FOUND: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel

by Korin, Scarlet

  ~ Chapter Twelve ~

  What's in a nickname?

  “Hey son,” Mr Vendrell called out, arching his neck into the tent where all us kids sat, “You kids sensible enough to fend for yourselves for an hour? My friend needs picking up.”

  “Sure dad,” Boyd replied. “We're good. I got everyone under control.”

  It goes without saying that we couldn't. We were probably only twelve around this time, but when you're that old you believe you can do anything...

  “Great,” Mr Vendrell added while eagerly glancing down to his watch and doing some mental arithmetic. “Remember kids, there's candy in the kitchen. I'll be in the house later if you need me... Probably upstairs. If I don't come down again, enjoy yourselves out here tonight.”

  “Have fun dad.”

  Mr Vendrell laughed and smirked slyly. “I will son, I sure will...”

  The rest of us – me, Anita, Shaun, Kenny, and maybe some others; though they weren't about right at that moment – all meekly gave him a bye. As kids, we were always so unsure around Boyd's dad. In his leather jackets, black shirts and jeans he cut a striking figure that wasn't like any of our moms and pops. He seemed like a character from out of a movie rather than everyone else in our little suburban town who were all cut from the same cloth. He didn't fit in, and I think its why some of our parents were so reluctant to let us stay over here. Of course, you can never judge a book by its cover. In Mr Vendrell's case looks were deceiving. He might have been a bike riding outlaw, but he treated us kids a lot better than most adults ever did. A lot of friends' parents only look through you like you're an inconvenience.

  “Who is he going to meet?” Anita asked confused.

  “The one with the big boobs?” Shaun, with much excitement, added.

  Boyd scratched his head. “Yeah. I think her name's Joy... maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Kenny asked. “What does that mean?”

  “I lose track... he has a few friends always over through the week. Girlfriends that is.”

  Anita gasped dramatically, covering her mouth.

  I turned to her. “What's wrong?”

  “He has women here. Women who aren't Boyd's mother!”

  The rest of our group burst into laughter that didn't subside for at least five minutes.

  That Saturday, in the ex-army tent Boyd got for Christmas, we were having a sleepover. Heading over, starting a fire in the pit in the back of the garden and cooking marshmallows was a regular thing during those years. Those nights were some of the best of my childhood. Whenever we had a sleepover at one of our houses – if they let us have sleepovers – we didn't have anything like the freedom we did at Boyd's house. It was our first taste of real maturity.

  “I'm serious! I'm serious!” Anita pleaded while being unaware of her naivety. “They're not married. It's wrong!”

  “Hey!” Shaun shouted and tossed a handful of popcorn at her. “Can't you shut up about Boyd's dad? My mom and dad isn't married, you know that! You saying they're doing something wrong?”

  “Well... Maybe they are... and maybe they should be!” She replied with absolute snark.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Demanded Shaun.

  “Well...” Anita flicked her ponytail. “Maybe it would mean you don't say hell all the time.”

  You could have heard a pin drop. The rest of us sat in silence. Those were fighting words and we all knew trouble was brewing.

  Shaun froze as his mind slowly took in her words. “Are you... are you saying my parents have raised me bad?”

  Anita sat back, high on being the center of attention. “I'm saying, maybe, you should talk better... like I do.”

  “Anita!” I couldn't hide my surprise. This was too much even for her.

  “You know I'm right Cassie. Everyone knows it. Shaun's bad.”

  It goes without saying her character was abrasive. While she may have been young she seemed to enjoy getting under people's skin. You didn't see that behavior in many kids.

  “What did you say?” Shaun asked incredulously, his body visibly shaking.

  Before Anita could chime in with a plea of innocent and claiming Shaun was overreacting – like she usually did, Boyd cut in with a joke to lighten the mood. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

  “Huh?” Shaun's head heatedly twisted to his best friend, angrier than ever. “Now what's that supposed to mean?”

  “You two are always arguing. Don't play innocent. That's what someone does when he likes a girl.”

