Wild Side

by Cynthia Ayman

Then he slapped my butt and told me to get behind the wheel.

  I’m a little bit melancholic thinking about our goodbye but also aware it is better that way.

  Apa is a great guy. He’s just not the kind of guy I need, and I’m not the kind of girl he wants.

  Chapter 11

  Three months later

  Apa

  I love long runs. The endless roads, the brothers by my side, the freedom. And even that feeling when you know you’re heading back home. We just visited another chapter in Arizona, and we’re only a couple hours away from Edmond. It might be January but in this part of the country, we can still ride our bikes. Our brothers in Oregon aren’t so lucky.

  We stop to get some gas and stretch our legs. Pinkie has been riding with me like she often does, and I look appreciatively as she bends over to touch her toes. “My ass is killing me,” she says with a pout as she slowly unrolls.

  “Told you to get in the van with the prospects.”

  “But I like riding with you.”

  “And I don’t like you bitching and whining afterward, doll.” Pinkie is a cool girl, but she’s becoming clingy lately and that’s something I don’t really dig. I shouldn’t have slept with her so often, but she’s always willing and sucks dick like a pro. I’ll have to nip that in the bud before she starts getting ideas about her status in my life, though.

  I palm her ass as I push her forward. I need to piss and wouldn’t mind getting something to eat as well. She hurries with the two other girls as I wait for Reese to get off his bike.

  “Did you see the sign at the last stop?” he asks me right away.

  “What sign?”

  “The one that said that Huntington is less than fifteen miles away.”

  I pause at that and glance at him. Huntington is where Abby lives. Which Reese knows because I kinda told him quite a lot about my little paparazzi. He has a smirk on his face as he walks past me and slaps my shoulder, but I don’t reciprocate.

  I had a great weekend with Abby. Really. It was fun, and the sex was out of this world. She is pretty, and I’d be lying if I said her personality isn’t just as attractive. I’ve thought of her a few times in the last three months. Wondering if I should give her a call, see if she’d like to meet up somewhere. But I didn’t. Our worlds are a little too different, and I don’t see that changing. I only texted her to make sure she had made it back home safely after we parted ways, and it was the last time I heard from her.

  She probably found a nice guy. She deserves one.

  I’m washing my hands when I realize that I don’t really like the idea of her being with someone else. It’s so unusual for me that it takes a while for me to understand that I’m feeling something close to jealousy. Huh. That’s weird. I’m not the jealous type. I guess knowing you’ve been some kind of a first to a woman makes you feel this way. She was no virgin but never had a one-night stand, and it was pretty obvious she also had never had the right kind of sex before.

  Reese and Spike, our newest patched-in, are scarfing down hot dogs at a picnic table when I join them with a burger and a bag of chips. Poe sits down next to me. He is our VP, a good fifteen years older than me and one of the only ones with an old lady. He got his nickname because, believe it or not, the fucker has a Ph. D. in English literature.

  “If I bring my bike to the workshop tomorrow, will you take a look at it? It seems less stable than usual.”

  I frown. “Suspension?”

  “Think so. Nothing that worries me for the rest of the ride, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  “I’ll check it for you.”

  My official occupation is owner of the workshop, but I’m also a grease monkey. Since I’m one of the only brothers who has a clean record, we figured it was much easier to let me handle the official paperwork. Mick is the one who really organizes the shifts and deals with the customers. But the money and everything official? That’s for me. I don’t mind, though. It provides a good cover, and it’s nice to work with the brothers. We also own a strip-club, because of course we do. I don’t go there as often as I used to. When I joined the Sinners, I was there all the time, usually working as a bouncer or security for the private rooms. It gets old, though. Reese is on the Kitty Diamond payroll, and he deals with the dancers. He pays them, coaches them when needed, checks if they’re healthy, and so on. He’s one of the most patient with the girls so it fits him too.

  “So, what are you gonna do?” Reese asks as he polishes off his third hot dog.

  “About what?”

  “Your civilian chick.”

  “The brunette?” Spike asks.

  Poe turns to me. “She reached out to you? Missing some biker dick?”

  The brothers snort with laughter as I punch his arm. “Yeah. Not that you would know how that feels.”

  Poe grins unapologetically. “Man, when you find the right one, you don’t screw up. Random pussy isn’t worth it when you’ve built something solid.”

  Reese and Spike make kissing sounds. We love giving Poe shit. He’s an easy target. The dude writes poetry, for fuck’s sake, he’s basically asking for it. But Maisie is nice. She’s loyal and easy to get along with, never causes drama even though you definitely don’t want to cross her. She’s good to have around, and she also has a way to make the girls behave when things get a little too crazy.

  “She lives a few miles away,” Reese explains. “I think he should stop by and see if she wants to go on another ride,” he adds with a few hip rolls that leave little doubt to what kind of ride he is talking about.

  Ass.

  “You should go,” Poe says. “You liked her.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about,” I snort. “You never even saw me with her.”

  “Dude, you came back from thirty-six hours with her and slept for two days straight. Obviously, you liked her.”

