by April Lust
“All right, good talk, guys,” came Xander’s voice from the other side of the club’s front door. “Thanks for making time for us, man.”
Olivia handed the cigarette back to Hannah and quickly stood up, somewhat fearful Xander was going to forget about her and leave her behind. “Thank you, Hannah,” she whispered. “For everything.”
Hannah smiled at her and waved goodbye before returning to the group of girls.
“Productive meeting?” Olivia asked as she approached Xander.
“Yeah, well, good enough,” Xander grunted. “Get on.”
She was a little miffed at the tone of voice he took with her, but she did as instructed, sliding onto the back of his bike again and holding on as he rocketed down the road.
About two minutes later, Olivia had an idea. It was probably too soon in the day to be trying this, especially when she hoped to glean so much more information out of the people in his life, but she almost couldn’t stop herself. It was like an involuntary impulse, a muscle reaction that had to be obeyed. She leaned forward to yell in Xander’s ear over the roar of the engine. “I can see why Hannah was friends with her.”
“What?” Xander said, probably unable to hear her over the sound of the wind rushing past both of their ears.
“I said,” Olivia replied, “I can understand why she was good friends with Hannah. You know.” She was afraid to say Marta’s name, like it was somehow a sacrilegious act, speaking the name of the dead. But goddammit, she was a therapist, and a good one, to boot. She knew when to prod and when to hold back, and Xander needed to be prodded. “Marta.”
She felt Xander’s muscles tense up underneath her hands, and she almost spiraled into apologies, backtracking over everything related to Marta. But after a second he relaxed into her grip, though he said nothing. Olivia second-guessed herself still, wondering if she had stepped over some boundary.
They rolled to a stop again, over to another random, anonymous bar a few miles away from the first. Xander jumped off the bike without saying a word and Olivia followed, a spot of fear spreading rapidly across her chest.
This time, Xander didn’t bark at her to stay outside. There was no pack of working girls waiting to entertain her, so she just followed him in a few paces behind. She wasn’t sure if he noticed, but she decided to keep going until he told her to stop.
Olivia stepped inside after Xander, walking into the huge cloud of smoke that filled the bar. Even now, at a little after noon, the bar was packed, bodies crowded into the tiny stools that lined the walls.
Somebody whistled on the opposite side of the bar, causing Olivia to tear her gaze away from Xander to find the source. There was an older guy, pudgy and short, with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He stared right at her, a glint of desire in his eyes. When she didn’t look away immediately, he pulled his cigarette out of his mouth to speak. “Hey, there, fancy lady. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“Um, uh,” Olivia stuttered. Come on, she dealt with convicts all the time. It wasn’t okay for her to get tripped up and embarrassed by a random biker. “I’m with him,” she finally said, pointing to Xander’s back while he talked with another man.
“Mm, doesn’t look like he’s paying you enough attention, darlin’,” the guy shot back, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and sucking hard.
She should have just let it go, ignored him, and kept walking. But for some reason this guy really rankled her. Was this how all the bikers talked to women, like walking pieces of meat available for public consumption? That was simply unacceptable. “You know, you might want to try a more respectful tone when you’re addressing people, especially women you’ve just met,” she said, trying to keep a snarl off her face. “You might get a lot further with ladies if you actually treated them like, you know, people.”
The guy’s smirk fell off his face. “Oy, Xander!” he yelled, making Xander turn around, an annoyed expression on his face at being interrupted. “Your little slut is getting real mouthy.”
Olivia’s entire body flushed, and she opened her mouth, poised to attack verbally. How would you know anything about sluts? It’s not like you’ve ever touched a woman who was actually into it, she prepared to say, but before she could get the first word out, she was shoved out of the way, just enough to put a few extra feet in between her and the rude asshole across the bar.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Xander spat, getting in the guy’s face.
The biker immediately paled and put his cigarette out. “Hey, listen, man, we were just having a good time. Messing around, you know.”
Xander grabbed the guy by his jacket collar, holding him up against the wall of the bar. “I fucking heard you, Mike. You don’t talk like that to her, ever. Or I will have your tiny little shriveled balls in a jar, just for me to laugh at. You fucking got me?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. It’s whatever,” Mike said in a rush, his face turning beet red.
“Say it,” Xander said between clenched teeth. “Say you fucking heard me.”
“I fucking heard you!” Mike yelled. Even from across the bar, Olivia could see him trembling. She almost felt sorry for the guy.
Olivia walked over and gently placed a hand on Xander’s elbow, applying soft, soothing touches. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” she said in a soft tone of voice. “I think he got the message.”
Xander shoved Mike hard against the wall one more time before letting go. “You better fucking remember for next time,” he grunted before turning and walking away. After a second he turned to yell over his shoulder, “Yo! We’re heading upstairs, Brennan. Come on if you’re coming.”
