Lucy

 

After Bills’ visit, I was visibly shaken. I spent several hours trying to finish work that would normally take me maybe two. And that was assuming I was busy and kept getting interrupted, but other than Bills, no one came to see me. I was so freaked out by everything that was going on that I couldn’t focus well enough to do my job quickly. I hoped desperately I managed to do it correctly, but even that seemed like a long shot today.

 

I was just finishing up the paperwork, gathering it up to file away for safe keeping, when the phone rang. The sound startled me so badly that I jumped and scattered the papers across the floor. I groaned once I realized it was only the phone and I would now have to clean all of that up all over again. And reorganize it.

 

This was not something that made me happy.

 

Sighing, I shook my head and held up my hands. I’d get back to the papers in a minute. Instead, I went back to my desk and reached for the phone. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, for one wild moment worried it might be Bills calling me. I quickly decided that was ridiculous and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

 

“Lucy! Hey, I’ve been calling your cell all day, what the hell?”

 

I released a sigh of relief at the sound of Becky’s voice. She was a sweet, bubbly girl and one of the few old ladies I actually considered my friend. Most of them were too old, like my mother’s age, and those who were closer to me had nothing in common with me. But Becky was different. She was a sweetheart and it was hard to not get along with her.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I told her, realizing my phone was likely still sitting on the kitchen counter after I’d had it this morning. “I left the damn thing at home today. There’ll probably be a hundred messages on it by the time I get to it.”

 

Becky laughed. “Well, don’t fret, only half of them are from me!”

 

I smiled, shaking my head a little. “How many of them will be angry, I wonder?”

 

I could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, “Only the last seven, I think.”

 

Holding the phone to my ear, I knelt down beside my desk and began gathering up the papers. I’d definitely have to reorganize them, there was no helping that, but hopefully they wouldn’t be too out of sync. “So what’s going on?”

 

“I was calling to see if you wanted to come over. I was thinking we could do, like, a brunch thing or something. Which sounds way too English, but I didn’t know what else to call it.”

 

“Hanging out?” I suggested teasingly.

 

“You say tomato…” Becky trailed off. “Anyway, come on over for my tomato and we’ll have some coffee, because I don’t do tea.”

 

I looked at the mess of papers, then sighed. “Okay. Be there.” I was exhausted; the damn papers could wait.

 

# # #

 

Becky lived in a neighborhood that consisted mainly of mobile homes. Some of them were nicer, while others looked like there wasn’t much to save them except for a swift fire that might destroy all evidence of their existence. I’d been here several times and had had friends who lived out here on and off since high school.

 

The trailer in front of me was a single wide with a bedroom at either end, along with what could either be a tiny guest room or what amounted to closet space. Becky used it for her jewelry business, which was mostly run on one of those kitschy online sites that catered to eclectic people.

 

I walked up to the porch that was attached as an afterthought—there were chairs outside along with a little coffee table so the occupants could smoke in relative comfort outside—and went to the front door. I pulled back the screen door and knocked twice. I waited for a few moments before Becky came to the door, opening it to reveal her bright and smiling face.

 

“Lucy! Damnit, where have you been! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She quickly ushered me in just as the coffee pot pinged to say that it had finished brewing. “Take a seat anywhere,” she told me, heading to the kitchen which was attached to the living room. “You want cream?”

 

I shook my head. “Thanks, but just some milk is fine.

 

She made us both a cup quickly as I took a seat on the couch in the living room. There was a coffee table in front of me with several magazines—high fashion stuff, I thought—laid out on top of it.

 

Becky handed me one of the cups and took a seat on the matching chair that was adjacent to the couch.

 

“How’ve things been?” I asked her absently, flipping through some of the magazines. Most were those women’s magazines that told you how to lose weight and what a man liked in bed. Worthless things, I thought, given that I knew exactly what my man wanted in bed and the weight loss thing was more a matter of will than anything else. There were, however, a couple of magazines that were jewelry centric, probably research for her business.

 

Becky nodded, beaming. “Great. I can’t tell you how excited I am for everything that’s been happening lately!”

 

“With the business?” I guessed, but clearly that wasn’t what she was talking about. She laughed at me a little and waved me off.

