by Violet Blaze
I was a person and not just some bitch, his brother's daughter, a fucking female.
I'm a person. Glacier, he makes me feel human.
He sighs and his breath turns white in the cool morning air, his blue eyes locked onto my face.
“The club gives me a place to exercise my monster,” he says, his voice still mild as he moves across the wet gravel, boots crunching against the small stones. Glacier pauses on the opposite side of the bike. “But I always know when I'm with my brothers that I'm other, something else that isn't them—and they never let me forget that. I'm there because I'm useful to them, because I serve a purpose that they need filled.” Glacier pauses again, keeps his thumbs hooked in his front pockets and looks at me. “If you don't like your lot in life, you carve a new one. I'm giving you a knife, Serenity. What you do with it, it's up to you.” There's another pause, an even longer one. “That life, the one where you're nothing but somebody else's … tool …” His lip twitches and I see even more proof that he isn't an emotionless monster. There's so, so, so much there—and it's all mine to discover. “That life of being a pet or a piece of property, it isn't a life I'd wish on someone like you, Serenity.”
“You don't think that … men should be men and women should be women?” I ask, and I hate that phrase even as it slides out of my mouth. I don't believe that, not at all. What I believe is … a person is a person.
Glacier just snorts at that.
“I see sides of human beings that nobody else ever dreams of glimpsing. Death and pain, those are great equalizers. A woman riding a motorcycle? That's just not even consequential enough to worry about. If you want to ride, then ride.”
I glance down at the bike again, my hands literally shaking. If you didn't grow up the way I did, you might not quite understand the gravity of the situation. My dad would probably try to kill Glacier if he found out about this; the club might take action against him. It's a big deal. Massive. Of gargantuan proportions.
“You understand why I fell in love with you two years ago, right?” I ask as I look up at his gorgeous face. He's a handsome man—tall and muscular with an eerie, quiet grace. Dressed in all that leather, presenting this gift to me … it's not just a bike. It's so much more than that. My love triples in that moment. Quadruples. Grows by a thousand times.
“You were my light in darkness,” he says, answering my question in the opposite, answering why he fell in love with me. At least … I'm assuming? He hasn't said love yet, and in no way do I expect that—we're just starting our journey together—but is that what he means? “I asked you to ride because you looked like I felt inside.”
“How's that?” I ask, heart pounding, chest aching, hands trembling.
“Trapped,” Glacier says, and then he picks up the helmet and hands it to me. “Your gender doesn't matter to me,” he continues, and I think he's dead serious about that. “I've never felt attraction or want for any person—ever. Until I saw you. So if you have breasts and you want to ride a motorcycle, I would kill the devil himself to give you the privilege.”
I take the helmet from his hands before I realize there are tears stinging the corners of my eyes.
“If the club finds out—”
“I don't care,” he tells me, and I get a sudden flash of memory, of that day two years ago.
“My dad wouldn't like this—” I say as I glance around. But there's nobody here. Most of the boys are out on a run and my mother's inside comforting one of the groupies about something. It's just me and this guy, Glacier. I knew his name was Saint, but I pretended to ask him, just so I could get him to talk to me. He's younger than most of the other guys and totally cute. Adorable, really. My dad thinks he's like, a crazy psycho or whatever, but … he just offered to teach me the one thing I've always been desperate to learn. It feels too good to be true.
“Your dad doesn't have to live your life,” Saint says, handing me a helmet, gesturing at the bike with his chin. “If you want to learn to ride, then I'll teach you.”
“I don't care,” Glacier repeats, snapping me out of the memory, “what the club thinks. I'm giving you the leash to my monster. I'm yours; just tell me what you want.”
“I want to ride,” I say and the words feel like embers, burning past my lips and tingeing the air with orange flame. I stare Glacier straight in the face and for the first time ever, I see a real smile ghost past his lips. It's gone in an instant, but it was there; I saw it. “I want to ride.”
Even though I don't have a license and it's illegal as fuck, I ride my new bike over to Rayna's place for the party, Glacier trailing close behind me. My skin is singing and I feel freer than I ever have in my life, like I could fly off into the sunset with a pair of demon wings on my back, just like Glacier's.
