Chapter Three

I took a shower to get rid of any trace of Cooper’s smell on my skin, and then left to go back to Steelrods and get Cherry Bomb. It was dark outside and I got a weird déjà vu feeling as I stepped outside. I stood on the front steps, taking an extra moment to breathe in the fresh air. My head was still pounding but the pain was becoming duller. I knew I could go to the bar, get a couple more drinks and be feeling much better, but for some reason, the idea just seemed to be too much. I just wanted to get my bike, maybe go for a little ride to clear my head, and then go back home and climb back into bed.

Steelrods was only about a mile away from my apartment. I normally rode Cherry Bomb because it gave me an excuse to go for a ride, plus a lot of times, there were other bikers there and everyone would go off for a ride together at night. I thought about calling a cab to come get me but in the end, decided to walk. The side streets were quiet. The only thing I could hear was the clicking of my boot heels as I walked along. I desperately wished I had brought my headphones with me, because my mind was chattering away. No matter how much I tried to hold it back, I couldn’t stop thinking about Cooper and the whole weird conversation.

When I finally arrived at Steelrods, the only conclusion I had come to was that there were too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

The bar was open, but I didn’t linger. I went around to the side, where I knew Tank would have stashed my bike the night before. There was a light fixture on the side by the door that led to the kitchen. As I got nearer, I could tell something wasn’t right. I glanced behind me but the alley was empty. Cherry Bomb was parked by the back dumpster but it wasn’t until I got closer that I could see what was wrong.

“What the…” I bent down to investigate and saw the word “whore” had been carved into the leather of my seat.

I backed away from the bike and covered my mouth to stifle my sobbing. I pressed my eyes closed and leaned against the wall of the bar. I didn’t even have to wonder—I knew who had done it. Marx. The look in his eyes as he had glared back at me when he left last night was a warning, not a parting shot. I wiped my cheeks and took one last look at the damage before I turned the corner and went back inside to find Tank.

“Holy shit. I’m sorry Allie,” Tank said as we stood over the bike.

“It’s not your fault.” I placed a hand on his arm.

“I’d bet anything that Marx did this,” he said, looking my way.

I nodded. “I know. Are there any security cameras out here?” I turned and scanned the edge of the building but didn’t see anything.

Tank shook his head. “Not really. There’s one up there.” He pointed at the front corner of the building. “But I don’t think it’s facing this way. I’ll have Dean pull the footage just in case, though.”

“Thanks, Tank.” I ran my fingers along the cuts in the leather, the rough edges that spelled out the despicable word.

“It’s not true, you know.”

I nodded, gulping back the lump in my throat. “I know,” I replied, my voice barely over a whisper.

He came and set his huge arm around my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go check with Dean and I’ll get you a drink.”

I let him take me inside the bar and he led me into the back office. He introduced me to Dean, the security officer that was on hand in case things got out of control. I had seen him breaking up fights before, but we had never officially been introduced. I sat next to him at his desk while he scanned through the footage from the camera that Tank had pointed out in the alleyway. It played out on one of the split screens on the monitor on rapid speed. I tried to keep up, but it was just making my head hurt even worse than before. As I sat and watched, it was all I could do to keep a fresh batch of tears at bay. I hadn’t been embarrassed to break down in front of Tank. He’d known me long enough to know that’s not how I normally am—but I didn’t want everyone else that wandered by to see me have a meltdown.

I wasn’t sure why it mattered, but for some reason it did, so I took deep breaths and held my shit together.

“There!” I jumped up and pointed wildly at the screen. Dean froze the video and I could clearly see Marx walking away from the building, in the direction of the alley. Unfortunately, the angle wasn’t the best and I couldn’t really see his face, but I knew the walk, the hair, what he had been wearing that night. It was definitely him.

“Let’s go forward and see if we can catch a better shot,” Dean said, starting to move the video forward in half speed.

I sat on the edge of my seat, fingers tapping the plastic chair at a rapid pace until Dean cast me a sidelong glance and I stopped, curling my nails into my palms to control the nervous habit.

The camera showed Marx entering the alley, but that was it. The bike was in somewhat of a blind spot and Marx had kept his face down the whole time, as if aware he was being watched, so there was never a clear shot.

I groaned and flopped back in the chair. “Fuck.”

“Tough break,” was all Dean said.

What.

A.

Teddy.

Bear.

I shot him an irritated look. “Tough break? Do you know how much it’s going to cost to replace that seat? It’s your whole job to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen!” I could hear my voice getting pitchy and hysterical, but I couldn’t reel it in. All the stress of the last two days compounded and it was going to get unleashed on someone.

Dean’s face remained stone cold but he crossed his arms. “My job is to protect this bar and the people inside it and I do a damn good job dealing with you and your kind, who wanna come in here and tear the place up every weekend.”

