Now, my heart breaks for other reasons. Now, I’m not crying for the two people he had killed; I’m crying because I was uncontrollably and irrevocably in love, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to take away the hurt I had inflicted on him. His cheeky smile begins to weigh down on me and I slowly begin to realize just how much he had changed for me over that space of time. In those small two weeks that I was back there, he was nothing but sweet to me. We went from enemies to lovers and he changed that. He did that for me.
A sob escapes me again and I run my hands over arms, wishing it was his rough, calloused palms gliding over me and not my soft ones. I’m all alone with a huge gaping hole weeping inside my chest and it’s all my fucking fault.
Turning off the water, I rip my clothes off and sink into the hot water, the pinching sensation sidetracking my pain away from my broken heart. Dropping down, I sit in the water until it turns prickling cold and the morning sunrise streams through the window. Stepping out of the tub, I wrap a towel around my body before walking back down to my bedroom.
Taking a seat on my queen-size bed, I look over to my bag before bending over to take my phone out of the side pocket. When it lights up, I see a whole bunch of missed calls, texts, and voice messages. Sighing, I swipe it unlocked before opening up the message icon, secretly hoping Hella had messaged me. No such luck. Not one single text or call is from him; they’re all from Meadow. I’m not ready to talk with her yet, or anyone that was still there, so I type out a new message saying that I’m fine before walking into my closet and pulling out some comfortable clothes I can work in. Since I’m back, I may as well use my time at work, keep my mind busy. After I’m changed, I walk out the door and down to the underground parking where my car’s parked before driving to work.
Hella
The amber liquid trapped in the heavy glass bottle that hangs from my grip isn’t going down me fast enough. Everything in my line of vision starts to become unfocused.
Beast walks up to me, his grip around my shoulder tensing as he takes a seat beside me.
“Wanna tell me why Meadow is trying to get a hold of Melissa frantically? Or why you look like shit?”
I bring the rim of the bottle to my lips, swallowing the burn that the whiskey delivers each time. “Yeah, I asked her to be my old lady and she was too caught up in the fact that I killed those two motherfuckers that she left. Brother, she left.”
His eyes search mine, his bottom lip pulling into his mouth as his eyebrows pinch together.
“She didn’t take it well, huh?” he asks, diverting his eyes away from mine.
I look to him, my eyes not hiding my annoyance. “No, she didn’t.”
Jessie, the new club whore, comes up to me. Her dress hugs her tightly, her big tits sprawl out everywhere, and her platinum blonde hair hangs long, around the same length as Melissa’s. Only, I bet if I pulled that shit hard enough, I know it’d all come out. Where Melissa is a natural blonde and her hair is naturally long, this slut’s hair is bottle dyed and the hair’s only that long because some poor horse had its tail chopped and dyed. I sink into my seat more, my cap shading over my eyes and my legs stretched wide. She swings one of her legs over my waist so she’s straddling my hips. Her hands come up to the back of my neck. “Can I do anything to help you, baby?” she purrs, and I bet she’s aiming for sexy, but all it comes out as is desperate.
“Yeah,” I lift my hips up to hers, my cock thrusting against her pussy that rests over me. My hand trails up to the back of her neck before I pull her ear down to my lips. “You can get your fucking shit off me and stay the fuck away,” I growl softly, my grip around her neck tightening before throwing her onto the ground effortlessly.
Beast sits opposite me, his index finger running over his top lip and his eyes studying mine. I bring my drink back to my lips before looking down at the shocked little whore on the floor. Her hand brushes the stray strands of her hair down onto her head, or checking to make sure no one can see her weave.
“Fuck off,” I say, dismissing her.
She rushes to her feet before quickly walking out of the clubhouse.
Beast chuckles. “You gonna scare off all our club whores? The brothers won’t be happy about that.”
“The ones that try shit with me, yeah, and I don’t give a fuck about their cocks.”
