by Hazel Parker
I could ride my bike. I could take Amelia places. I could do anything I wanted.
And that was the point underlying what I had told Uncle. The freedom to be on my bike could have just been simplified to “freedom” in general. As far as I was concerned, I’d support myself on my mechanic’s hourly pay, using the money I had saved from my time at Rothenberg as a sort of emergency fund.
Life was looking pretty goddamn great. I had the support of the club. I had a girl that I had a budding relationship with. And soon, I would have my freedom.
It was time to combine all of them. I reached into my phone and texted Amelia.
“The club I told you about has a party tomorrow. How would you like to come and meet everyone?”
Chapter 14: Amelia
That sounds terrifying.
I looked at Fitz’s message to me, having just left work. Fitz may have felt like he could have found a place in that world, but I didn’t see how I would ever get the chance to fit in there. I was a banker through and through; I was a type-A personality to other type-A’s, I was someone who liked to wear nice clothes, and I was someone who avoided people who couldn’t keep up with me intellectually like the plague.
And now I was supposed to go to his party with him tomorrow? I didn’t think it could work. And, unfortunately, as I thought about it, I began to wonder if that statement would apply to more than just the party invite.
At least I had a job that I could use as a legitimate excuse for why I couldn’t make it.
* * *
I woke up realizing that I had never actually responded to Fitz despite not falling asleep until a couple of hours after I had received that message. I had gotten off work at a decent hour—anything before ten was considered a decent hour—but it mattered little. I still couldn’t unwind and pass out until around midnight, and when I woke up just a minute or so before my alarm went off, I knew that I would never again know what it was like to sleep eight hours.
But I sure would know what it was like to have a message hanging over my head, one that I knew I needed to respond to.
I hurried into work, getting there just before seven o’clock. I grabbed a bagel on the way and ate it on the way, not wanting to stop in the cafeteria. I got to my desk, stole a glance at my personal phone, and finally wrote back.
“Play it by ear tonight? Going to be busy.”
That’s so unlike you, Amelia. You don’t beat around the bush. You tell the truth.
You must really like this guy. He must really be something to make you act this way.
Or you’re just so exhausted that you can’t even do that.
“Amelia?”
I jumped at the Aussie-accented voice. Ben stood over me, smiling.
“Can I see you in my office?”
Shit, what now? I nodded and followed him without a word, curious to see what would happen now.
“The past few days,” Ben began as soon as the door had shut, before he had even gotten to his desk, “I’ve noticed that you seem to be spacing out a lot more. You don’t seem as focused as you usually are. I know that you are one of our highest-performing employees, certainly someone on the verge of becoming executive director.”
He smiled when he saw my eyes go wide. But he didn’t elaborate on that tantalizing statement.
“But if you’re going to reach that position as soon as you would like to and as soon as I believe you are capable of, you need to be a little more focused than you currently are. Tell me, is anything going on that might distract you from work?”
Shit, shit, does he know? Does he know?
“Nope,” I said.
“No?”
Does he know?
“I have a life outside of this company, but I do not let it affect what goes on here,” I said, gaining the confidence to be more forceful with my words. “I have been fatigued like hell since returning from Shanghai. You know that I suffered a bit as a result. Maybe that’s what you’re referring to. But otherwise, no. Nothing will distract me or prevent me from doing my job.”
Ben smiled, leaned back in his seat, looked out the window toward the rising sun over New York City, and turned back to me.
“As I said, Miss Hughes, you are one of our strongest performing employees. It would be a shame if things were happening to you.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said.
As soon as he said that, accompanied by an acted shrug, I knew that he didn’t know what was going on. He was acting too much the part of a suspicious boss to actually have something to pin me with. He didn’t know about Fitz, nor did someone he had talked to know about Fitz.
Maybe a coworker of ours had seen Fitz in my apartment building, but it wasn’t like that meant anything. I had informed the front desk that he would be coming, and the front desk kept secrets better than anyone else.
“It could be one of many things. A family issue, a boyfriend, drama at the workplace—”
He doesn’t know.
“With all respect, Benjamin,” I said, using his full name to drive the point home. “We all have things happening to us that we don’t enjoy. As you say, families get sick, partners break up with us, and we get in fights at work. But these things come and go. I am not distracted; I am simply still recovering from Shanghai. As soon as I get home this weekend and sleep in, I will be refueled and recharged.”
“Very good, then,” Ben said. “Have a productive Friday and make us some money, won’t ya?”
I smirked as I rose, opening his door and shutting it behind me.
I’d fooled Ben.
But I hadn’t fooled myself. It was probably true that I still had some leftover fatigue from the Shanghai trip, but Fitz’s situation was driving me crazy. I liked him a lot, but I had a bad feeling that the Fitz I’d be around for the next three months—if I kept him around—wouldn’t be the kind of man I’d want to be around. He was about to be essentially jobless.
