by Amo Jones
“Well damn, girl,” Silver says, an eyebrow arched at me. It’s not until I sit beside her that I notice Nellie is on the other side.
I dismiss Nellie with a flick of my long hair. “I don’t like you.”
Bonnie starts laughing, as do the other women beside her.
Nellie glares at me. “I’m just doing what I was asked to do. Stop being a bitch.”
I drop down onto one of the chairs, running my hands over my face. “I really need a drink.”
Bonnie starts pouring slushy from a plastic jug and into a red cup. “Well, welcome to Karli’s watermelon margaritas! She can’t measure, so be careful, they’re potent.” I take the plastic cup from Bonnie, studying the women beside her.
“Hi, I’m Jade.”
“I know who you are, baby girl.” She smirks, flicking the ash off her smoke. “I think everyone here knows who you are now, and it has nothing to do with the sexy little getup you’re dressed in and everything to do with the notoriously unattainable and stuck up prick Sicko, hovering over you like a starved wolf. I’m Karli.”
I take a mouthful of the poison that was poured for me and swipe my lip with the cushion of my thumb. “Royce is just protective.”
There’s a long pause, so I take another gulp. Ice freezes my brain, but I ignore the throbbing pain, swallowing the rest of it and pouring another. After tonight, I want to forget everything that happened with James. I need a shot, not a drink filled with sugar and ice.
“Mmm, not the Sicko we know. That man doesn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything, except for the club.”
“Question!” Silver pipes up, her drink sloshing around and hitting her hand. The music has changed to “Chin Check” from NWA. “How many times did you guys fuck when you were younger? I feel like it was a loooot.”
I burst out laughing, the rest of the girls joining. Even Nellie. I have to stop myself from glaring at her. “Um, how many of those have you had? And we haven’t.”
“What!” Bonnie spits out her drink, leaning forward. “Never?”
I shake my head, looking to Karli. “Can I steal a smoke?”
“Sure, honey.” She tosses me her pack. “What’s mine is yours. Especially if you can get Sicko on board.”
I take a stick out, pausing at her words.
Bonnie scolds her. “Leave the girl alone, ya big sex addict.” Bonnie points to Karli. “She and Justice, her old man, are swingers. Ignore her digs, baby girl.”
After the initial shock disappears, a throaty chuckle vibrates out from me. Damn. Maybe those drinks are strong. Clutching my stomach, I shake my head. “Oh my god.” Swiping the tears from my eyes, I fill up my cup, low-key taking Silver’s away from her.
“What!” Karli says defensively. “Why are y’all surprised?”
Karli, I would guess, is in her mid-forties, with long brown hair and a figure to die for. The cut lines in her arms a display on how hard she works out. “I guess I just assumed bikers were, I don’t know—”
“—cavemen?” Bonnie says, a smirk on her painted red lips. “They are, these two are just weird.”
“Well, this is good to know. Nice to meet you, Karli.”
Karli leans forward to blaze my smoke. “Anytime, honey. I will say, Sicko definitely has his hands full with you.”
“Oh, come on.” Silver chuckles, dancing in her chair. “We all know Sicko plays in the sandbox and has with Bea. But you know what?” Silver says, watching me with careful eyes. “I don’t think he will with her.”
“I need shots.” I shake my head, puffing on my cigarette. I’ve always had trouble making friends. Opening up myself and allowing myself to trust someone enough to call them a friend. I guess that’s why I’ve always only kept to Sloane.
“Here you go.” Nellie slides over a bottle of tequila. I narrow my eyes on the bowl of salt and limes beside her arm.
“You poisoned mine?”
Nellie rolls her blue eyes. “No, bitch. I’d rather not be buried in the back yard with my pops yet, if that’s alright with you.”
I take the bottle from her, flicking off the lid. “I don’t trust you.”
I lick the side of my thumb and sprinkle salt over the top.
“I earned that.”
“I don’t really like you either.” I lick the salt off my hand and shoot back the tequila, squeezing a wedge of lime between my teeth, even though I don’t need it.
“Now, I didn’t earn that. You’ll warm to me.” Nellie smiles at me.
“I don’t warm, I’m ice cold, and once someone fucks me over, I never forget.” I wrap my lips around the bottle and suck down another gulp. I’m probably being mean, but the girl deceived us.
“Tough shit, baby girl,” Nellie says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll always be here.”
Eh. The alcohol is fulfilling its purpose, that warmth I just said I didn’t have working its way through my veins.
Silver picks up her cup, standing on the table, her ass twerking in the air to “So Good” by Big Sean. “If you both are just going to fight, I’m going to dance. You dance, Jade? You look like you could.”
I chuckle, pouring more margarita into my cup, and adding more tequila into it. “Oh dance? Only when I’m drunk…”
Karli jumps up on top of the table with a fit of laughter, dragging Bonnie up with her. Every time I’ve been around these girls since I’ve known them, I find myself happy. Fulfilled. With all the tequila running through my system, and the need to conceal what happened tonight with James, along with all of the endorphins pumping through my veins from whatever that was between Royce and I, I rap off the lyrics while climbing up on top of the table with them. They all roar with praise of me finally joining. I stick my tongue up against my top lip while gyrating my hips. I’ve known these girls for all of five minutes and they’ve felt more like family to me than my own ever could have given me. This clubhouse feels more like home than the forty-million-dollar mansion I was raised in.
“What the fuck!” Someone swears in the background, but we all ignore it. I sing one part in the verse—the one about doing something to his soul—when I’m being pulled down off the table, Royce’s arm hooked securely around my back.
“Ohhhh, Siiicckkoooo!” Silver slurs, and Gypsy glares at her from below.
“Do you have to be a pisshead while your old man is away on a run?” Gypsy grabs her by the wrist and swings her over his shoulder, carrying her limp body into the house.
“And that, my friends, is why I didn’t get up on that table.” Nellie chuckles up at Karli, who’s left dancing alone.
I turn in Royce’s grip, his chest to mine. “I’m fine. I just need my drink.” I lean back to reach for it but Royce whacks the cup off the table, the contents splashing out across the ground. His jaw clenches as his hands dive into his pocket. He tosses his keys at Wicked, who’s watching us both carefully. “Drive us home.”
“I just got here!” I say, confused. I love the clubhouse.
“And now you’re leaving.” Royce’s hand falls into mine. Our fingers intertwine as he directs me to the garage where the bikes are lined up. There’s another shed behind the parking lot and beside the bigger shed where the bar and party time usually is, with a large metal sheet door closed.
Wicked comes up beside me as Royce opens the garage door, sliding it open. “You really didn’t think that was going to happen?” Wicked asks under his breath.
“He said he doesn’t give a shit about me anymore, so no, I didn’t think that would happen.”
“For someone apparently so smart, you’re sure dumb as fuck,” Wicked growls, following Royce into the garage.
“Royce!” a girly voice calls out from behind. I’m sick of all the vaginas that want him. “Can I come?”
I turn, studying her up and down. “I can answer that, and it’s a no.”
Royce steps up behind me, his fingers sprawling out over my belly, before pushing me behind him.
“Get in the car.” He tu
rns to Bea. “No, you can’t.”
“But I haven’t been to your house!” Bea drops her bottom lip.
I turn around to say something else when Wicked’s hand covers my mouth and he starts dragging me to the shed, opening the door and tossing me into the back seat like I weigh nothing.
“Wicked!” I yell at him, just as he slides into the driver’s seat and starts up the car.
I freeze. Familiar earthy rumbling of an angry V8 tremors beneath my butt, so I start taking in the details of the car. Tight leather seats, aged steering wheel. “This is his Charger.”
“Yep,” Wicked says, leaning his head on the misty window.
“Huh,” I scoff, shaking my head. “Of course he kept his car, just couldn’t keep me.” My eyes find him and Bea, who are still talking in front of us. Wicked hasn’t turned the headlights on yet, probably because it will flash through the entire compound.
“What is she to him anyway?”