 

“No, silly, I mean with the whole initiation thing!”

 

I froze. Initiation, of course, how could I have forgotten? After all the other excitement last night—and I wasn’t talking about the sex—I’d all but put Thunder and his painful initiation out of my mind. Maybe I’d just been dying to forget all along, because I was sick and tired of the violence, but there had been so much last night that I probably would have regardless.

 

Becky and Thunder had been dating for nearly two years now, and lived together in this trailer. I thought maybe it was a little bit of a weird match—though admittedly, I’d been the one to introduce them—since Becky was very stylish and interested in fashion forward things, while Thunder was…well, Thunder. He was a big, heavyset man with quickly thinning hair and a somewhat grotesque appearance. He sweated easily and his face constantly looked splotchy. Seeing him standing next to Becky was almost comical.

 

She wasn’t a supermodel. Becky was short—maybe five three or five four in height—and was a little round in the middle. She wasn’t overly fat or anything, but she was pudgy and had noticeable curves in both her hips and her breasts. The effect was charming on her with her long dark hair and her perfectly done make up, though I wasn’t sure how it would have worked for most women.

 

When I’d first introduced them at a party—Becky as a friend and Thunder as an acquaintance since he’d come in to the Halos & Horns shop a time or two—I didn’t think much of it. Chemistry was a tricky thing and it usually didn’t happen how it did with them. As I recalled, Thunder had spilled his drink down Becky’s favorite shirt and I’d had to drive her home completely wasted and bawling about how she loved that shirt. But then he’d sent her flowers every day as an apology until she finally talked to him. After that, they somehow found they just clicked.

 

It happened like that sometimes, I guessed, but if I’d known Thunder would turn around one day and join the Sin Reapers, I never would have introduced the two of them. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, right?

 

“Have you…seen Thunder?” I asked her hesitantly, remembering how beaten and broken he’d looked last night.

 

Becky shook her head, but she didn’t seem concerned. “No, he said he would be crashing with some of the guys as part of post initiation bonding or something. It sucks,” she told me with a sigh, but her eyes still sparkled with excitement. “I really wanted to see him and ask how it went, but he called me at least. I’m so happy he made it!”

 

For a moment, I just stared at her. I wasn’t really sure what to say about this whole thing because a big part of me felt like she just didn’t understand what the hell she was talking about. Did she have any idea how rough a shape Thunder was in? Did she realize how badly things were going lately? Did she understand Thunder would ride his bike right on the edge of the law constantly and that every once in a while he’d swerve the wrong way over it?

 

I decided she couldn’t understand any of that. Not yet. But she would. Guilt gnawed at me. How could I have gotten her into all of this? “It’s good that you’re supporting him,” I finally said, because I wasn’t sure what else to say. “That’s a sign of a healthy relationship.”

 

She grinned hugely at me. “Well, we are definitely that! And things will only get better now that he’s an Reaper. I mean, now we can talk about the club stuff and you won’t have to worry about crossing lines or anything.”

 

That was true. It was difficult sometimes to have friends outside of the club, because there would always be things you couldn’t talk to them about. Most of it wasn’t that big of a deal. The bad stuff that I really wasn’t supposed to talk about was easy to avoid because I really didn’t want to talk about it. But, still, it would be nice to not have to watch what I said in front of Becky.

 

“Yeah, there is that,” I commented, flipping closed one magazine and opening another. This one was all about bikinis and finding the right one for your body type. I didn’t imagine that it was very helpful given that all the models looked to be the same size. “You’re not worried?”

 

Becky shook her head immediately. “Are you kidding? Of course not! I love that he’s a biker now. You know, a real one. It’s so sexy, don’t you think?”

 

I did think, but lately I was thinking it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t mention this to Becky, however. I didn’t think it was a good idea to encourage her romanticized idea of the biker lifestyle.

 

“I mean, I’ve always dreamed of being the sexy chick riding on the back of some hot motorcycle, arms around the middle of my main man, a badass on wheels,” she gushed, not even really talking to me at this point, but rather floating off somewhere in her own head.