He pauses next to me, his bike still running as he pulls off his helmet and I do the same.
“Don't forget to park it where I showed you,” Saint tells me, his voice icy and cool but somehow comforting anyway. After today, any and all doubts I had are gone. It might seem premature, but if you understand exactly how much he's risking by being with me, by giving me this bike, you would get it. Loren was right when he said that my whole life, I preached never to get involved with the club. I don't want to be a club wife, an old lady, or otherwise. I want to ride, and I want to do things because they make sense to me, for me. I've always been a bit of a rule breaker and I intend to keep up the tradition. “Use the lock and make smart choices about when to use the bike.”
“Thank you, Saint,” I tell him and there's this moment where I almost hesitate. But I don't. I climb off the bike and step over to him, placing my palms on either of his cheeks and leaning in, kissing him long and hard and deep. He responds in turn, wrapping his right arm around my waist and yanking me close, turning my bones to liquid, melting me right there in front of Rayna's little seaside cottage. “I'll see you after, right?” I ask and he nods, eyes sparkling dangerously. We spent all day riding, so there was no time for … touching. And Saint, he needs to be touched.
“I'll come as soon as I'm finished,” he says, looking like he'd rather blow off Royal's summons altogether. More club business. Of course it's more club business. I'm not sure what the call's about, but I'm assuming it's got to be something pretty important for Glacier to get called in this late at night.
I kiss Saint one last time and then step back, watching as he puts his helmet over his blonde hair and takes off on The Slim Bobber, disappearing into the darkness of the night as I stand and listen to the crash of waves behind me.
“Holy shit.” It's Aletha and Otto, standing on the sidewalk and staring at my bike with wide eyes. They must've just gotten here because they don't seem to have seen Saint leaving. “Is this yours?” Aletha whispers, her brown eyes as big as saucers. “I thought your, dad, like was all medieval and shit? Like, aren't girls not supposed to ride motorcycles?”
“It's …” I struggle to come up with a lie, but nothing will come to me. Frankly, I'd rather tell the truth. Hell, I want the whole fucking world to know about me and Glacier and my new bike, but our consequences are very, very real—in the club's world or the real world. One route leads to … blood being shed and the other to prison. I sigh. “It's a long story, but yeah, he doesn't know I have a bike and I'd like to keep it that way?” That comes out as a question, but Otto's already running his fingers through his purple mohawk and shaking his head. He's bisexual, and as a rule, the old-timers in the club—i.e. my dad—think he's just another fucking faggot. Otto's hated the club since I met him in third grade.
“Like I'd ever say anything to that misogynistic, homophobic Aryan prick,” Otto snorts, rubbing at his nose ring with the back of his hand. “By the way, you are a total badass.” He lifts up a hand and we smack palms. “How did you afford a bike this nice?”
“Serenity!” It's Loren, raising his hand from the front porch and jogging his way up the wooden steps to the sidewalk. Rayna's dad's house is this little blue and white cottage nestled i
n the sand. Behind the house, there's a big open stretch of beach, complete with ice cold Northern Pacific waves. Can't swim in it or anything—not unless you want to get swept out by an undertow and die—but it makes a great place to hang out and have a bonfire. Apparently, Rayna's dad left for the weekend with his new girlfriend, so we've go the place all to ourselves—and a couple of Rayna's new community college buddies. I called and told my mom I was spending the night here, so I could go to Glacier's place after. Awful, I know, and I do feel bad about it, but … it is my life to live.
“Hey, Loren,” I say as he comes up to stand next to us, realizes I'm dressed head to toe in leather, and spies the helmet still clutched under my arm.
“What the fuck?”
“That's what I said,” Otto says with a laugh, tugging Aletha up against his side. “Hey, I'm freezing my dick off out here. Let's go inside and get a drink.”
“You guys go ahead,” I say as I nod my chin at them. “We'll be right in.”
