“Aw, honey, I’m sorry.” Brooke reaches up, and tentatively cups Lila’s cheek. “I’m sure he’s fine. Like you said, he’s got survival skills.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Lila agrees, crestfallen.
I’m feeling as useless as tits on a boar right now, standing here with these two women. “Look, maybe I should let you get changed into some clothes that fit,” I say to Lila, turning to go.
“I have to take off too,” Brooke tells her. “I’ll follow you out, Jude. Lila, I think Beast is going to give you a burner phone, so I’ll get your number from him and call you later.”
Brooke leaves, and I go to my apartment. I’m not there for long before there’s a knock on my door. I open it to find Lila standing there, holding out my folded sweats and T-shirt.
“Thought I should get these back to you. I can wash them if you want,” she offers.
“Nah, you barely wore them.” I take them from her as I check out the new outfit that Brooke brought her. Lila’s wearing a hoodie that actually sort of fits her now, with a Cleveland Browns logo on the front. Instead of my sweats, she’s got on a pair of shorts. They’re a little baggy on her, but they still show off a pair of long, lean legs that end in a pair of scruffy combat-style boots.
“Nice boots,” I tease, even though they actually do look good on her. The effect is no-nonsense, kind of punk, but somehow strangely it makes her look all the more feminine. Still, I can’t help taking the opportunity to tease her, like I used to.
Lila sticks her tongue out at me. “Nice face,” she shoots back.
I burst into laughter. “Well, looks like you’re feelin’ better.” Somehow, I do kinda feel like a goddamn teenager again around her right now. A little off-balance. A little more attracted to her than I should be.
Lila tosses her head. “You still suck at Fortnite?”
“I haven’t played Fortnite since the last time we played.”
She chuckles. “So the answer is yes, then. To be honest, though, neither have I.” She pauses, and a shadow crosses her face. “Haven’t had all that much time for games lately.”
The conversation, veering into serious territory, trails off.
Lila clears her throat. “Well, I’m gonna go get another of those ice cream sandwiches,” she mumbles. “Thanks again, Jude. I’ll see you around the clubhouse, I guess.”
I watch her head down the hall, then go back inside my apartment and close the door. It strikes me how quickly she and I fell into the easy rapport we used to have for a few seconds. Until that last part, it almost felt like the old times, when she’d challenge me to games of pool pretty much whenever she saw me. God, that girl loved doing a victory lap any time she could manage to beat me.
I could almost convince myself no time has passed since then, if not for her bruised and bloodied face.
And if not for the fact that while she was gone, somewhere along the line she turned into one hell of a good-looking woman.
8
Lila
After a makeshift dinner of more ice cream sandwiches than I want to admit, I go back to my little apartment at the clubhouse and shut myself in. I even go so far as to lock the door, though I know I’m safe here. I brush my teeth with the toothbrush and paste that Brooke brought me, kick off my boots, and change into a comfy pair of lounge pants and a camisole top that I found at the bottom of the bag.
Plopping myself down on the slightly-too-hard bed, I lie back on top of the covers for a while, lights off, and listen to the noises of the clubhouse. There’s familiar classic rock music playing in the main room, and the murmur and laughter of male voices, some of which I think I recognize. Reaching over to either side of me, I pull the covers up over me like I’m in a cocoon, feeling comforted by the sounds of the people around me. Safe, or at least sort of safe, for the first time in longer than I can remember.
But the feelings of safety don’t last long when I close my eyes and try to fall asleep. Suddenly, the images of earlier in the day fill my head and my mind starts to race. I relive being locked in the room with Pecher, sure that he was going to rape me or worse. Lashing up at him with my knife and having his warm blood cover me. My panicked flight down the stairs, sure I would be discovered and made to pay for what I had done to him.
