The Bare Bones (The Bare Bones MC)

by Wolfe, Layla

  Normally this would be an occasion for celebration and great glee, but something was eating at Ford. Who was Tonya talking about? Madison stood about eight feet away, a couple of people in between them. Whatever color she had in her face had drained completely away, and now she slunk backward, toward the foyer.

  It was such a sickening thud of realization in the pit of Ford’s stomach. His whole world went dark for a few seconds. He had enough presence of mind to realize he might be blacking out, so he reached for the back of a chair and took deep breaths. He could see Tonya again, and Cropper’s face was as red as a baboon’s ass as he tried to steer Tonya by the wrists into the back hallway.

  “Fucking rapists!” Tonya continued shrieking.

  Ford must have covered the ten steps in one, because suddenly he was with the struggling couple as they battled it out in the hallway. Ford, too, tried to grab Tonya’s arm.

  “Tonya!” he bellowed, his voice practically vibrating the very rafters. “Who are you talking about? Who did they bukkake on?”

  Cropper growled between clenched teeth. “You tell my son, woman, you’re as good as dead.”

  “I’m dead anyway, you disgusting pig! You roofied your own stepdaughter and let a bunch of disgusting, filthy douchebags pull a train on her. I saw the fucking pictures some scumbag sent to my phone. You ought to be fucking arrested, not allowed into the country club!”

  Cropper let go of Tonya in order to slug her, but she dodged his blow and he hit the wall instead. This gave Tonya enough leeway to scurry away, shrieking invectives down the hall. Ford, of course, held Cropper tightly enough so he couldn’t go after Tonya, but Tonya’s safety actually came second, after spilling his rage onto his father. That came first.

  Tonya had to half-squat, she was screaming so loud. “I never want to see you again, you pig! Your membership in everything is revoked and the locks are being changed as we speak! You fucking arrange a group grope of your own stepdaughter, that’s where I get off the bus! You can’t blame Riker for everything forever!”

  Ford didn’t stick around to watch Tonya stalk out with her pride intact. He exploded with a killer right hook followed up with a lightning left uppercut to Cropper’s stupid fucking jaw. Blood splashed the wall, and as Cropper went down, Ford kneed him in the solar plexus.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Of course it was Riker himself, coming to bail out his President. From a corner of his eye, Ford could see that Turk and Faux Pas were actually trying to restrain Riker from getting in the middle of it.

  Good. In a rage, Ford kicked and stomped Cropper’s stomach and crotch. He was literally blinded with rage, not in control of what he was doing. Mere words couldn’t suffice to express his rage, so he didn’t say a thing. The crimson gash of Cropper’s mouth only incited him more, and he fell to his knees to continue pummeling that face.

  “Fucker. Fucker. Fucker.” Someone was saying that over and over, and Ford realized it was him. He punched Cropper so violently he was spraying himself with blood.

  Finally Turk came to hustle Ford away, allowing Riker to hustle Cropper. “Where’s Madison?” Ford roared. “Where’s Madison?”

  “Never mind about that,” said Turk. “Let’s just get you safe in here.”

  Turk rushed Ford into a bathroom, where he slammed and locked the door. It was more for everyone else’s safety, not Ford’s.

  “Where’s Faux Pas?” Ford roared. “I’m not calming the fuck down until you get me Faux Pas!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MADISON

  I blindly jumped in my old Honda and tore down the freshly paved street.

  I was beyond too mortified to cry or lash out in any way.

  “Only” about twenty people had heard Tonya’s declarations, but it’d be a matter of minutes before those twenty went and told twenty more, who told twenty more, and…The shame that swept over me had weakened my knees. I had expected these tight-knit men to keep a lid on what had happened. Tonya was the loose cannon that blew that whole plan to kingdom come.

  I saw the fucking pictures, Tonya had shrieked. What pictures? I guessed someone had taken photos of me unconscious on the pool table, that was all I could figure.

  I was completely out of P&E town limits before I even paused to notice my surroundings. I had no idea where I was going, but my foot kept pressing the gas, and of course I was headed north, back to Flagstaff. It wouldn’t occur to me to cry to Ingrid for anything, and June was living in Kenya.

  Did this mean Speed wouldn’t get to keep his cut? He’d earned it, fair and square. No. Ford would see to it that Speed kept his cut, his patches, his ranking.

  I wondered what Ford had done to Cropper. How exactly angry would he be? Is this something that went on all the time in their club? Cropper must have roofied other old ladies of Ford’s, although Dominique hadn’t told me of any. She had admitted the entire oedipal complex thing, the competition between the men, the youth obsession Cropper had.

  I was out of my mind with shame, terror of what Ford might do, fear of what might happen to Speed. I hadn’t stuck around to listen, but Tonya no doubt screamed about the Baal’s Minions, too. Everything I had feared would see the light of day. The Minions would go to war with the Bare Bones, people would be beaten if not killed, and Ford would murder Cropper.

  That last was the biggest. I could care less if Ford and Turk beat up on a few Minions. What kind of karma did I have with those two Illuminati men? I’d been trying to prevent Ford from burying Cropper for fourteen years now.

  I tried to organize my brain as I headed north to Flagstaff.

  I had thought it might blow up in everyone’s faces. Just not this soon.

  I hadn’t expected the cold, jumpy way I was toward Ford at the party. I hadn’t expected that side effect of Cropper’s treatment. Surely Ford would have figured it out sooner or later. Ford wasn’t famous for his extreme patience. I hadn’t counted on how it would affect the way I felt toward Ford, although he’d had less than anything to do with my mistreatment.

  But it was only logical. Of course it would affect my psyche. I already had troubles reaching orgasm with another man. Ford was the first and only man to break that barrier, but I’d always known I could easily slip back into it again, given some psychological trauma. Rape victims—although they hadn’t technically raped me, as far as I knew—maybe I should ask Tonya what the pictures showed—often withdrew into themselves and developed warped sexual responses in harmless situations, like with mates.

  How long could I have continued to pretend to be fine, while withdrawing from sexual contact with Ford?

  “Oh my god!” I sobbed, clenching the steering wheel as though I wanted to tear it off the column. “What the fuck!” I didn’t want to start crying or I wouldn’t be able to see the road. The sun was setting and already I was driving into the dim desert.

  Of course my phone was pealing and tinkling and making all kinds of announcements that Ford was calling me. Dominique called, too. The phone was muffled in my purse and I didn’t dare reach for it. My eyesight had been getting progressively worse and I’d been on the verge of buying glasses when Ford had re-entered my life. Now I was too fucking vain for them, too worried about snagging and keeping Ford on the hook, especially with so many lithe and younger sweetbutts around.

  I needed to know what Ford had done, how he’d reacted to Tonya’s dramatic announcement. In a way, I was glad it had all blown up in Cropper’s face. Now he really couldn’t take Speed’s cut away, no, not after all that I’d done to keep his precious cut intact.

  It finally dawned on me. Ford might hate me. He might somehow find a way to justify Cropper’s actions and blame it all on me. I’d seen things like that happen before, in the hospital. Family members whose brains couldn’t accept the fact that their loved ones had drunk or done drugs to the extent they’d wound up in a coma. In such cases people go through all kinds of mental calisthenics to let the loved ones off the hook, even to the point of blaming others. How many times had
I heard people bellowing “You did it! You caused him to take those drugs and go into a coma!” In a way, it made it easier to accept.

  Cropper was Ford’s father. Would Ford jump through a million hoops to let Cropper off the hook?

  “God! What the fuck have I done?” I screamed.

  I should never have agreed to hang around the Citadel without Ford there! Speed’s cut wasn’t that important! He had made a good living as a mechanic before, he could certainly do so without the fucking Bare Bones! Why the hell did I ever get involved with them?

  I should’ve cut Ford loose! I never should’ve let him put his face between my legs at the hospital. That was the beginning of this entire mess. I had a fine life with Jake. Between Jake, my friends, and my job, what was I lacking?

