“Yeah…” I whisper, my voice hitching. “That part’s been… a little weird.”
I’m afraid Beast is gonna ask me to talk more, but he just clears his throat and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I just want ya to know, it’s normal. You don’t go through something like that and not have it change you. Not unless you’re a psycho. You’ll be okay. But if you’re not — if you need someone to talk to about it — just wanted to let you know I’m here.”
“Thanks, Beast,” is all I can manage. He squeezes my shoulder once, then gets up and strides away.
It’s the longest conversation I’ve ever had with him. And by far the most serious. He’s a man of few words, which makes him talking to me like this all the more surprising. I’m more grateful to him than I can say, even though I’m also embarrassed.
Spike, too, seems to get used to being in the clubhouse. I promised Angel I’d keep him in my room, but it doesn’t take long for me to realize Spike has no intention of helping me keep that promise. He’s a smart little shit, and he starts waiting just inside my door so he can sprint out of the apartment whenever he gets the opportunity. I expect the bikers to be pissed about it, but instead they just tell me not to worry about it and let him have the run of the place. Some of the Lords even seem to like having him around, which surprises the hell out of me. So pretty soon I stop worrying that he’s an imposition, too.
“Cats are cool,” Bullet tells me one day with a shrug. “They’re like chicks. You just gotta give them their space when they need it, and it’s all good.”
I know from being at the clubhouse in the past which places are off-limits to me, and I’m careful to respect those limits. In return, the Lords give me the run of the other parts, including the weight room, where I start to spend more time just to blow off steam. The bikers who know me from way back when treat me like I’m Brooke and Beast’s daughter. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that I’m still thirteen years old, and that none of the last five years ever happened.
The newer Lords start to get used to me, too. One of them, a good-looking dark-haired guy named Steeze, hangs around a little more than I’d like him to, and flirts with me mercilessly. It’s weird, but sort of okay sometimes. He cracks joke after joke at me, until I can’t help but laugh. And laughter is something I haven’t had a lot of lately, so I try to take it in stride.
Steeze seems to hang around the clubhouse a lot in the afternoons, when I’m bored. One day, he challenges me to a game of pool. I can tell by the cocky grin on his face that he thinks he’s gonna be able to show off his skills and give me pointers. Instead, I bet him twenty dollars he can’t beat me. Typical guy, his smirk goes even wider as he accepts the bet.
I learned how to play pool right in this very clubhouse. But Steeze doesn’t know that.
His smirk doesn’t last long.
At the end of a game that’s a lot shorter than he probably thought it would be, I lean over and sink my last ball after a long run. Standing, I grab the chalk square, squinting at the table as I rub it against the tip of my cue. Steeze, standing across from me, is working his jaw, caught between being pissed that he’s about to lose and trying to pretend he doesn’t care. Once my cue is chalked, I point with it to the pocket where I’m going to sink the eight ball. Glancing over to make sure he sees where I’m pointing, I catch Steeze staring at my chest instead.
“Eyes up here,” I bark. “Eight ball, corner pocket.”
He scowls. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”
“No such thing as too much,” I retort, and bend over the table, stretching to make the last shot. When the ball goes in, Steeze swears under his breath, then takes a swig from his longneck.
“Pay up, dude.” I come around the table and hold out my hand.
Grumbling, he takes out his wallet and pulls out a twenty. “This is bullshit.”
“You want to go double or nothing?”
He opens his mouth, then breaks into a grin. “How about a rematch for something other than cash?” he asks, wiggling his brows.
I suppress a groan. “Do I want to know what you’re about to propose?”
“Just a little fun between two consenting adults.” His grin grows wider. He holds the twenty between two fingers, making a move to stuff it back into his wallet.
“So, that’s what I get if I lose?” I tilt my head. “What do I get if I win?”
“Darlin’, there’s no losers in that game. We both win. That’s the beauty of it.” He slides the edge of the twenty along the V neckline of my shirt. His dark, teasing eyes meet mine.
“I’ll take the money, thanks.” I reach to grab the bill from him, but he yanks it away just in time. Moving an inch closer, he lets out a low, husky laugh, then grabs my wrist so I can’t try again.
“Too bad,” he rasps, then tucks the bill in between my breasts. “We’d have a good time. I know how to make you feel good, honey.”
“I…”
“Lila,” Jude’s voice behind me is harsh, sharp. I turn to him, noting the dark storm in his eyes. “You good here?”
“She’s fine, brother,” Steeze drawls. “We’re just havin’ a little chat.”
“I asked her. Not you.”
Embarrassed, I try to brush it off. “Sure, I’m good,” I say, but there’s a weird little shake in my voice that I hate. “I just beat Steeze at pool and he was asking for a rematch.”
Jude stares hard at my face, like he’s searching for something. A flicker of something, like a shadow, moves across it. His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows, and for a second he doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell if he’s mad, or just trying to protect me, or what. I somehow feel almost ashamed, but I don’t know why. Like Jude caught me doing something. I’m angry at myself for it.
My chin juts out in defiance. “What, Jude? You’re gonna ask me if I’m okay, and then not take my word for it?”
