Epiphany

by Ashley Suzanne

  “Nah. Thanks, though. I’m hungry. Gonna grab something from the Coney and head home.

  Tell him I came by so he knows I tried to feed him,” I joke. Turning to a more serious

  note, I ask, “What’s wrong with Kimmy? She seems off. Not like her.”

  “Just a rough few days,” he responds, brushing off my question, taking a long pull

  from the beer Lance brought over. The poor guy didn’t even get a chance for it to

  hit the bar top before Prowler’s guzzled damn near the entire bottle.

  “She said something about Maddie. Do you know who Maddie is?” I ask, no time for

  small talk, hoping he’s a loose lip drinker. Kimmy’s words ring loudly in my ears,

  begging for the answer that Prowler interrupted. Prowler turns back to face me, a hint of possessiveness hidden deep within his almost black eyes.

  “You ask a lot of questions,” he says, seemingly unhappy with my probing. It’s confirmed.

  Prowler is not a secret spiller. He’s locked up tighter than a vault and I’m pretty

  sure I’ve worn out my welcome.

  “Sorry. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair. Have Axe call me when he gets back.”

  Fumbling with my purse, I stand and head straight for the door as quickly as my legs

  will carry me without looking like a fool.

  Who am I kidding? I look completely ridiculous and I can’t get out of here quick enough.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Skylar

  One thing’s for sure—pulling through the clubhouse gates, Mira’s car is the last thing I expect to see. Throwing my truck in park, I grab

  my phone from the cup holder and check for missed calls, texts or anything to give

  me some indication why she’s here when I’m not.

  Nothing.

  There’s no standing rule that she can’t be here without me, but I don’t need any of

  these guys sniffing around my girl. Brother or not, if someone’s touched Mira, I’ll

  just flip my shit.

  I’m barely through the first set of doors when my favorite brunette runs straight into me like a bat outta hell.

  “Funny seeing you here,” I joke, backing up to assess her mood. Not happy, not one bit.

  Over her head, Prowler’s shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. This

  isn’t gonna be good. If she’s done something to piss him off, it’s going to be me

  that has to clean up the mess and make it right. Not exactly what I need right now. Especially

  with everything else going on here and at home.

  “I came to see if you wanted to get some food,” Mira mutters, not making eye contact.

  Caught. I told you. Terrible liar. She’s here checking up on me.

  “Well, let’s go eat, then,” I turn to head back outside, but she doesn’t budge. Not even a single inch. Feet planted firmly in place and eyes looking in every direction but at me, I soften my voice and try to figure out the problem—exactly what happened here tonight.

  “What’s wrong?” I place my finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me. Did something happen with her mom today? Is she not happy about us being engaged? At this point, the possibilities are endless until Mira starts talking.

  “I’m not really hungry anymore. I’d rather just go home.”

  “What happened?” I pull her closer, glancing over her head in Prowler’s direction, searching for any reason why she’s acting like this. He’s giving me nothing, not even acknowledging me glaring at him. Did someone touch her? Is she hurt? I pull her back again, still in my arms, looking her up and down, searching for bruises, marks, anything… but there’s nothing. Whatever’s bothering her is bottled up on the inside.

  “Nothing. I just wanna go home,” she whines.

  “Bullshit,” I respond. Her head snaps to attention, face flushed with embarrassment and eyes flashing anger, she glares at me like I just found out she couldn’t lie to save her life. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Not here,” she whispers, trying to wiggle out of my hold. Seeing my golden opportunity, I grab her hand and pull her into the parking lot. This isn’t the ideal place to have any kind of conversation, but it’ll have to do.

  “Okay. Go,” I urge, wanting her to tell me so I can fix whatever it is.

  “Where were you? I went to the shop, so don’t try to say you were there. Not here,

  either, until just now, obviously. So, where were you?”

  Remember that old phrase, “Cat got your tongue?” Well, I get it now. I’m incapable of thinking, let alone verbalizing where I’ve been. I had been thinking as long as nobody hurt her, I would be able to handle whatever upset her. This isn’t going to go over well.

