by Celia Loren
“No reason,” I say quickly. We walk again in silence. I’m relieved when he asks me about my dad, and what it was like to grow up as the daughter of a club president.
To my surprise, the knot in my throat doesn’t reappear, and I happily chatter on about my dad. How he married my mom when he was older, how I thought of his brothers in the club as my uncles, how impossible it was for me to meet boys when I was in high school. Before I know it, we’ve made two more loops around the property. As we approach the spot where we started, I realize I’ve lost track of time and should probably get started on breakfast.
“I should go in,” I say, turning to him. He nods, and we walk up the hill toward the back door. He walks ahead of me to open the door and I pause in front of him. “So, friends?” I ask, jokingly holding out my hand.
Instead of shaking my hand, he grabs it and pulls me to him. He wraps his arm around my waist, and I look up into his eyes. They’re blazing down at me, and I flinch, thinking he’s angry. Shit.
“I don’t know what kind of man trades his wife to another club as collateral,” he growls, “I’d die before I let that happen to you.”
He pauses, and I bite my lip. My body is on fire with want of him. He holds my gaze, and I feel him brush his fingers softly along my spine.
“But, yeah, friends,” he says, releasing me with an unreadable smile.
My head is swimming as I walk mechanically back into the kitchen, fighting to get my heartbeat back under control. I hope I’m not blushing too much, but I can feel heat rising in my cheeks, betraying my emotions. I start getting eggs and milk out of the fridge and set them on the counter. Drifter crosses to the sink and refills the bowl of water I set out last night for Kalb, then gets the chicken out of the fridge and pulls scraps off for his dog.
“So, what’s for breakfast?” he asks lightly. I breathe out, relieved that we’re going back to acting normal.
“I was thinking pancakes and bacon,” I say, grabbing the batter mix from the cabinet. I get a large bowl out, and start cracking eggs into it. “Shit,” I swear under my breath, as the pieces of the shell from the first egg fall into the bowl with the yolk. I fish them out with a fork and crack another one, and the shell falls in again. “Shit!” I say, a little more vehemently.
I feel him appear at my elbow, and he reaches over me to grab one of the eggs out of the carton. He expertly cracks it against the counter and drops the yolk into the bowl.
“One-handed, no less,” I say, marveling at his smooth technique.
“What can I say?” he grins, smiling at my look of surprise. He takes another egg out and performs the routine again. “I was a foster kid. Had to fend for myself.”
“That’s why you’re named Drifter?” I ask. He nods, and I feel a twinge of sympathy for his younger self. “So, what else can you do?”
“Oh, quite a bit,” he answers with a sly smile. “As far as cooking goes, though, not too much. Just the basics so that I knew I’d eat.”
He finishes cracking the eggs, and I take over, mixing the rest of the ingredients in. I preheat the oven and start laying strips of bacon out in a roasting pan. Drifter sets the bowl of chicken scraps on the floor and leans against the counter, watching me. I put the bacon in the oven and heat up the enormous griddle.
“Except for the eggs, you look like you know your way around a kitchen well enough,” he comments.
“My mom died when I was young, and my dad barely knew how to use a microwave. He used to have a lot of his brothers over to the house. Not as many as here, of course. So I learned a thing or two about cooking by doing it for them.”
The door swings open and Crow bursts in. He grabs Drifter and pounds him on the back.
“You’re home! Fuck man!” he says. Drifter grins and punches his arm. “You getting acquainted with Violet here?” Crow asks, grinning lasciviously. “Tina really took a liking to you,” he reports to me.
“Hey, how is Tina, and the kids? How old are they now?” Drifter asks. They start talking, and Crow pulls him into the lounge.
I turn on the griddle and start adding the rest of the ingredients to the pancake batter. A flash of green flits through my periphery. I look up from my wooden spoon to see a petite brunette standing in the doorway wearing an emerald tank top and daisy dukes. She smiles shyly. Her saucer-like eyes make her look even younger than she probably is. By my guess, she couldn’t be more than 18 or 19.
“Hey,” she says, “I’m Stephanie.”