Aletha gives me a look, like she totally doesn't buy into my bullshit, and the two of them disappear down the steps, sea grasses waving from the sandy yard on either side of the wooden walkway.
“You got a motorcycle?” Loren asks, ruffling up his dark hair as he circles the Hot Rod suspiciously, like it might jump up and bite him at any second. He's wearing a green and white striped button-up under a denim jacket, jeans, some green Chucks. When he looks up at me, his eyes are glinting with suspicion. “Your boyfriend gave this to you?”
“He did,” I say, because what's the point in lying? Loren already knows everything, or at least he thinks he does.
“Isn't that sacrilegious or something?”
“The club would come down on him like a hammer if they found out,” I say, but I'm not exactly sure what would happen. If the old president—some guy named Bill MacDonald—were still in charge, Glacier could literally get his bones broken by his brothers. Maybe worse. But with Royal McBride in charge? I just don't know. Clearly, Royal doesn't subscribe to the “old ways” or he wouldn't have married a female mayor/feminist/total all-around badass. “He's risking a lot by doing this for me. Hell, he's risking everything.”
“What's it like?” Loren asks, touching the handlebars reverently. “To ride one of these.”
“It's like flying,” I say and my skin tingles all over—most especially in the place Glacier laid his palm this morning. It feels like there's a permanent scar there. “It's the best feeling in the world. All my life, I've watched men worship these things, ride off into the sunset on them, and I've hardly even been a passenger on one.”
I smile.
Loren smiles back, but the expression's tight as hell.
“So you're really with that guy, aren't you? He's scary, Serenity.”
“Only to you,” I say and Loren rolls his brown eyes at me. “It's fine. I know how I sound. But it's not like that. Glacier is … different.”
“Just because he isn't a sexist piece of shit doesn't mean he's god-sent, Serenity. He's part of the same club as your dad. The same club that traffics drugs into Trinidad, the same club that kills people that step out of line. The same club that you promised never to get involved with. How do you think this ends? You and … that guy. Not well, would be my guess.”
I stare at my friend, but even though he's making good points, he's not swaying me. I haven't thought about how Glacier and I will end because we're just getting started. I purse my lips, but what can I say? I don't have the answers to his questions, not yet. But I'll get them.
“Can we not talk about the club or Glacier for a while? Let's just go have a drink or something.”
Loren sighs as he steps back onto the sidewalk, waiting for me as I hook my helmet over the handlebars and leave it there. Out here, nobody will steal the Hot Rod—especially not because we're in Wolves' territory. Stealing the wrong motorcycle out here could be a death sentence.
“Is Rayna plastered already?” I ask, trying to make small talk as I unzip my jacket and Loren's gaze swings sharply over to me. He watches me pull it off, studying my bare shoulders and neck and then frowning heavily.
“Jesus Christ, Serenity,” he says and I smack a hand up to my throat. Oh. Oh yeah. My neck, chest, and shoulders are covered in hickeys. Luckily, I caught them in the mirror on the back of my door last night, before I opened it and my mom got a good look at them.
“Oh, stop being such a prude, Loren,” I say as I drop my hand. I shouldn't have to hide these here; I'm not the only one that has them.
“Six weeks ago we were joking that if we hadn't lost our virginities by the time we graduated, then we'd do it with each other. Now you're sleeping with some guy from your dad's gang. How old is he anyway?”
“Don't,” I hiss as we walk inside and find the living room empty. Everyone's probably out back, either on the deck or hanging out around a fire. Sometimes the bravest of us will roll up our jeans and dance in the frosty surf. “Can't we just let this go and keep being friends? My being with Glacier doesn't change anything between us.”
“Whatever,” Loren says, jogging ahead of me and out the back door, past Rayna and Tom and a sea of alcohol spread out across a weathered picnic table. He disappears down the steps and into the dark, towards the orange spot of the bonfire.
“What's up with him?” Rayna asks, taking a shot of something clear. It's probably vodka. She offers one to me, but I hold up a palm and head to the blue and white cooler to grab a soda instead. If I'm going to be riding later—and I have no idea when Glacier will be done with whatever he's doing—I need to be completely sober. Besides … I'm going to his place. To Glacier's house. I want to be all there upstairs for that. “Wow, two party poopers,” she says and Tom chuckles, leaning over to press an alcohol laden kiss to Rayna's pink frosted lips.
I pop the top on the soda can and lean my elbows on the edge of the deck railing, staring out at the darkness of the sea and letting the wind tease my ponytail, pulling red and blonde strands against my cheeks and lips.
“Hey,” I say as Rayna parks her butt on the railing next to me, “if anyone asks, I'm spending the night here tonight.” Her eyebrows shoot straight up her forehead, her short, red bob billowing wildly around her head.
“Seriously? Okay, but you have to tell me where you're really going.”
I sigh and purse my lips, drinking a few mouthfuls of carbonation before I bother to respond.
“To my boyfriend's place,” I say, and even calling Glacier the b-word feels wrong. I'm not like your high school boyfriend. In fact, I'm not like a boyfriend at all. And he's right on so many levels. But what am I supposed to say? My man. My soul mate. My monster.
“You have a boyfriend?” Rayna chokes out, exchanging a long look with Tom. “So that's what Loren's got his panties in a wad over.”
“Who is he?” Tom asks, pushing his shoulder length surfer hair out of his face. “A guy from school?”
“You guys don't know him,” I say, hoping to keep things as vague as possible. And then a lie comes to me. I hate having to use it—so fucking hate it—but I don't have much choice. I don't think my friends would ever call the cops on a club member—that would be a very stupid thing to do—but I can't take the chance either. “He's … a hang-around for the club.” Hah. If they only knew he was an officer.
“Holy shit!” Rayna shouts and then clamps a hand over her mouth. She's totally drunk already. Tom, too, probably. “A guy from the club?”
“Sure,” I say, but then feel the need to clarify, glancing over at my friends, “but he's not like the rest of them. Not at all.”
“Damn,” Tom whispers as he and Rayna exchange another look. Fuck. I knew telling my friends would suck, but … this really, really sucks. I don't want them to treat me like everyone else at school does. Guess I'll get to see their true colors, see who my real friends are. After a minute, Tom and Rayna get distracted making out again, and I sneak off down the steps and onto the beach, kicking my boots off so I can dig my toes in
to the sand.
I make sure my phone's on vibrate, tucked into a side pocket on my riding pants, and then I dump my jacket on top of my boots and head down to the bonfire to hang out. The more fun I have, the faster the time will fly by, the sooner I'll get to see Glacier.
A smile curves my lips as I move across the cool, dry sand and into the circle of warm heat.
A few hours later, I finally get a text from Glacier.
Fifteen minutes, it says, succinct as usual. I rise to my feet, stretching my arms above my head and digging my toes into the sand, and then excuse myself from the bonfire. Loren's gotten totally drunk and is making a complete ass out of himself by trying to make out with some college chick that Rayna knows.
I roll my eyes as I sneak back to the house, snatch my boots and coat, and head up to the street.
I'm dressed and ready to go when I hear the sound of a motorcycle, my heart galloping inside my chest, my throat getting tight with excitement. A few seconds later, there he is, perched on his Slim Bobber, coming around the corner at a speed that makes me almost nervous. Or it would if I didn't know what a damn good rider Saint was.
This time, he doesn't even bother to take off his helmet, just pauses next to me and waits for me to climb on my bike, slip my own helmet on, and kick-start the engine.
A few seconds later, he takes off into the starry darkness and I follow after, tracing the sea on my bike, taking things slow, concentrating hard on what I'm doing. If I wipe out, this whole thing will be over, my dream bubble popped, a nightmare spread open for all to see. Dad will make my life until eighteen a veritable hell on earth.
So I'm careful, real careful, listening to all the things that Glacier taught me, being overly cautious, more than I even need to be. Luckily, it's only about fifteen minutes before we hit Saint's place, curving away from the sea and back towards the woods. Technically, we're still in town, but we're on the very edge, in the last stand of forest before the trees break away to give the world over to the beach.