“Me and my kind?” I repeated, unsure I had heard him right. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I jumped up out of my seat, my fists tightening.

Dean stood up. His six foot plus build hulking over me, forcing me to take a step backwards. “Tank! Come get your girl,” he shouted.

Within seconds, Tank stepped into the room, took one look at Dean’s face and grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me out of the room. It felt a little like the shepherd’s hook dragging a bad performer off the stage right before the rotten tomatoes start to fly.

“What the hell, Allie?” Tank asked once we were back in the main bar area and out of Dean’s earshot. “What did you do? He usually saves that face for the nightmare customers.”

“Oh, you mean me and my kind?”

He looked confused.

I shrugged it off. “Whatever. I just need to get Cherry Bomb home. At least she’s still rideable.”

“Yeah. Let me know when you’re ready to get a new seat. One of the guys here does custom stuff. He’s really good and he would probably give you a good deal.”

I laughed. “Well, unless it costs five dollars and seventy-two cents, it’s going to be out of my price range for awhile.” I had checked my bank account balance that morning and the number was still haunting me.

How had I ended up here?

“I could loan you the money, since it was my fault in the first place. I thought it would be safer in the alley.”

“No, no. Tank, this is one hundred percent not your fault. Thank you, though,” I smiled up at him, doing my best to offer some reassurance. “It’s all good. I’ll figure it out and when I’m ready, I’ll give you a holler.”

“All right. You gonna stick around tonight? We have some band coming in a little later. Should be pretty good.”

I shook my head. “No, I need to get home and sleep off this headache. Tank, seriously, never let me drink as much as I did last night, ever again. I don’t care how much I beg.”

“Deal.” He laughed. “See ya around, then.”

“See ya.” I turned away from the bar and strode out the front doors. Once outside, I took a deep breath and then rounded the corner to get back to Cherry Bomb. I grabbed my helmet and placed it over my head, fixed the straps, and climbed onto the bike, ignoring the way the rough edges where it was cut dug into my ass through my jeans as I rode away.

I rode around town for a while, ignoring the fact that I couldn’t afford to fill up the gas tank, so what was left was all I had for the foreseeable future. But it felt good to be free and the rushing of the wind and the noises of the bike was enough to—mostly— drown out the panic bubbling up inside my mind. I knew it was only prolonging the inevitable. As soon as things got quiet again, I’d likely get buried in an avalanche, but for now, it was good to unplug.

I went downtown and rode along the waterfront for a while and then crossed over and weaved around the one way streets to get me back to the freeway. At one point, I had to turn left, and as I turned the corner and looked ahead, I saw the Brighton Enterprises building up ahead of me.

“Ugh!” I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going. The absolute last thing I needed was for Cooper to find me lurking around his office. But then I remembered that Cooper wouldn’t recognize me even if I was parked next to his fancy ass car at a stoplight. With my leather jacket, riding boots, and helmet on, it was just as good as being invisible to him. I could pull up next to him, rev my engine, and make a complete scene and he would never know. I laughed at the thought before peeling out onto the next street and blazing down the road.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. I pulled Cherry Bomb into the same spot as my car and nestled the bike against the front bumper so it was covered by the carport. The complex charges an extra fee to have a separate spot, and it was out of my budget to have two spaces. Of the two vehicles, I would rather ride my bike everywhere, but the weather doesn’t allow for that and then certain outfits would also be tricky. The idea of trying to get on my bike in one of my pencil skits was slightly comical. So for now, I needed the junky used car I bought back in high school. Although now that I was unemployed, it might come down to having to sell Cherry Bomb to get by. I glanced over and knew that there was no way I could ever go through with it, and now with the giant carving in the seat, it would be virtually impossible to find a buyer.

I finished locking the bike to the carport post and then headed back to my apartment, gingerly jogging up the stairs. When I reached the front door I was panting for breath and mentally reminded myself that I now had all the time in the world to hit the gym.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. I had grabbed the mail before heading upstairs, and started to sift through it as I stepped into the kitchen. One of them didn’t have a stamp and just had my name and address printed on the front. I dumped the other letters on the counter and opened that one first.

Allison Rand,

This letter is to inform you that if all back months of rent are not paid in full by April 24th, we will be forced to start the eviction process.

Sincerely,

Riverside Apartment and Condo Management Division

“Shit, shit, shit!” I threw the letter down on the counter on top of the stack of mostly unopened mail that was piling up. I knew I was a month behind, and that it wasn’t the first time I’d gotten behind, but I’d always come through at the last minute. This time, though…I had no idea how to make that happen. I felt like crying, but no tears would come.

I turned around and saw the glass from Cooper’s so-called miracle hangover cure and the whole scene replayed in my head. I picked up the glass and dumped all the congealed-looking liquid down the sink and slammed the cup on the counter, fighting hard to resist the urge to hurl it against the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces.