by M. N. Forgy
I look up at the girls who are both now smiling. “I’ll wear it with honor,” I whisper. “Yeah, sure, I’ll go. Let me get some clothes on.”
3 Weeks Later
I sit in my chair, waiting for Lip to be escorted to his side of the glass. I was told he isn’t allowed to have contact visits yet because he just arrived, which sucks because I’d do anything for a hug. To smell him, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. It’s getting lonely at the house without him. Piper has been in my mind more than ever because of it. I thought about driving by the trailer park the other day but decided against it. That is a stupid, stupid idea. I want to see Piper—hell, I want Piper. I am her mother, after all. But I know going over there will put me in the line of fire again. I thought about telling the ol’ ladies, but I’m new to the club. And besides, what can they do? I’m not sure the hit that came after me wasn’t from a judge. That’s not some little trailer park shit that might need the piss kicked out of him; it’s someone who could cause some major damage. I don’t want to hurt my new family when I just got them. But I will get Piper back. Someday.
I shift in my seat and pull my leather cut onto my arms. To wear this, I feel proud, like I’m a part of something whole.
Orange catches my eye, and I look up to see Lip handcuffed and being pushed toward his chair. Orange. Is that for being new or for murder?
He looks rough. His lip piercing is gone, and his hair is oily and un-groomed. This guy doesn’t look like Lip at all, but rather a maniacal empty shell of Lip. I pick the phone up and watch as his chest lifts on an inhale before he lifts his phone.
“Lip,” I state anxiously.
“Sup?” He looks off, not at me. A stabbing pain radiates in my chest, but I furrow my brows and try to shrug it off.
“I miss you. How have you been? Are you okay?” I ramble off all the questions that have been in my mind since the day he was taken from me.
He shrugs. “I’m fine. It’s prison.” His tone is clipped and dry. He doesn’t even seem excited to see me. I pull on my cut, a little sad.
“What is that?” Lip snaps. My head jerks up and I find him actually looking at me.
“This?” I pull on the leather claiming my shoulders. I smile and turn a little bit in my seat to show off the back.
“I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting it.” I chuckle.
Lip bites his bottom lip and nods. “I gotta go babe.”
I jerk in my seat. “What? Why?” None of the guards had said anything about our time being up.
“Time’s up,” he states, standing from his seat.
“Wait!” I slap my hand against the glass, my teeth gritting with anger. Ever since the day he was taken from me, I have had one thing on my mind every day.
“That day you said you had something to tell me, what was it?” I yell, hoping he can hear me.
Lip trails his bottom lip with his tongue, his eyes searching mine for the first time since I’ve been here. I feel vulnerable with the intensity of it. Seconds go by which feel like several minutes.
“It doesn’t matter,” he finally says and walks away. My bottom lip trembles and I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to hold back a sob. I all but run out of there, so confused. He doesn’t look like Lip because he isn’t Lip. He’s built a shell, an ego to survive in prison. I have to be strong for him, just like the girls said. He was there for me when I needed it most, and now I’ll be here for him.
Lip was sentenced to six years in prison. When that verdict came in, I fell off the wagon of sobriety. I got so high and drunk that Babs had to put her finger down my throat to make me puke up some of the liquor. I was hungover for three days.
CHERRY
4 Years Later
I would love to say that all the visits we had over the last four years were different, but they weren’t. He was distant, his eyes hollow and cold. The Lip I knew was nowhere to be found when I was with him. But he was in prison, and I couldn’t imagine what that was like. I was told a couple of times visits were not an option because Lip was in trouble. Not to mention he had extended time added to his sentence because he killed a man in self-defense. The ol’ ladies took me in as one of their own, and I loved them for it. Prison wasn’t only rough for Lip, but for me, too. Living among the MC, a rougher side of me escaped. When one of them was in trouble, I was there standing behind them, ready to throw down. To say the least, my soul had become corrupted for my new family, but being alone for years can make anyone angry. I was mad, I was sad, I was lonely, and I took it out on anyone I could. Before, I saw a baseball bat as something you did to pass time—little league, even. Now when I see a bat, I wonder whose kneecaps I’m about to crack, and If I should use aluminum or wood.
Who knows, maybe this side of me would have come out eventually. I wasn’t exactly raised in the best upbringing, after all. I asked God to feel my pain that day I met Lip, and he must have listened and placed me where I’d be accepted. With the outlaws, where I belong.
***
Staring at the keys in my hand, my heart races when I think about the thought that has been plaguing my mind for several months. Piper. My daughter. Seeing her. I want to see her just once, know that she’s alive and doing well. Years have gone by and yet every day I think about her. Think about telling the club, and think about telling Lip, but I don’t. I don’t tell anyone. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m scared. Lip is not the man I knew. He’s distant since he’s been in prison; he doesn’t say much when I see him, and hardly writes back anymore. He’s breaking in there. Prison is making him hard and constantly on-guard. Lip has two more years in that hellhole, and every day seems longer without him.
I tell him every time I talk to him that I’m here, waiting for him, staying strong for him. Just like the ol’ ladies told me to. They said those are the main things a man locked up wants to hear. Hell, they’re the main things I want to tell him. But even with the club having my back, inviting me to functions and making me one of their own, I feel a piece of my soul missing. Piper is missing. Lip is missing. Therefore, I am missing.
“I could just drive by,” I mutter to myself. Just drive by and see that the trailer park is still there, see the house Eric lives in—or used to live in, because who knows if he’s even still there.
I bite my bottom lip and step out the front door. Just a drive-by; nobody will even recognize me. I get into my car, pull my hair into a white baseball cap I found in Lip’s closet, and put on some sunglasses. I flip down my sun visor and look at myself in the mirror. It’ll work.
I grip the wheel and my world shifts.
“Shit,” I mumble. Adrenaline is pulsing through me so hard it’s making me high. This is so dangerous, incredibly reckless. I blow out a steady breath, trying to get ahold of myself.
“If the Devil’s Dust taught me anything, it’s to live on the wild side,” I tell myself. I start the car and drive the long journey toward my daughter, praying for just a glimpse of her.
Almost two hours later, I turn on the road that holds my old trailer. My heart beats violently as I pull up behind a slow van. I attempt to keep my eyes on the road but I keep glancing to my left, waiting for the trailer park to come into view. I try and keep my pace, so as not to draw attention to my car, but when I finally drive in front of the trailer park, everything seems to slow down. My eyes sweep the area frantically, knowing I have only seconds to see her.
I notice a couple of kids playing on an old jungle gym, but none of them stand out. Something grabs my eye, and I turn toward Eric’s house. My breath catches and a whimper leaves my mouth. A small little redheaded girl in pigtails bounces down the front steps. She has on the biggest grin, her cheeks rosy red. Everything hits me at once. That is my daughter. My blood. I’ve abandoned her. I’m a terrible mother. Gravel flies at my car, and I look forward to see the van swerving to the right because I just nearly ran into them.
“Shit!” I curse, jerking my wheel to miss them. I veer off onto the side of the road
and slam on the brakes, the van honking its horn as it speeds off. I look out the window, ignoring them, needing to see Piper just one more time. All of the kids are looking at me, including Piper now. Alarm ignites and I panic. Shit! I grip the wheel and dart back onto the road, cursing for drawing attention to myself as I drive away.
That was her. That was my little girl. She’s still here, and still alive. My brows furrow. She had on a really baggy shirt, and jeans that looked like they were boys. What the hell is Eric thinking? I shake my head. He obviously knows nothing about raising a little girl.
LIP
Picking up the phone, I let out a long breath. I need to hear Cherry’s voice today.
“Lip?” Cherry’s sweet voice sounds, and my body sags against the brick wall.
“Sup?” I reply coolly.
“Hey, how you doing?” she questions. I pick at the cement between the bricks.
