by Amy Isan
The Skeletons stare at us, some of them twitching and hungry for a kill. Zero's kept them at bay. He raises his voice as Mr. Martinez and his men climb back into the van to drive off. "Just so you children know, we don't care if you have the goods or not — you won't be dealing in our town."
"Who says it's yours?"
"We do. If we catch any of you throwing that shit around, you're all roadkill." I roll my eyes and Zero shrugs, before adding: "Especially that chick you've been protecting, Bomb."
I shake my head and walk up to him, my anger overpowering my nerves. I stare up at his burly chest. He reminds me of a bulldog. "Sounds like a threat. Should I be scared?"
Zero spits across my shoulder and turns away from me. "Come on, Rifle, you're with us now." Rifle pushes past me and the others, who don't even acknowledge him. He starts up his bike at the same time as the Skeletons. After idling for a few moments, Zero and his gang of men twist their wrists and make their bikes roar, until they kick into gear and leave a trail of dust and smoke behind them. The men and I stand there, with our saddlebags full of weed, 50 grand, and knots in our chests.
I don't know about the other guys, but my knot is full of anger and regret. How did he know about Cassie, and what kind of danger have I put her in?
Rifle must've known more than I thought and told Zero all about it.
I'll kill him.
. . .
Back at the clubhouse, the men and I unload our score and stack it on the pool table. The weed doesn't smell as strong as I expected, but it looks more tightly wrapped than I'm used to. Tank wipes his forehead and stands back after unloading the last bale and he sighs. Six-Shooter, Petrol, Sword, Driver and I all gather around the table, with me closest to the bales. I can't fucking believe this happened.
"Fucking Rifle," I say. "Surge is gonna hear about this."
"Surge can't do shit anymore," Tank reminds me. I fume and look away from him. My eyes are fixed on the stack of marijuana. "If anything, involving him more will just endanger him. You haven't been around here, Bomb. The Skeletons don't give a shit if he's bedridden. The fact he wasn't at the meet up probably saved his life."
"I don't think they're that dangerous."
"They are that fucking dangerous," Tank says again. I stare at him, somewhat shocked and kind of pissed he's talking to me like this. Aren't I the president?
Whatever. I start to say something, but Driver cuts me off. "What about our bar run? It wasn't like we were challenged at all. It was fucking easy rattling the cages." Sword and Petrol take up seats on some bar stools.
A thought occurs to me and it makes me turn red in anger. "Don't you get it? The Skeletons let us think it was easy. It was part of the trick," I say. I ball a fist and slam it on the pool table, knocking over a pool cue that is resting against the edge.
I shake my hand and let the pain cascade up through my arm. Fucking useless. "Rifle! How long was he fucking with us? He can't get away with this."
"We won't let him," Sword says. He speaks up and stands. He slaps my shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. "We're brothers, ain't we? You don't have to do it alone. Even Rifle is a brother." He holds up his scarred hand.
"Bullshit," Petrol says. "He fucking tricked us. He oughta be strung by his neck from a bike all the way down the highway for that shit."
I nod and take a breath. The men are bickering, and after what just happened, it's the last thing we need to be doing. One of our brothers is taken out by an accident, another double-crosses us, and even me, I'm lying to them all.
"He's right," I say, gesturing to Sword. "He's still a brother, but I still want to kill him." I pause. "But, we can't be fighting each other anymore, God knows we don't have the members to back it up."
Sword and Petrol cool down a little and relax. At least they're easy enough to tame.
"What was Zero saying about a chick?" Driver says. He scratches his jaw and thinks back, tilting his head up to the ceiling. I shake my head and try and dismiss it.
"I have no idea."
"Was it the chick at the bar the other night?" Sword says. I steel myself to see where he's going with this. Should I even care? I let her go when she pushed me away. As far as she and I are concerned, we don't even know each other anymore. It shouldn't affect me. But it does. My heart races and my chest tightens in anticipation. "You did yell at us for chasing her, maybe one of the Skeletons was in the bar that night?"