  Kenny, sitting between the two, burst out laughing. “Yeah... He's right.”

  “Shut up!” Shaun smacked the back of Kenny's head before focusing back on Boyd. “I don't like this girl. How can anyone when she talks like that? I don't know how you could think that... Me? Like her. No way!”

  “I guess... Well... maybe you don't like her... maybe you love her,” I, without the wisdom to realize what I was doing, poured fuel onto the fire and set ablaze to what Anita had created.

  Boyd burst into laughter and gripped my shoulder. He laughed a huge belly laugh with eyes wide and stomach quaking.

  “Damn'it! What? What?” Shaun's body was really shaking now. “Now Boyd's girlfriend is giving me shit!”

  “What?” Anita exclaimed surprised, missing that Shaun just dropped the s-bomb. “She's not Boyd's girlfriend. No way would they be together.”

  “Yeah,” Kenny interrupted. “She wouldn't go with him.”

  Shaun raged, “She is... and she's a spoiled princess!”

  Both Anita and Kenny burst into laughter. The joke was now on me and the sound of their laughter bit clean through me.

  “That's...” I begun trying to no sell his comment and shake it off, but I couldn't. It got to me. “Why? Why am I a spoiled princess?”

  Shaun scratched his head in search of an answer. “I guess... Why would someone bring a change of clothes to a sleep over if they weren't a princess? You got a toothbrush hidden in that bag too?”

  Anita and Kenny both fell into fits of cackling.

  Though it stung. My hand gripped the satchel sitting to my side. Mom, in her love, was always too protective of me. Even though I was only across the road and could run back home at any time, she always insisted on packing a bag for me. I was the only one who came with stuff – a change of clothes, something to wash my face with, a toothbrush. Looking back as an adult it's nothing, but when you're a kid and you're the only one in a group with something out of place it stings.

  “I tell you Shaun, she'll have a bar of soap in there too!” Anita, forgetting all sense of their previous feuding, screamed in delight.

  “What?” I replied on the defensive. “There's no soap in there... I only have a washcloth.”

  All three burst into laughter again.

  “Why are you such a princess Cassie?” Kenny asked derisively.

  “Everyone hear that? Everyone hear that?” Anita clamored. “She doesn't have soap, but she has a washcloth! You a princess Cassie. Fess up!”

  Shaun, Kenny and Anita's mocking eyes were all on me. They made be feel like an idiot. I didn't know what to say.

  But Boyd came to my defense. “Knock it off you three! Who cares what her mom packed? It doesn't matter one bit.”

  “I do!” Shaun jumped to his feet. “And that's exactly the answer I would expect from her boyfriend!”

  My head sank when he started dancing and pointing more like a chimpanzee than the middle schooler he was supposed to be. But it wasn't over. Oh no. His excitement only encouraged the other two.

  “Princess! Princess! You're a princess!” Anita's gaze was full of absolute hate.

  “Where's your robe, princess?” Even Kenny, who usually followed me around like a lovesick puppy, tore into me. “Where's your crown?”

  All I could do, crouched on the canvas covering the grass, was stare down into my lap.

  Anita jabbed me in the shoulder. “Hey princess! Answer me!”

  My eyes lifted, though now the
y were full of tears.

  “Is the princess crying?” Shaun laughed anew with the others crumpling with him. “Have we made her cry?”

  “Shut up!” Boyd shouted, jumping to his feet and shoving his friend. “You've got to take it too far, haven't you? She's not a guy, you can't treat her like that!”

  The others were stopped dead in their tracks by Boyd's reaction.

  Shaun, knocked on his ass, raised a hand. “Don't get all caught up! Why do you care?”

  “Tell her you're sorry,” Boyd demanded.

  I rubbed the tears from my cheeks, trying to collect myself.

  Shaun's eyes met mine. “Cassie, you know I didn't mean it. I'm sorry...”

  “Thank you,” I replied nearly silent.

  Then he cackled and revealed his prank, “...sorry you're a princess!”