  Passion. I had my answer immediately even as I asked myself the rhetorical question. Passion. I was passionately in love with Ford. I couldn’t escape that fact. Our love would forever be tumultuous, full of turmoil, itches in hard to reach places, angst, and above all—mind-blowing, toe-curling sex.

  Did I have that with Jake, or any other man for that matter? No I did not. There. Question answered.

  There was no way to stay away from Ford.

  But I could force myself. Put one foot in front of the other, right?

  In Flagstaff, I pulled up in Sabrina’s driveway, but sat in my car. I listened to my voicemails to get the lay of the land, to see which way the wind was blowing. Not back on me, I hoped.

  First was Dominique. Ford was presumably still beating the living shit out of Cropper. Dominique even said so. “Honey, where’d you go? I know you must be embarrassed as hell, but don’t be, I swear. This is all on the men. They dug their own fucking graves, now they have to lie in them. Don’t run away. Ford loves you like life itself. Where’d you go? Now I’m worried.”

  Then, of course, Ford himself. He was still panting from the exertion of whatever he’d done to Cropper. “Sugar!” he shouted. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or passion that colored his voice. “Where the fuck did you go? Ziggy told me you headed out the door. Can’t say as I blame you. Call me!”

  Two more messages were increasingly frantic, but neither one gave any indication of what he’d done or his outlook for me.

  All I knew was, I was way too ashamed to face him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  I’d seen those people in the hospital. I’d seen how the victim got blamed.

  I could see how he might even say I brought it upon myself. He could claim that Speed would have gotten his cut back anyway, and Cropper was just using that excuse to manipulate me. He could say I was gullible in falling for Cropper’s lies.

  I’d even seen some whacked relatives in the hospital try to claim that the victim “asked for it.” Anything. Abso-fucking-lutely anything to get out of assigning the blame to the perpetrator. “Maybe she secretly wanted it.” I’ve seen some warped shit, as I believe all nurses have. “She’s probably a secret whore. I don’t want her anyway.” Way stranger things have been known to happen, and in my freaked-out mindset, I was prepared for anything.

  So I called back Dominique. I needed to find out what had happened after I’d left without getting involved in the entire drama of Ford.

  “Madison! Where are you?”

  I didn’t feel like answering. “Dominique. What happened after I ran out? I’m so worried.”

  “Well, Ford beat the crap out of Cropper, of course. Of course that’s what happened! What did you expect?”

  Immediately I went on the defensive. “Shit, Dominique! That’s exactly why I always refrained from telling Ford anything that Cropper did to me! I never told you the disgusting things Cropper used to do to me as a teenager. I never told Ford about any of that, either. In fact, I ran because of that. Ford never knew why I left home. Oh, God!”

  That last was a sob, and Dominique’s voice softened. “What the fuck? Yeah, I know, Cropper’s been into the young ones for a long-ass time. Listen, though, you have to come back. Come back and face Ford. I know you probably feel embarrassed as all shit. But believe you me, it’s not as bad as it probably seems to you right now.”

  “Dominique. Two hundred people heard what Cropper did to me! I mean, what exactly did those photos consist of?”

  She snorted. “Apparently one of the Baal’s Minions guys took photos with his cell which he blasted to some brothers, and somehow the pictures wound up in Tonya’s hands. Those assholes. They can never resist bragging about their fucking exploits.”

  “But what did they show? Did you get any idea?”

  “Well, from what Tonya was screaming, it seems that Riker—typical, just fucking typical—was giving you a moustache ride while Cropper and a few Minions were bludgeoning their beefsteaks over your body. Sorry, but it needed to be said.”

  “Oh, don’t be sorry! I wanted to know, so I asked. Nothing else, though? No actual, uh, penetration?”

  “I don’t think so. I think you’re safe.”

  “Well, you know the worst part? You remember I was bleeding. I think Cropper caused me to miscarry.”

  Dominique was silent for a few seconds. Then, “Oh, God.”

  “I know, right? I mean, it feels different than a regular period.”

  “Probably because the asshole kicked you. Sister, you need to run right out and get a pregnancy test. It’ll tell you how far along you were. Oh, wait. You’re a nurse. I keep forgetting.”