I hate it here, but I never tell her about what goes on in here. Gangs and rival gangs are here, and I constantly have to watch my back. I can feel myself slipping into something dark and very familiar. I feel like a fucking DeLuca. I have to stand my ground constantly; if I walk away from one altercation I basically put a bulls-eye on my back, but if I stand up and beat my enemy to a bloody pulp, I draw attention from some of the prison’s most notorious outlaws. Not to mention the worst thing that could have happened. I had an FBI agent visit my cell the other day, told me he could get me out of here if I gave him something, anything about the club. I told him to get the fuck out of my cell without hesitation. But I lay awake at night wondering what it would be like if I did rat. What if I did give him something, nothing big, and got the fuck out of here.
“I don’t know. I’m fucking sick of it here. I needed to hear your voice,” I reply honestly. I hear her gasp in the phone, and my chest squeezes. I’ve been cold to her, I know. I don’t want to be, but it’s hard in here. I hate her seeing me like this, and I hate that I’m keeping shit from her.
“Lip, are you okay? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” she rambles, prying me for information. I sigh into the phone and rest my elbow on the wall.
“Just the same ol’ bullshit, ya know. Temptation knocked on my cell door yesterday. I needed to hear your voice, remember my way of life, and not pussy out.”
“Temptation? Like guys?” Her voice goes soft, like she thinks I might be messing around on her in here.
I chuckle. “No, not like guys. I like the feel of wet pussy, baby.”
“Then what? Lip, you can tell me anything,” she murmurs. I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes. I want to tell her, but I don’t want her to worry.
“Tell me, what have you been up to? Club treating you okay?” I change the subject.
“Umm, yeah. Everything’s good.” Her voice takes on an unfamiliar tone. Little hairs on my arms rise, worried that something is wrong.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my tone coming off snappier than I intended.
“I’m fine, really.” She doesn’t sound fine.
“Inmate, time’s up!” Guard Geraldo hollers toward me.
“Shit. I gotta go, babe.”
“Yeah, I understand. It was good to talk to you.” Her voice falls back into that sweet tone again, and my dick perks at it. Fuck, I miss her. I miss her pussy, too.
“Stay out of trouble,” I add. I’ve been told by Bull himself that Cherry is a resilient one. They went on lockdown at the club because they got into some shit a while back, and Cherry ignored his texts and fled. It made me beyond angry, because I was in here and unable to do a damn thing about it. Cherry is a fire that nobody can put out, having a mind of her own. I’m afraid one of these days she’s going to burn herself trying to prove to others she doesn’t need them to thrive.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” she retorts, knowing exactly what I’m talking about. She’s feisty and stubborn, and I both hate it and fucking need it at the same time.
CHERRY
3 Months Later
Sitting in my car, I watch Piper from afar. I’ve been coming up here and sitting in the gas station right across from the trailer park, watching her like a creeper. I can’t help it, though, and in doing so, I’ve learned Eric’s schedule. He works construction, I think. He came home one afternoon when I was watching Piper play; I nearly had a stroke, but he never even looked my way. He works Monday through Saturday, from sunrise to sundown. Sundays, he comes home at noon. In the mornings, he takes Piper to a trailer next door before he leaves for work, and no longer than five minutes after Piper is dropped off she runs out of the trailer to play in the playground. She’s there most of the day with the other kids. She’s never dressed in anything nice, though; in fact, she looks like a damn boy.
Looks like today is the first day of school for the kids. A bunch of them are waiting at the end of the trailer park’s drive in new clothes and shoes. They all look clean-cut and nice. I wonder if Eric put Piper in preschool this year. I sigh and bite into my donut, needing the sugar. Preschool would be good for her, give her a head start on what to expect.
My heart practically stops beating when I see Piper walking down the stairs of Eric’s house. She stops and looks at the door. Following her line of sight, I find Eric close behind her.
“Shit,” I mumble, ducking in my seat. Eric waves at her and heads toward his truck. What an asshole—he’s not even going to help her on the bus on her first day of school. I grit my teeth and sweep my eyes back to Piper. Her clothes look ridiculous. I glance back at Eric, curious if he just doesn’t have the means to provide for her. He’s in nice-looking clothes, though, and his boots look brand new and expensive. Does he just not care? Or is he punishing her because of me?