I recognize her as one of the sweet butts I saw chatting on the couch with Cherish the night before. I’m surprised to see her here in the kitchen.
“I’m Violet,” I say, unsure of how to proceed. She stuffs her hands in her back pockets and shifts her weight awkwardly. She reminds me of myself in high school—shy, uncertain, but eager to find her place in the world.
“I was wondering...if you need any help in here?” she asks, finally making eye contact with me.
“Yeah, that would be great!” I respond enthusiastically.
“I don’t know how to do that much, but maybe I could help with simple stuff,” she shrugs.
“Well, do you want to set the table? That would be a big help,” I say. She nods happily and I point out the plates and utensils to her. I study her out of the corner of my eye as she walks in and out of the kitchen.
She seems nervous around me. I wonder what invisible barrier she’s crossing by talking to me. Cherish seems to be the de facto leader of the girls here, so she’s breaking allegiance by helping me. I wonder if she somewhat thinks of me as an old lady, even if I’ve been tasked with cleaning her underwear. In a place that usually has such a rigid hierarchy, I’m probably throwing the girls for a loop.
She finishes setting the table and comes back into the kitchen. She stands at my elbow as I toss a little water onto the griddle.
“Why are you doing that?” she asks.
“To test the temperature. The water should evaporate immediately, that’s how you know it’s ready.” I pause, not wanting her to feel like I’m talking down to her or lecturing, but she seems curious, so I keep going. “And if you’re cooking meat, you want it to be hot so that you get a nice char and it doesn’t lose any of its moisture.” She nods at me and smiles.
I grab the bowl of batter and spoon six pancakes onto the huge griddle.
“I’ve never cooked on such big appliances,” I say, trying to encourage her to talk a little.
“Me neither,” she answers. “Well, I actually haven’t really cooked at all before.” I nod at her, wanting her to continue. “But I know that a lot of the brothers want a woman who knows how to cook, keep house...I want to learn that stuff. I don’t want to be a sweet butt forever.”
I smile at her, wondering if she’s subtly referencing Cherish. “Well, I’d be happy to teach you what I know. I mean, I’m not saying I’m great at everything, but what I do know, I’ll share.”
She smiles at me happily, dropping her guard completely. She watches me flip the pancakes and place them on a platter. I hand the bowl to her and she takes over while I watch. Soon she’s flipping them fine by herself, and I take out the bacon. I warm up some maple syrup, and we’re ready to serve everything.
As we bring everything into the kitchen together, I see Cherish enter the lounge from the stairwell. She stops as she sees Stephanie following me with a serving platter, a look of betrayal splayed her face. As I lay the pancakes on the table, I see Stephanie tuck her head down and continue after me.
We eat our breakfast in the kitchen together, and Stephanie tells me about growing up in a trailer park, and then having to fend for herself when her mom’s series of boyfriends would come over. She seems sweet and genuine, and has a fascination with Japanese anime. I mentally scroll over the brothers I’ve met that she might make a good old lady for. Maybe her and Twitch...
Tag comes in the kitchen as we’re cleaning up. He fills us in on the timeline for the rest of the day. Barbecue in the late afternoon, t
hen the party will really get going. He’s leading some brothers to the grocery and liquor stores to get some supplies, so I compile a list of other food and cleaning supplies I need for the next few days.
Before he heads out, I ask him for a permanent marker. He retrieves one from the back office.
“What’s that for?” Stephanie asks as she loads up the dishwasher. Everything is going a lot quicker with her help, and it’s nice to have the company.
“I’m going to mark the tags of all the clothes when I do laundry so I know what belongs to whom. Maybe we should clean up the upstairs bathrooms, too, today. Nothing big since we’re going to have a party and it’ll get gross again anyway. Oh. I said we, didn’t I? You know don’t have to help with that stuff.”
“No, I want to,” she says earnestly.
“OK, great,” I reply with a shrug and a smile.
