by Deja Voss
“I’ll take you when I get home from work,” Driller says.
“No, we’ll go today. I’m sure Pearl doesn’t want to spend the afternoon locked up in your room.”
He shifts in his seat and grips me tighter. “You really think you’re gonna hold me captive here twenty-four seven?” I say with a laugh.
“I really think you guys need to take Red Eye with you at the very least.”
“Like a babysitter?” I stammer. I stand up and walk across the room to refill my coffee cup. “I didn’t even have a babysitter when I was a kid.”
“Just, shit ain’t right right now,” he says. “It’d make me feel better. Until we figure out what went down the other day everybody needs to be on high alert.”
I know we need to be taking precautions right now, especially because for whatever reason we might be being followed, but the thought of having to be chaperoned everywhere I go is something I don’t think I can get used to. I’ll humor him… for now.
“Red Eye’s fun for stuff like this,” Betty says. “If you even say tampon in front of him he turns bright pink.”
“Well, in that case, let’s go to Costco and stock up for the next ten years,” I say sarcastically.
“I’ll be around. Come find me when you’re ready to go,” she says with a wink. She hugs us both before leaving.
“I’m sorry, Pearl. I know this isn’t your style. I know this is really inconvenient. I swear things aren’t like this all the time. I just would feel better if I knew you had eyes on you.”
I can’t stay mad at him, not over this, not over the fact that he actually gives a shit about me. I wrap my arms around his corded back and rest my head on his chest. “When is it gonna end?”
“You know I’m working on it. Even when it doesn’t look like it, I’m working on it. I’m gonna give you the life you always deserved, Pearl, no matter what it takes. If I have to forsake my club, my family, my patch, I’ll do whatever I have to do for you. I know it don’t seem like it, but that’s the only thing I can think about right now. You and me. Our future.”
I sigh deeply. “That’s really fucking heavy. Why do you want to do all that for me?”
“I don’t have any other choice, Pearl. You are mine.” His fingers slide up underneath the t-shirt, and he squeezes my breasts until I moan. “These are mine.”
He kisses my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth. “This is mine.” As his hands cup my ass roughly, I arch my back. “That’s mine too.”
“And what do I get in return?” I tease, batting my eyelashes.
He takes my hand in his and kisses it, then places it over his heart. I feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle. It’s overwhelmingly sweet, and yet I know he’s being sincere. “And this too, of course,” he says, moving my hand down over his growing erection.
I burst out in laughter and so does he. “That’s gonna have to wait til later though.”
“Oh come on,” I say as I drop to my knees. “I can’t send you off to work all stressed out like this.”
I pull his sweatpants down, marveling at that perfect v between his muscular hips, that giant cock I still can’t believe fits inside me. I wrap my mouth around him, and he wraps his fingers in my hair, losing all control as I take him as deep inside my throat as I possibly can. His moans are enough to make me drip. I move my hand down to my pussy and rub my clit furiously, timing my orgasm so I lose it just as he’s filling my mouth with his hot load.
I swallow it down, looking up at him with love in my eyes. That’s gotta be what this feeling is. Like he’s the sun and I’m the earth, and now I revolve around his perfection and light. The way he cups my chin in his hand makes me feel like he’s a king reining his blessing down over me.
“This is yours,” I whisper. “This part of me. I don’t know what to call it, but this is only for you.”
“Goddamn,” he mutters, helping me up off the floor. “That’s the sweetest thing anybody’s ever given me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pearl
“Shotgun!” Ransom shouts as we walk through the parking lot out to Betty’s car.
“Get your stupid ass in the backseat,” she says. “Just because you’re tagging along doesn’t mean we’re gonna acknowledge you.”
He hangs his head and opens the front door of the car for me, and I hop in. Driller said we were supposed to take Red Eye with us, but for some reason Ransom insisted on coming along too, and I don’t know how that makes me feel.