Wicked chuckles. “She’s just one of the many girls Royce keeps around to fuck him until he can’t see straight. That’s all.” He leans forward and flicks on the radio, pushing the touchscreen and connecting to Bluetooth.
I pause as Bea leans up on her tippy toes, her fingers around Royce’s neck. She kisses him hard and I look away, not wanting to watch anymore.
“Oh, bitch just kissed him.” Wicked shakes his head. “Royce doesn’t kiss anyone.”
I ignore everyone now, pulling out my phone and flicking through my text messages.
“Why’d you text me?” I say, my eyes connect to his in the review mirror.
“You wanna do this now?” His brow arches in question.
The back door opens on the other side of me, Royce’s cologne spilling into my bubble. I move as far away from him as possible, anger searing through my veins about him and Bea, and then I find myself angry that I’m angry at him.
Wicked revs the car loud enough to shake the tin shed and drives us out of the garage. “Rehab” from Machine Gun Kelly starts playing as I continue to flick through the photos on my phone. Anything to not look at Royce. His hand comes to my chin, turning my head to face him. My jaw is set, my eyes faded. Wicked cranks up the song and I wish he didn’t. The lyrics hit me on levels they shouldn’t be able to reach.
He’s fixed on me, searching my face as we drive by streetlights. With every passing, the light only illuminates his features. I wait for him to say something, anything. He doesn’t. His eyes fall to my lips before going down to my breasts, to my exposed belly, before coming back up to meet mine.
“You mad?” he mouths with a smirk. The music is too loud to hear him.
I’m done.
I rip off my belt and move across the seat. He doesn’t even seem fazed or shocked as I wrap my thighs around his waist and settle on top of his hard body. He inches back by spreading his legs wide, resting his head against the top of the seat. His eyes remain on mine and my heart beats furiously in my chest. “Yes, I’m mad,” I say loudly, sliding my thumb between his lips. He bites on it roughly, his hands cupping my ass. Thud. Thud.
His other hand comes up behind my neck, pulling my face closer to his. “Fucking stop pulling away from me then.”
My lips drop to his and he opens slightly, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. I deepen the kiss, bringing him closer, his hips meeting the inside of my thighs. The pain that was there is dissolving with every thrust. Having Royce under my grip is enough for me to forget, even if just for now. Just when I think he’s going to pull away from me, he flips me onto my back until I’m lying spread eagle over the seats, and sinks between my legs, his mouth never leaving mine. His tongue explores my mouth, flicking, rubbing, and massaging over mine. Wicked must crank the music up even more to cut us out as he picks up the speed.
Royce’s hand is on the front of my throat when he leans up, catching his breath as my eyes search his. I can almost hear the thoughts rushing around in his head. Bringing my hand to the back of his neck, I tug him back down to me, grazing my lips over his.
“Stop thinking.”
He growls against my lips and withdraws, retreating back to his side of the car and leaving me high and dry.
Sighing, I pull myself up into my sear and fix my eyes on the back of Wicked’s head. More lights pass, and I squint to see if what I’m noticing on the back of his neck is really there. The scar that’s poking out behind his shirt becomes more visible.
My eardrums pulse as the lights flick over his neck.
I can’t expose the fact that I know what that scar is or means, for the very reason that I have the exact same one on my ankle.
Kissing never made sense to me. It was something that seemed redundant. I didn’t want bitch’s lips on mine, I’d much rather them be wrapped around my cock, but I dropped the ball. I got out of hand, by the same hands that always wanted to fix me. Fix my problems. Tell her my secrets, or fuck, just look me right in the eye and conjure my soul to give them all to her. That’s what Jade is to me. She’s a walking, talking, fucking witch that is everything my soul wants and craves. My body craves her, but my soul fucking needs her. Having her lips on mine was every fucking thing I thought it would be, and that’s what pisses me off the most.
“She still in bed?” Wicked asks, wrapping his knuckles with tape.
I stretch out my neck, swinging my arms around to warm up. “Yeah, she crashed as soon as I put her in there last night.”
Wicked seems suspiciously interested. “In your bed?”
