Chapter 1: “Born To Lie” Dreamcar
Four years old.
“He pulled my hair mommy! He pulled my pigtails and it hurt! He does lots of mean things.” I stick my tongue out at the target of my torment as I seek safety of my mother's arms. “Sometimes boys do mean things because they like you.” I look her in the eye bunching up my little fists
“Not him mommy, Ky just likes to be mean on purpose.”
Alexis Ann Ryan:
I work on motorcycles for a living. Growing up on a ranch full of bikers you tend to pick a few things up. I’m respected in the community for working my ass off, becoming the best bike mechanic the town has. Part of my charm is the fact I’m a woman and that I’m only four-foot ten-inches tall. I have long red hair, bright blue eyes and I’m covered in a wild assortment of colored tattoos. I’m slightly obsessed with 70’s/80’s music and culture. I guess I’m more of a spectacle to witness working on the bikes than anything else. Whatever brings the customer's in, right?
My home life is a bit of a bore. On most nights I come home to my cat and cook dinner for one. I may or may not delve into a pan of undercooked brownies with bottle of wine afterwards. The only relationships I’ve had never amounted to much, only lasting a few short weeks at most. Not for lack of trying, but most of them just had something missing in some form or another. No one ever just clicked.
Maybe I just have too high of standards for “the one.” Or the bigger issue that I've been foolishly in love with the same man since birth and he basically acts like I don’t exist. We started off as friends, thrown together in our small world of biker families. We saw each other daily and when school started it was nearly all day every day.
Sadist is his club name. But I’d always known him as Ky. The reasoning behind the new name I had no real idea. I had heard various rumors. Every story ranging from that he was a ruthless killer who liked to torture his victims to death to that he was just rough in the bedroom. Some of the bedroom stories never seemed truly believable. I’d heard The Sadist holding a loaded gun to a person's head while they straddled him, and he liked punishments with knives. Some of the stories, whether I liked them or not, fueled some of my deepest darkest fantasies, which made me wonder if that’s what I had really been missing from my sex life all these years. I also immediately wondered if these thoughts were even normal. The stuff I’d heard about him doing seems like it would send “normal” girls running to church on Sunday in fear. The real story behind it only he and the club knew. The boy I knew growing up was definitely a rough character. But his presence had always made me feel safe and secure. He was my defender and my go to when things at home were rough. What more could a girl ask for?
His name was Ky Liam James. Eighteen, Six feet tall, black hair, a pierced lip and lord knows what else, tattoos from his head to his toes and silver eyes that screamed danger. He was quiet growing up. Which was fine since I did enough talking for the both of us. He loved music, the color black, knives, guns and hunting. He ran our small group of friends like he owned us all. Like a commander with his own army while we much more resembled a merry bunch of morons, lemmings or idiots whatever shoe fit at the time.
But in between all those moments of tight lipped demands there were good moments too; from teaching us how to shoot his gun to riding horses and later motorcycles. We spent our summers hunting, swimming in the creeks on the ranch, hiking and later more dangerous things like riding the bikes as fast as we could up and down the various roads on the ranch, where we would play chicken full throttle on the ranches’ dirt roads that most adults would have stayed away from. We loved the thrill of it all and knew the roads like the back of our hands. We had our falls and scares but nothing too serious. We were wild, young and dumb. We were badasses that ruled the world.
For all those days spent together I had always wanted more from Ky but he’d always stayed just out of reach. Our relationship never made it past a few random moments and one kiss. Every time I thought he’d come around to the idea of us being a couple he would give in for a few moments before he would shut it down entirely and pretend it never happened. I would be hurt but move on because I didn’t want to lose the relationship I’d had with him. Until one day it all went south. And I remember it well as it still randomly sneaks up in my subconscious to open up those old feelings of hurt that never quite healed.
Sixteen:
The year started off cold and stayed that way well into April. I’d worn my favorite hoodie the entire semester till my parents decided to divorce, and sent me away to my aunt’s house in Florida while they split ways. When it came down to it I was gone for nearly two months. Winter had turned to spring while I had “vacationed” in Florida and for the first time in my life I embraced the body the gods had given me. I embraced being me. I had found new clothes that fit my body in new ways. Instead of hiding in hoodies and baggy jeans I switched to more form fitting shirts, bras that actually contained underwires, and tighter jeans or shorts that still fit in with my rebel goth persona but accentuated my hips.
The first day back to school I wore a pair of low rise tight black pants and an old band t-shirt I had cut low to show off some cleavage. I finished the look with a pair of black wedges to give me a few more needed inches. Showing up in the courtyard to a few looks and stares from classmates that had never looked in my direction before, I instantly became aware of my every move. As I approached my group’s usual hangout I became slightly nervous, a wave of impending doom threaded its way into my subconscious. Ky and his best friend Trevor had their backs to me, but I could tell Ky had changed some as well over the months I was gone. He’d grown what seemed like two feet, had gained muscle, obvious he'd been working out. Gone were the days of lanky arms and legs most of the other boys were sporting. He had cut his long black hair off and had a new shorter styled cut. Looking closer I could even see a fresh tattoo on his lower arm.
