by Casey Elliot
“You’re probably right.”
We’d moved in most of our stuff over the weekend, but Melissa’s parents had been slowly gathering the rest of the stuff she’d left at her house and shipping it over when and as they could. But now, with this box, we were finally done.
“I can’t believe we’re living together,” I said. I grinned at her, “Since when was this a good idea?”
She cackled and began pulling things out of the box. “We’re going to get in so much trouble.”
We both knew that wasn’t true. Melissa and I were probably the last people who would ever do anything devious. She had just finished her business undergrad, and was starting a job as an analyst in town, and I had a bachelor of science and a job at the aquarium… selling tickets, mind you, but I was certain I’d find something a little more relevant before long.
I looked around at our apartment. It had been worth the wait as far as first apartments went. It was way bigger and nicer than anything you could get in the city center, but really, we were only a fifteen minute bus ride away. And, we had a dishwasher; very important things.
The only downside?
“Are they going to let me into the office on Monday if they know I’m living in Malton?” Melissa asked; staring out the window with her nose wrinkled in disgust. I followed her line of sight to a weathered, old man staggering down the sidewalk, clearly drunk. He also looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks.
“Just hope that they don’t look too closely at your tax forms,” I suggested.
I let my gaze stray slightly further down the street to where a shady looking bar called The Cruise sat; windows dark and empty.
“I guess we get to see just how loud that is tonight,” I said.
Melissa murmured in agreement.
The Cruise was open every night of the week but only played music on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Our landlord, Aaron, had told us that it wasn’t that loud, and anyway, we had double glazed windows. Still, it looked like a rough-and-tumble place; certainly, not somewhere I could picture myself going.
“So,” I said, clapping my hands and turning to Melissa, “A drink?”
“Or ten!”
She didn’t start work until Monday, and I’d taken the weekend off in anticipation spending my time organizing. More than that, though, I just needed a little time away from responsibility. I’d spent the last four years of my life in a never ending cycle of school and work. I just wanted to relax a little in my new apartment with my best friend.
I pulled the bottle of champagne from the fridge that we’d been reserving for the last box.
“Last box bottle,” Melissa whispered.
“Lost box bottle,” I whispered in reply.
We looked up at each other and descended into giggles. I took the foil off and then held the bottle in front of me, waggling my eyebrows. Melissa held her breath as I twisted the top and, with a loud pop, the cap punched away from the bottle.
And with that, the night had officially begun.
Chapter Two
“Tune!” Melissa called, fisting her wine glass above her head. It was a phrase she’d picked up when she’d studied abroad in England for a semester. Far as I could tell, it meant that she liked the song.
“Another one,” I replied, nodding toward The Cruise. “Apparently, they've got some wicked music game.”
We were sitting out on our balcony, half of which overlooked The Cruise. It was a little bit more exposed than I would have liked with a metal railing providing little protection from prying eyes, but at this point, I was too drunk to really care.
The air was warm, and we were dressed appropriately in shorts and tank tops; our feet bare and pressed against the warm vinyl of the deck. It was one of the longest days of the year, so the sun was just beginning to set. That didn’t seem to both the partygoers of The Cruise any. They were flocking in droves. Apparently, it was Malton’s hottest hot-spot.
“I can’t believe there’s such a happening bar just across the street from us,” Melissa said. “It was a lot easier to laugh about going there when it didn’t seem like we were missing out.”
I laughed. “You want to go to The Cruise?”
She shrugged, taking another sip of her wine. “I wouldn’t hate it. It could be an adventure, you know?”
“Like some sort of sociological experiment?”
She clinked glasses with me. “Always the science mind.”
I looked down at the windows of The Cruise again, lit from the inside by a couple haggard strings of colored lights. “I suppose; at least, this way we’ll know if we’re missing out or not.”
She leaped to her feet, downing the rest of her wine. “So, we’re doing this then? We’re going to The Cruise?”
I followed her up. “For science!”
We spent the bare minimum amount of time getting ready since we were both already pretty drunk. I left my hair down around my shoulders and didn’t bother with any makeup. I put on my favorite black miniskirt though, and a flowy tank top that exposed just the right amount of cleavage. I figured I should at least try to look the part. Melissa went even further than that. She rummaged through her drawers until she found her denim micro mini, and paired it with a gauzy black top with a pink bra underneath.
“Go big or go home,” she said with a wink when she came out from her room.
I laughed and grabbed my purse, shoving some cash and our cards in it.
We crossed the street just as the last rays of the sun had disappeared over the tops of the buildings, and the sky was turning an inky blue. As we approached the front door, a loud rumbling and a couple hoots from behind us nearly scared us out of our skins. A group of bikers shot past, turning right at the end of the building to access the parking lot.
I looked over at Melissa, waggling my eyebrows. “Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, ey?”
She threaded her elbow through mine and we entered.