  I roll my napkin and throw it on the table. Yeah, Abby wiped me out. Didn’t feel the need or the energy to have sex until three days later. A record for me, really. And even then, it was only because Pinkie wanted to suck me off. I didn’t even ask. Not that I said no either. I’m not stupid. A game of poker with an ice-cold beer and a chick blowing you? Who would say no to that?

  “Isn’t she a baker?” Spike asks suddenly.

  “Yup.”

  There is a small silence as my brothers look at each other. I sigh, already knowing where this is heading. The way to their heart is either their dick or their stomach.

  “You should go. Tell her hi. Invite her maybe?” Poe eventually says innocently.

  “Yeah, you know I love pies,” Spike adds.

  I roll my eyes, not bothering to reply as I stand up. I go wait for them on my bike, not in the mood for their gossiping. I swear they’re worse than chicks.

  I finish my Doritos and smile as I remember Abby stealing half of them that first night. It suddenly dawns on me that I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun with a woman. We laughed a lot, and she’s easy to talk to. Maybe she could fit in the club, like Maisie did. Embrace the things she likes, learn to deal with the ones she doesn’t. Except I’m not sure she’ll find anything she likes at all. The sex maybe? But Abby isn’t the kind to share easily. I can sense it.

  When Pinkie approaches me, I shake my head. I don’t feel like having her at my back. She is disappointed, I can see it, but I don’t care. There is plenty of room in the van.

  Poe takes the lead and we follow. I’m directly behind him, Reese on my right. We reach the stop Reese told me about, and I see the sign.

  Fuck.

  I want to see her. Might as well admit it. I turn to glance at Reese and the fucker is snickering. I flip him off, check to see if the road is clear, then turn left.

  I’m in the mood for some pie, all of a sudden.

  ***

  Abby

  I will not cry.

  I will not cry.

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Val asks again.

  I sh
ake my head. “No. I’d rather finish alone. Don’t forget your cupcakes, though. Your mom will be mad if you show up empty-handed.”

  My hands are shaking as I untie my apron. Avery, my one and only employee, already left. Well, my one and only ex-employee, now.

  A few days before Thanksgiving, Gary passed away. Heart attack. It was completely unexpected, and there was nothing anyone could do.

  There is also nothing anyone can do about the fact that his nephew inherited everything, including this building. Jonas-the-asshole wasn’t interested in getting rent every month like his uncle had, and he wanted to sell the place. I tried to convince my bank, but I was still too new in the business. I also tried to find another place to rent at a reasonable price. I’ve been unsuccessful so far. Val is letting me stay in her guest room until I find a solution. My parents offered to help me out, but it really is a last-hope solution that I don’t want to consider until I have tried everything else. I have enough money saved to last me a few months, but I don’t want to dig too much into my savings. I know I’m young and will find something at some point, but this was my first business. Where it all started for me.

  It hurts to say goodbye, especially under those circumstances.

  I still have quite a few pastries left, and I plan on calling the school a few streets away tomorrow morning so they can pick them up. Might as well put them to good use, and teachers deserve a treat every now and then. I store everything in the fridges, hesitate, then grab a cupcake. Vanilla. Simple, basic, but still my favorite for some reason. You can add anything to vanilla. It’s the perfect flavor for variety no matter what people say about it being boring. This one for instance has a secret raspberry center.

  I am settling down at one of the tables in front of the windows when a sound captures my attention. I’m used to it now. Since October, every time I hear a bike, I swear I perk my ears like a dog when it hears you open a candy wrapper.

  I shrug it off and let my finger slip through the frosting before bringing it to my mouth. Yum. I am peeling the wrapper off when I realize the sound isn’t fading away. Quite the opposite.

  Ugh. The bike that stops right in front of my bakery looks like Apa’s. Not that I’m good at recognizing bikes in general but I took a picture of it and… I might have looked at it once in a while in the last three months.

  Like, maybe every night. But it’s not creepy, because I wasn’t watching alone. Richard, my faithful vibrator, usually was with me. I’ve gone through an entire Ikea box of batteries since October.

  It’s late afternoon and the sun is low as I watch a strong, lean body get off the bike.

  Either I’m hallucinating or my one and only hook-up just pulled over right in front of my shop. Or former shop.

  He tilts his head back, grinning as he looks above the large windows. The Sweet Spot was my pride and joy, and I feel even more depressed that he is here to witness my downfall. At the same time, my heart flutters. I kinda missed the big jerk who wanted me to have pictures of him but didn’t feel the need to ask for mine.

  I eventually shake off my trance and stand up. He is just stepping on the sidewalk when I open the door. We look at each other for a few seconds. The smile on his lips widens as he takes in my uniform. It’s nothing special, just a pale green chef coat with white pants, but he seems to approve.

  “Abby,” he says as he takes off his sunglasses.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice isn’t accusatory but surprised.

  “I was passing by?”

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  “I saw a sign on the road and… I don’t know. I figured I’d come and see how you’re doing.”

  I snicker. You picked your day, really. “I’ve been better.”

  “May I come in or do you serve your customers on the sidewalk?”

  “I’m closed.”

  He tilts his head. His hair is a little longer than last time. His scruff is almost a beard now. I’ve never been a facial hair kind of girl but he’s making me reconsider my position.