But on the other hand, hadn’t I had those same fantasies of quitting? Hadn’t I also thought about leaving the banking world behind? Why would I suddenly be different?
I wasn’t. Fitz had just had a different mindset than me.
It made me both jealous and fearful.
* * *
When eight o’clock came that evening, Fitz hadn’t sent anything more than “sounds good, keep me updated” around lunch. The offer still very much stood, and the more I had tried to push it away, the more I had hoped that my mind would come around to an answer.
Well, it had.
But the answer wasn’t the one that I was expecting.
Maybe there was something to be said for seeing what this alternative lifestyle looked like. Maybe if I went to this party, I’d get some ideas about what the world outside banking would look like. I certainly believed in exploring things that are different than my life, though living in them and bringing them into my life were two very different things.
As I stood up and headed for the elevators, I cursed at myself.
I was going to go to the party. If it sucked, I could call an Uber home. If it was great, then I didn’t have to come into the office the next day. For now.
Fitz, you must be some special guy to make me do this. Don’t make me fucking regret it.
I first took an Uber home to change into something more casual, switching into jeans, flats, and a red tank top. I texted Fitz that I was on my way, to which he sent some thumbs up emojis back. I shook my head all the way to the Uber. This might be a worse sight than giving head on the beach. At least that could be excused as two coworkers having extreme tension that needed release.
This...there’s nothing I can say that’ll make this look good.
Guess we’ll find out how it goes.
I tried to still and silence my mind as we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. By this point, it was much too late to turn back, but the nerves had not vanished in my stomach. I was fearful that I wouldn’t fit in in the slightest. I was fearful that the
club members would act boorishly, hit on me inappropriately, and scare me off.
But, hey, if I was going to be crazy and do crazy things this week, maybe I just needed to say fuck it and see what happened?
“This the spot?” the driver said a short while later.
Brooklyn Repairs. The place looked like a dingy, run-down repair shop that hadn’t had a paint job since the sixties. It was ugly and in desperate need of a tune-up. But I could hear music from the other side of the garage door.
“Yeah,” I said sheepishly, a bit embarrassed to admit it. “Thanks.”
I got out, keeping my head low, and walked up to the front door. I knocked. No one answered.
Well, this was a fucking delight. A party that didn’t have a doorman but was secret. That seemed—
The door swung open. An older man with graying hair and a cigarette in his mouth walked out.
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing,” he said with a chuckle.
Well, isn’t this just off to a lovely start.
“What’s your name, sexy?”
“That’s not important,” I scowled back. “I’m looking for Fitz. Thomas Fitzgerald, he—”
“You’re Fitz’s piece for the night?” the man said. “Holy shit! First he quits his job, now he gets a sexy broad! What the fuck is the world coming to! Maybe I need to quit my banking job too!”
Oh, shit, no, no, no. No, I can’t be here, no—
“Fitz is inside. What’s your name?”
“Ah...Amanda,” I said as I pushed past him.
“Amanda!” he shouted at me. “If Fitz dumps your ass, you come and find me! Just yell out Uncle!”
OK, that’s even creepier than I imagined. This is off to a delightful start.
I came inside and smelled oil, alcohol, and...sex?
I looked around the interior of the repair shop. There were a couple of cars lifted up for repairs. Underneath them was an enormous mass of people, probably a couple dozen in total. I looked for Fitz but didn’t seem him anywhere.
What I did see, though, were a bunch of girls with enormous features and skimpy clothing sitting on the laps of, pressed up against, or otherwise smothering other bikers. They all had beers in their hands and smirks on their faces, like they knew they could just get the women they had before them. The very sight pissed me off to high hell.
“Hey!”
I looked over and saw Fitz emerging from a small office that had a flickering light and stains on the walls. Seeing Fitz made me smile, but it also saddened me a bit. He’d quit his job to join this?
“What’s going on?” he said, coming up to kiss me. I kissed him, but it wasn’t the greatest of kisses. “You OK?”
“I…”
Tell the truth.
“Let’s go into your office, OK?”
Fitz nodded, putting his hand on the small of my back and leading me in. The closed door barely muted the music, but at least I could hear him a little better than before.
“Fitz, is this really what you quit your job for?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I said, struggling not to laugh in disbelief at his ignorance. “Look around at this place. The girls all look like cheap whores. The dudes are drinking crappy beer and excited to get their dick wet with women they only want to sleep with. I’d say this is like college, but college isn’t this trashy. It’s...it’s disgusting, OK?”
Fitz bit his lip. I knew I was being harsh, but Fitz knew this was how I got when I got annoyed. Blunt.
“Look, if it makes you feel better, this part of the club is not something I particularly enjoy either,” he said. “Most of the time at these parties, I just stand to the corner, let the festivities go, and try and stay above it. They call me nerd or dork for it, but…”
I remained unconvinced.
