightly traumatized.” His embarrassed smile revealed dimples. “I don’t want the guys knowing I can’t handle my shit, so I’d rather hide here.”