by Ker Dukey
"That's club pussy," he jeers, slapping her ass and grabbing a handful of her tits. "Come with me." He pushes her off his knee, and she slips into a new prospect’s lap. They call him Rage, a miserable, barely-contained mountain of fury. He frowns at her and pushes her ass to the floor, causing her spill a couple beers, which leaves her extremely unpopular to the brothers who are all intoxicated and want to stay that way.
"Bitch, you better get your fat ass to the bar."
"My ass isn't a fat, asshole,” she snaps.
"You fucking broke Rage's leg."
They carry on, throwing jabs back and forth, while my father walks me down the hall to my room, his hand on the back of my neck.
"Remember what I told you about women?"
"Yeah, Dad."
"Your mother fucked me up years ago and continues to torment me, making me pay for fucking weddings whenever she decides I’m good enough," he grunts. "Fucking bitches, all of ’em. Get in your head and play fucking games. They use their pussy to trap you." He turns me to face him and taps my chest. I catch a glimpse of Drew over his shoulder, her eyes popping wide when she sees the wall of my old man's back. Her dad's room is opposite mine. Rules are she stays in the room while they party, but Drew's a rule-breaker. It's that wild streak that makes her so fun to be around. She slowly closes the door, only leaving it open a sliver to watch us through the gap.
"Pussy is sweet, but you can get it free. You don't need to sell your fucking soul for it. Find a bitch who keeps your mind calm, your belly full, and…?" he urges.
"Your balls empty," I mutter, knowing Drew’s got to be laughing her ass off at me behind that door.
"Save your love for the road. If you give it to a woman, she’ll use it to control you—even after she's left you. Look at your mother."
I want to ask why the hell he's bothering to marry her again then, but I asked him that the second time, and he said it's cheaper to be married to her than not. Whatever the hell that means.
"Now, I said I had a gift for you." He grins, which looks weird on him. He never smiles. He's a six-foot-six, scar-battered, bearded monster.
He raps his knuckles on my bedroom door, which was empty when I left it a couple hours ago. Two seconds later, the handle drops, and the door opens.
What the fuck?
A young girl is standing there, finger in her mouth, tits on display, and black lace panties. "Don't tell your mother. Have fun." He shoves me inside and saunters off the way we came. My heart races a mile a minute. This naked chick is in my room looking at me like I'm her lunch after she skipped breakfast.
I don't look like a teen. I know that. Like my old man, I am tall and broad. Unlike him, I have a pretty face. Girls like me, and although I've had plenty of offers, I'd never done anything with any of them. I had urges like most teenage boys, I just took care of them with my right hand. People assumed Drew was my girl, and neither of us discouraged that. If I did anything with someone else, I feel like we'd lose that bubble I like being in. No one asks Drew out because of that, and it makes me happy—real fucking happy.
I turn around, my eyes landing on Drew's. She opened the door farther and is looking up at me through her lashes. She blinks rapidly and bites her lip, waiting to see what I'm going to do.
Fuck, what am I going to do?
She shrugs her shoulder and rolls her eyes like it's a no brainer. The woman wraps her arms across my shoulder and whispers, "You want me to make you a man, baby?"
I laugh, ducking my head and giving it a shake. Fucking her won't make me a man; it will make me a fool. Of course I know what to do. No one comes close to Drew. It's always been Drew.
"Nah. Feel free to stick around in here for a bit and tell my old man you did a good job, though," I tell her, walking out and closing the door, grinning when Drew opens hers wide, letting me inside.
The moment she closes the door and turns around, I back her up against it and crash my lips down on hers, tasting the cherry lemonade she's been drinking. We're clumsy and nervous, our movements inexperienced and messy, but it's us, and that's all that fucking matters...
Six
Drew
Seventeen years old
The ground trembles beneath me. Goosebumps spout across my skin. “Why did we have to ride here?” I sulk, shivering as he comes to a stop. Pulling off my helmet, a matte black dome with crusted jewels in the shape of a skull. A gift from Alec, which he designed himself and gave to me for my birthday. My dad finally realized there was no way he could keep me off the back of Alec’s bike or out of his room.
