Unexpected: Desert Knights MC

by Paula Cox

  And with all the reserves I have managed to save up, all the adrenaline coursing through my body, all the power I have—my arm spins around my chest and dives into the folds of my jacket pocket. I pull out my trusty gun and shoot, aiming wildly at the object above me.

  Everything goes still with the pop of the gun firing. A small puff of smoke replaces where the man was hovering above me. Almost in slow motion, I hear the thud of a body and a shriek of someone wailing. And as I spin, I can make out the gun falling from his motionless hand. I reach around, grabbing it from his space just in case my shot wasn’t fatal. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t even shake or flinch. There is only the roar of the main road on the other side of us and the highway looming just ahead.

  I roll myself over, moving my bruised and battered hip gingerly with my hands. I’m aching, but there’s nothing broken. The blood that stains my jeans is my only visible injury, a tear in my skin from when I fell onto the ground. My bike, however, is in worse shape. It’s going to need a trip to the bike doc before I can ride it again.

  My phone vibrates urgently against my waist. I cough a few times, letting the pain fly out of me. “What’s goin’ on, boss?” I ask Clay Walsh on the other end.

  “You get the job done, Anton?” He’s not one for small talk, but I’m grateful of that. This isn’t exactly the time to chitchat about the weather.

  “Yes, sir. Everything’s accounted for, including one corpse belonging to the Senators outside of Exit 43. I’m gonna need some backup on this one, along with the crash truck to come get my bike. It’s in worse shape.” Dead bodies in our business are like a missing spreadsheet at others. It happens. No sense getting too bent out of shape over it.

  “I’ll send J.R. and Percy. You send me your coordinates. I’ll see you at headquarters later tonight.” He adds with a touch of humor in his voice, “It’s a big night for us, kid. Long time coming.”

  I answer happily, “Yes, sir. It is.” I hear the sound of the phone click over as I try to contain my excitement. Even a broken bike and a casualty aren’t going to wreck my big night with the Desert Knights.

  Chapter 2: Escape Routes

  “Mom, please! Just this once! Just tonight!” I wail.

  “You know the answer, Tory,” she snarls, barely giving me a glance. “It’s your father’s decision. Whatever he says, goes. I’m not about to go against what he said.” She’s so focused on stirring the noodles in the pan that she can’t even register that her only daughter is more desperate than ever.

  That’s my mother -- an old woman through and through. Since I was born, all I have known of her is this weak little bird of a woman, who took orders from my daddy as if they were straight from the mouth of God. I’ve never once disobeyed him -- or even spoken a bad word against him. That’s how all the motorcycle club women are around these parts. Once you get married, you’ve lost all of your power. You’re his property to control.

  I know when to give up. I can see it in her eyes that I’ve gone way too far with this. Whenever we talk these days, we come to that fork in the road where I can push her buttons, or I can just let it go. And I’m choosing to let it go.

  Ever since I turned sixteen, I’ve wanted to go to a club party. At that age, all of my other friends with dads and brothers in the Desert Knights were allowed to attend. But me? Oh, no, no. I was the lucky exception. I was Desert Knight royalty, which meant that I was above all the drinking, drugs, and dancing. I am Clay Walsh’s only girl, the virginal princess to be put on a pedestal next to her daddy and brother. No man, let alone a club member, was allowed to even come within five feet of me without my daddy’s expressed written permission.

  But I’m twenty-four now. I’m long past my prime compared to my other friends. My best girlfriends all lost their virginities at parties just like these nine, ten, even eleven years ago. And while the idea of giving it up in the HQ’s damp basement or on one of the overused couches wasn’t perfect, they still got it done. I couldn’t help but be just a little bit jealous of that.

  I storm upstairs like the little brat I want to be. My feet kick at the hardwood planks as they go until I reach the door to my bedroom, which I slam for extra dramatic effect. Is it childish? Fuck yes, it is. But it’s not as if my mom is going to say anything to me at this point.

  In the quiet of my room, I slump down into my large bed still covered in the princess pink comforter I was bought years ago…just another reminder that I’ll always be twelve years old to my family. I pull out my phone and dial the one person who understands it all, April Lauder.

  April’s my best friend—and these days, she’s my only friend. She is the one person my parents allow me to talk to currently, but that’s only because her dad happens to be the vice president of the Desert Knights. To them, she isn’t a threat because, well, she’s got loyalty and position. Daughters of lower members have something to gain by gathering intel on the Walsh family. And now that April’s dad is retiring at the end of the year, she’s even higher on my dad’s okay list.

  But what I love about April is that she knows what it is like to be the daughter of a high-ranking Knight. Her daddy wasn’t as strict as mine is. She always got to go to the parties or date some of the younger members, but she also had curfews and chaperones. There was even a date in which my brother Brandon followed her around from the movie theater to the restaurant and back home just to ensure that her date didn’t figure out that she was part of the motorcycle club lifestyle.

  Her bright, cheerful valley girl voice instantly springs into my ear as she picks up the call, “Hey girl! What’s going on?”