  “Are you checking up on me?” Maybe if I turn it around on her, it might buy me some time. I hate the idea of lying to her, but this is something that’s beyond what she can comprehend right now.

  “And if I say yes?” she responds, hip cocked out with a hand firmly attached. Shit! I should have seen this from a mile away. I really thought I had time before she’d figure something was off.

  “If you say yes, I’d like to know why.” Maybe it’ll be something I can easily explain away?

  “You never answered me. Where were you?” she asks again, not letting it go, “And

  while you’re trying to manipulate an answer to that question, you should start thinking

  of who the hell Maddie is, because she’s next on my list.” Nope. Fuck.

  Maddie? How the fuck does she know about Maddie? Prowler? No, he wouldn’t have told her. So how?

  “I was handling some business today. Maddie is nothing to worry about. You’re just gonna have to trust me on this one,” I answer honestly, bracing myself for her reaction.

  “I shouldn’t have to trust shit. You should tell me these things so we can work through them together. That’s what this is,” she screams, motioning her hand between us, shoving her left hand in my face, reminding me that she’s wearing my ring. Like I’d ever for one second forget.

  “Listen,” I look at her sternly, not wanting to upset her further, but she’s going on and on about nothing important. I was already guilty in her mind before she even opened her mouth. I hate keeping her at arms’ length, but some things are better that way. “It’s club business. I can’t be the guy to go home and tell his girl everything. You’re gonna have to get used to it. Sometimes it’s gonna be club business, and you’re gonna have to trust me!” I yell back, pounding my fist on my chest. “If you love me the way you say you do, you have to have faith in me.”

  She rolls her eyes, which infuriates me further, cocking her other hip and matches

  my expression. “And Maddie?”

  “Mi, club business.”

  “I didn’t sign up for this shit,” she cries, pulling the hair tie from her pony tail only to smooth her locks back and re-tie it in a new bun.

  “You kind of did when you accepted my ring and my patch.” I try to close the distance and put my arms around her waist, but I’m quickly denied when she backs up, body flush against her car. “Mira, don’t. Just don’t.”

  “Are you sleeping with her? Maddie?” she whispers, head tucked into her chest.

  “You know me better than that.” My frustration level’s through the roof. I need her to just … understand and stop this nagging shit. She’s never been a nagger, I don’t get where all of this is coming from. There’s never been one single time I’ve given her a reason to doubt me. Trust should be automatic at this point.

  “But you didn’t deny it. I’m going home. We can finish this later.” She opens the driver door, climbs into her seat and cranks over the engine.

  “It’s gonna be a late night.” I search her eyes that peer up at me for any kind of

  compassion or understanding, but am met with only cold indifference.

  “It’s not like I expect you to actually come home at a de
cent hour, Skylar.” She slams the door shut and pulls out of the lot.

  I’m left standing in a cloud of her dust, staring at her brake lights disappearing on the other side of the gate. The pain between my eyes is almost unbearable. I get why Prowler was pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s the only thing that seems to soothe the headache that’s starting to form.

  After a ten minute internal debate … weighing my options—go chasing after Mira or

  handle my business—I walk back into the clubhouse. Prowler’s coming down the stairs,

  heading for the bar where I’m sitting, looking frustrated as well. Taking the seat

  next to me, he orders a shot of Jameson.

  “How’s she doing?” he asks with genuine concern.

  “She’ll be fine. Just a little pissed right now.” I hope, anyway.

  “Mira’s not who I was talking about, but it’s good to know.” His brazen comment annoys me and I almost punch him square in the jaw. Counting to ten in my head, I wait until I can talk without a raised, disrespectful voice.

  “How did she find out about Maddie?” I inquire, already knowing he’s not the culprit, but hopefully he knows who the loud mouth belongs to.