“I just can’t believe it,” I said. “I didn’t believe it before, but when you talked about a brotherhood and you talked about being free on your bike, I pictured some sort of Zen thing where you would use the bike to think about the world. Maybe you’d write down your insights or something. I don’t know. I figured the car mechanic thing was just to tide you over. But instead, it feels like you left a wedding to go to a brothel.”
“But the wedding was without passion and was boring,” he said. “And look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you for your first visit here to be on a party night.”
“Understatement.”
“But it felt like we had a really great thing going this week, and I just wanted you to see what my new life would look like. I wanted to build upon what we had. Don’t you?”
That was painful to hear. I did. I did want to build upon it.
But after seeing this...after realizing how much Fitz was distracting me at work...after understanding that this was his new life and that I would never be able to understand it…
“Fitz,” I said with a sigh. “What I had with you the past few nights was nothing short of amazing. You helped me relieve an enormous amount of tension, and more than that, you made me feel thrills I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had such a great time with you, and yes, I’ll admit that I liked you for more than just the pleasure of the moment. I wanted more. But this—”
The door swung open. A beefy, bald man walked in, looking at the two of us.
“Is this how nerds get laid?” the man said with a laugh, slapping the back of Fitz. “Hi, I’m Marcel, president of the club. I take it you’ve met the club nerd?”
“Yes,” I said, trying my hardest not to be a total bitch. “I have.”
“He’s fucking great. He quit his job to be with us! I couldn’t fucking believe it when I heard it. We all told him he was an idiot. But I guess he’s a serious idiot, huh?”
Marcel burst out laughing as he went to the fridge in the room and grabbed what looked like a bottle of vodka.
“Shots?”
“Oh, no, we’re good,” Fitz said.
I was a little embarrassed to say how badly I wanted a shot and would have said yes.
“Your choice, pussy,” Marcel said with a laugh. “Pretty lady, if you change your mind, we’re going to do body shots out there. I’m not going to partake, my girlfriend’s not here, but you’re welcome to get Fitz involved!”
He laughed again before shutting the door.
“I just can’t believe someone here has the self-control to be faithful.”
“Oh, come on, Amelia—”
“No, Fitz, don’t tell me to come on,” I said, biting my lip. “I was attracted to you because you were so calm in a company full of volcanoes. You were healthy in a company full of donut-shaped men. And you were intelligent in ways that bankers could never be. But you come here, and that goes out the window. You’re surrounded by asshole boys that want to pretend that they’re twenty all over again their frats.”
“Amelia!”
“Sorry, Fitz,” I said, rising from my seat. “But we’re not going to work out. I hope you’re happy with your decision. But it’s not a decision that I can be a part of.”
Fitz stammered, but I didn’t give him the chance to say anything more. I felt like an idiot for believing any part of me would feel comfortable here. I stormed past a couple of girls who had pushed their tops beneath their breasts, stepped outside, and started to hail an Uber.
“The nerd didn’t do it for you, huh?”
I turned to see the man who had referred to himself as Uncle smoking a cigarette outside.
“You know, you don’t have to call me Uncle,” he said as he took a few steps closer. “You can call me Daddy anytime—”
“Stay the fuck away from me!” I said, slapping him and knocking the cigarette out of his mouth. “You all are just a bunch of degenerate assholes!”
Uncle chuckled at me as he rubbed his cheek. Thinking better of staying there, I stormed off, ignoring Uncle’s catcalls for me to come and join him and his other ladies at the after-party.
These are the people Fitz wants to asso
ciate with, huh? These are the assholes?
Fine. Let him. I’ll just say this week was the release of stress from being out of character and move on with it. I’ll forget the name Thomas Fitzgerald and start with dating all over again.
Now that was a depressing thought.
And so was the realization that Fitz was still the same person for now. He was still the same guy that I had fallen for at Rothenberg Banking.
But there was no way, in that environment, that even the best of us could remain normal.
Chapter 15: Fitz
That just happened.
I sat with my head slumped and my body starting to collapse in the chair. I had been so fucking stupid. What part of me could ever make sense of what I’d done?
Just because I thought it was a good idea to quit Rothenberg and join the Saints full-time didn’t mean that anyone else would. In fact, Amelia had explicitly stated she thought I was crazy. That should have been warning enough for me to keep her the hell away from the party.
If I had been smart, if I had not tried to push my luck, I could have just had a relationship with her where we kept our work lives separate. She could continue to work at Rothenberg Banking, I could work for the Savage Saints, and we’d leave it at that. I wouldn’t ask her for money—ever—just to prove the point, and we’d continue to go out as a couple with great chemistry.
But no.
I was a fucking idiot.
The door swung open. Uncle stood there, a beer in his hand and a massive red mark on his cheek.
“Jesus, the hell happened to you?” he said as he shut the door behind him. “And what the hell was with that chick? Amanda?”
“Amelia,” I corrected. “And it’s not important.”
“Oh, Christ, she gave me a fake name,” Uncle said with a chuckle. “She must have really hated this place.”
“No offense, Uncle, but only the insecure whores like your approach,” I snapped.