  Boyd screamed, “You evil...”

  But I didn't hear the rest. What he said, that stupid juvenile meanness, sent the tears trickling down my face. I rushed out the tent without looking back. I ran across the yard, street, and behind my parents' place. The evening was getting dark, but I didn't want to go home and let mom see me with red eyes. She would have asked what happened and I couldn't cope with telling her. Instead I sat behind the big oak tree that backed onto our property. Out back here I could be alone.

  When you're an adult you understand moments like this are only a case of kids being cruel. Shaun and the others, my friends, didn't mean to hurt me, they were only having fun. Yet, when you're a child and the joke is on you it stings just the same. I sat crying, stewing, wondering why everyone hated me, and then crying some more. I don't know how long I sat there for, but it was long enough to lose track of.

  “Cassie?”

  By now it was fully dark and I had to strain my eyes to see who was approaching. It was Boyd.

  “I looked everywhere for you.” He sat down next to me. “I thought you would have run off somewhere far. This is about the last place I thought of.”

  I gazed down to my feet. I didn't want to talk.

  “What have you been doing here?”

  I shook my head.

  “Don't want to talk?”

  I didn't reply.

  He twisted his feet in the dirt next to mine. “Wanna hear something funny? When I was creeping past your house your old man was sitting watching TV in his underwear again. This time his beer was on his belly and he still had his socks on.”

  I smiled. Of course in my mood I didn't want to smile. Yet I have to admit it was funny.

  “I know you're smiling. I can see your neck moving.”

  I corrected myself, I was supposed to be upset, and scooted away from him.

  Boyd sighed. “Come on... You can't still be upset can you? Everyone's forgotten what happened now. They were all sitting around picking on Shaun again when I last dropped in on them.”

  My eyes welled up again. “It doesn't matter... They hate me. That's why they're like that.”

  Boyd moved towards me. His body rested against mine. “They don't hate you... They're just messing. Being stupid. I've set Shaun straight. He won't call you that again. The other two haven't got the balls to start again. Now come back to the tent. It's getting cold out here and you need something proper to eat.”

  I whined, “But they know they got me... They'll call me a princess again.”

  Boyd nodded along understandably, to his credit. With how I was overreacting to such a silly word, I'm surprised he kept a straight face.

  He asked, “What's wrong with being a princess?”

  “I---”

  “...I know it's only my opinion, but being a princess ain't no bad thing... After all, Cassie, what's a princess?”

  This time I sighed. “I don't know...”

  “Come on, she's royalty! She's special, powerful... and what princess do you know that isn't beautiful?”

  He was right. They're all beautiful. I could see what he was doing and where he led me, yet it was still nice to hear.

  “See? Being a princess ain't a bad thing. It's good. Who cares how they say it? Just own it.”

  I took in what he said. His words made me feel better. A lot better. Boyd always had a positivity that made the good of any situation.

  He stood up and reached for my hand. “Ready to come back?”

  I nodded and sought him out him. We walked across my backyard and then past the house. Only when we came to the living room window did I fully warm up. Mom and dad sat together on the couch. She with head thrown back, mouth open and snoring. He scratching his crotch, cigarette in hand, with a tall boy precariously balancing on his round belly. It was funny. I'll give Boyd that.

  When we got back to Boyd's yard all the name calling was a forgotten memory. Together we had a fun night together, talking and having fun until we couldn't keep our eyes open any longer.

  Princess, my nickname, did stick and never left me until my family moved from Midnight. But from that day forward being called it never bothered me again. Being called it simply reminded me of the kind words Boyd spoke to me that night.

  ~ Chapter Thirteen ~

  We arrived back in Midnight later than planned. The journey back to the Valley was a long one and traffic wasn't good. The thumping beat in my head made driving difficult.

  Jerome, sitting next to me in grim-faced silence, didn't seem to care. Though I could tell by the way he held his forehead a headache from the memory of last night weighed heavy. Yet sympathy was the last thing on my mind after what he did.