  “When she first got here, she was at the bar with Kimmy. Don’t know how much they talked. I went upstairs to ask her but she’s already passed out cold. This is all hitting her like a cement truck.”

  “Shit. Okay. I just got questioned like a fucking criminal out there.”

  “Why don’t you just tell her then? Seems like you’re creating unnecessary problems for yourself and your relationship.” Oh, now you care about my relationship? He’s got this surrogate dad thing down—makes a lot

  of sense sometimes, others, he’s a walking contradiction.

  “If anything in the situation goes south, and I have to do something foul, I don’t want any of this touching Mira. Not for one second do I want her involved.”

  “I get it. I do. But you have to give her some reason to believe in you. Nobody said this life would be easy, but it’s the one we’ve got—we’ve chosen this. You have to show her that she can still trust you even when what you’re doing is less than honorable and without knowing every detail.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Let’s just finish up so I can get home and smooth things out with Mira.”

  “How is the other one?”

  “She’s good. She was settled when I left. Maybe happy even. I’ll go back tomorrow and check in on her again. She seems to like having someone

  around. She didn’t open up much, but I got a feeling that it won’t take long to crack

  her shell.”

  Another hour or so and I’m finally on my way home. After the few drinks I’ve had,

  I really shouldn’t be driving anywhere. Knowing Mira, if I’m not home, she’ll have my ass. I send her a quick text, letting her know I’m on my way, yet it goes unanswered.

  Pulling straight into my parking spot, I glance around and don’t see Mira’s car.

  “It’s been hours. Where the fuck is she?” I mutter aloud to myself.

  Pulling my phone from the breast pocket on my vest, I hit dial on her number. Straight to voicemail. In all the time I’ve known Mira, her phone’s never been off.

  I probably bit off more than I can chew keeping this from her. I just don’t know

  what else I’m supposed to do.

  Heading upstairs, I figure I’ll wait around for a while before I start calling around

  for her. There are only a few places she would go—probably her mom’s or Kylee’s—so

  I’m not too concerned.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mira

  I couldn’t bring myself to go home and just wait. I’ve never questioned him before

  and the one time I do, he dances around the issue instead of simply answering. Who

  does that? A man backed into a corner searching for an easy out … that’s who. Or a lying ass politician not wanting to upset the masses. Either way, he’s a fucking asshole.

  I know as soon as he gets home and realizes I’m not there, the phone calls and text messages will start. So, after I reach my destination, I immediately power down my phone and leave it in the car. I usually wouldn’t do this, but if he calls and I see it, I already know I’ll be too confrontational and say things I don’t mean. This is for the best.

  Taking the few steps to the front door, I breathe in quickly, blow out softly and try to ease my nerves. This will either help me figure out my next step or blow up in my face.

  Knock knock. The sound of the brass door knocker hitting the metal plates scares the crap out

  of me. I should have hit the bell, it would have been a nicer welcome—not so Adams Family.

  “Coming,” Danny calls from the other side, probably rushing to see who the hell’s

  at his house so late. Oh God, what if he’s with Melissa. My gag reflex is fully tested and working to the best of its ability. The mental images are enough. Please, don’t let them be in the middle of something. I do not want an invitation to that party.

  “Oh … Um … Hey?” He opens the heavy wooden door, hair wet and smelling crisp and fresh like early

  morning dew.

  “I hope it’s okay that I just came by.” I quickly remember Danny and I aren’t as close as we

  used to be. I’m sure there’s some kind of etiquette regarding stopping by an ex’s

  this late in the evening.

  “Yeah. Sure. Come in,” he says, ushering me into the foyer. “Is everything okay? Is

  Sky here, too?” Danny sticks his head out of the door, perusing the driveway, probably

  expecting Skylar to make his way up the walk.

  Here comes the hard part. This is the scene that unfolded itself the entire drive here. I hope he doesn’t laugh in my face. I really just need someone to talk to.

  “It’s just me. Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here? I don’t wanna piss off Melissa.” Second thoughts rack my brain, every logical bone in my body yelling for me to walk out of this house and pretend I never came in the first place.