 

I felt like pointing out that Thunder was hardly the leading man type for her fantasy, but I knew how much she adored him. I didn’t know him that well, though we’d interacted on occasion and, ultimately, he approached me first when he asked about the Sin Reapers and joining the club. Right away I redirected him to Max. Partially because Max really was the man to see about joining, but mostly because I knew if presented with the opportunity, I would tell him not to waste his life on something like this.

 

Looking back now, I thought maybe I should have.

 

“I’m really happy for you,” I told her, even as I felt guilt swirl around in my belly, nipping and gnawing at me.

 

Becky beamed at me proudly and nodded her chin in my direction. “What about you? What’s happening with you and Max?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as though awaiting a good juicy piece of gossip or some other sort of verbal treat.

 

I realized it was because I hadn’t really spoken to Becky lately. Not since Dad died. Sure, she’d gone to the funeral to support me and we’d had a few phone conversations, but it wasn’t until Thunder started working towards becoming a member that our conversations became frequent again.

 

It meant she didn’t know things were rocky between me and Max right now. Still, I didn’t want her to know—maybe I was feeling embarrassed; maybe I just wasn’t sure yet what it all meant—so I forced a smile and nodded. “They’re good. I mean, he’s always been good like that,” I told her, blushing as I thought of the way he’d pounded into me last night, desperate and needy.

 

Becky laughed at me. “You lucky gal! Max’s such a catch!”

 

She wasn’t the only one who thought so, but she was the only one who would tell me without lacing the statement with menace or warning. It was because Becky ultimately didn’t want Max. She was firmly attached to Thunder and thought there seemed to be a lot of drama with Max that she didn’t necessarily want to deal with. It made me want to tell her that Thunder was about to get some drama of his own, but I bit my tongue. I liked Becky and I liked that she could be candid about Max without making me worry if she were trying to take him from me.

 

“Yeah, he is.”

 

Deciding I needed to quickly change the subject, I brought up one of the many things that was bugging me, and one of the only ones I felt actually comfortable telling Becky about. “Do you remember that guy Bills?” I asked her.

 

Becky thought for a moment. She knew most of the guys in the club, but since Thunder had only just been officially initiated, she hadn’t been formally introduced to much of anyone beyond Max. But she’d met a few and seen more beyond that. After a moment, she nodded. “He’s the bald guy, right?” she asked, looking like she was trying to picture him.

 

I nodded. “Yeah, the bulky one who…” I trailed off thinking about how he’d kicked Thunder in the stomach long after the invitation was over. I wanted to describe him as malicious, but decided against it. I didn’t want her having problems with Bills right off the bat. He was a dangerous man. So instead, I filled in lamely with, “…definitely looks the part.”

 

“Yeah, he really does. I’ll be honest,” she said, leaning closer to me as she lowered her voice, like there was anyone to overhear us, “he kinda freaks me out.”

 

I had to agree. Biting my lip, I considered what happened that day in the office. His hand sliding down my arm, his concern for my safety…I wasn’t buying it. “Can I tell you something?” I asked her, suddenly feeling like talking to her about this was maybe a bad idea.

 

“Of course,” she told me easily. “In fact, if you’ve gotta ask me that, you should tell me. Immediately.”

 

I smiled weakly at her, but nodded. “Okay. It’s about Bills and I need you to not tell Max about it, not yet.” At this request Becky frowned, looking apprehensive about the whole thing. To ease her sudden worries, I told her, “I just need to figure out what’s going on and I can’t do that if Max goes off halfcocked.”

 

That was mostly the truth, too. I knew if Max reached the point where he was really angry with Bills, things would go pretty bad. They’d be explosive, as a matter of fact, and I wasn’t sure that would solve anything. Especially if it landed Max in jail for murder. But what I wasn’t telling Becky was that it was also because I didn’t want to start up waves over something that potentially didn’t matter. Who cared if Bills was a creep? If we left, when we left, it wouldn’t matter at all. We wouldn’t be around for him to bother anymore. And if Max picked a fight with him, then maybe we’d get in real trouble. Maybe suddenly we’d have trouble leaving.

 

“Okay, what happened?” Becky asked in a softer voice, suddenly looking concerned.

 

I realized she was probably assuming the worst, so I quickly put her at ease. “Nothing like that,” I told her quickly. “I mean, nothing as bad as that.”