He’s really hot, but there’s something about him that makes me uneasy. The way Driller looks at me like he wants to eat me alive turns me on, but when Ransom does it I kind of feel like I need to take a bath in bleach. Obviously, if circumstances were different, I probably wouldn’t kick him out of bed, but considering he knows about mine and Driller’s relationship I find it kind of off he has this interest in me.
I’m sure it’s just guy stuff, some kind of power play or pissing contest.
He shuts the door behind me and gets in the backseat, and soon Red Eye joins him. He’s a younger guy, probably mid-twenties. One of his eyes is black and blue, like he just took a punch to the face. His patch reads “prospect.” I wonder if getting into a motorcycle club is like pledging a fraternity, where you spend months as somebody’s bitch just to wind up being their brother at the end, but I don’t dare ask. That concept was always kind of fucked-up to me.
“Where do you want to go first?” Betty asks.
“We should probably start with the basics,” Ransom says. “Definitely the underwear store.”
“You better stop it with that sick shit, boy, or I’m going to tie you to the bumper and drag you along behind us. You know better than to talk to her like that. She ain’t yours. What the fuck is an underwear store anyway?”
“She ain’t nobody’s officially,” he says, his cocky smile lighting up the rearview mirror. “Still gotta prove it.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” I stammer. “You keep saying that like I have to run a gauntlet or something to prove I’m worthy.”
“Something like that,” he says with a snicker. Red Eye punches him in the arm.
“Shut the fuck up, please,” Betty shouts. “This girl is shopping for her father’s funeral. She doesn’t need your bullshit.”
“I’m just saying, just because Driller was the first one to lick it doesn’t mean she has to pick him. I’m just giving the woman options.”
“The only option I choose right now is jumping out of a moving vehicle,” I say under my breath. “I’m just waiting til we get to a bridge.”
Red Eye cracks up, and Ransom shuts up, and Betty reaches over and squeezes my knee and winks. “You’re gonna fit in just fine here.”
“Fuckin’ underwear store,” I mutter. “You really think I’m taking you panty shopping, Ransom?”
“I was kind of hoping. I’m a man of very specific tastes.”
“Nobody wants to see your lacy thongs, Ransom,” Red Eye chuckles.
“Keep it up and I’ll punch you in your good eye, brother.”
“You can try. Last guy didn’t fare so well.”
At this point, Betty pulls a joint out of her purse and has it perched between her lips. For the first time in a long time, the thought of getting high sounds appealing to me. Maybe it’s to shut these guys up or maybe it’s because I’m worried about the idea that somebody may actually be following us. While Ransom and Red Eye both look tough as fuck, they certainly don’t seem to be paying attention to their surroundings too much.
We get to the mall and Betty’s phone rings. “Guys, I gotta go for a little bit. Can I come back and pick you up?” she asks.
So much for girls’ shopping day. It was one girl, one boy, and one caveman’s shopping day. “It’s no problem.” I can’t imagine these guys are going to follow me from store to store.
“You need money?” Betty asks.
I shake my head. I’m already really uncomfortable by the stack o
f cash Driller insisted I take. That’s not my style. I know how to get my own money, and I made him promise he’d let me pay him back once we got the shop up and running again.
I don’t need a whole lot of stuff, and supposedly Stoney sent guys down to my old apartment to bring everything I left back with them. I’m sure they’ll have a better chance at getting it than I would on my own.
All I want are some jeans, a few sweaters, and a black dress to wear to my father’s funeral, and Driller gave me enough money to buy out the entire jewelry department at Macy’s. Maybe it’s good these guys are following me. I’ve never had this much cash on my person before. I’m not trying to get jumped.
“Where to first, Pearl?” Red Eye asks, holding the door open for me. I can’t help but blush a little at his politeness. He’s way too young for me, but something about manners and a friendly smile goes a long way with me. Ransom, on the other hand, has his fingers on the small of my back, and his hand starts creeping lower and lower with every step I take.