"Maybe," I say, pretending to suddenly remember what he's talking about.
"Maybe there was one at every bar and that's why we didn't have any trouble. We're just fucking fish bait aren't we?" Driver says.
I fold my arms across my chest and lean back against a support pillar. "No, we're just stuck outgrowing our fishbowl. We're cramped and drowning in our shitty water. We need to make a break."
"You want to deal the drugs? Even after what Zero said?" Six-Shooter asks.
"Yes," I nod aggressively. "I don't give a shit what he threatens. We aren't teenagers. What areas do the Skeletons most frequent?"
"The east end, the south end and across first street mostly. They wander further north sometimes, it isn't like they're ever challenged. They claim the entire city as their own though," Tank says.
"Not anymore. Do we already have mules to move the drugs?"
Tank shakes his head. "Surge didn't like using mules, he just planned on us doing it." I stare at him in shock.
"That's stupid, endanger our own men? Jesus. We won't do it that way." I point at Sword and Petrol. "I need you two to start scoping out some mules to move this product. Don't be stupid about it, and focus on the north end of town. Don't bring any drugs, just bring the dealers to the warehouse where you were initiated. It'll be safest there."
Sword nods and Petrols stands up from his stool. They get ready to leave, and I stop them in their tracks with a yell: "Wait a minute, I want to talk about the drug deal." The two men move back away from the door and sit back in their chairs, and I feel everyone's eyes on me. "You all did great work at the run, this isn't our fault." I feel like I'm talking to a bunch of kids, but it feels kind of nice. It's like I'm coaching them. I didn't realize how much my experience mattered before. "No one fucked up, except Rifle, and you're all loyal. If anything..." I start to say, but trail off. I can't stomach admitting my weakness. I want to say, 'if anything I was the one who almost screwed things up,' but I won't. They don't need that shit right now. "Just go."
Sword and Petrol nod and leap to their feet again. As they pass through the front door, the light streams in and eats away at the shadows, briefly spilling onto the dusky green bales of marijuana. Then the door slams closed and they're gone.
"What about us?" Driver asks.
I think for a moment and absentmindedly stroke the plastic covering the marijuana. "Start hauling this down to the warehouse. Don't be stupid about it though, don't wear your cuts, and just play it cool. Wear a helmet if you have to. I don't want the Skeletons or the police catching whiff of it."
"What about you?"
"I have some shit I need to take care of."
Driver smirks and shakes his head. "I hope it doesn't involve a girl."
I meet his eyes but don't acknowledge what he said. I can't tell if he's trying to be snarky or vindictive. He doesn't seem hostile. I still can't trust myself enough to let the boys know. Admitting it might get back to the Skeletons, which would endanger her even more. Right now... they just might think they know what's up. I'd be surprised if it was any different. Rifle wasn't exactly a top notch member.
I leave the bar and the men to do their work. After kicking my bike back to life, I try and think of what to do. I want to visit Cassie, but if the Skeletons are tracking me, it'll be worse. Fuck. But if I don't visit her, I can't protect her. That's even considering that she'll stomach seeing me after last time.
Taking my own advice I gave the others, I strip off my cut and shove it into my saddlebags. I retrieve a blue bandana, a color that isn't on our vests,
and hide my mouth. It isn't much, but I look more like a civilian now. I smirk a little. 'A civilian.' That's a riot.
CHAPTER 6 — CASSIE
I wake up to one of my many alarms - I can't tell if it's the third or the second one this time. I used to have them all as different songs or tones, just so I could tell how lazy I was being. But it got a little depressing when I constantly hit the third alarm before waking up.
I jump in the shower and start getting ready for work. I'll have to be especially impressive today if I want to win Becky over again, since I didn't exactly make things easy on her yesterday. Just walking out... good grief. What can I do?
The sunlight catches my eye as I'm turning around in the shower to let the stream wash my back. I remember why I left work in the first place. That biker was there. He wasn't the biker I wanted, either. Logan... what is he doing right now? I push the thought away as I rinse my hair. As if he'd want to see me after how much of a bitch I was to him.