 

Her shoulders eased slightly and she nodded at me. “Okay. Then what?”

 

I explained to her about the office and about the night before. I could tell she wasn’t really seeing the problem—she didn’t know what had happened when I was only fifteen and she didn’t know Bills had already made a pretty noticeable pass at me before. I wasn’t about to talk about what happened when I was a kid; no one but Max knew about that. But I could tell her about the time Bills made a pass at me.

 

“It was after a club meeting,” I explained, picturing the day. It had been back when my dad was still alive and well. I’d been with Max for six years already and it didn’t look like that would ever change. I was madly in love with him, the way high school kids were in love or the way that people were in love in those damn romantic comedies. I was so wrapped up in him that I couldn’t even imagine how other men might apply to me. But Dad had told me I ought to broaden my horizons.

 

I remember being shocked, because Dad was one of Max’s biggest fans. He worked at the auto shop and was damn good at it, but he’d also joined the club relatively young, almost right out of high school. He had to wait until he was at least eighteen, but he started working on my dad before that in hopes of making a smooth transition. He’d succeeded easily. But there was a difference between liking Max and approving of him. Dad had been on one of those kicks about how you couldn’t know what you wanted until you’d tried different things. I wasn’t too stupid to understand the metaphor, but I pretended like he was being asinine, because I was angry that he would even try to get me with someone else.

 

I still didn’t know if Bills was part of Dad’s ridiculous idea of “trying new things” or if it was just a coincidence, but, either way, it didn’t sit well with me.

 

The club meeting was over, but it was one of the days where Dad insisted on a barbeque. It was summer and he wanted to grill outside while it was still nice. Mom had been thrilled. She’d been feeling pretty down at the time; something was definitely eating her. But that day she’d been in high spirits and so in love with my dad that everyone who looked at the two of them together knew it.

 

I always imagined that was how other people saw me and Max, but I didn’t know how anyone saw us now.

 

So we were all crammed into the backyard. A bunch of bikers and their old ladies, my mom drinking fruity pink drinks that were spiked with vodka, my dad laughing and putting away beers like he couldn’t even taste them. Max was there, too, though he was inside with some of the other guys. They were talking about the future, plans for the club and for the shop, and I stepped outside to say hi to my parents. I didn’t get along with a lot of the old ladies since they seemed to be a different breed than I—they came for the danger and adventure, whereas I was born into it—so I avoided them mostly.

 

I made a beeline for Dad, wanting to ask him something I forgot the instant he stepped up to me. I was walking across the lawn wearing a red and strappy sundress with boots so I could go riding with Max after. Dad was several feet ahead of me, lounging in a lawn chair, sipping on his beer and talking with a couple of the guys. I had him in my sights, but then Bills stepped into my path. I came up short of running into him, but just barely.

 

That was when Bills still had hair, before he’d shaved it all off and made himself look a little too much like a white supremacist for anyone’s liking or comfort. His hair was dark and a little long, but it didn’t hang past his ears. It was constantly in his eyes, which were that dark color that looked almost like pools of oil. He was only thirty-four or thirty-five then, but it still put him at almost fifteen years my senior. Still, I’d thought he was attractive, if maybe not my type. And he was one of Dad’s trusted men, damn good at his job and loyal as any man could be.

 

“Lucy, honey, nice party,” he told me, giving me a quirky smile that barely lifted one cheek and almost left the other one alone completely.

 

I had forced a smile, trying to be polite, but he made me uncomfortable. “Yeah, it is.”

 

I motioned towards my dad on the other side of him and made a move to step around him, but he didn’t let me. When I stepped, he stepped, effectively blocking my path. That was the first thing that really started to make me nervous.

 

“I wanted to say how pretty you looked,” he said, sounding almost shy about it. “That’s a…a very pretty dress.”

 

I glanced down at my dress, suddenly aware that my cleavage was in plain view and that I was showing more skin than I felt comfortable with around him. I wished Max was there so I could put his arm around me and let his strength and protection pour into me. But Max was still inside and no one else seemed to notice the two of us talking.

 

“Thanks. It’s a present. From Max.” I hoped mentioning Max would remind Bills that I wasn’t available and tell him Max wouldn’t stand for anyone harassing me. Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t, but if it did, Bills didn’t seem to care.