“I think you need to learn a lesson about touching things that don’t belong to you,” I say.
“I figured as much. I could tell just by looking at you that’s the kind of broad you are.” He shakes his head at me and lifts his hands in the air. “I can’t help it. I’m a friendly guy. It doesn’t mean anything, babe.”
“You sure about that?” I ask, standing on my tiptoes so I can get up in his face. “Cuz to me it seems like you’re trying to prove something to Driller.”
“Whatever,” he says with a shrug. “Your loss.”
I’ve never had one guy fight for a date with me, let alone two guys fight over me, and I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s happening here either. This is club shit. This is power play shit, and I will not let myself be a part of that. I would never come in between friendships. Letting a man rip Riley and I apart was the worst feeling ever.
I try to stay a couple paces ahead of the guys. The three of us walking through the mall together is definitely not keeping a low profile. I’m having a hard time believing someone is actually following me, but as I thumb through racks of jeans and pick out a couple dresses I can’t help but look over my shoulder occasionally, wondering if I’m just being paranoid or if everyone here is actually out to get me for some unknown reason.
“I’m gonna go try this stuff on,” I say.
“This too,” Ransom says, laying another hanger on top of the pile draped over my arm. I don’t know if I can roll my eyes any harder than I am right now. It’s a black slinky dress that’s probably the size of most of my shirts, and it has little cut out designs in the side.
“You want me to wear that to my father’s funeral?”
He shoots me that cocky grin with his perfect white teeth and shrugs. “Driller might.”
I can’t stop laughing in the dressing room. I try on a few pairs of jeans and some tops that look pretty much like everything else I have in my closet already. That’ll work for now. That little rubber band of a dress hangs there all sad and lonely, and I figure fuck it, I’m undressed anyway, maybe if he sees how hideous it looks on me he’ll leave me alone.
I step out of the room jokingly doing a dramatic twirl, fully aware that my socks are hiked up to my knees. This thing looks ridiculous on me, that’s no lie, but for some reason I think Ransom thinks differently.
“God damn, woman,” he says. “Did not see that coming.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, suddenly feeling really self-conscious. I tug down the bottom hem of the skirt with one hand and try and tug up the top with the other.
“Driller’s gonna fucking hate that dress. I’m definitely buying it for you.”
“What is your end game here, dude?” I shout before stepping behind the dressing room door. “I don’t fucking get it. I thought Driller was your friend. I thought you came with us today to make sure whoever the fuck is following me didn’t have a chance to get close to me, not so you could harass me and insult my man.”
“Wait, what?” he stammers.
I furiously rip the dress off and toss it over the door. I hurry up and throw my clothes back on and drape the jeans over my arms as I storm past him.
“Pearl, what did you just say?” He grabs my arm.
“Quit harassing me is what I said. And let go of me. I’m not trying to make a scene. You should know better.”
His voice grows low and he whispers in my ear, “What’s this about somebody following you? Who told you that?”
“I just had a feeling. Driller confirmed it last night. It’s probably nothing. I don’t have any enemies that I know of, and even if I did I got nothing to offer them.” Aside from the wad of cash I don’t like carrying around, and now a dress that looks more suited for a stripper pole than a day of mourning.
“Pay for your shit. We need to talk,” he says, his grip tightening on my arm.
“What did I do?” I whisper, my blood growing cold.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Driller
All the years Kid’s been locked up, I hated coming here to see him. Maybe it was because seeing him behind that glass wall, he almost looked like he was perfectly aligned with his element, like being a caged animal was something that suited him well. Kid was a lot of things when we were growing up, namely impulsive and angry, and jail seemed to bring out that side of him even worse. We weren’t even allowed to have face-to-face visits like most of the other inmates. Instead, I had to sit across from him behind a pane of glass and talk to him on a phone.