In my room, I dress and hear Sara milling about in the kitchen. I kinda wish I didn't have to see her today. Sometimes it would be easier if I could just walk right out the door after eating breakfast. It isn't like she's mean or anything... I just feel on edge. Like I'm doing something wrong. Guilty, even.
I didn't quit my job, right? I just had a little 'hiccup,' an outburst. Doesn't Becky constantly have 'hiccups' throughout our work days together? The ones where she screams at me over nothing, or the ones where she is way too nice and it almost freaks me out more? Those little 'hiccups.' I'm allowed one, aren't I?
I meet Sara's gaze in the kitchen as I sneak past her and pull down a bowl and a box of cereal for breakfast. I feel like a kid, with her eating a breakfast burrito she cooked up, and me diving into a bowl of colorful Froot Loops. "Good morning," she says. She's chipper, which is a relief.
There's a wilting container of ice cream on the coffee table in the living room. My eye twitches a little at the sight of it, but I try and stay calm. It really doesn't matter. Without a word, I set down my bowl of cereal and move into the living room to grab the carton, gingerly pinching it between my fingers to keep the sticky ice cream from getting all over me. I can't be too upset, she did make me feel better last night. I don't need to be afraid of her.
Sara doesn't say a word as I throw the carton in the trash and sit back down at the table. I dip my spoon deep into the bowl and let the little loops of cereal drown for a moment, before taking a hearty bite. Sara says something, but I can't hear her over the crunching. I swallow and lean forward. "What?"
"I said aren't you going to be late for work?"
"No," I say, eating another bite. "Why?"
She shifts uncomfortably and looks out the window. I lower my gaze and smile. "Did you invite someone over?"
Sara blushes and I take that as a yes. "Who is it?"
"I don't want to say," she says.
"Okay." A week ago, I would have pried until I died, but today, I don't care. Anything I ask might get twisted and turned to me. The last thing I want to do this morning is accidentally spill my guts about bikers and accidents and stupid decisions to kick them out of my life. I finish up my cereal and dump the rest of the milk in the sink, along with the bowl.
I grab my purse and shoulder it. I pull open the front door. "See ya later." I idly wave to her and head outside to my car.
She probably invited Mark over. What else would be new? Maybe she is getting old. Never branching out anymore... That'd be kind of nice, right about now.
. . .
Parking my car at work, I suddenly feel really anxious. I don't see any strange old bikers hanging around this time, but who's to say I'm not completely blind? I climb out of my car and head inside.
Lizbeth frowns when she sees me, but not in an angry way. More like an 'Oh shit you shouldn't be here,' kind of way. I freeze up as I walk past her and feel Becky as she seemingly appears from thin air behind me.
"What are you doing here?" she says, her voice cutting 'you' hard. "I thought you quit."
I turn on my heel and try to put on my best smile, but her cold stare makes it a little hard. "No, I don't know where you got that idea."
"You said you 'didn't have to put up with my shit,' and you left. That sounds like quitting to me."
I breathe through my teeth. "Oh no, it was a misunderstanding... I was tired."
"Uh huh," Becky says. "Get in the back and get to work."
I nod and hurry past her, only shooting a quick glance at Lizbeth to see if I did the right thing. She offers no help, still giving me a pitiful look. I didn't just walk into to a wasps' nest, did I?
As soon as I step back out from the break room, I know I'm in for it. Becky has five dogs lined up on leads in front of her, and she gives them all to me to take care of. "You'll be handling these rascals today. I need them all washed."
"Okay, I'll just take one and..."
"No." Becky stares. "I need all of them washed right now. The client is coming back for them in an hour."
"An hour?" I gnash my teeth. "That's impossible! It would take that long to wash one dog!"
Becky snaps her fingers and silences me with a stroke of her hand in the air. "Shut up. They're not washing themselves. And I'm not paying you to complain." She walks away from me, leaving my hand straining against five leads. The dogs all want to escape. They're wound up and restless. I feed the leads into one hand and follow Becky into the back.
"What is it? I told you to get to work." I force the leashes into her hand and take a step back.