When I finally do fall asleep, my dreams are tortured and twisted. In some of them, I’m falling. In some, I’m fleeing. In one of them, my little stray cat, Spike, leaps up at me and latches onto my arm in a rabid frenzy, ripping open an artery that spurts warm red blood. Twice that night, I wake up with a scream in my throat, bolt upright in the unfamiliar bed. When I finally fall into my last, exhausted sleep, I don’t wake up until close to noon.
My eyes are dry and scratchy when I finally open them. My throat is parched and sore — probably because I can barely breathe through my mouth because of my broken nose. I’ve probably been snoring all night. I get out of the bed and go into the tiny bathroom, turn the faucet on cold, and scoop some water from my cupped palms to my mouth. I repeat the gesture, over and over until my thirst is finally slaked. Satisfied, I turn off the tap and make the mistake of glancing in the mirror. Oh, God. My entire face is a purple, swollen mess.
I don’t think of myself as a very vain person. I’m definitely not like the simpering girly-girls who make up the popular crowd in my high school class. But looking at myself right now is enough to bring tears of dismay springing to my eyes. It’s dumb, but I hate the idea of going out there and having the others see me like this. Especially Jude, for some reason. I feel so conspicuous — so impossible not to stare at — that it makes me want to crawl back into bed and not leave this room until all the swelling and bruising is gone and my nose has finally healed.
I go to the door, leaning against it to listen. The noise of last night has gone away, and the clubhouse is fairly silent except for an occasional indistinct voice down the hall. My stomach rumbles. I’m going to have to go out there eventually, if only to eat. Why are you being so dumb? I grouse at myself. You looked bad last night, too. It’s not like anyone’s going to be shocked.
Sighing, I turn the knob and step out into the hall. The uncarpeted floor is cold on my bare feet, but I don’t bother to go back for socks. Cautiously, I wander down the hallway into the main room, hoping to avoid seeing anyone, but to my surprise, there are people waiting for me there.
“There she is!” Brooke announces, standing up from her chair.
Over on the couch across from her — the same one Jude lay me down on yesterday — three figures rise and greet me with smiling faces. Jenna — the wife of Ghost, the Lords’ Sergeant at Arms — is here with her two kids, Noah and Mariana. It seems like Brooke must have told them about my beat-up face, because none of them seems surprised to see it. In fact, Mariana comes running over and gives me a big hug, and promptly pronounces my bruising “badass.”
“Mariana!” Brooke cries, but she’s trying not to laugh. “Are you supposed to say words like that?”
“Please,” Mariana replies, rolling her eyes. “With a dad like mine? I hear worse than that every single day.”
And just like that, I’ve gone from feeling terrible about myself to giggling. I haven’t been around any of these people in so long, but already they’re making me feel completely welcome, and like no time has passed. Still, it’s obvious it has. Noah is a year behind me in school at seventeen, and though we went to the same middle school, I haven’t really seen him since then. We don’t really run in the same crowds. (Not to mention that I don’t even really have a crowd.) He’s always favored his dad in looks, but now that he’s almost an adult, the resemblance between him and Ghost is striking. They have the same piercing eyes, the same cut jaw, the same dark hair with reddish tints. He hasn’t spoken a word, but instead nods slightly at me in greeting.
As for Mariana — God, she must be what, twelve now? She’s grown so much since the last time I saw her. She’s right on that tween-to-teen cusp, her body still straight and angu
lar but her face less chubby and more feminine, with gorgeous long blond hair and dark brown eyes.
“What’s that?” Mariana asks, pointing to the bandage on my forearm.
I risk a look at Brooke, to see if she knows about the chip Smiley dug out of my arm, but the expression on her face is curious, too. I guess Beast really did only tell her the bare bones of everything that happened yesterday.
“It’s… nothing,” I end up saying. “Just got a cut. It’ll heal up quickly.”
“Did you kick the other guy’s butt?” Mariana asks me, grinning.