 

“Nice of him,” he commented blandly. “I should thank him.”

 

I folded my arms across my chest. I didn’t think he should thank him at all. “I’ll pass that along.”

 

Bills nodded once and silence fell between us. For a brief, hopeful second I thought Bills was done and he’d let me walk, but as I made another attempt to get around him, he, once again, stopped me. This time he did it by reaching out and grabbing my arm.

 

I froze as I remembered that day in the alleyway when the man reached for me. He’d been so much stronger and I’d been powerless to stop him, just as I was then with Bills.

 

A scream bubbled towards my lips, but something stopped it. Scream again, bitch, and I’ll kill you. It died in my throat.

 

“Look, I’m not very good at this, maybe,” Bills said, looking suddenly nervous and younger somehow. Like a teenager asking a girl out for the first time. Except his hand was still wrapped tightly around my arm and I was still in that dark place in the alley and there was no question Bills could do whatever he wanted to me and I couldn’t stop it.

 

“Let me go,” I said, but it was so quiet, barely even a whisper that he didn’t even hear me.

 

“But I think you should give me a chance. Max’s Max and there’s nothing wrong with that, but he didn’t hang the damn moon, you know?”

 

I stared at him with wide eyes, waiting for the conversation to stop. Praying it would before things got bad all of a sudden. My throat was dry, even as I tried to say something, anything to make him go away. My lips parted, but still no sound slipped from between them.

 

“I could make you really happy, Cherry,” he told me in a tone that might have been soft or just really quiet.

 

The use of my old high school nickname was enough to make me jerk away from him, breaking his grasp on my arm as my face flushed with anger and indignation. With a voice that was much smoother and stronger than I felt, I said, “I’m with Max. I love him and that’s not going to change any time soon. I’m…I’m sorry.”

 

With that, I turned away and headed quickly back inside. I didn’t even bother talking with my dad; nothing seemed all that important as far as that was concerned anymore. I went straight to Max, interrupted their conversation, and pulled him away to one of the back rooms. We fucked until he came and when he asked why, I told him, “A reminder for why we’re so good together.”

 

When I finished my story, Becky was sitting back with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open just a bit. “Wow,” she said, and for a second it was all she could say. “Wow.”

 

I nodded, but didn’t say anything else. I really wanted to know what she thought, what her take on it was before I dove in with my own theories. It took a while and I had to wait in agonizing silence, but eventually she spoke again.

 

“I can’t believe that happened,” Becky said, but she was more thoughtful than concerned or outright indignant about it. “Did he make another pass at you after that?” I shot her a look that said, Weren’t you even listening? She waved me off. “I mean besides today.”

 

I frowned, thinking about it. I made a point of not being alone with Bills, so that had a lot to do with it. I didn’t want to risk another moment like that and definitely didn’t want a repeat of that day in the alley. Even thinking about it still gave me the shivers. Finally, I shook my head. “No, not besides today,” I admitted to her.

 

“Well…maybe, and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything, but maybe he really didn’t mean anything by it?”

 

I blinked at her. What? I thought about my story, replayed the events of that day with Bills. He’d grabbed me, just like that other guy had, and I panicked. I’d been terrified. And she was trying to say he didn’t mean anything about it? “How can you say that?” I demanded, working hard to keep the hurt and the anger out of my voice. Becky was supposed to be on my side after all. “He came on to me and—”

 

“It was definitely not a ‘I just wanna be friends’ moment,” she told me quickly, interrupting me before I got absolutely furious with her. “But I don’t think it sounds like he was, you know, trying to do anything. He was just hitting on you. Guys do that.”

 

I stared at her blankly, trying to deal with the torrent of emotions swirling inside of me. Hurt, anger, fear. I was trying to understand how she could come to that conclusion. How could she listen to that story as I’d lived it and think it was nothing more than a guy hitting on a girl? “But he grabbed my arm!” I told her urgently, suddenly needing her to see it how I’d seen it.

 

Becky looked uncomfortable for a moment, then she tilted her head to the side and fixed me with an assessing look. She looked at me like that for a long time before her expression turned soft and she leaned forward slightly. “Lucy, honey, did…well, did something happen to you where a guy grabbed your arm like that?”