Today he’s lucky there is a fucking wall in between us because I’m really not sure I am going to be able to restrain myself from giving him a fucking throat full of his own teeth.
Something in his eyes looks weird today, off. Distant, like he ate too much Xanax or some shit. Any other circumstance I might feel bad. I’m here today to give him what he has coming to him for the way he treated Pearl.
“Driller, what are you doing here?” he asks over the phone, his tone completely flat. “It ain’t Thursday.”
“Some shit’s been going down. I don’t know who you talked to.”
“Heard about Vinnie. That sucks. You okay?”
I hold my head in my hands and grunt. “I’m fine. Just worried about some shit. Your dad. The club. My woman. There’s a storm brewing, Kid, and I think you’re at the center of it.”
“Ain’t much I can do in here,” he says with a shrug.
“Yeah, but you’re getting out in a few weeks.”
“I’m not taking over for my dad.” I look up at him, kinda shocked. First off, I wasn’t certain he knew what was going down in terms of Stoney. Obviously somebody told him, but I have no idea who. Could be fucking Stoney himself for all I know. Second off, the Kid I know is power-hungry. The Kid I know was probably plotting his presidency from the womb.
“That’s not why I came here, but alright. You wanna elaborate?”
He just purses his lips and shakes his head.
“You want to explain to me what happened with Pearl back in high school. Did you touch her?”
“Yeah. I probably did. Do you expect anything less? I’m a piece of shit, Driller; always have been, always will be. I destroy anything that comes anywhere near me. Up until recently I never had that switch inside me that made me feel remorse about nothing. Just did whatever the fuck I felt. Now, it’s like I woke up, brother, and everything is hitting me all at once.”
“Can’t forgive you for that. She’s my woman now, and I don’t know what it’s gonna take to make her come around to you when you get out.”
“You don’t gotta worry about that, Driller,” he says, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it up. For the brief moment as he lights it, I see that glimmer of evil behind his eyes. Mischief. Straight-up insanity. Once again my cousin looks familiar.
“We were dumb when we were kids. Don’t beat yourself up too bad. We didn’t know any bett
er. You touch her again, though… you even look at her wrong, and I’ll have your ass. I might just kick your ass for the hell of it when you get outta here,” I say with a nervous laugh. His change in demeanor is making me really uncomfortable.
“You don’t gotta worry about that, Driller. You don’t gotta worry about anything, man. You don’t even gotta worry about my vote. Whatever’s best for the club. That’s my vote.”
“That’s very mature of you.”
“I know my dad’s gonna fight you on this with every breath he has. He loses his presidency and it doesn’t go to me, he’s gonna do whatever he can to make hell to pay. It ain’t fair. It ain’t right, but you know him as well as I do. I’m gonna do my best to make sure everything goes smooth, don’t you worry.”
I let out a long sigh. I like to think that Stoney has the MC’s best interest at heart no matter what, but maybe I don’t know as much as I think I do about the club. Maybe being raised in it ain’t enough. Thirty-five years of my life, and the last week is making everything seem like a fucking lie.
“I don’t hate him for it, brother. His brain ain’t right. He’s getting old and he’s sick. He can’t help it.” I see a little glimmer of a smirk on his face, and he presses his finger over his lips. “Three more weeks, brother. Everything’s gonna be alright.”
“Sure,” he says.
The guard motions for him to stand up, and I set the phone down, more confused than I was when I got here.
Suddenly, the guard starts to scream, and Kid locks eyes with me as I watch him drive the shank into his stomach over and over again. I pick up the phone and start screaming into it.
“Kid! Kid! Knock it off! What the fuck are you doing?”
I know he can’t hear me as I pound on the glass. He’s being surrounded by guards, being tackled to the ground, but he just keeps stabbing. For such a tiny knife there’s so much blood. Smeared on his face. Shooting from the guard’s jugular. From his stomach. How did Kid manage to stab him so many times while we just stood by and watched? His hands are still bound in cuffs.