I shake out my bush people call hair. I cut it short, and it still drives me freaking crazy. Alec loves it, though…
“Baby, you know I like to show you off on the back of my bike.” Alec groans, rubbing my thighs to warm me up. He kicks the stand out and climbs off, then helps me do the same. I should have worn more than these jean shorts, but the weather was nice when I left the house this morning. Now, it’s dark and freezing.
“Your dad’s going to freak out when he realizes you left.” I pull my jacket tight around me and light a blunt. Taking a long drag, I grin up at him through the exhale of smoke.
“Fuck it. I’d rather celebrate with you than those assholes.”
“Those assholes are going to be your brothers,” I remind him, passing him the joint.
“Got to earn my patch first, baby.” He sits next to me on the bench overlooking our lake, wearing his cut, the word “prospect” sewn on the chest above his left pocket, “You sure you want to patch in? You could go to college. You’re intelligent as shit, Alec.” I’m not blowing smoke up his ass either. He could go anywhere, do anything.
“This is in my blood, Drew. My dad would fucking die inside if his only son—only child—didn’t patch in and take the baton when the time comes.” He slips the blunt from my hand and chases the high.
“What about me?”
“What about you, baby?” he croaks through another inhale.
“You once told me you’d go to college if that’s what I wanted to do.” I nudge his leg with my knee.
“I said I’d go with you, and I will, if that’s what you want, but it’ll be as a Royal Bastard. I’ll go nomad until you’re done.” An orange glow moves through the air as he flicks the blunt into the water.
“And what if I don’t want this life when I’m done?” I test him. I’m not sure what I want yet, but I do know it’s with him.
He snorts, dragging me into his lap. “You’re already in this life, Drew. And you’re mine. I don’t even know who I am without you. We’re part of each other. I’ll go wherever you go and vice versa.” Damn him and his beautiful words and soul. I couldn’t imagine a life where we’re not together. The very thought makes me feel sick. People always joke about us being too young and not knowing what love is yet. I say fuck them all. We know what love is. It’s this: friendship, loyalty, laughter, love, touch, emotion—it’s being wherever the other is because they’re your air. Without them, you can’t breathe, and more importantly, you don’t want to.
“So, I don’t have a choice?” I push, grinning into his kiss as he captures my lips with his. He moves down to my neck, making me moan. “You want a life without me?” he asks, squeezing my butt and slipping his fingers beneath the hem of my shorts.
“I don’t know what a life without you looks like.”
“It looks bleak, baby.” He bites down on my shoulder and sucks, leaving a little love bruise.
“I should stay then?”
“I think it’s best.” He smirks, grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging my head back, sweeping my neck with wet kisses.
“Damn. I don’t think I could drag myself away even if I wanted to,” I groan, moving my hips.
“I don’t think I could let you even if you wanted to.” He tips his hips up, brushing against the apex of my thighs.
“We could have done this in your room.” I moan, loving the feel of his touch.
“I let Mason use it. He’s got a
thing for Heidi.”
Laughing hard, I push against his shoulders to stop his movements. “Mason and Heidi?”
“Yeah, what?” He leans back in, but I tilt backwards.
“Well, for one, Mason’s gross, and Heidi’s a princess. Two, Heidi has a major thing for you.”
Just thinking about her pining for him causes my to blood boil. She knows we’re together and still tries to get in his pants. She’s a cunt. The only reason I haven’t torn her hair out is because fighting over a guy is tacky club slut shit.
“Heidi knows I’m not interested. And Mason is gross to you. She might not think so.”
“Everyone thinks so,” I correct him, thinking of his ruddy face and fat tongue he tried to stick down my throat when he cornered me at a party. I broke his toe with the heel of my boot. I never told Alec about that night. Alec likes to bare knuckle box and takes on some of the club brothers. He’d destroy Mason, and no one needs that drama.
“He’s not the same kid who did this.” He strokes his finger down my scar and curls his hand around the back of my neck. Pulling me down to his lips, he kisses me so gently, a stark contrast to how he usually is with me.