  Throughout the many miles of interstate all I focused on was what I needed to get me out of this relationship and how quickly I could grab those things from our apartment. Bags, clothes and the few photographs still left from my childhood was all I required. I reckoned I would be able to get in and out, taking the most basic of essentials, within five minutes. Quicker than he could piss. Beyond that I didn't consider anything else. Only leaving him mattered. I didn't know where I would be sleeping tonight, but, after what I have been through, the sidewalk would have been preferable to a bed next to him.

  “Hey...” Jerome buzzed suddenly to life and waved his hand across my vision. “Head over there. I want to hit McDonald's before we head back to those dumb bikers...”

  We were driving along the main strip of stores in the center of Midnight and heading to the drive-through would have taken us in the complete opposite direction to the clubhouse.

  “You sure you want to get something to eat? We're already late getting to the drop off,” I asked keen for nothing to slow us down. The rhythm in my head from his blow reminded me of the ticking seconds.

  “I don't care! I'm hungry like a mother fucker... I need something,” he replied before lighting up his tenth cigarette of the journey.

  So much for professionalism. Jerome might have got in on this deal due to knowing Ez down in Crenshaw, but the Midnight Sinner's certainly had no clue to the bum they were doing business with.

  I hit the indicator and followed the sign towards McDonald's. Of course, I didn't need to be told where we were going. It was the exact drive-through my family took me to every Friday night when I was a kid. Passing under those golden arches I was reminded of some things never changing. Sure it was older, only aged by the passing of years. Though the red and yellow one story with its high neon sign guiding me to the window hadn't been remodeled one bit in the passing decades. In a world where everything moves so fast, it was good to see that some things always stay the same.

  I drove to the window. Jerome leaned across me and ordered three cheeseburgers with a coke. When the food arrived he pulled a bill out of his pocked, unrolled it and passed it over to the uninterested staff member. Before I even wound up the window he was snacking in next to me.

  “Want me to drive us there now, or wait until you're finished?”

  “Park here,” he told me with his mouth stuffed with bread, meat and cheese. He didn't like gherkins.

  We didn't speak again. Apart from the tapping of my
nails on the steering wheel and his shoveling of food, no other sound filled the car.

  I couldn't wait for him to be finished and for us to be headed back to San Francisco. Everything inside of me made me want to grab him and slam his head through the dash. Beating it down until there was nothing left except a bloody pulp.

  But I didn't.

  I couldn't. Even with these violent fantasies running rampant, I was scared. I would never beat him in a test of strength.

  In the dark corner of that parking lot, I watched his reflection in the glass. Without a care in the world, he stuffed his face with each bite of burger. Forcing more food than his mouth was capable of with each mouthful, he destroyed the burgers in three bites one by one. The way he ate was more pig than a man. The longer I watched him, the more resembled a real pig. His lips got longer, his face got fatter and his gorging grew. Jerome was a pig, in more ways than one. He disgusted me.

  “OK,” Jerome said, mouth clogged, the instant he took in his last ounce. “Let's move. Don't wanna be late.”

  I started the engine and reversed. He placed a hand in my vision on the bonnet. His knuckles from where he punched me were bloody and red.

  It was only a short journey to the clubhouse. Winding away from town and down those dusty paths, the night was quiet. Instead of the thundering music and row of bikes that greeted us before, there was nothing in the innocuous building that hinted at life except the faint glow of the windows at the front and a few motorbikes.

  Jerome pulled his cellphone from his pants and scrolled through before I heard ringing. “Yeah, it's me Young. I'm here with the delivery. I'm outside pulling in. Open? Yeah, I'll come through.”

  The bruise around my eye burnt, and I hoped he would ask me inside with him. I looked in the mirror to make sure I had done my job in hiding it. I couldn't have dealt with anyone, least of all a face from my past in Boyd, seeing it and coming to a conclusion of what went down. Luckily the foundation I layered on thick earlier still held. Outside of the sealed cut, hidden by my glasses, no one would tell.