  “Mel’s at work. They put her on nights a few weeks ago. You’re fine,” Danny replies, walking ahead of me into the living room. Would she be pissed if she knew I was here? Is he not going to tell her? Am I over stepping? This is too much thinking and not enough drinking.

  Bypassing the sofa, I head straight for the liquor cabinet. Vodka … no, not in the mood. Scotch—really expensive scotch … nope, too fancy for my blood. An unopened bottle of 1800 … hello, old friend. Yes the hell please!

  Opening the cap, I don’t waste time with formalities like glasses. Instead, I take an extra large, rather painful pull straight from the bottle—the Mexican fire burning the entire way down, settling harshly in the pit of my empty stomach.

  Twisting my face in discomfort, half sighing, half gagging, I sit in the overused, dingy recliner he’s had since Freshman year. Getting situated, very un-ladylike with an open bottle of Jose between my

  thighs, I wait for him to initiate conversation. I’m actually enjoying just being

  in his company. I really don’t even have to talk. But then again, this is how our

  relationship always was. No need to discuss every detail of life, we just … were.

  “So, what’s new?” I ask, wanting to know how his life’s been going and stay away from the hell I’ve been living in. I tried, I really did, to just sit still and wait for it. Silence and I are not the best of friends.

  “Not too much. Maybe we should talk about why you’re here at eleven at night, drinking

  tequila like it’s water and trying to deflect?”

  And this round of Pin the Tail on the Mira goes to Danny Fucking Thomas. A round of applause is in order—even if it’s just in my head.

  “Oh, you know, the typical shit. My mom’s dating a guy named Chip. Yeah, I said

  Chip. Kylee and Jacoby are doing good, I guess. I’m engaged, but you don’t care.
Oh, and the kicker, my fiancé can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

  An audible gasp fills the air. I’m just not sure if it’s from a shocked Danny or me in disbelief that I actually said that last part out loud.

  Since my mouth’s the only one hanging open, ready to catch flies, I’ll go with me. Welcome to the effects of tequila on an empty stomach, kids. Inhibitions go straight out the window, along with any kind of decency. Another long guzzle and I cap the bottle, passing it over to Danny. Hopefully he’ll hide the booze and save me from the shit show where I’ve cast myself as the lead.

  “Well, good for your mom and Kylee. But who has a name like Chip?”

  “Thank you,” I say, louder than intended, waiving my arm in front of me.

  “And I do care about your engagement.” I sarcastically huff and roll my eyes. If he cares, he sure has an amazing way of showing it.

  “But what’s this about Skylar and his dick? He’s cheating?” I nod my head and purse my lips, wishing I still had the tequila.

  “How do you know he’s cheating? Did you catch him? Fill me in here. I’m missing some key details.” He better not even think about sticking up for him right now. I came here because I needed someone on my side. I’m not looking for some kind of Dr. Phil rationalization. I’m fucking pissed.

  There’s really only one thing to tell. “Maddie. That’s her name. Kim dropped it earlier tonight. Prowler wouldn’t tell me who

  she was. When I asked Skylar, he told me it was club business and is acting all secretive

  and shit. So, yeah. They all suck at life.”

  “Wait. Maddie. Like Maddie Fletcher?”

  “I don’t know. If I had the whore’s last name, I would have social media stalked her already. Who’s Maddie Fletcher?” My curiosity’s piqued. Could it be the same slut bag?

  “Madyson Fletcher, Maddie, is Prowler’s niece. Sky and I grew up with her. Last

  I heard, though, she was married to some guy from high school or something. Couldn’t be the same girl.” His dark blue eyes looking up and to the left, deep in thought, trying to help me

  put the pieces together, but all he’s doing is giving me useless information.

  Why would Skylar be screwing around with Prowler’s niece and Skylar not have his ass kicked? What if Prowler agrees and is helping them be together? I really hate this bullshit bond of brotherhood.