Alec is hungry—that’s the only word for it when it comes to me. He always wants to kiss me, touch me, stroke, devour. Where I see an awkward teenage girl with wild, untamed hair, an ugly scarred face, skinny legs and arms, but boobs and hips that make me look ridiculous, Alec sees beauty—love—his best friend.
“Wait.” I pull away. “How does Heidi know you’re not interested?”
Licking his lips, his eyes on mine, he says, “Babe, she’d have to be blind not to see how fucking crazy I am about you. I want you. Only you. Anyone with two eyes can see that.” Grabbing me more aggressively, he pulls me back to his lips.
“She’s only going to have one eye if she keeps throwing herself at you,” I grumble between kisses. His chest rumbles with laughter against mine.
“Jealousy is not a pretty color, baby. But damn does it make my cock hard when you get all fired up.” He slips his hands up the shirt I stole from his room. His fingers fondle my breasts through my bra. His lips move down to mine, nudging them open with his tongue. I move my legs to straddle him at a better angle, getting lost in his taste. Our tongues duel, while the pad of his thumb gropes and explores. I push down, grinding on the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, Drew. You drive me crazy, girl.”
He drives me crazy too. My heart pounds. My skin ignites under the flames of his caress. I pivot my hips, getting a better angle and pushing down hard on him, breathing each other’s air. “Fuck,” we both say in unison.
“You’re going to make me nut in my pants,” he groans as I chase the feeling, my bundle of nerves rubbing on the button of his jeans through our clothing. “Oh shit, Alec,” I cry out, and he pins me to him, his lips devouring mine.
We pull apart when footfalls pound the pavement toward us. Alec moves me off him, straightening my top and standing in front of me “Who the fuck is that?” he calls out, bending down and pulling a gun from his boot. “You’re carrying?” I gasp as Mason’s ginger mop of hair glows under the moonlight. He bends at the waist to catch his breath, and Alec slips his gun away.
“Alec,” Mason pants. “You need to get back to the club. It’s your old man. He’s going crazy.”
“Why?”
“Your mom—shit. Alec, just come to the club.”
The quiet swallows us as we walk through the club doors. The atmosphere is dense, a dark weight lingering like a storm cloud.
“Ambulance is here,” Rage tells Jimmy, his cut no longer branded with “Prospect,” but a diamond-shaped 1% patch sitting proudly above his club name.
“She can’t be here, son,” Jimmy tells Alec, his tone cautious, soft.
“What the fuck is going on?” Alec asks, all eyes on him.
“Go to Alec’s room, sweetheart. Wait there for him.” I’m hesitant, but Alec nods for me to go. I move a few steps before Jackie comes running out. “Ambulance and police at the gate,” she tells Jimmy, her voice shaking. “Jameson, you get shit sorted?”
“Everything’s clean,” the brother tells Jimmy.
“Open the gates.”
“Why is there an ambulance? Where is my old man?” Alec asks, getting agitated. His eyes dart toward the hall leading to his dad’s office.
“Alec, wait!” Jimmy barks as Alec dashes off, running toward the door.
“Fucking grab him, you dumb fucks,” Jimmy bellows as everyone jumps at once. My stomach turns, acid burning up my throat. Something terrible has happened. I can feel it in the air. It’s toxic with death, despair…
“Arghhh!” a growl mixed with a heavy, loud rumble comes from the office.
“Fuck,” Jimmy hollers, pushing his hand through his hair. The door opens, and police and medics flood in. My legs almost buckle beneath me. What the hell is happening, and where is my dad? Is he back there?
I back against a wall so I don’t fall down. Police carry out Alec’s dad, kicking and roaring. “It’s just until you calm down, Mr. Walker,” they assure him.
Minutes feel like hours as my stomach eats away at itself. I move around the room, sticking to the outskirts, staying unnoticed in all the commotion.
I reach the door of Alec’s dad’s office when Jameson places his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t want to do that, kid. It’s not good.”