I open my mouth to reply. I know Mariana means to be funny, and that she doesn’t know anything about what happened. But then, I imagine telling her that I killed a man yesterday. I picture her horrified face — the terror in her eyes, and the way she would look at me — and suddenly, it feels like I’m covered in Pecher’s warm, spurting blood all over again. I can hear the gurgle in his throat as his lungs try to suck in air, and I feel the brush of his fingers against my ankle as I just manage to escape his desperate grasp. Beads of sweat emerge in a sheen on my face, and trickle between my breasts. The walls start to feel like they’re about to close in on me
“Yeah,” I choke out. “I did…”
“So anyway, we thought we’d all go out to grab some lunch,” Brooke cuts in, eyes artificially bright. She wraps and arm around me and holds me tight, as though she’s trying to keep me upright. “And then if you’re interested, we could swing by Super Girls afterwards. I thought since you haven’t been there for a while, you might like to see some of the changes we’ve made.”
Super Girls. At the mention of the name, the familiar sounds and smells of Brooke’s gym flood my memories. For a while, that place was more of a home to me than any other place in the world. My breathing eases, just a touch.
“That would be great,” I manage. “I’ve missed going there.”
“Brooke, do you need to talk to Beast about this?” Jenna breaks in gently. “I mean, about taking Lila off the clubhouse grounds?”
“Why does Lila need Beast’s permission?” Mariana breaks in, crossing her arms with a frown. “Just because she’s a girl? That’s sexist!”
“Tweak is going to be driving us,” Brooke says smoothly.
“Why does he need to drive us?” Mariana asks.
“Shut up, brat,” Noah warns. Mariana gives him a glare but says nothing. Hmm. I wonder if Noah knows anything about what’s going on. It’s possible he heard his dad talking to some of the other men. More likely, I decide, is that Noah has grown up learning that club business is never to be discussed among non-club members.
And I, I realize with a start, am now “club business.”
Tweak goes out and pulls Brooke’s SUV around. The rest of us pile in. There’s no more talk about why he’s driving us. I roll down the window and suck in the fresh air, closing my eyes as it cools the perspiration on my face. We go to a local fast-food place for lunch, a mom-and-pop operation that’s a big hit with the younger crowd. I order a burger and fries, and the familiar comfort of the hot, greasy meal does me good. I eat ravenously, finishing every bite. Afterwards, Tweak drives us to Super Girls. He tells us he’ll wait outside, and to take as long as we want.
As soon as we get inside the gym, Mariana sees some friends and runs off to join them. Jenna and Brooke tell me she’s still coming here once a week for classes in Brazilian jiu jitsu. That’s the first martial art I learned here, too, and I get a pang of nostalgia at how much I miss it. I catch Brooke peering over at me a few times, as if she’s trying to gauge my emotions, but she doesn’t ask anything.
Noah is literally the only guy in the whole place, but if he feels uncomfortable he doesn’t show it. “Damn. Some of these girls are kicking butt,” he murmurs appreciatively.
“You like that?” I tease him. “You’re not intimidated?”
“Are you kidding me?” He lifts a brow at me. “That shit’s hot. I like a girl who can take care of herself.”
“Is that right?”
“Damn straight.”
“So, you’re what, a junior in high school now?” I ask, even though I know the answer. It’s weirdly nice to have a normal thing to talk about with him.
“Yeah.” He lifts a shoulder. “Can’t wait to get done with that place. One more year.”
“You gonna prospect for the Lords?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Noah rolls his eyes. “No. I’d like to, but Dad won’t let me. Not yet, anyway. He says I have to go to college first, or trade school or something. Have to get a career first. Then he says we can talk about the Lords, if I still want to be one.”
“Do you?”
He shrugs. “It’s a given. Bikes are in my blood.”
We stand there together, watching Mariana and the other girls as they show off for the adults. I find myself marveling at how strong and happy she is. And how self-assured and confident Noah is. He already knows so much about what his future holds. He’s got so many people who love him surrounding him, including a father whose footsteps he’d be proud to follow in.
I wonder what it would be like to have all that.
I wonder what’s in my blood.
