Tank: Apaches MC

by Stephens, Olivia

  “I’m coming, Sierra.” Sierra. There’s that name. Sierra. Even turning it over in my head is making my skin bubble and prick. It’s as smooth as that mane of hair she’s got and as soft as the curves of her body. I’ve had girls I’ve been into before, but for some reason, I can brush those off quickly. She lingers. She’s a ghost of moments past, present, and—hopefully—future.

  I head back towards the waiting room, unsure of what my next move is going to be. This has been a dead end from start to finish. There’s nothing here that I didn’t already know. Someone wanted this to look like it was my handiwork. But whoever did it, certainly didn’t consider whom they were messing with and what my creds were.

  I sit back down on the couch and grab my phone. I pick one of the saved group numbers and quickly punch in a text: Emergency meeting. 4 PM. Clubhouse. All higher ups expected. No BS excuses.

  I hit the send button just in time to see Sierra walk past me in a breeze. Tears are streaming down her face, and in her rush, I can just make out the black lines dribbling across her cheeks from her eyes. Something in me tells me to leave it alone, this isn’t my business, but I have to go. I dart up and follow her towards the elevator. I make it just in time to get my hand in as she gasps in shock.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” she screams at me, as I pry the door open. I don’t even look at the buttons. Wherever she’s going, I’m going.

  “I’m walking you out to your car or whatever. Your roommate was already hit. You don’t need to act a fool and be next.” A swell of pride rises up in me. I’m not usually protective. I couldn’t give a damn about what happens to folks other than my own family, but I suddenly want to make sure she gets to where she needs to go.

  She looks at me from the corner of her eyes, as she manages to make herself sink even further back in the corner of the elevator away from me. Her voice coldly replies, “I don’t need your help, thank you very much. I’m a big girl. I know how to get myself home.”

  “I’m sure your girl said the same thing last night.” Ouch. I know that’s too far. I’ve crossed some line. I wait for the payback. She doesn’t miss a beat. I feel her charge at me, her arm raised towards my face. I could back away or stop her, but I don’t. I deserve this.

  The slap stings as much as the sound rings out. She manages to connect with my jaw, an impressive hit for a girl nearly two feet shorter than me. I catch her hand on the rebound as she hesitates. I can tell she is considering going in for another one. It’s obviously been a long and hard day for her, and I wasn’t making it any easier.

  With her wrist clenched in my fist, I walk her towards the elevator’s buttons and quickly hit the “stop” button. Her eyes pop from her delicate face as she realizes what I have just done. She tries to pull away, but I hold her still, up against the brown Formica of the elevator wall as I press a hand to the burning sensation forming around my jaw. Just like when she touched me before, her skin has managed to leave an impression on me.

  She tries to move out from under me, but I can’t let her go. I do something dangerous, something bold. I push up against her body. My hips rest up against her stomach and my face lowers towards her neck. As I speak, I can see the hairs along her neck stand up and react to my breath on her skin. But she doesn’t flinch. She remains as steadfast as possible. She doesn’t want to give me anything. “I’ll give you that one, girly.”

  She cuts me off as she turns her head towards mine. Our lips almost touch as she adds bitterly, “It’s Sierra. My name is Sierra.”

  “Sierra,” I slur almost excitedly and push even deeper into her petite frame. “But the next one better come when we’re in bed together. I like a girl who can pack a little punch.” All those feelings and imaginations I was having just moments earlier in the waiting room are coming back to me in waves. And though I want to take her right here and right now, I am practically begging my body to not grow stiff despite her tits resting up against my chest and moving with her hitched breath.

  Despite her body almost sinking into mine at the mention of foreplay, her face twists as she stares at me, disgusted. “I would never—”

  “Save it, Sierra. I know you’re gonna protest. You’re an Aztec girl. You could never be with an Apache. Blah, blah, blah.” I make my voice high pitched and girly. I’ve heard this argument before. But I’ve managed to convert even the hard-core Aztec ladies in my day. She wasn’t exactly like one those gals, but I could still hope to leave an impression.

  “It’s not that.” She corrects me quickly. “I could never, ever be with someone whose men would touch someone like Carmen. She’s a good girl. She’s never caused trouble. We got out of the neighborhood for reasons like this shit. She even wanted Anthony to get out of the business. But men like you and Abe—”

  “Don’t compare me to that little faggot,” I snap. Abe and I have a history that’s way deeper than our clubs crossing territories or him being a president of a rival club. And at this moment, with her body up against mine, his name is the last I want to hear or even think about at the moment.

  She finishes her thought proudly, as if she’s standing up to the entire system. Her voice punctuates through the air, as she stares me directly in my eyes. “You and Abe are the reason she’s in there right now—even if you didn’t order the attack yourself. At least Abe would never touch a woman.”

  I laugh instantly, scoffing at her naiveté. “You don’t think Abe has it in him? What are you, his girlfriend? He doesn’t need defending from a little girl. I know what evil little deeds he does in the dark.”