Melissa
It was almost five p.m., which is time for us to hang the “closed” sign on the door and begin cleaning up from the day. My little boutique bakery is something I’m proud of. I may not be a doctor like I was hoping for, but I love this little place. The walls and furniture are all designed in a vintage, rustic way with a modern twist. The walls are layered in a silky off-white tint with a feature wall that is patterned black and white with light splashes of pink woven through it. The serving counter is all glossy white along with the full glass display cabinet, which proudly showcases all our creations. The tables and seats are purple, black, and white, and the floor is white and black marble epoxy. The store name “Eat Me” hangs behind the counter in gold cursive writing with swirls surrounding it, and the kitchen is all open towards the back so the customers can see how carefully we prepare the food. Working here was always my life, but now it’s going to be my getaway—at least until after the wedding. I ignore the empty hole that appears when I think of never seeing Hella again before I continue wiping down the counter.
“Carrie? Can you flip the sign, please?” I ask, kneeling down under the cash register to pull out the cleaning spray and fresh dishcloths. A professional cleaner comes in every night after we close to do the floors, thankfully.
“Melissa? You have a visitor!” Carrie yells from the front door.
I pause, placing the spray back and attempting to calm my breathing. Maybe he came. Maybe he could forgive me for flipping out.
I stand, my eyes going straight to the front door, and my smile falters when I see it’s Chase. “Oh, hey, come in.” I wave him inside, trying to hide my disappointment.
Carrie lets him in before she shuts the door and flips the closed sign. He walks toward the counter, his hands deep in this dark jeans that hug him nicely, though they don’t have the same swagger as Hella’s does. He smiles his boyish grin and I can’t help but return it.
“How’ve you been?” His chirpy voice lifts my mood a little.
“Me?” I question, ducking back down to collect the spray before standing again. “Great, good. I’ve been…”
“Shit,” he answers for me.
I exhale a shaky breath, the back of my hand running across my forehead. “Yeah, shit,” I confess, my shoulders dropping.
Chase is a good lay, but I hope he’s not wanting to pick anything up where we left it because he’d be disappointed with my answer.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, his eyes twinkling at me.
I know that twinkle and all it does is infuriate me. The mere thought of another man touching me in any way makes me sick to my stomach.
“No, I’m good, thank you.”
“You sure?” he teases. “I’ve been told I’m quite the friend.” He winks at me, and I have vivid visions of taking one of Paul’s knives from the kitchen and cutting his eyes out of their sockets.
“Positive,” I answer with a smile. “Hey, we’re actually closed, and I’m supposed to be meeting Phoebe—”
He shuffles nervously, his smile dropping. “Oh, okay, yeah. I guess I’ll see you around?”
I nod my head, relief pouring over me. “Yeah, I guess.”
Once Chase has left, we tidy up in record time before I lock up the boutique and drive back to my apartment, stopping at the grocery store and liquor store on the way, needing a serious amount of alcohol to help me sleep tonight.
Once I get home, I unload all the food and pull out the bottle of Shiraz before turning on my sound dock and pushing play on the first thing that is on my iPod. Yelawolf’s “Devil in my Veins” begins softly flowing through the speakers and I swallow a large gulp of wine
in my attempt to numb the pain. Deciding to skip on dinner because of the large lump that has set up permanent residence in my throat, I have a quick shower and curl up on the sofa with a bottle of wine. Netflix plays in the background, but the words coming out of the TV are mere distant, jumbled sentences, floating around me as I drink the very last drop of wine.
Eventually giving up on my self-pity, I turn in for the night.
The next two weeks work like this almost religiously. Every night, I drink a few glasses of wine to put me to sleep. My coping mechanisms aren’t functioning right at the moment, and because Meadow is having a girls’ night tonight—sort of like a bachelorette party, only the biker kind—Phoebe has demanded that she pick me up to take me along. I wasn’t planning on going. I had the idea of leaving early tomorrow morning and coming back tomorrow night with no such luck, as Phoebe is relentless when it comes to what she wants.