He has a beautiful face and warming aura, unusual for a brother of the Royal Bastards. “I’m not a kid, and if it’s not good, Alec is going to need me. I’m going in there one way or another.”
“One way or another?” He frowns
“Around you or through you.” I shrug.
Holding his hands up, he raises a brow. “Don’t lose that spark, kid.”
Pushing open the door, my heart stops. Alec stands looming above the paramedics doing CPR on his mother. Blood coats his shirt and jeans. His hair is sticking up in all directions. “Don’t stop! Do it again!” he roars down at them. They keep looking at each other, shaking their heads no. “Again! Again!” he orders.
I move toward him. As if he senses me, he turns, his eyes made of glass, his heart crumbling like paper. “Drew…” he calls out in a broken voice, making my soul ache. I run to him and wrap him in my arms, letting all his sorrow bleed through his tears into me…
Seven
Alec
Twenty years old
A week later…
Whispers creep around me, making me angry. I hate this fucking feeling.
The fury inside me needs an outlet. It’s weird seeing these assholes in suits, but out of respect for my father, they all made an effort for my mom’s funeral. She was way too young to die. I’m so fucking bitter. The good memories now mix with the bloody images of her final moments. Anger and disappointment sear through my brain. Did she not think about how this would fuck me up!? Was I not enough for her?
Rain coats the fabric of my black jacket. Drew’s dainty hand squeezes mine.
“You ready?” she asks, gesturing toward my dad’s retreating form. I stare down the hole they lowered my mother into, her coffin littered with single red roses. “Yeah. You coming back to the club?” Her dad went on a run. Left her a note telling her to go to her aunt’s and stay away from the club, but didn’t give a reason why. She doesn’t even like her aunt. She’s a stuck up bitch.
“Of course.” Her brow creases, and she leans into me. I wrap an arm around her and sigh into the top of her head, breathing her in.
The place is packed, members from chapters all across the country coming to pay their respects for my father. It’s not about my mother. There’s an atmosphere in here, and it’s not death—it’s simmering anger, unrest. A lot of hushed conversations and shifty fucking eyes. Something’s going on. There’s more to this, I can feel it in my bones…there has to be more.
“I need a drink,” I grunt, wading through the brothers.
“Hey, darling, you okay?” Barb asks.
“That’s a stupid fucking question. Just get the man a drink,” Joe barks, then tips his own glass back. She pours me a whiskey and places a Bud Light on the bar for Drew, ignoring Joe’s continued efforts to get a top-up.
“Woman, fill my glass,” he warns, and I let out a bark of laughter when Barb gives him the finger.
“Come on. Let’s go out back,” I tell Drew, my head pounding with a headache that hasn’t left me since I came back here to find Mom dead. Self-inflicted stab wound to the stomach. How the fuck does someone do that? I didn’t believe she would be capable of it and thought my old man must have hurt her. It killed me to jump to that conclusion, but I know his temper and in a heated argument maybe… but I watched the video footage she entered his office already bleeding, the knife protruding from her stomach, her telling him she was sorry. It made me feel like a bad son for even thinking Dad could have done that to her. Shit, my head feels so muddled. “Watch it.” Rage growls as I barge into him coming out the back door.
“Fuck you, asshole,” I sneer, dropping Drew’s hand and smacking the bottle out of Rage’s. It’s fucking suicide to fuck with this dude, but I’m in all kinds of a giving no shits mood.
“Alec,” Drew breathes in a warning.
“Listen to the girl, kid.”
Fucking kid? He’s like eight years older than me—fucking nothing. He’s got a couple inches on me in height and a shit load in weight. Where I’m lean, boxing muscle, he’s brute force. I shove his chest. “I ain’t no kid, dickhead.”
He growls low in his chest, like a fucking grizzly bear.
Fuck it, I need to feel something other than this dark energy coursing through my veins. My mother’s image, bloody and fucking dead, is constant on my mind.
I swing and land a hit to his jaw. His head jars to the side, but his body doesn’t move. Motherfucker.
“You only get one,” he warns. Drew darts off running, no doubt to get my old man to rein me in before this fucker kills me.