9
Jude
When Lila gives back the T-shirt she borrowed from me, it sort of smells like her.
I don’t notice it until I grab it a couple days later and pulled it on myself. I need a clean shirt, and it’s the first one I see, neatly folded up and sitting on my dresser. But as soon as it’s on, a scent that I don’t recognize at first stops me, then makes me cock my head as I realize what it must be. The fucked-up thing is it’s not soap or shampoo, because she used mine when she showered.
Still, it’s subtle but definitely there. The scent of her skin. A natural fragrance that I never even realized I knew as hers. The weird thing is, Lila’s scent on my shirt is about the only proof I have that she’s even at the clubhouse for the next couple days. She stays in her room for the most part, keeping to herself. She must come out from time to time to get food from the kitchen, but if she does I don’t see it. I do knock on her door once or twice, but she doesn’t answer. The second time, I even try the knob, but it’s locked. At least that must mean she’s in there, I tell myself. Which means she’s safe.
So when Jewel shows up at the clubhouse one early afternoon with the newborn twins, and asks me how Lila is, I don’t know what to tell her.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Jewel frowns. “Haven’t you seen her?”
“I’m not her keeper,” I challenge, trying to ignore the scent still lingering on my shirt. “Have you asked Angel about her?”
“Angel says she’s doing fine,” Jewel shrugs. “But you know men. As long as she has all her limbs, he’d think she was okay.”
“So, what, you classify me in a different category from ‘men’?” I growl back.
Jewel just laughs. “You’re not men, you’re my brother. Besides, weren’t you and Lila friends, years ago? I just figured you’d be talking to her more.”
“She hasn’t really come out much,” I finally admit. Jewel bends down and pulls Matty out of the stroller, handing him to me. “I figure she wants her privacy.”
“That’s nonsense,” Jewel scoffs. “She might think that’s what she wants, but there’s a difference between want and need.” She picks up the other twin, Tilly, and starts to gently bounce up and down with her. “Lila’s kind of all alone in the world right now, except for us, Jude. We owe it to her to push a little. To break down her defenses. Make her open up.”
My sister looks at me expectantly, like somehow I’m the person designated to do just that. “How come you’re here at the clubhouse, anyway?” I ask her, changing the subject. “Haven’t seen you around here for a while.”
“True. Not since these two little monsters were born,” she agrees. “I’m here to go out to lunch with my husband, as a matter of fact. Today’s our wedding anniversary.”
“Oh, shit, happ
y anniversary,” I blink. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
Jewel waves her free hand. “Don’t worry about it. We barely remembered it ourselves. But we’ve both been so busy lately, I decided we needed to take a little time and celebrate somehow. Even if it is only a double-date with our favorite non-potty-trained couple,” she continues, bending to give Tilly a kiss on the forehead. Tilly lets out a soft coo in response.
“Who’s taking care of the other kids?” I ask.
“Who do you think?” Jewel asks, amused. “I know you’re doing your best to forget they’re here, but Mama and Tata have actually been really good with the kids.”
“That’s a first,” I snort.
“Yeah,” Jewel agrees. “Actually, it is. It’s weird, to be honest, watching them as grandparents. If you didn’t know them, you’d never guess what they were like as parents. You know, I think they’re enjoying spending time with the kids.”
“Don’t be a dupe.” I roll my eyes.
“No, I mean it,” she insists.
“Jewel, for fuck’s sake. They’re here because they want something. They’re just putting on an act. There is no fuckin’ way they came all the way here just because they wanted to meet and spend time with their grandkids.”
“Maybe not,” Jewel concedes. “But even so, right now it’s sort of nice to see. You should come over to dinner or something, Jude. You’d be surprised, I bet.”
“No fucking thank you,” I grind out. “I stopped being surprised at any of their shit a long time ago.”
“All right,” she murmurs. “Well, look, Jude, I’m not going to force you…”
JUDE: Lords of Carnage MC Page 5