  My mood lightens just listening to her. She’s got that effect on people, “Hey, April. I’m just lying in bed dreaming of what it is like to not be Clay Walsh’s daughter.”

  “He seriously won’t let you go tonight? That’s such a bummer.” She huffs loudly into the mouthpiece. “Doesn’t he know that you’re twenty-four, in college, and totally able to fend for yourself? It’s not like you’ve given him any reason to doubt you.”

  She’s right. My life has been a long list of accomplishments and high marks. I’ve been the captain of my swim team, an honor roll student in high school and now college, and I even volunteer at animal shelters while I’m working on getting my degree in veterinary school. I am basically any father’s dream daughter. Why can’t he see that?

  “You know him, April. He’s just trying to protect me. Or something like that.”

  “I wish you would stand up for yourself.”

  “You know what would happen if I tried.” I swallow hard, as I unconsciously pick at the scab on my knee. I don’t want to really think about what happened when I tried to go against his orders last time. I add tiredly, “It’s no use. I’m not getting into that party.”

  There’s a long pause as I can tell April’s mulling it all over. She’s always one to try to think of the sunnier side of bad situations, but her answer totally surprises me. “You should just go.”

  “What?”

  “You should just go, Tory. Wear a hoodie, come late after the party’s begun, stay outdoors and out of sight of your dad, and don’t tell anyone who you are. It’s not like they would recognize you anyways.” Her voice speeds up as she thinks through her plan. “I’ve got this tight black hoodie that would look awesome on you! Show off those banging curves, girl!”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am! You could do it. I mean, it would be a risk, but you have to live a little. How long do you plan to be locked up in that bubblegum palace of yours? You gonna be that amazing, world-renowned veterinarian and still have to ask your daddy for permission to go out at night?”

  I don’t know how to respond. Everything she is saying makes sense to me. For so long I’ve just gone along with everything my dad has told me, but I haven’t even gotten my feet wet in the real world. Maybe it’s time that I do get myself out there…screw the consequences.

  I can feel my confidence build, as I try to think through
the logistics. But one thought stops me. I ask softly, “What about Brandon though?”

  “Your brother isn’t going to rat you out. He’s a good guy.”

  “April…?” I hold back my words, knowing that she’s been harboring a crush on my older brother for years now. How can I break it to her that he is as demanding and controlling as my dad? “You know that if he saw me, he’d report back to my dad. He thinks my dad knows best on everything.”

  “Dad knows best on what?”

  I spin towards the voice in my room. Dad, himself, is standing in the doorway, his hand resting above his head against the pink walls. I whisper quickly into the phone, “I’ll call you back, April,” as I focus on him now.

  “Dad knows best on what, Tory?” He eyes me suspiciously, his jet-black eyes peering at me, judging me.

  I drop my phone down by my side, as I slowly explain, “About the party tonight. I was telling April that I couldn’t go.”

  The mood changes, as he instantly jumps on my words. “Damn right I know best about that, Tory. You have no place at a Desert Knight party. You hear me, goddammit? No fucking place.”

  “But what if I went with Tory? I mean, she’s been to the parties be--”

  “Quit it, Tory!” he seethes. He walks into the room, his stocky figure taking up so much space. “You listen to me when I say this for the last time: I make the rules around here. And when I say you can’t go to a Desert Knight party, I mean that you can’t go to a Desert Knight party.”

  He leans his body over mine, a finger pointed directly at my face. I can feel his sticky, hot breath on my face as I back off and away from him. My body practically falls into the bed trying to escape. But he knows how to make it clear that he’s the dominant one in this relationship.

  When I don’t answer, he lowers his voice to a dim roar and says, “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” My voice is shaking, as I become aware of just how afraid of him I really am.

  “Good. That’s the end of this conversation.” With that, he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  I take a deep breath and exhale quickly, as I try to move all the negative, horrible energy out of me. He has this way of getting to me, of forcing me to be someone that I am not. But I have had enough of this. I wasn’t going to be his little princess trapped by her evil father. I was going to get out here. I was going to make my life what I wanted it to be. I was going to go to that damn party.

  I waited a few beats before picking up my phone and texting April a frantic, angry message: That was my dad. He said no way in hell that I could go to tonight’s party. But I’m going. I’m not going to let him control me anymore!

  In seconds, she replied: That’s right! You go, girl! But how are you going to get there?

  I smile widely, as I type back: You, of course. You got me dreaming of escaping, so you’re going to help me out of here. 10 PM, my place. Park along the alley so you don’t wake my mom.

  I pass the rest of the hours leading up to the party by hanging out in my pajama pants, watching some ridiculous talk show with my mom. She cackles away at some celebrity guest star while I roll my eyes and try to focus on the giant textbook in my lap which conceals the phone which I’m using to monitor April. At around eight, Dad and Brandon sneak out, both of them already tipsy from their dinner beers and whiskey.