 

I froze. Her question brought all of that back to me again, but it did something else, too. It reminded me that I hadn’t wanted to tell her about that moment when I was fifteen and that that moment had colored my entire world in a slightly different shade. It didn’t make me any less positive that Bills was a creep and that he was dangerous, but it did tell me why Becky couldn’t see the danger.

 

She didn’t know all of it.

 

It took me a long while, but I finally nodded. I didn’t tell her all the details of the alleyway or the man or how Max had beaten him so badly that his face was permanently deformed afterwards. But I did tell her that something had happened and a man like Bills had done it.

 

She nodded once and said, “That makes sense. I just don’t think you should be so quick to assume that everyone who grabs your arm is the same as that guy.”

 

“So you think Bills isn’t a bad guy?” I asked hesitantly, dreading the answer. I didn’t want to hear one more person vouch for his loyalty and goodness.

 

Quickly, Becky shook her head. “Oh, hell, forget that! He’s a dangerous fucker and I’d stay the hell away from him!”

 

Relief filled me at her words, though I was slightly confused. “What? But I thought you just said—”

 

“I said you shouldn’t let that one experience suggest that every guy is like that,” Becky explained to me. “That doesn’t mean Bills isn’t like that guy. He’s always given me the creeps. And besides, if he weren’t a creep, he would have just let you go when you first tried to get around him, right?”

 

I let out a slow sigh of relief. For a moment there, I had really thought she was going to tell me I was just completely overreacting. But she didn’t. She was on my side. Letting out a quick laugh, I nodded my head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

 

“But I’ll be honest,” Becky continued, sipping at her coffee. “I really think you should just tell Max. He’ll kick Bills to the curb, or, at the very least, teach him the kind of lesson he won’t forget anytime soon. Guaranteed.”

 

I bit my lip. I hadn’t wanted to talk about Max about how worried I was about Bills because then I’d have to get into details. And details could be dangerous. But under normal circumstances I would agree with Becky. Telling Max was the easiest way to deal with all of that, right? Finally, I said, “I don’t want to tell him because I’m worried.” I wanted to say scared, but substituted it for worried at the last minute.

 

Becky frowned, pulling her legs up beneath her on the chair, holding her mug between her two small hands. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m worried about Max. Things are…escalating. I know there’s something going on with the Slayers and I know Max’s caught in the middle of it. Worse, I think the Slayers are trying to double cross Max.” I said this last part quietly, worried someone might hear us and my scant few words would send into motion a terrible war between the two clubs. I couldn’t risk that; the Sin Reapers weren’t ready for war. But I had to get this off my chest now. I was so scared for Max and me and my family. What was left of it. I had to tell someone.

 

Becky let out a loud whoosh of air, then whistled. “Damn. I didn’t realize…” She shook her head. “I had no idea the danger and the excitement would start right away.”

 

I almost told her, “See? This is what happens. You still sure you want this?” But I didn’t. Instead, I nodded. “It does. And it doesn’t go away, either. This is just the most recent shitstorm.”

 

Becky sat back thoughtfully for a moment before she asked, “You think he’s in real danger?”

 

I shrugged. Yes, was the answer, but Max was always in danger and that was the real point. How could you believe someone was safe when they were constantly caught up in risky business? “I don’t know. They’re careful about this stuff, but…” I trailed off, then took a deep breath and said, “But stuff happens. People die. My dad—” I broke off when I thought I might start to cry. My mind flashed back to the garage and his body and the pool of blood. The words on the note rang in my ears, though I never saw them on paper.

 

Becky reached for me, her hand clasping mine tightly. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

 

I took a deep, steadying breath and nodded, because my throat was caught up by a deep welling of sorrow and I didn’t trust myself to speak. She held on to my hand for a long while as I composed myself before she said, “That’s not going to happen to Max.”

 

I nodded, though I couldn’t help but think it didn’t matter how my dad died, only that he did. And that meant Max could, too.

 

“Can I ask you a favor, Bec?”

 

She nodded without hesitation. “Of course. Anything. You name it and I’ll do it.”

 

I smiled at her weakly. “Go with me to the cemetery?”