As I came into view the guys and the few girls in our group all stopped talking and stared. Ky turned around quickly his silver icy gaze searching for what had disrupted his group. His eyes went dark for an instant as he scanned me over, before his usual mask fell quickly back into place. I walked into our group feeling at once like an outsider. Ky and Trevor were both staring me down without saying a word. Meanwhile the rest of the group had the opposite reaction. Questions were being asked so fast I couldn’t keep up while I tried to answer them. One of the guys eventually asked me on a date. Before I could respond, Ky decided to speak for me. And all I could focus on was that his voice had changed to a deep baritone sound.
“No one's going to be fucking dating her. Let’s go.” Dismissing me, Ky had already turned and began walking off while Trevor had stayed waiting a little longer looking at me till Ky snapped. “Pinky! lets go!” Trevor’s new nickname caught his attention immediately. He and everyone else in sort of stunned silence all looked up to Ky and slowly followed his lead. Leaving me standing in our spot as the bell rang never looking back.
Later that night and back the club, a party was thrown to celebrate the latest run and a new land acquirement. I figured it was a good chance to talk to Ky to see why he had treated me the way he had that day. Not finding him in the main rooms of the club, I walked to a portion of the club “the kids” were allowed in. Walking down the familiar hallway I found Trevor standing outside a door looking as though he expected me to show up. He warned me that I didn’t want to see what was going on inside, almost begging me with his eyes to shut up and listen to him. And I should have listened, I should have respected the look on his face, instead I pushed past any way.
Ky was in the center of the room on the couch, pants around his ankles and no shirt, no clothes at all just new tattoos and piercings I’d never seen before and an eighteen year old bleach blonde from school riding his lap, moaning his name over and over. The second he saw me enter the room his face turned into a cold mask. He looked me in the eye and yelled.
“Get the fuck out Lex, We were never gonna happen! I’m done with you! Don't come up to me, don’t talk to me, don’t even look at me! You shouldn’t have come back!” Then he forcibly grabbed the blonde by her hair, taking control of their fucking and hammering himself into her. I turned, nearly running over Trevor who had lifted his arms to console me. That was when Ky truly lost his temper, yelling in a deep commanding voice I didn’t recognize.
“I said get the fuck out bitch!” Trevor dropped his arms letting me go. I ran from the club nearly all of the quarter mile it took to get home. The wedges I’d worn that morning being the only thing forcing me to slow down. His intentions were both obvious and clear. From that moment forward I was ignored by Ky and slowly by the rest of them. I’d not only lost my best friend but all of my friends. I felt isolated and alone and it only got worse. I spent the rest of the year broken hearted, wondering what the hell I’d done to deserve that kind of treatment.
Ky on the other hand spent the year getting into the club. He hit Prospect status fairly quickly, and he only moved up from there. I had no idea what he did to promote so fast and part of me didn’t want to know.
Luckily the following year after that was my year. It brought a beautiful force to be reckoned with into my life, bringing me out of my dejected slump.
Curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes and bright blood red lipstick. Her stilettos were her armor and her mouth was her weapon. Bree Adams, the best fucking friend I've ever had. We spent long nights dancing around and singing to songs like Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and Seventeen from Stevie Nicks around each other’s rooms, her room was made of all things pretty and light; Mine a mixture of band posters, black sheets and darkness. Summer days were spent going to concerts, making long weekend drives just talking and being free. It was time when we could just be ourselves.
I moved on from my broken home and into my own apartment and best of all from Ky. She almost immediately found her knight in shining armor, D, but she never stopped inspiring me. She helped me train to become a licensed mechanic reading through questions she could have cared less about, but never showed a hint of boredom. We were Yin and Yang. She was my wings and kept my moods bright. I was her anchor, keeping her down to earth and real. For the first time in a long time life moved forward. That year was one of the best years of my life. All because of her.
Some years later...
The ranch became a quiet place when Ky decided to join the army. It seemed like half the club up and went with him. Not that it was a surprise. It was actually kind of nice not seeing him around every day. Hell, I even got laid on occasion.
Through the years things slowly went back to normal. Some, but not all of the guys coming back, and there were random new characters showing up from time to time, all reeking of the military. Some came with Ky, some without, but they fit in like they had always belonged.
Ky would come back every time with a darker mood, more tattoos and more respect. The club was founded by veterans and many of them were still a part of it. So his stint in the army didn’t surprise many. He served out seven years altogether, as a combat medic before returning home for good. Two years later he was promoted to club President. Everything always worked out for him.
I had become the mechanic I’d wanted to be, passing all my tests with flying colors. I started working off the ranch in town but news spread quickly how good I was and I shortly got pulled back onto the property I’d spent so long trying to get away from. Seeing Ky every day or the endless parade of women doing the walk of shame out of the clubs doors ceased to amaze me. We didn’t talk. We didn’t ignore each other. We just existed.