  She bristles, as she tries to summon up even more fire for her ammo. “He promised Anthony he would find you and kill you for it. So I wouldn’t be so smug. You’re just another piece of trash, just like him. But the difference is that I trust him more than I trust you, that’s for sure.” She looks down at the ground nervously, as if she needs to get something off her chest. “And, no, he isn’t my boyfriend, no matter what anyone says. I’m no one’s girlfriend.”

  I break into a smile as my guard lifts, and I drop her hand free. I let her walk back towards the side of the elevator slowly, as I follow behind her. Both of us stand still next to the other as we both breathe in deeply.

  I’m surprised at how exhausted she makes me. No girl makes me exhausted. I do that to them. When I’ve finally caught my breath, I turn back to her. “I can promise you that no one under my authority did that. And if I find out that they did, I will personally take them out as a favor to you.”

  “I don’t want blood on my hands...” She looks at me, searching for my name, and I realize that she probably doesn’t know exactly who I am or what power I have. She knows that I’m someone important. Anthony’s reaction and the cop giving into me has made that clear. But my name has probably not gotten around her limited circle, especially if she’s trying her best to not be in the ring anymore.

  My lips curl, as I outstretch my hand and do something so normal, so citizen like, I’m actually unsure of myself. “It’s Tank,” I say in a low voice.

  Her hand touches my palm, first gingerly as if she’s afraid I’ll hold her against her will again. I pull hers in, wrapping my hand around hers softly. But as I shake it warmly, she doesn’t let go. Her eyes catch mine as we stand there still, our bodies mere inches from one another. I have no idea how we drifted this close to one another again. I watch, as her chest heaves in a bit and her breath hitches. Mine follows, as I lose all sense of time and space.

  It’s the elevator starting up again that catches me back as I pull away. A man’s voice over the elevator’s intercom booms, “Don’t press the stop button! It’s for emergencies only.”

  Sierra bursts out laughing, as she looks back up at me. Her voice is almost like a song. It’s a total change from how it was just seconds ago when she knocked me a new one. The doors open, and she shuffles out, her hands waving by her side just as they did before. She doesn’t wait for me to follow. She just turns the corner and leaves. And I’m left t
o stand in the elevator as a group of people carrying flowers and balloons walk on by.

  Chapter 4: In and Out

  That man… that stupid man. Who does he think he is, talking to me like that? Who treats a woman as if she is just some piece of meat? Of course, I know the kind of guy that does. But still.

  I throw my bag down on my couch and take a look around the living room. Without Carmen’s music blasting, it’s a totally different space. The hallways aren’t full of lights, and the kitchen isn’t smelling of fresh salsa and tamales. There’s no one greeting me at the door, screaming loudly, “Hey chica! What’s new? What’s happening? Who did you annoy today?”

  I hate to admit it, but this is way, way too quiet for me. I run my hand under the sides of the couch cushions until I find the remote. I leave it on whatever channel I watched last night. It’s some silly game show with the contestants running across insane obstacles like bubbling orange and red fire pits and skydiving solo out of a plane. I try to imagine myself taking a leap like that. I think the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done is slap that guy in the elevator.

  Ugh! Again… I can’t stop thinking of him and how the pit in my stomach burned when he leaned his body up against mine, pinning me in my place. I shouldn’t feel that way for a massive asshole. But he was massive…massive in all the good ways. Those shoulders that threatened to rip through the shirt, the long and lean legs that kept him sturdy, and the thick and strong chest. Even his face felt like steel and metal under my hand. Over two hours later…and my palm still stings.

  I turn the television off and sit with myself for a moment. I shouldn’t be thinking of Tank, or whatever his silly club name is. I should be thinking about Carmen and her prognosis. Anthony said she’s in a coma. I’ve always heard that word on movies and shows, but I never knew what it meant. Would she not come out of it like most of the people I heard? Or will she pull through like my favorite soap opera characters where she just suddenly sits up and looks around is a hundred percent back to normal? Would Anthony have to decide to pull the plug?

  At this point, neither option sound good or realistic. Carmen took a beating that brought her to the very edge of her life. Anthony mentioned that the bruises looked like she was hit with a pipe. A fist, he explained in a detached and far off way, would have left knuckle imprints that could have possibly been traced back. A kick to the face or a metal pipe on the other hand left no impression that could make a difference to those who were investigating.

  That’s what Tank said he was doing after all. He was investigating. He was going to find the person who did this and make sure that they never, ever crossed him or his club again. Should I tell Anthony this? Should I call Abe?

  I go through the pockets of my dress searching for my phone. When I find it, there are already two messages from Abe. Even with the attack, he still has managed to try to hit on me: Hey Sierra. I know you’re upset about Carmen. Why don’t I come over and keep you company?

  What a scumbag. No matter what Carmen tried to tell me, I couldn’t see why he was worth all those girls hanging around him. I mean, there’s the power—I get that. But as the leader of the Aztecs, he was still new on the block. He had a lot to prove to not just me, an outsider, but to his men. However, as the last few years have passed and the Apaches have become more than just an idle threat, guys like Anthony have been giving him a lot of devotion and trust.