We head upstairs together. As I get the dirty clothes out of the rooms, Stephanie marks them with the person’s initials since she knows who lives where. Everyone’s downstairs so I’m able to go into more rooms than yesterday. After we throw the laundry in the wash, I figure that everyone’s probably done eating, so we head back to the lounge and clear all the plates.
“So, what are you wearing tonight?” she asks, as I wipe down the table.
“Oh, I wasn’t really planning on going. I mean, I’ll be here, but I’ll just hide in my room. Or, if they make me go to serve drinks or something, I’ll just wear this.”
Stephanie does her best to be polite, but I can see a look of dismay on her face.
“What?” I ask, “I’m not on the market, and I don’t want anyone to think I am.”
“OK,” Stephanie says, “But let me know if you want to borrow anything. Cherish is already borrowing this really cute dress from Forever 21 I have, but you can borrow anything else.”
“Cherish...she’s the one that guy Drifter has his eye on, right?” I ask, keeping my eyes down and trying to sound disinterested.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, he’s been away for a while, but she said that he slept in her bed last night. It won’t be long until she’s his old lady.”
“That’s great,” I say, as we head back into the kitchen. I feel my stomach sink. I’d never had that kind of immediate reaction to a man before him. Maybe I’m just upset that that he’s interested in Cherish. I’d rather see him with someone kinder.
We head upstairs and start cleaning the bathroom. Stephanie brings her CD player along and we listen to music as we work. Tag comes in and interrupts us. He looks surprised to see Stephanie, but he gives her a nod and a smile. She shoots her goofy teenage grin back.
“We’re back with the supplies. Why don’t you help set up the bar,” he says.
We follow him downstairs and start stocking beer behind the bar. We’re engrossed in the monotonous labor when I hear the lounge door close and see Liz, Tina, and a couple other women walk in.
“Hey, Violet!” Liz calls out. She introduces me to Bethany and Danielle, the two old ladies with her and Tina.
“Nice to meet you guys,” I reply. “Do you know Stephanie?” They all nod a little coldly toward her. “She’s really been helping me out today.”
“So Violet,” Liz starts, “Flint wants you to work the bar tonight.”
“Bartend?” I squeak. “I don’t even know how to make a Manhattan.”
“Um, I know how to bartend,” Stephanie says quietly.
“Oh, yeah?” Liz says, turning to her.
“Yeah. One of my mom’s boyfriends owned a bar.”
Liz looks the girl over, sizing her up. “Alright,” she says finally. “That sounds good.” She turns back to me. “But you still have to do it, too. There are some members from other charters coming tonight, and Flint wants them to see you.”
“You’re like a prize pony!” Tina jumps in, rolling her eyes. Liz laughs.
“I know, I know. And you’ve gotta wear something other than this,” she says, pointing with distaste at my baggy jeans and t-shirt.
“I don’t have anything else!” I protest.
“I do,” Stephanie says, her lips twitching mischievously.
“Thanks, Steph,” I say, shooting her a death glare.
“Well, there you go!” Liz says.
“Come on, we’ll help you get ready,” Tina adds.
“I’m really supposed to be setting all this stuff up, Tag told me to,” I counter, gesturing to the bar. I’m grasping at straws to keep from getting gussied up.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of Tag,” Tina says, “Besides, he’ll be thanking me when he sees what we’ve done with you.”
“Uh-oh,” I say, my eyes widening.
They pull me out from the bar and corral me upstairs into Stephanie’s room. I should have known I never stood a chance against these ladies.
Chapter Seven
Stephanie pulls dresses and shirts out of her closet and holds them up to me as the old ladies vote yay or nay. They dismiss my protests about “too low, too high, too tight.” They finally all agree on a jean skirt and a turquoise halter top, and Stephanie picks out some tan wedges for me. I turn to the mirror propped up in the corner.
“It’s...OK,” I finally acquiesce as I turn from side to side. “My boobs are gonna be flopping all over the place without a bra though.”
“Well, well, well,” Hollywood says from the doorway. He has quietly opened the door a crack and is poking his head through.
“Get outta here, Hollywood!” Danielle yells, laughing. She picks up one of Cherish’s sneakers and tosses it at the door.