The interior was dimly lit, and it was full of people. There were pool tables in the corner by the door and up on a raised ledge beside the bar. The dance floor was surrounded by little circular tables where people of all ages were drinking and shouting over the music. It wasn’t like I had pictured it would be. Yes, it was still trashy. There were no less than three stripper poles on the raised platform beside the dance floor.
Besides all that though, it just seemed like... a bar; nothing crazy. There were people sitting, having a quiet drink. There were people dancing wildly to the Bruno Mars song playing. There were also people who looked like they would eat anyone that approached them, and I recognized them as the bikers who had passed us outside. If we just avoid them, we could probably end up having a decent time.
“Drinks?” I suggested.
Melissa nodded, and we headed to the bar where a tall, slender brunette was pouring shots. We ordered two gin and sevens, which were way cheaper here than anywhere in downtown Kingston would have been. The downside was that they had no beers on tap, and clearly no ability to make anything more complicated than highballs with the mix.
Whatever. That was their business. I would take the cheaper drinks with less variety any day.
We took one of the few empty tables by the dance floor; our backs to the scary guys in the corner. From that vantage point, The Cruise almost looked normal… minus the stripper poles; of course.
The next song was Melissa’s favorite, and she pulled me up and toward the dance floor, the liquid in my glass sloshing dangerously. “It’s time!” she called.
Whatever time it was, I was ready. I loved dancing, especially when the music was as good as it was here. The flashing neon lights and the crowd of people felt like home to me, and I swung my hips and moved my arms toward the ceiling with happiness. There was the perfect amount of people on the floor—enough that we weren’t dancing by ourselves, but not so many that we couldn’t move. I was free to do all the weird and fancy footwork that was normally reserved for when I danced around my room while clea
ning.
Melissa laughed at me like she always did, but damn if I wasn’t the dancing queen.
I twirled, my eyes scanning the room again. I caught the eyes of someone across the room and I stopped on a dime. He was over with the group of scary bikers, but leaning up against the table rather than sitting on it. His hair was black or as close to it as a brown could get. He was probably a half foot taller than me with a thick, square jaw covered in a thin layer of stubble. And, he was staggeringly hot.
I resumed my dancing, aware that he’d seen me lose my shit upon seeing him, but determined to play it off. I looked back to Melissa who had caught my stare and was now looking at me with wide eyes.
She leaned into my ear. “That boy is trouble.”
I glanced over at him again, taking stock of his appearance; the same leather vest as all the other bikers were wearing, which said “Brixton MC” on the back, and a white t-shirt underneath that was just tight enough for me to see that he was completely corded with muscles… tattoos covering his arms and creeping up his neck… fingerless leather gloves, and a bold stare that in no way matched the leisurely way he was leaning up against the table.
“That’s no boy,” I said, trying to keep my voice as quiet as the music would allow. “That’s a man.”
She nodded. “You going to go talk to him?”
I let out a bark of laughter. “You kidding me?” I shook my head furiously. “I’d sooner go chat up a tiger.”
“He’s looking at you though.”
I shook my head and backed away, ending the conversation.
We danced for a few more songs, and I ignored the heat on my back from his stare the whole time. When we went to get another drink, we decided to sit down to catch our breath a bit. I needed a breather from more than just the dancing.
When I took my first sip of my drink, I let my eyes flit over toward the man again. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. With his arms crossed over his chest, he looked incredibly bored as he surveyed the rest of the club. Perhaps he’d never been looking at me in the first place. Perhaps that had just been my drunken mind making things up that I wanted to be real.
His eyes snapped to mine.
Or perhaps not.
I hadn’t looked away fast enough, and now, I was trapped in it. He raised his hand in the air and inclined one finger toward me. The suggestion was clear: come here.
I immediately turned to look at Melissa, heat rising on my face. She was looking at the exchange with light in her eyes.
“You’ve got to go over there!” she yelled. “You’re being summoned.”
“I don’t have to go anywhere!” I defended. But, my feet were already turning in that direction and I knew that I was powerless to the man’s call. Even if my mind was telling me that no good could come of this, my body was already desperate for his attention—anyway that I could get it.
I put one shaky foot in front of the other and approached him. He watched my progress with a hint of a smile, his eyes dark beneath the flashing lights. As I got closer, I could see that he had a silvery scar on his upper lip, and his eyes were a cold, icy blue.
When I was finally standing before him, he bounced forward from the table and stood at his full height, towering over me. He leaned down to my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “You must be new.”
His voice was like dark chocolate—rich and sinful. It caused me to shiver with delight.
“You can’t expect me to believe you know everyone in this bar,” I replied.
He chuckled. “No, but I would remember you.”
How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? My body told me that the obvious response was to take my clothes off, but my mind said that was inappropriate for the dance floor. Instead of doing either, I just began to word vomit.
“Yeah, my friend and I just moved into the area. Our apartment is across the street, so we thought we’d come check it out. It’s actually kind of cool in here, though I’m not sure about—”
I was silenced by a finger to my lips. My eyes widened in surprise, and the man smirked down at me.