I flip him off. “We’ve been sharing a bed since we were kids, fucker. Nothing different.”
“You’re right, brother. No different. Oh that’s right, except for the fact that now you want to put your dick inside her.”
I chuckle, turning on the stereo. I set up the undercover garage outside as a gym. Boxing bags, weights. I needed it to keep me busy, but now it’s pretty much a Wolf Pack gym. “Yeah, but that can’t happen.” I start pounding my fist into the punching bag.
“Wanna remind me why?” Wicked cautiously asks, holding the bag in place. “You’re Sicko, the fucking legend on the streets with a signature. No one would ever want to fuck with you. So, why?”
I clench my jaw. “It’s complicated.”
“How so?”
“You asking a lot of questions today, or what?” I lay into the bag as Cypress Hill hums loudly in the background. “Because your face is a little too close to be asking so many questions.”
Wicked sighs before chuckling. “All I’m saying is that the three of you are pretty fucking secretive as to why you’re all to stay away from her. I’m just curious as to why.”
I stop punching, unwrapping my wrist and tossing the rags across the ground, swiping the sweat from my abs. “Because she has to stay away from all of us. It was part of the deal.”
His face pales. “Yeah, I get it now.”
“Good.” I toss my water bottle across the ground, grazing my hand over the scar on my left pec.
I was annoyed with myself on how quick I went to sleep last night. I at least wanted to make it a little harder for him, what with him kissing me and then pulling away.
Taking out the milk from the fridge, I look around the house. It’s exactly what I would have thought Royce to own. The large windows that overlook the beachfront being the main attraction, with its pointed arch all the way to the roof and mahogany stained wood. The furniture is all clean leather sofas, with a big TV hanging on the wall. The kitchen is filled with stainless-steel appliances, yet the décor has a gentle feminine touch to it. I instantly think that maybe Royce had someone else in his life. This house has definitely been lived in by another female. The cow skull hanging over the front door, to the Persian rugs spread over the wooden floorboards. The house is beautiful. Breathtaking. But the stench of perfume haunts all the furnishings.
I take my glass of milk to the front of the living room, needing a better view of the water. I chuckle when I see the ski boat wrapped around his private dock. The fairy
lights twist and knot around the railing leading to it. To the right, there’s a large tree with claw-like branches, hanging over a fire pit that has scattered chopped logs placed around in a circle for seating. He really built his own life, and I just came back in and crashed it.
“Almost called her Jade two-point-oh.” I don’t turn to face him, unable to pull myself from the allure of the ocean.
“It’s beautiful here,” I whisper, finally turning. “You know that, right?”
His body shifts carefully. My chest swells and my stomach drops to the ground. “I know, Duchess.”
I clear my throat. “Did you design it? Because I gotta say…”
Laughter rolls off him, taking the two steps down to the living room, coming closer to me. My fingers tense around the glass in my hand. “Hell no. India did. She’s a famous interior designer in The Hills. Has a TV show and shit on Netflix for it.”
I snort, sipping on my milk. “I’ve seen it. She’s changed a lot.”
“She has.”
I try to conceal the hurt in my chest at how easily these boys moved on. I know that’s what you’re supposed to do, but they were all I knew all of my life, and then within six months they were gone. All three of them.
“Hmmm,” I murmur, ignoring the intensity of Royce’s gaze by turning back to the beach.
“Jade,” he growls from behind me. “Turn around.”
“Mmmm, nope. I’m good.” I can’t look at him right now. I’m afraid he’ll see the secrets I’m hiding beneath, regardless of how bad I want to. I want to kiss him again, too, and I want him to wrap me in his arms and remind me where my happy place always is.
He clears his throat after a long beat of silence. “Remember when you were four-years-old and you’d cry every night. You weren’t sure why, but you did. So I’d sneak into your room and let you sleep on my chest.” My heart cracks in my chest, but instead of it being from pain, it cracks open to allow Royce back in. Piercing ringing blares through my ears. He laughs. “It was the only way you could get to sleep for two fucking years. Tired the shit out of me, but it was my most favorite part of being your brother.”