“Oh, that reminds me, I’ve got sneakers for you,” Tina says, patting her tote.
“Thanks!” I say.
“But first, how ‘bout a little makeup?” Liz grins.
“Alright,” I say, resigned to the full treatment. Five minutes later, Liz and Tina are behind me with Stephanie’s curling iron, and Stephanie is applying my makeup with instructions from Bethany and Danielle. I have to admit I’m enjoying myself. I don’t think I’ve been around this many women since my wedding. “Not too much curl, right?” I ask.
“No, no,” Tina reassures me, “Just a little wave at the ends.”
“This is fun,” Stephanie says, as she leans back to inspect her work on my eye makeup. “You’re like a real life Barbie.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, rolling my eyes. I see Danielle and Bethany exchange a look on the bed. “What?”
“Oh, please, you’re gorgeous,” Bethany says.
“No, I’m not,” I argue.
“Honey. You’re beautiful. Do you really not know that?” Danielle asks.
“I don’t know...” I murmur. I suddenly feel self-conscious under their gazes.
“Seriously, Violet,” Stephanie says, frowning at me. “You’re beautiful. We’re not just saying that.” A chorus of affirmations sounds from the other women.
“OK, OK, I’m super hot!” I finally say jokingly. “You happy now?”
“That’s more like it,” Liz says with a grin. She puts the curling iron down and runs her fingers through my hair, loosening the curls. Stephanie applies a little lip gloss and tells me to smack my lips together.
“All done,” she says.
“Stand up!” Tina commands, and I rise to look at myself in the mirror.
“Whoa...I am kinda hot,” I say, marveling at the transformation. My hair is falling in soft waves down my back, and my eyes look smoky and huge. “You guys are good.” I smile at all their reflections in the mirror.
“The ankle monitor isn’t the best accessory,” Danielle says, twisting her mouth.
“You don’t like it?” I respond in a snooty voice. “I got it at Dior in Paris just for this party.”
“Come on, let’s go down to the fire pit,” Bethany laughs. “I bet they’re down there by now.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Stephanie says. The old ladies smile at her and I follow them down. I’m glad to see them being nice to Stephanie. I thi
nk she will make a good old lady someday.
We cross through the lounge and I blush at the stares of the brothers, but it’s nothing compared to the hoots and hollers that greet our arrival at the outdoor fire pit. The old ladies laugh and hold their hands up in triumphant gestures, like they’ve won a race. Oh, brother. They take my hand and lead me to sit next to them on a carved log. Liz takes Tag by the shoulders as she passes him.
“Now, I know she’s working here, but you have to let us have a little fun with her, just for the afternoon. She can work tonight, right Flint?” she says, calling over to her husband, who’s hanging out with a beer by the grill.
“Give her whatever she wants or you’ll never hear the end of it!” Flint yells back. Tag grunts his response, grumpily accepting his president’s wishes.
“There, you see?” Liz says, as she sits next to me and passes me a bottle of beer. “Relax with us for a little while.”
I grin at her and take a swig of beer. There are a bunch of kids running around the back of the building, and some brothers playing corn hole. The air smells like barbecue and a feeling of contentment passes over me as I sip the cool beer. I look around the circle of logs and snap to attention when I see Drifter across the circle, staring at me. I feel like his eyes are burning through me, and I self-consciously tuck my hair behind my ear. I will myself to join Tina and Bethany’s conversation, though I can still feel his gaze on me.
Twitch lingers on the edge of the circle, and I call him over.
“Hey, um...” I begin, trying to think of a reason to get him to sit next to Stephanie and me. “Does this thing come in any other colors? Flesh-toned or something?” I finally ask, indicating my ankle monitor.
“Maybe we could bedazzle it,” Stephanie says with a little smile. Twitch grins at her, his eye tic going full speed. I think they’re both a little too shy to get things really going on their own. Twitch pauses, then nervously perches on the log next to Stephanie. There’s an awkward silence where we all look around at the people passing in front of us. Twitch clears his throat.
“Stephanie, what was that anime movie you said I should see? Spirited...” I ask.