I make an effort to actually look presentable today and buy a new outfit for tonight, opting for a simple nude tight dress with a hem that drops just below my knees and a long slit that comes up my thigh in the front. Because the slit is high and the skintight material suffocates me and pushes my boobs up, I decide that dress will be more appropriate for the bachelorette party tonight, and I don’t really want to be changing twice tomorrow after the reception, so I’ll probably stick to rocking the bridesmaid dress all day and night. Also, if I run the risk of seeing Hella, I want to at least make sure my ass looks hot. I put on a casual off-the-shoulder long-sleeve top and cut-offs before slipping into some ballerina slippers and throwing my bag over my shoulders with a little suitcase rolling behind me.
When I walk out the front door, Phoebe is parked there waiting in her Nissan Skyline Hakosuka. I smile for the first time in a long time and pull open the passenger door. “You actually unleashed the demon!” This car is beautiful; she’s had it for some time. She has a garage full of old-school and new-school classics, but this one has to be my favorite. It’s a 1970 Nissan Skyline Hakosuka GTR. She’s splashed in a gloss gunmetal silver and has deep dish silver mag wheels. The car is a beauty, but she never brings it out. It costs entirely too much and it’s her baby.
“I did. Thought I better take her for a run,” she answers, watching me closely out of the corner of her eye as she pulls out into the traffic.
“You do know that there’s a gravel road you have to drive down to get to the clubhouse, right?” I say, placing my handbag onto the floor and slipping out of my shoes to tuck my feet underneath my bottom.
“Fuck!” she yells. “I forgot all about that, dang it.”
“Oh well. Good thing you shit money now. You can get new rims if the potholes dent these.”
Her face pales. “Maybe I should change cars?”
“No,” I scoff. “You live on the other side of Westbeach and we’re already going to be late. You’re the maid of honor; you can’t be late.”
She exhales in defeat. “I guess you’re right.” She pats the steering wheel. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy will clean you up real good.”
I don’t even bat an eye because it’s Phoebe and she’s always talked to her cars.
“So… I take it you don’t want to talk about a certain biker?” she asks, turning left onto the highway.
“Nope,” I answer flatly, taking my eyes to the window and watching the trees whiz by in a haze as Phoebe drops it down a gear.
“Okay. Well then, I’ll fill you up with all my gossip. So Ryker is coming tomorrow with Ryder and he’s bringing his girl, Bryleigh, and her friend Indie.”
Ryker is Ryder’s twin brother and the guitarist of their famous rock band “Twisted Transistor”. Ryker is the bad one of the two, but for some reason, Phoebe ended up with the quiet one. Must be a balance thing, because Phoebe is the total opposite.
“Really?” I ask, intrigued. “Do tell me all about it.”
Melissa
Once we pull onto the busy streets of Las Vegas, a feeling comes over me and my stomach churns. Hella. Shit. My palms trickle in sweat and a buzzing sound signals through my ears.
“You okay?” Phoebe’s voice slices through my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I whisper, running my palms down my legs. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”
“You worried about what he’s been doing since you’ve been gone?” she asks casually.
I pause, my heart sinking a little. “Not until just now. Thanks for that.”
“Sorry, I thought that was what you were thinking about. Talk to me. We still have twenty minutes to the clubhouse. Tell me, Melissa. You’re still my best friend. I know when something is wrong with you because you’re less—I love you, but—slutty.”
“Hey!” I chuckle before drawing my knees up to my chest. “Okay, but in order to tell you what happened, I’ll have to start with something I never shared with you, something that happened to me when I moved away from Westbeach and went to college.”
“Okay.” She draws out. “Shoot!”
I lean my head back on the headrest, close my eyes, and let the words come flowing out like the Nile river. By the time I’ve finished, I turn my head to the side to find her as pale as a ghost.
“I can’t fucking believe I didn’t know,” she whispers.
“You can’t have,” I answer. “I do really well at secrets.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you. Jesus!” she gushes angrily, smacking the palm of her hand against the steering wheel. “You can’t be mad at him, babe. You just can’t.”
“Why??” I answer, my hands going up along with my pulse. “Why can’t I be a little upset that two people were killed because of me?”