  Before he leaves, my dad grabs his jacket and walks towards me. I put the book above my face, hiding the bitter scowl on my face. He kisses me on the forehead, as he says in his sloshy voice, “You’re such a good girl, Tory. Such a good girl.”

  “Yeah! A good girl who’s gonna sit at home with her mommy all night.” My brother—with his too tight t-shirt and wild black hair—stares at me with a wild grin on his face. He knows how much I wanted to go to this party, or any party at that. His freedom is like a power trip to him, and he doesn’t waste any opportunity he gets to rub it in my face like a child.

  “I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth and pursed lips, as I stare off into the highlighted pages of my book. “I’ve got a lot to read up on. I’ve got a test on Monday anyways.”

  Right then, something changes. The mood in the room goes blank. I swear I can hear a sharp whistle of the wind from outside seep through the windows and walls. My brother grabs the book from my hands and throws it to the ground. It hits the floor with a dull thud. Everyone stares wordlessly at him, but he only grunts loudly as he catches his breath. “Don’t act like you’re better than us, Tory,” he seethes, his voice full of venom.

  I sit up and slowly walk towards the textbook, cradling it in my arm as I sit back down. My eyes dart to the floor as I say timidly, “I didn’t say that. I said I had a test—”

  “Shut up!” My dad’s in on it, too, now. I look over to where my mom sits frozen in her rocking lounge chair. She only briefly looks towards her boys, as my father shouts, “I won’t have this back-talk garbage in my house! Got it?”

  “Yes,” I try to say, but the words get stuck. I clear my throat and start again, “Yes, sir.” Something stirs in me, as I try to acknowledge him, to give him the power he so desperately wants. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

  My brother mumbles, as he walks past my dad and out towards the door, “You’d better be.”

  “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Tory.” My dad points another finger at me before he grabs the rest of his gear hanging on a peg near the door. In a whoosh of cool air, he’s gone, and I’m left with my zombie mom to think about what’s happened. Yet, neither of us says a word. We both go on with our lives as if nothing happened. Her to her shows, and me to my book.

  The next two hours pass like an eternity, as I wait for my mom to fall asleep at her usual time of nine thirty. Just around nine fifteen, she saunters into the kitchen and smokes her last cigarette with the yellowish-white coffee mug she uses for ashes. At nine twenty, she heads towards the bathroom where she strips her face of the outdated, heavy makeup and brushes out the hair spray curls. She slips into the same cotton nightdress and shouts from her bedroom doorway, “Goodnight, Tor, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I grumble a reply, as I rush upstairs towards my bedroom. The black leather jacket with the gray hood is already waiting for me, as I toss it over my black t-shirt. I then change my blue polka dot pajama pants for a pair of jeans I haven’t worn in ages because I knew my dad would disapprove. Within minutes of finishing my makeup and running a comb through my wild, long brown hair, I see my phone light up with April’s texts.

  I slip past my mom’s room, where I hear her already snoring over the sound of her television, and head downstairs through the living room. I then dart out the front and around towards the back where I hop over the low fence towards April’s beat up Cadillac waiting for me with its lights off.

  “Tory! You look smoking! Your daddy certainly won’t recognize you in that outfit.”

  “Oh come on,” I reply demurely, as she begins to drive through the relatively empty streets.

  “No! I’m serious. I didn’t even think you’d show, let alone come out looking like that.”

  “Just drive, April,” I answer, as I stare out the window. A wide, content smile eclipses my face, as I finally get my first taste of freedom in my adult life.

  Chapter 3: Bad Decisions

  You’d think after what happened to me out on the road, I’d be exhausted or even burnt out. But I’m the opposite. I’m a candle burning at both ends as I fly through the party on a high like none other. The room flashes by in a sea of familiar faces congratulating and celebrating with me. I’m finally feeling like a God coming home.

  “Anton! My man!” A large bear of man I vaguely know from around the meetings grabs me by the crook of my arm and drags me to the bar. “Tonight’s the big night I hear! The old man’s gonna make you the head runner. That’s some heavy shit!”

  I mutter, “Yeah, it is,” as he reaches over the creaky old wooden bar and grabs two shot glasses and a golden bottle of whiskey. As
much as I’m feeling like the invisible man, I’m also not going to get shit-faced drunk before the big announcement. I want to savor those words for an eternity. So I push the drink back to him and pat him heartily on the back, “Nah man, not just yet. Save it until after Clay makes the news official.”

  He stares at me roughly, almost hurt, but takes his shot and mine in seconds of one another. He lets out a long wail as the alcohol seeps down his throat and into his blood system. He even pours himself a third, sinking it down without a pause. I watch him in awe. As much as I do love drinking and the occasional snort, I’m not one to just blow through that shit. I practice control so that I don’t make the same mistake my mom and dad supposedly made when I was conceived.

  Still, I do let myself go in one particular way…women. This room is full of gorgeous, ready-to-go women just staring me down. There’s a good few of them I’ve already had, to be entirely honest. Hell, if I go far enough down that memory lane, I can still taste juices and sweat mixing in my mouth, that sweet tang that makes it even better.