Jude blinks, but the expression on his face doesn’t change. “Okay. Don’t get your back up.” He pulls back a step, unsquaring his shoulders, then glances from me to Steeze. “Just makin’ sure,” he growls.
As he turns and walks away, Steeze lets out a low whistle. “Looks like our boy Jude wants you all to himself.”
His words send a current of shock through me. Is that what that was? Could it be? I open my mouth to deny it, but then stammer that I need to go feed Spike and flee to my room. Inside, I flop down on my bed in a daze, noticing that my heart has started thudding in my chest.
Is it possible that Jude has feelings for me?
And what would I do if he did?
13
Lila
After a week is up, and nothing crazy happens in the wake of André’s death, Beast starts letting me go to Brooke’s gym. I can’t go alone, of course, since the Lords are still worried about my safety. So one of them — usually Jude — takes me there and back, sometimes with a stop at the library afterwards to restock on books.
At first, I just go to Super Girls to get out of the clubhouse for a bit and let off some steam. But it doesn’t take long before I start to slip into the role I used to play, back when I was going regularly. I was never a paid instructor, but as I got better at the various self-defense techniques Brooke teaches, she started having me help her with demonstrations. She would have me come up to the front of the class so the two of us could show the movements to the rest of the girls. Sometimes she’d even have me go around the room with her to check the other girls’ form. I remember how proud I used to feel that someone like Brooke would consider me special. And how good it made me feel that she wasn’t afraid to show that to the other girls.
I can’t remember another time of feeling that way in my life, before or since.
One day when I show up to the gym, a jarringly familiar face greets me at the front desk. For a second, I can’t place her, and it seems like she can’t place me, either. Then her furrowed brow lifts, and her eyes widen in surprise.
“Lila?” she gasps. “Is that you?”
At the sound of her voice, it clicks. “Cherylynn?”
The name of my high school acquaintance — I don’t really have friends — finally comes to me. I reach up and self-consciously touch the close-cropped hair at the base of my neck, realizing why she didn’t recognize me at first. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here now,” she blinks with a puzzled smile. “As of yesterday. Brooke hired me as part-time to check people in and answer the phone.”
“Oh, wow,” I murmur. “Congratulations.”
“I can’t believe it’s you!” she continues, leaning forward. “You look so different! Why aren’t you coming to school anymore?” Cherylynn’s bluntness has always been one of her defining traits.
“Oh,” I say vaguely, “I was sick of it. And then I turned eighteen, and I realized no one could make me go anymore, so…”
“Really? Wow.” I can’t tell if the stunned look on her face is admiration, or if she thinks I’m crazy. “But, what will you do about graduating?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’ll probably just get my GED. Easy enough.”
“Wow,” she repeats. “Everyone’s been talking about where you went, you know. There was even a guy asking around about you. Like an adult, asking kids outside school about you.”
“What?” My casual facade drops like a stone. “When was that? What did he want?” I ask urgently.
“Just, you know, if anyone knew how to get hold of you.”
“Who was he?” I lean over the desk.
Cherylynn sucks in a breath, surprised. “He didn’t say.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t know! Just, like, an adult. Normal clothes. Dark hair. Sunglasses. No beard or anything.”
Shit. That doesn’t give me anything at all. Not that a description would help me, anyway. If I don’t know what any of Pecher’s men look like.
My heart is racing now, but I force myself to calm down. I don’t even know who this person asking around about me is. Hell, it could be a truancy officer. It might not be anything at all. Besides, no one at school could have told them anything, because no one at school knows anything.
“Listen, Cherylynn.” I lower my voice. “I need to ask you a favor. A big one. I need you to promise not to tell anyone at school you saw me.”
I’m afraid she’ll refuse, but to my relief her eyes start to sparkle. “Ooh, a secret!” she whispers. “How come?”
I consider how to answer. Obviously, I can’t tell her the truth. But one thing I know about Cherylynn is that she doesn’t have any more friends than I do.
I bite my lip. “I can’t tell you. At least, not right now. But I will when I can, I promise.” It’s a lie, but I tell myself that at some point, maybe I’ll be able to give her a version of the truth that won’t reveal too much.
“Okay,” Cherylynn murmurs, seeming disappointed.
“I’m just glad it’s you I ran into here,” I continue, giving her a warm smile. “And not someone else from school. You’re someone I can trust. I can trust you, right?”
“Absolutely.” She draws herself up, then mimics locking her lips with a key.
I let out a loud sigh. “Thank you so much,” I gush. “You’re a true friend.”
Cherylynn looks so happy at my words that I feel a little bad, like I’m playing her. But I tell myself I do kind of mean it: keeping my secret is something a true friend would do. I’m used to holding myself apart from other people. I don’t confide in anyone. Thinking about it that way, she’s one of the closest friends I have. I resolve to make an effort to be nice to her when I see her here. If I can’t quite be her friend, I can at least be friendly. Give her something in exchange for what I’m asking her.
Brooke comes out of her office just then, and notices the two of us talking. She waves at me to come over. I tell Cherylynn I’ll see her later.