“Okay!” Olivia said, but she couldn’t help but stare at the gross biker a little more, smirking at him. She savored the victory over him for a second before turning to walk away, a new spring in her step. This is what power feels like.
There was a little inset on the opposite wall, in the far corner of the bar behind the bartender. Xander scaled the steps two at a time, and Olivia followed as quickly as possible. She needed to talk to him, to see if her mention of Marta angered him.
When they leapt up the top of the steps, the room they entered was completely empty. Olivia was surprised. She had expected a gaggle of bikers, all heavily tattooed and loudly shouting. “Are we the first to arrive?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“Yeah,” Xander answered. “Well, in a few minutes another club is coming for a trade. But that’s downstairs. I knew this room would be empty. I’m always early, everywhere I go.”
“And you like to sit up here alone?” she asked, her voice still soft.
Xander didn’t say anything, but walked over the fridge in the far corner of the room. “You want a drink?”
“No, I’m okay,” Olivia said automatically, without thinking.
“Oh, come on,” Xander responded. “Dan’t be boring.”
Olivia hesitated, biting down on her lip in anxiety, and her inner voice argued with her. You want to get info out of him, don’t you? “Okay,” Olivia finally said. “Sure. I’ll take one.” She could drink, she could smoke, she could fuck her clients. All of it was in the name of helping someone. That was good enough for her.
Xander walked back over with two drinks in hand, giving one over to her. “Drink up.”
She did as instructed, taking a deep sip of the whiskey he poured her. It was sour and strong, burning her throat as it went down. But she still drank more of it, wanting the pain that came with the tingling in her stomach.
“You asked me,” Xander began, “about Marta.”
“About Hannah,” Olivia corrected.
“About the two of them,” he said, staring down at her.
Olivia took another drink. “Sure. Yeah, that’s accurate,” she admitted. “I just mentioned I could see why they would be friends. Hannah is a good person. I can tell.”
“Yeah?” Xander said. “You got some fucking sixth sense? You can tell who’s good and who’s not?”
It was meant as a challenge, but Olivia met it head-on. “Yeah. Yeah, something like that. I can tell who’s got good intentions, at least.”
Xander squatted down on the hardwood floor of the attic, and Olivia followed, staying an inch away from him but still sensing the pulsing of his body at that distance. “And what about me?” he asked in a lowered voice. “What does your superpower say about me?”
Olivia paused for a moment, focused on her drink and the way it felt in her stomach, heavy and full and thick. Fear gripped her throat, as hard as a hand might’ve, strangling her for air. “You’re someone who wants to be good, but doesn’t know how,” she finally said, her voice low and steady.
“And, what, you’re going to show me?” Xander asked, his tone sharp and hard as a knife.
“Maybe,” Olivia said immediately, refusing to show the fear that kept rising in her stomach. “Maybe, if you’ll let me.”
Just then, footsteps started on the stairs, and one of the boys in the club, Ezra maybe (Olivia was still learning their names and voices), shouted up, “Yo! Bellows! You up there?”
“Yep!” Xander yelled down, quickly sucking down the last few dregs of his whiskey. Olivia watched his throat work, moving up and down quickly and efficiently. He was like this perfect machine. She just wished she could crack him open and figure out how he worked.
Xander started toward the stairs again, and Olivia instinctively got up and followed him, keeping her footsteps light. She was afraid he would hear her and tell her to fuck off and stay upstairs. If he heard her, he didn’t say anything about it.
There was a mob of bikers at the foot of the stairs, all waiting for Xander. Olivia kept to the shadows, slinking along the wall until she found a safe corner to hide in. She assumed women weren’t allowed in meetings like this, but she wasn’t sure.
“You got the stuff, Xander boy?” one of the men in the center of the mob called out, a stout man with lots of facial hair.
“Of course,” Xander said, but his voice was hard and mean-sounding. She wondered if this was the way he always did business, or if he was mad about what she said about Marta and Hannah.
“Then show me the goods,” the stout man said.
Xander sighed loudly and gestured out the front door, where his boys were standing. Olivia wasn’t sure which guy was which yet, but one of the boys stepped forward into the bar and opened his jacket, revealing a square packet inside his front pocket, encased in thick cardboard.
“We got a lot more of it back at the club. I’ll send some of the boys back to get it and bring it here, free of charge, but only if you show me the money first,” Xander said.
The stout man clicked his teeth in annoyance but nodded to one of his men, who stepped forward and opened his jacket to show a thick pile of cash. “That good enough for you?” the stout man asked.
Xander gave a short nod and gestured to his boys again, who filed quickly out of the bar and back onto their bikes.
The stout man stepped forward and clapped a hand on Xander’s shoulder. Olivia could see Xander’s muscles tense up, and she half-expected him to shrug the guy’s hand off and tell him to fuck off, but instead Xander just allowed it. “Let’s have a drink, huh? Celebrate all the money we’re both making today,” the guy said.