"Fuck you," I say. My heart is racing, and I cross my arms to hide my quivering hands. "I'm not doing this shit anymore."
"Oh yeah? You little bitch?" Becky shoots back. She tries to give me the leashes but I ignore her. I open my locker and gather my things. "You can't just walk out of here."
"I don't give a shit." I can hear the words leave my lips, but they don't feel like mine. For some reason, I feel like Logan is with me, somehow guiding me to do this, forcing me to say what I've always thought. I mean, he doesn't put up with any shit, right? I bet he doesn't pull punches. He doesn't let anyone walk all over him. I lift my chin after grabbing my purse and stare right down at Becky. "I don't give a shit," I repeat.
I twist on my heel and walk back into the front, leaving Becky stranded with her five wild dogs. She stammers to get something back at me, but the dogs tangle themselves up and one of them collapses as the lead wraps around its leg. It doesn't look hurt, but it slows Becky down.
Before she can catch up, I'm out the front door. My car door feels heavy under my strained hands and my chest is tight. Despite all that anxiety, I feel free, I feel good. I glance out my window as I start the car and see Becky fuming at the front door of Pet Palace. Her eyes are clearly filled with rage even from this distance. Imagining Logan in my place, I hold my stare on her as I pull out of my parking space.
As I'm driving home, the adrenaline from quitting starts to wear off and reality starts to set in. What have I done? I needed that job. I was already worried about Sara finding out about my outburst, but now I won't have an apology to fall back on. There is no way Becky would ever let me inside that place again after that whole thing.
I flex my fingers and ease their soreness. I'm clenching them so tightly on my wheel, I'm nearly leaving imprints. I stroke the worn leather and try to think positive. At least I have my fall back mattress savings... that should work for a while until I find something new. As long as Sara doesn't find out...
More secrets, more lies. This can't be good for me, can it? I glance in my rearview. At least the strange biker isn't following me this time. Maybe I got out of there just in time...
Oh God. The idea of him showing up and getting my address from a disgruntled Becky makes me nearly swerve into another lane. That couldn't happen. I'd have to 'go into hiding' or something. Witness protection? I'm not really a witness if I caused the crime in the first place.
"God dammit!" I scream, slamming my fists on the ste
ering wheel. Dark throbbing pain shoots up my forearms and I grimace. That was stupid. "I need you Logan! Come back to me!"
. . .
Cruising through the apartment complex's parking lot, I try and spot Sara's car. Her dusty Oldsmobile isn't anywhere to be seen, so at least I don't have to worry about her for now. I park my car and hike up the stairs to our apartment.
The front door is cracked open. Did Sara forget to close it? She's not usually that absent-minded... Something feels very wrong.
My stomach tightens and I feel lightheaded instantly. I should leave, I think. I should turn around and get back in my car. And go where? I have no money on me, and all my cash I need to live on is inside. If they take it... I'm done for.
As I walk toward the door, I weave my keys between my fingers. I saw the technique in a movie once and it looked like a pretty neat trick for doing some damage.
With my knuckles clenched around my keys and the pressure threatening to cut my skin, I lean forward and peer through the crack into my apartment. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like it's giving me away. The crack is too small to look through, so I gently push the edge of the door open a couple inches. Maybe I should try getting the jump on whoever is inside, so they can't hide from me or anything. I shove the door the rest of the way, slamming it against the spring on the other side of the wall. As it bounces back, I jump inside and look around, holding up my fist full of keys.
"Who's there!" I yell out. I can't let them think I'm weak. Not now... not after the hellish day I've had. There's no sign of anyone in the living room or the kitchen. I stomp back toward the hallway leading to our rooms and the bathroom and try to make myself sound huge. Like I'm camping and there's a bear or something. Fuck, if it's the biker from my work, it might as well be a bear.
I hear someone move around in my room. Shit shit shit shit. I creep forward and get ready to shove open my door, expecting to find the old biker hovering over my overturned mattress and pocketing all my cash. I raise my fist and yell as I push inside the room.