“Relax,” he said. “Just tell me your name.” He removed his finger, and I could still feel it, hot against my mouth.
“Annabelle.”
“Nice to meet you, Annabelle.” He pulled my hand up from my side and clasped it in a firm, unyielding handshake. “I’m Jax.”
“Annabelle!” Melissa was suddenly at my side. “Come for a smoke!”
I blinked and looked over at her, my hand still in Jax’s grip. We didn’t smoke. She must have thought I needed rescuing. Did I need rescuing? I’d never wanted to rip someone’s clothes off so much in my life, but I’d also never had the fight-or-flight instinct so engaged. In my mind, all I could think was that he was a predator; a wolf waiting to gobble me up.
I wasn’t drunk enough for this shit.
I pulled my hand away. Jax let go of it easily.
“Gotta go,” I said.
He nodded, watching me leave with a crooked grin. As soon as we were out the doors and out of his sight, Annabelle and I began to hustle toward the apartment.
“We don’t have to leave just cause I went all deer-in-the-headlights over some biker guy,” I said.
Melissa laughed, fishing our keys from my bag as we walked. “I know, but I’m tired anyway. And, I figured it was either I get you out of there or I wind up listening to you having crazy animal sex with the hot biker guy while his three friends and I sit at the coffee table and play strip poker.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about this.”
Melissa smiled at me, clapping me on the back. “I think a lot about a lot of things, silly. That’s why you keep me around.”
Chapter Three
Jax
No matter what I did or how many broads I fucked afterward, I couldn’t get Annabelle out of my mind; the way her fiery red hair swung around while she danced, her luscious hips keeping time as she laughed at her own silly moves… those green eyes, filled with fear and lust as she walked toward me.
I thought it would go away, but two god damn weeks later, I was still waiting for her to come back from her smoke break. Every night at The Cruise I’d conduct Brixton business at the back tables; all the while keeping an eye out for the redhead with the tight body and the long legs. And every night, I’d go home disappointed.
Normally, I let the girls come to me. Never been much of a chaser… never seen the point. The women in my life had always proven to be more trouble than they were worth. Why actively seek that out? The girls that came to me knew the score—they knew it would be a one night thing, and that I’d be smacking the ass of some other girl the next time they saw me, and they were okay with that. It was an arrangement that worked for everybody.
But now, I was hung up on some chick who had been in my bar once; who I had met for less than five minutes. But, I needed to have her. I needed to find her, screw her, and get her out of my head, and then maybe, I’d have her once more just for the hell of it.
It didn’t help that Ronnie had been a total douche about the whole thing in the first week. I’d ended up having to clock him across the face for being such a presumptive dick; teasing me about having fallen in love... the god damn nerve.
He was still glaring at me from his table when I got into The Cruise that night. At least, the bruise had gone down. Anyway, it was probably the first time someone had blemished his pretty pink skin, and everyone agreed he’d been due for it.
I went over to the back tables where the rest of the guys were recapping the week and reporting to Gus. He was an angry looking guy with a gray beard hiding most of his face, but I still remembered him trying to make me eat my medicine by pretending the spoon was an airplane.
“Jax,” he said, extending his hand to me.
“Gus.” He had never liked being called Dad. I clasped his hand and smacked my other on top. “How was the trip?”
“Jamestown has agreed to back us up if Halberton starts run
ning in our zone again. So, it was good.”
Halberton MC and their dumbass leader, Rick, had been encroaching on our territory for the past six months. Only problem was that they had more guys. The support from Jamestown MC was incredibly valuable.
The old man gave me a big smile and gestured for the waitress, Mandi, to come over. He ordered beers for the table and sent her on her way with a wink and a smile. I wasn’t surprised to see her return his interest. There was something about chicks and guys on bikes. Even if Gus was in his fifties now, he still pulled as much as any of us.
I settled down at the table next to Gus and caught up with the rest of the guys. Unsurprisingly, not much had changed since I’d seen them last. I wasn’t used to feeling bored, but I was. Mandi came back with our beers, and I chugged mine back with enthusiasm, wanting to sink into a beer haze so I wouldn’t be thinking about a certain redhead.
When I was finished with my drink, I was itching for a cigarette. Normally, I smoked out back by the bikes, but tonight, I was feeling like torturing myself a little. I walked out the front doors and leaned against the brick wall of The Cruise, eyeing up the apartment building across from me as I did.
I figured she had to live there. She’d said they had moved in across the street, and that was the only apartment building that could really be considered across the street. And, because I was a glutton for punishment, I lit the smoke between my lips knowing that I’d spend the next ten minutes trying to figure out which apartment was hers.
My eyes glanced from window to window, starting on the bottom floor and working toward the top. She might not have even had an apartment on the front side of the building, but my little game continued nonetheless. I got to the fourth floor when something caught my eye. Taking another drag, I narrowed my eyes at the deck. There was someone sitting in a chair on it. They were turned away from me, but they had vibrant red hair.