Fuck. The crowd started moving around Olivia, heading over to the bar where a cute twenty-something guy was rapidly pouring out shots for everybody in the room. What do I do? Do I just go back upstairs? What if they didn’t realize I was here the whole time?
But then the stout man yelled out, “What does your girl drink, Xander?” Olivia felt her body stiffen up in anxiety then relax a second later. They knew. It was okay. A biker gang wasn’t about to beat her up. Inwardly, she scolded herself for her fear. How the hell was she going to help Xander if she were terrified of his life? And for that matter, why was she judging these men like they were only criminals, completely consumed by violence and nothing else? She should have known better: nobody was painted in just black and white. Everyone was made up of grays.
Olivia gave a half-smile that she prayed was charming to the group as she approached the bar, slipping into the space that the bikers made for her next to Xander. “I’ll take some gin if you got it,” she said to the bartender.
“You drink like a rich bitch,” Xander said to her before downing his shot. “Another,” he instructed the bartender.
She nodded in thanks as the guy handed her some gin a second later. “Well, I’m definitely not rich, but I might be the other thing.”
Xander shifted on his stool, left to right then back again. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing,” he finally said, his voice lowered so she could barely hear him over the hooting and hollering of the bikers.
“You know, I’m offended,” Olivia admitted, grinning as she saw Xander’s face fall in worry. Then she continued, “—that you think I care about that. I’m not some prissy thing, you know.”
Xander smiled then, briefly. “You fucking dress like one, I’ll tell you that much.”
Olivia smoothed her hands self-consciously over her dress. “I have to maintain a professional image,” she said as she swallowed half of her gin in one go.
“Doesn’t it ever get boring, though?” Xander said. “Doing the same thing day after day after day. Dan’t you get fucking sick of it?”
“No,” Olivia said without thinking. “I mean, I love my job. It’s—” It’s the only thing I have in my life, she thought to herself. “It’s great,” she finally said after a too-long pause.
“You can’t tell me it doesn’t get boring,” Xander argued back. “Sittin’ in a cramped little office, hearing people boo-hoo about their pathetic little lives. You don’t get tired of it?”
Olivia bit her lip in thought before sipping her gin slowly, buying herself time. On one hand, yeah, he was right. It got repetitive as hell, listening to the same issues over and over again. But it was rewarding, helping people find themselves. She didn’t want Xander to think she was too bored to help him with his problems. But maybe he needs me to agree with him, Olivia thought, because that’s how he feels about this place. Boring, repetitive, washed-out. “Sometimes,” she said after finishing her gin. It was the truth. “Not all of the time. But sometimes I feel like I could use a change of pace.”
“Yeah,” Xander murmured, running his fingers along the side of his glass. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“But it doesn’t mean I hate it,” Olivia added. She was starting to feel a little woozy from the alcohol, her head feeling light and airy. Almost weightless. “It doesn’t mean it’s not for me. It’s the life I chose and I’m committed to it. No matter what.”
Xander turned to stare at her. “And what, that’s it? Forever? There’s nothing else to hope for?”
“No, I hope for things. But I know they’ll come in the context of my commitment. Haven’t you ever felt that way about something? Like it’s a part of you, and you don’t know what you would be if it went away?”
His eyes flicked down to the bar. “Yeah. Yeah, I know what that’s like.”
Olivia wondered for a second why he suddenly seemed so hurt, before it hit her. Oh, fuck. She found herself stuck at another crossroads: should she tiptoe around the topic to avoid hurting his feelings? Or should she just charge ahead and see what would happen? Ah, fuck it. “Marta,” she said, keeping her voice down. She didn’t know how many of the other club’s bikers were listening in. “You felt that way about Marta.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.
“Yeah,” Xander said. “Yeah, I did. Except she was never boring. She always kept me guessing.”
Olivia felt something burning inside her chest as she pictured Marta, this evidently perfect, wild woman. Are you seriously jealous of a dead girl? Olivia asked herself. You’re not even dating this guy. You’re just fucking him. “She sounds really special,” Olivia said.
“She was just…She was just a girl who got caught up in the wrong thing. She wasn’t rea
dy for this,” he replied softly, still not looking directly at Olivia.
“Xander,” Olivia said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, hoping he would let her do it like he allowed the other gang leader. “Xander, it wasn’t your fault. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. It wasn’t your fault.”
He just shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? Anything else.”
Olivia resisted the urge to keep pushing the subject. “Okay. What would you like to talk about?”
Xander opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off. “Excuse you,” one of the bikers grunted, shoving into Xander’s shoulder as he walked past the bar.
Olivia saw Xander grit his teeth in anger, and for a second she was worried he was going to leap up and start punching the guy like she’d seen him do the first night they met, but instead he only clenched his fists.