“Because they deserved it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Also, there’s no way in hell any man in the Sinful Souls or The Devil’s Own would ever, ever let a man walk that’s touched his woman. It’s biker code 101.”
“But I wasn’t his property, Phoebe. I wasn’t his old lady when he did it. He promised he would leave it alone.”
“You can’t ask a man to promise something like that, Melissa. I’ve heard things about Hella, and the things I’ve heard are ruthless. I think maybe Eddy got away with it easy, he and his girlfriend.”
I sigh, turning my head back towards the window. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? I hurt him in some fucked up way. When he asked me to be his old lady, I shoved it back in his face. He’ll hate me. He would have fucked around so much by now and no doubt, the hate that we shared between us when we first met will be intensified. I don’t have it in me this time, though. I don’t have the energy to fight him.”
“Ohhh,” Phoebe teases. “Come on, you and I both know that isn’t true.”
I know she’s trying to lighten the mood—it’s what she does. She’s loyal and will throw it down whenever any of her friends are in trouble, but she’s wrong. I don’t have it in me this time. I fucked up and I know it.
We pull onto the gravel road and Phoebe starts cursing as the bumps in the road have us bouncing around in our seats. “Jesus!” I shout, trying to ignore the twisting in my chest at the familiar driveway. “Did you cut the fucking suspension or something?”
“No!” She looks at me like I slapped her. “They’re Super Low springs and I really, really fucking hope we don’t belly out.” She directs the car onto the side of the road so half of it is driving on the grass and the other on the smooth side of the gravel. “Much better.”
“If only that were true,” I mutter. When I see the huge clubhouse coming closer, I scan all the bikes. All of them are black. Hella’s is licked candy gloss red.
“He’s not here,” I whisper to Phoebe.
“Meadow made sure he wasn’t here, but tonight, we’re having the bachelorette party, and you know its point, right? Like, her and Beast’s dumb-ass way of doing things because they can’t possibly be separated from each other.” Phoebe moans before apologizing. “Sorry. I sounded bitter. I just miss her and she never wants to leave Beast’s side. I don’t think that’s entir
ely healthy.”
I laugh, grasping the door handle and pushing it open. “Probably not.”
We walk into the clubhouse, the familiar smells pulling at something deep inside of me and I sigh, looking towards Old Fella behind the bar, blocking out all the eyes that have fallen on me and the silence that follows. Ignoring everyone, I walk towards the bar and pull out a barstool as Phoebe goes to say hello to everyone. It’s probably snobby for me to ignore them, but I’ll need a drink first.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Old Fella says, pulling out a bottle of Grey Goose. “You want vodka and soda water?”
“Yes, please,” I answer, placing my bag on the counter. “How have you been?” I smile at him as he slides my ice cold drink towards me.
“Same shit, darling. How have you been?”
I wrap my lips around the straw and take the first drink, the icy alcohol chilling me as it goes down my throat. “Hmmm, I’ve been good. You know… work,” I roll my lips over my teeth and he watches me carefully.
“You’ve lost weight,” he observes.
“I have?” I ask, surprised. “Well, thank you!”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” He rolls his eyes.
I laugh, taking another drink. “Well, I don’t care! I’m taking it anyway.”
After I’ve finished my drink, I turn towards Ripper, Frost, and Hannibal who are sitting on the sofa watching me with Phoebe leaning against the pool table. I smile at them and they all shoot me with an apologetic smile.
My heart sinks. I instantly feel like those were pity smiles.
“Melissa!” Jada yells out, walking through the front doors with Millie and Garret on her tail.
I stand and walk towards them, pulling her in for a hug. “Hey!” I whisper in her ear before giving Millie a quick squeeze. I drop down and look at Garret. “Hey, bud.” I rustle his hair with my hand. He pulls away from me. My smile drops. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
He turns around and runs out of the clubhouse. My eyebrows draw together and I stand back to my feet. Jada looks at me with a worried expression. “Sorry. He’s angry at you because he heard you turned Hella down at being his old lady.”