After Eric has driven off, I sit up in my seat. I want to go stand with her, tell her not to be scared for her first day.
The group of kids turns, and Piper’s bright smile fades. I frown. What are they saying to her? I sit up more in my seat and squint my eyes, trying to see what’s going on. One of the other kids points at her dark blue shorts, and the rest of the kids laugh. They are making fun of her. My heart sinks, and I look down at my hands.
God, why does this feel like déjà vu? Glancing back up, one of the kids pushes Piper.
“What the hell?!” I open my car door and jog across the street. “Hey, you little punk, get away from her!” I holler. All of the other kids scatter, running to the opposite side of the circle drive. I step over and grab Piper’s hand to help her up. She looks up and pins me with tear-filled eyes, and my heart slams against my ribcage with such force I can’t breathe.
What am I doing? She looks just like me. She even has freckles on her face. I can’t be here.
“Thank you,” she mutters, her voice cutting me.
“You’re—” My voice cracks. “You’re welcome,” I finish. She looks at the other kids as her tears fall down her cheeks.
“Screw them, they’re stupid,” I add. Her head whips toward me, her eyes wide. She peers back at them, then back to me and smiles.
“Yeah, screw them,” she repeats. I close my eyes and scorn myself silently for my language.
“Why were they picking on you?” I question, opening my eyes to find her looking right back at me. My heart does that panic beat against my chest again, making it feel like I’m drowning in my own guilt and regret.
She looks down, her fingers rubbing on the material of her shirt.
“Because of your clothes?” I assume. She nods.
“How come your daddy doesn’t buy you girl clothes? Or clothes that fit?”
She sighs and crosses her arms. “He says I shouldn’t worry about what I wear.” She rolls her eyes. “He always buys me boy stuff. I think he thinks I’m a boy.” I clench my jaw. That bastard. I can’t tell if he’s just being a protective father, or a fucking prick.
The big yellow school bus screeches as it comes to a stop behind me.
“Well, I guess you better go enjoy your first day of school.” Her eyes flick from me to t
he bus and fear consumes them.
“Think of it as a big Twinkie. It isn’t scary, really.” I laugh as she just looks at me, swallowing hard.
“Your first day of school is going to be so much fun. You’re going to meet your teacher, and find friends.” I pause, smiling big. “And the biggest playground ever is there!” I laugh, my tone enticing. Her lips part into a toothy smile.
“I’m Piper, by the way.” She holds her hand out, and I shake it. Her little palm in my hand makes me want to cry it’s so small. I don’t want to let go, can’t help but circle my thumb along the top of her hand, feeling her soft skin.
“I’m—” I choke. I want to say her mother, I want to say Lindsay, but it’s too risky. “I’m Cherry.”
“Cherry?” Her face scrunches up. She tilts her head to the side, eyeing my leather cut. “Are you a biker?” The bus honks, and Piper jumps.
“You better get going.” I finally pull my hand from hers and give her arm a friendly squeeze. She looks up at me and beams with innocence before running off toward the bus.
“Bye, biker lady!” she hollers over her shoulder. I can’t help but giggle and cry at the same time. I got to see my daughter off for her first day of school, but the thought of her not even knowing who I am weighs heavily on my heart.
CHAPTER SIX
CHERRY
2 Years Later
The ceiling is spotted from where the roof has leaked over the last few years. My body beads with sweat from the unbearable heat as I lie on the bed and stare up at it. The small air conditioner placed in the window is not keeping up with the fucking heat this summer. Lip put it in trying to cool the house down, but it ain’t working. I may just evaporate into a pool of sweat if I lie here long enough.
Lip was finally released from prison about a month ago, the club lawer finally got him off on self-defense and his extended time was taken off. But, things are not like they used to be. Not at all. He’s quiet, often looking at me when he doesn’t think I’ll notice, but as soon as I make eye contact, he looks away. He has this raw energy surrounding him, like something dark dwells within his chest and it might just rip through at any minute.