  “So he beat the crap out of Cropper?” Sabrina had seen my car sitting in her driveway. She was standing in front of my hood gesticulating wildly. She’d moved to Flag about four years after I had, gotten all messed up on drinks and drugs, but had just discovered AA. Now she was waitressing and sharing a house with a few fellow AAers. Funny that the girl with the good background and stable mother turned out to lose it so heavily.

  “Yes. Don’t worry, he didn’t murder him. Yet. Riker came and shuttled Cropper out the door, no one knows where, but he’s safe for now.” Dominique sighed. “Then Turk took Ford into the bathroom and the party kind of broke up from there.”

  “Okay.” I pressed the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “I just need some down time now. Do you feel me?”

  “Oh, I feel you, all right. Give these guys a week to sort it out and everything’ll be back to normal. And do go get that pregnancy test.”

  “I will.”

  I exited my car, just now realizing I didn’t have a single change of clothing, not even a toothbrush—how apropos. Sabrina was used to that, having housed me when I was a teenaged vagrant, basically.

  “What’re you doing here? I didn’t hear a call from you.” She hugged me.

  “Oh, it’s a long-ass story, Sabrina. But I think my fucking life is over.”

  “All right. Why don’t you come inside and have a cup of coffee?”

  I remembered she was clean and sober. It was the first time I had cursed that decision of hers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  FORD

  “When I realize that she is gone, perhaps forever, a great void opens up and I feel that I am falling, falling into deep, black space. And this is worse than tears, deeper than regret or pain or sorrow, it is the abyss into which Satan was plunged. There is no climbing back, no ray of light, no sound of human voice or human touch of hand.” ~ Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

  She was doing it again.

  Madison was a runner. She liked to run.

  What the pictures had shown, from Ford’s understanding, was so far from being her fault, yet she took it upon herself to feel responsible.

  Ford knew the shit that went down in the clubhouse when old ladies were gone. He’d participated in most of it. Tag teaming, bukkaking harmless girls, and Cropper liked to roofie them first. Gave him more of a sense of power.

  That’s why Ford had wanted Madison to stay away from the Citadel. He didn’t trust Cropper with her, not after seeing what Cropper did to young girls, the holes in the walls at the Bum Steer. Worst was probably what Fau
x Pas had told him after the brouhaha had died down.

  Ford had finally torn Turk away from the bathroom door. Faked him out, more like. He looked in the mirror, rubbed his face, sighed heavily, and when Turk was least suspecting it, Ford leaped for the door and ripped it open.

  And yes, he punched Faux Pas around before he’d even said a word. No one knew what his beef was with Faux Pas so no one stepped in. If the beef was legitimate, if Faux Pas had somehow participated in the train or crew screw or whatever had occurred, then Ford had every right to beat the ever-loving shit out of him. Most people stood back at a safe distance, front row seats to the brawl.

  But Faux Pas couldn’t answer him well if he was bloodied and spitting out teeth, so Ford held back. Faux Pas may have been under the ban of silence but Cropper was gone now. Cropper had done a vile, unforgiveable thing, and now it was Faux Pas’ duty to come clean. So Ford just bloodied his nose a little, and he probably didn’t knock out any teeth.

  “I’ll tell you, all right?” Faux Pas’ eyes flickered with anger. No doubt he didn’t appreciate being whaled on just for having had some knowledge. “She was in the hangar last week like I told you.”

  “But you left out some important parts, my brother.”

  “I did. Listen, I don’t know what sort of agreement you’ve got with Cropper, and he’s the President. I don’t know what agreement you’ve got with Madison.”

  “We can leave, bro,” said Turk. “You should confront Faux Pas in private.”

  Ford turned on his best friend. “Don’t leave. Stay! I want every last one of you to hear this. Faux Pas. What. The fuck. Happened.”

  “Well, I first saw Cropper kick her. In the stomach, while she was already down.”

  Ford would have lost it at that, but he had to keep it together to hear the rest of the story. His tone was murderous. “What. The. Fuck, Faux Pas. You don’t think that’s something you should’ve been telling me?”