“Hi there!” Brooke takes my arm. “I see you’ve met Cherylynn.”
“I actually know her, a little,” I admit.
“You do?” Brooke asks. “Oh, of course, you’re the same age. You probably know her from school, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know her well or anything, but she’s nice.”
“I hope she works out.” Brooke gazes over her shoulder toward the desk. “She’s got a good, friendly presence, anyway.”
I’m half-afraid Brooke will make the connection that maybe someone from my school shouldn’t know where I am, and either fire Cherylynn or tell Beast about it. I couldn’t stand it if I had to go back to being cooped up in the clubhouse twenty-four-seven. But thankfully she doesn’t seem to. Instead, she tells me that one of the other instructors is sick, and asks me if I’d mind teaching her class for the day. “I’ll pay you, of course,” Brooke assures me. “You’d be doing me a huge favor, Lila. Will you do it?”
“I mean, I guess?” I stammer. “I’m not sure I’m really qualified.”
But she laughs me off. “I’ve been watching you lately since you started coming back here. You were a little rusty at first, but you haven’t lost your chops. Besides, this is a beginner class. You’re more than capable. The class is in Room A. Starts in ten minutes.”
And so that’s how I spend the next forty-five minutes teaching a bunch of five- and six-year-old girls beginning taekwondo. I don’t have any lesson plan since I’m coming in cold, so I use the time to have them show me what they already know and then do some fun drills and combinations. They’re all so energetic and bouncy, but at the same time they take it so seriously. It’s a trip. A wave of nostalgia hits me as the familiarity of it all comes back. Still, it’s a little different here from how it used to be. Brooke originally started this gym to help girls who didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Girls like me. These kids, on the other hand, look more like a true cross-section of Tanner Springs. Just from their uniforms and their hair, you can see which ones of them come from families with more money and which ones come from families just scraping by. Which ones were probably driven here this morning in expensive SUVs, and which were probably dropped off in rust-buckets by parents on their way to a shift at work. But the girls themselves don’t seem to notice any of these differences. I envy them their innocence, and hope it lasts as long as possible.
When the class is over, they bow to me, then run off shrieking and laughing with their friends. Some parents trickle in to pick them up, and a few of them introduce themselves to me. When I tell them I’m a substitute for the instructor, who’s out sick, they don’t question it at all. They treat me like an adult. Like an equal.
God, I wish I could do this more often.
“Hey!” Brooke calls from the doorway to the classroom as I’m putting away some kicking targets. “How did it go?”
“Great,” I say. “Those kids are bundles of energy. Wow.”
“I have some time now and it’s basically lunch time,” she smiles. “You want to order from the sandwich place I told you about? We could eat in my office.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting across from each other over her desk, a turkey sub in her hand and an Italian in mine.
“Oh my God,” I moan over my second bite. “This bread is amazing! I forgot to eat breakfast. I was starving to death. I’m going to have fantasies about this sandwich, I swear.”
“I thought you’d like this place.” Brooke chews, swallows. “What’s up with not eating breakfast? Don’t the Lords have any food at that clubhouse?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. I just don’t have much of an appetite in the morning. Usually I just have coffee. But I burned more calories than usual teaching that class.”
“Speaking of the clubhouse, how are things going there?”
“Fine. I get the sense that the guys are trying not to do anything too outrageous while I’m there, which makes me feel kind of bad.” I let out a snort. “Like I’m cramping their style, or something.”
We chat about some of the Lords and their old ladies and kids for a while
as we eat. Brooke catches me up on some of the people I haven’t seen in a while. It’s been over two years, and I’m amazed to find out that Tank and Striker, of all people, have old ladies now. And that Tank is a father — though apparently, the kid is actually Striker’s? It’s a crazy story, but it sounds like everyone’s happy with how things turned out.
“Speaking of kids and parents,” Brooke continues, her tone softening, “I was sorry to hear about your mom. Beast said you told him she died. I had no idea, Lila.”
In spite of myself, I tense. “Yeah, well, you couldn’t have known, since I didn’t tell you.”
“Is that why you stopped coming around the gym?” she asks gently.
“Kind of, yeah. It was just… she was sick, and she needed me around. And then after she died…” I exhale. “I just didn’t feel like doing anything for a while, you know?”
“And you had been living with her boyfriend after she passed, until…” Brooke trails off. There’s a question in her tone, one that I can tell she wants to ask but doesn’t dare.
“Yeah. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”
“You could have called me.”
I raise my eyes from my sandwich to look at her. Brooke’s face is… well, I don’t know exactly what it is. It’s almost like she’s trying not to have any expression on it at all. Like maybe she’s hoping if she’s careful not to upset me, I’ll tell her why I disappeared for the past two years. Why I didn’t know I could rely on her. Why I didn’t trust her.
My stomach churns with a jumble of emotions. Guilt. Anger. Defensiveness. Because the truth is, I don’t really have a good answer.
I start to lift the sandwich to my mouth, but I realize I’m not hungry anymore. I set it down on the paper.
“I know,” I finally mumble.
“I missed you, Lila.”
JUDE: Lords of Carnage MC Page 8