  Still, something about him made my skin crawl. He was good looking, but he knew it. He slicked his hair back with more product than Carmen and I both owned combined. And his tattoos were his big talking point. He never missed an opportunity to pull up his shirt to show his imposing set of abs and the new picture he got painted onto himself. I can’t stand that crap, that bravado. It’s all talk.

  I look back down at the text message lighting up my screen and reply: No thanks. Not needed. That’s all I need to say. Anything else would be practically begging him to get deeper into my life. And I don’t need that tonight—or any night. Abe and I are never going to happen, no matter how much he tries.

  I toss my phone on the ground and lean my head back onto the couch. It’s only six in the evening, but I could just drift off now. I let my eyes close tight, as the silence of the home fills me. My body sinks, as it releases the day’s stress. Finally, I’ve got some peace.

  An hour passes. Maybe two. What wakes me isn’t the sound of the doorbell going off over and over again. It’s the sound of someone twisting the knob of my door quickly as they attempt to break in. I only have seconds to figure it out, which is just enough time for me to stand up and walk backwards towards the archway between the living room and the dining room. Every bit of breath escapes me as I crouch down behind the corner of the couch and wait for the person to break in.

  The lock clicks and my heart sinks. This is my end. It has to be. Carmen was lucky. She managed to survive because she’s a fighter. But I’m not as fierce as she is. This guy is going to finish me. There won’t be a coma for me to come out of or a plug to be pulled. This is it. This is my last moment…

  “Sierra!” The man calls out from outside the doorway. He sounds anxious or annoyed. I can’t really tell. “Sierra! Are you home?”

  I walk on my hands and knees back out towards the living room. I manage to make it to the windows to pull back the white lace curtain. But from my limited view, I can’t make out who it is. There’s no one there. Even the light at my porch doesn’t show a shadow.

  “Sierra!” The voice booms as I spin backwards on my hands and knees. I catch a glimpse of the man towering over me, a beat up credit card in his tattooed hand, as I fall into the wall. My head slams hard before I can catch myself, and I find myself falling fast towards the ground.

  ***

  When I come to moments later, Tank is practically hovering over me and I’m in my bedroom. His weight leans from side to side as he stares at my stomach and chest. I can make out the crevice in his face as he scowls. I clear my throat and shake my head to get his attention. “What…what are you doing here?” I say weakly, as I attempt to sit up. But the bruise on my head catches up to me as I fall back onto my bed.

  “I’m here because I needed to talk to you. But I guess I should have been here to protect you from yourself.” He lowers himself to the ground next to my bed and hands me an ice pack, a glass of water, and two white pills. I eye him suspiciously. “It’s not poison. It’s just an ice pack and some pain meds I found in your bathroom. See, here’s the bottle if you don’t believe me.”

  For some reason, I throw caution to the wind as I toss the pills back with a swig of water. He doesn’t act like the kind of guy who would slip me a drug when I’m already drifting in and out of consciousness because of my own doing. Once I swallow, I turn back towards him by laying on my side. It’s weird staring at a man sitting by the side of my bed. It’s almost comforting watching him relax up against the side table.

  “What did you need to talk to me about? I told you everything in the hospital.”

  “It’s about Abe. I had a meeting with my top guys, and they think this is a setup. Someone is obviously trying to frame me for this shit. But there’s been no rumblings, no rumors. You said you knew Abe, so I thought I would ask you again if you knew what he was up to.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like this is just another business transaction and not discussing someone attempting to kill my best friend and roommate.

  “I’m not part of your world, Tank. I’m a civilian, or whatever you call us. I don’t get involved, especially not with Abe.”

  “Was Carmen? Was she a club slut?” I can see his face transform almost instantly. He knew he crossed that line again. He holds his hands up defensively as he backtracks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just what we call the girls who—”

  “Who are groupies. I get it. My dad brought home lots of those girls when he was alive. I’m sure my mom was one too when she was my age.” I stop myself. I hate talking about my father. He was a Tommygun when I was a kid, b
ut then he moved to the Aztecs when they combined the groups. He was already a legend in the MC gangs, but when he became a top Aztec, it just sealed the deal.

  “Sorry.” I hesitate. “Carmen wasn’t though. She went to the parties, sure. But she wasn’t involved with more than two or three of the guys, and those are guys we knew from grade school and in the old neighborhood. They wouldn’t hurt her. Plus, she was going home from her brother’s house that night. She wasn’t even around MC guys except for him.”

  His face lowers as he looks into his folded hands he has resting on his lap. He replies slowly to me, “It has to be an Aztec then. She wasn’t valuable enough to any of the other clubs to be a target.”

  I do my best to sit up as quickly as possible without falling backwards. My legs hitch over the side of the bed, and I stand before him. “Are you saying Anthony did this?” His silence is damning enough for me. “What the hell? Do you even know him? Or Carmen? He would never hurt his own sister. And you even suggesting it, is…well, it’s insulting for one thing.”