  With a sigh, I step aside. I’m conflicted. A little too much to my liking. I don’t want to explain why everything is empty, and at the same time I want to be in his arms.

  He stops by the door as he reads the notice I left for my customers. The usual blah blah thanking them for their loyalty and support, and that I hope I’ll be able to serve them again in the future.

  “You’re moving?” he asks as I let him inside.

  “Not really.”

  He looks at me, intently this time. “Abby, what’s wrong?” he asks gently, and I don’t know why, but that softness is my undoing.

  I, literally, burst into tears.

  It stuns him a little, too. I’m pretty sure he was hoping for a good tumble between the sheets, and he ends up with a sobbing woman instead. But he takes it like a pro. After a few seconds of shocked silence, I’m in his arms.

  Except it makes me cry harder. I gave so much for this bakery. Worked tirelessly. And now it seems like it was for nothing. Back to square one.

  He is strong, solid against me. It soothes me. His scent helps too. It’s a mix of leather, fresh air, and Apa, and I really missed it. Once the worst is over, I take a few deep breaths then lean back and wipe my cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. You just caught me at a bad time.”

  His thumbs help me get rid of the last tears as he cradles my face between his hands. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  I nod, and my good manners kick back in. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Yeah.”

  I pour him a cup, then grab one of the boxes I packed. Seems like the least I can do is offer him a treat.

  He is sitting at the table I vacated to welcome him, my cupcake already half-eaten.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Couldn’t resist.”

  It makes me smile to see him enjoy my creation. “I would have offered you one, you know. No need to steal mine.”

  He drinks a sip of coffee as I sit down. “OK, tell me. What happened?”

  I tell him about the building being sold and me being basically kicked out.

  He listens.

  He also shoves his face with two more cupcakes before I’m done.

  The badass biker with tattoos has a sweet tooth.

  “What’s your plan?” he asks when I tell him about storing all my equipment in my parents’ garage and staying with Val. “Look for a job or try to open another business?”

  I shake my head. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. Huntington isn’t a big town, so my options are limited. There is another bakery on the other side of the town but it’s family-owned, and they’re not hiring. And there is nothing I can afford at the moment, not if I want a good location, which is crucial for this kind of business.”

  He leans back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the box of cupcakes.

  “Seriously?” I ask. “You’re gonna go into a diabetic coma.”

  He grins. “They’re good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean it. They’re really good.”

  “I’ll pack you some when you leave. Wait. Were you hoping to stay the night? Because everything is gone. I moved all my stuff already.” Not that Val would complain about having him in her apartment. She’d probably ask if she can watch him shower or something.

  Perv.

  He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. So, right now, you have no plan?”

  “Nope. Val told me to take a week to really get over it, recharge and, I quote, get out there in Rambo mode.”

  Apa nods, his fingers drumming on the table. He stays silent, and I think it’s the first time the silence between us is a little awkward. I mean, he came for a booty call, and I have no bed to offer him. He’s probably wondering how the hell to get away from here and still make sure I deliver on my promise of free pastries.

  I’m wrong. And the words that come out of his mouth shock me a little.

  Chapter 12

  Apa

&n
bsp; “Come with me to Edmond,” I say, and I honestly don’t know who I shock more in that moment. My train of thought is a little weird, to be honest. I stopped in front of her bakery and damn, the naughty girl called it The Sweet Spot, can you believe it? I was hoping for a nice reunion and the next thing I knew, she was crying her heart out in my arms. Once she told me the full story, though, I understood. I know how much passion she has for her job, how proud of her achievements she is. To have everything taken away from you that way must be hard. But Abby is strong. I have no doubt that this is only a step back. It still sucks, though.

  Her cupcakes, on the other hand? They don’t suck. At all. That stuff is good.

  I wish I could say I only offer for her to come to Edmond so we can have a few days together, or to get her mind on something else, cheer her up.

  That wouldn’t be completely true. The diner where I took her for our date belongs to Maisie. It’s something she insisted on keeping separate, in case one day something goes wrong with the club. It’s not exactly super badass so we don’t really scream it from the rooftops either. No one from the club works there and it’s one hundred percent legit, with regular workers. Maisie was adamant about that. She keeps her business, and the club stays away from it. She is the owner but has a manager, so everything is rather discreet.

  One thing is sure, though, she could definitely sell some of Abby’s desserts. I’m not talking long term. But even if Abby only stays a week or two, she could make some cash. The clubhouse has a huge kitchen, I’m sure the brothers wouldn’t mind if she allows them to have a few samples. If not… well, I’ll figure it out. One thing is sure anyway: Abby needs a reason to smile. I’m positive a change of scenery will achieve that.

  I don’t even think about how she is going to fit in. Maybe we’ll rent a room at the motel? I don’t care. I just want to help her. I don’t like seeing her cry and, in the spur of the moment, that’s the solution I come up with.

  “Are you serious?” she asks after a few long seconds.

  I shrug, like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. We can stay at the motel if you want to. Spend a week or two. You could sell your pastries to the diner. I’m sure they’d love some good desserts. You keep busy and take the time to lick your wounds.”