Chapter Five
Charlotte
Watching Ryker drive away, while I stood alone on the sidewalk the other night had confused the hell out of me. There had been several times since I’d met him, when he’d look at me and I almost believed our connection was mutual. I could feel his attraction to me, but it went farther than that – deeper somehow. Then he’d driven away. I knew in that moment that we’d likely never see each other again. So what do I know? I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to men. I’d never had any real relationships, aside from a brief one when I was seventeen. To be honest, my social skills kind of suck.
As a young girl, I’d never had a lot of friends. I spent all of my free time at home, doing anything I could to help my mom out. She was a single mom who worked constantly to keep a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. For as long as I could remember, I’d made it my mission to make her life a little easier. I cooked meals, made lunches, did laundry and cleaned the house. My sister was the one who had all the fun and all the friends. She was a wild child who did what she wanted, when she wanted. She invited me along with them sometimes, but I suspect this was mostly out of pity, and I’d never accepted so eventually she just stopped asking.
My mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was fifteen years old. After that, I threw myself into taking care of her while she had treatments, working an after school job to help pay the bills. The first year had been hard on her body. The second year had been harder.
I started dating a boy from school when I was seventeen. His name was James. He was a nice guy, not to mention handsome. No boy had ever paid attention to me before, and I was kind of flattered that he even liked me. We were dating for about a month and went out on a handful of dates before we’d had sex for the first time. It had been awkward and painful. Not at all the romantic, loving experience I’d always imagined. Still, I thought I loved him so I’d had no regrets. We had sex two more times and although it was less painful, it was nothing like I’d seen in the movies.
About six months into our relationship, my mom’s cancer treatments were failing. The chemo treatments hadn’t worked and we learned that she was going to die. I took some time off school to take care of her. All of my free time was taken up with work and caring for my dying mother. Anna was rarely home and James had gotten tired of never having any time with me. He hooked up with another girl from school and broke up with me in a text message. At the time, I was too overwhelmed to even care.
My heart had been shattered the day Mom passed away. I found myself at a loss for what to do with myself. For months, my life had been devoted to her care and suddenly I found myself with nobody but Anna to care for. I went back to school and worked full time in the evenings. When I graduated high school, I immediately went to college to get my nursing degree. I had to work all through college to pay my tuition and bills. Anna rarely worked at all so I found myself responsible for taking care of her too. With all of this, there’d never been time for me to have a social life so I never did.
After I got my degree, I’d gotten a good job as a nurse and slowly started making friends at work, but it was never the same. They weren’t people I ever spent time with outside of my job. I’d been asked out a few times by different guys, but there was no attraction on my end so I’d always politely declined.
All of this made it so that at the age of twenty six, I’d never had a close friend, had only ever had one somewhat serious boyfriend, and the only person left in my life that truly cared about me was Anna. There were times when I wondered just how much she cared though. Anna was selfish and spoiled and always made everything about her. Sometimes I felt that she only cared as long as I kept the bills paid.
Losing my Mom meant that I’d lost the only person that had ever truly loved me. Watching Ryker with Smokey, I felt their bond, and with my experience, I got the impression that’s how it was for them too. He’d sat with Smokey the same way I’d sat with Mom, and he’d been heartbroken when I last saw him. My heart ached for him. I know all too well what it’s like to be alone. I wish more than anything that I could be there for him to help him through his grief.
I give my head a shake, chastising myself. Ryker likely has tons of people to help him through that grief. I’d seen all the bikers that were in and out of Smokey’s room before he’d died. They may not be warm and fuzzy, but they’d been there for each other through it all. Not only that but let’s face it; Ryker is kind and gorgeous and likely has beautiful women throwing themselves at him to help him “grieve.” Who am I to compete with them? And, why does it bother me that I can’t?
As I complete that depressing thought, I look up to see that I’d pondered my life all the way home and am now standing outside my apartment building. I glance around, paranoid as always now, that someone is lurking around the corner. Nobody’s there. After letting myself in the building, I approach my door, relieved to see that it’s locked up tight, just the way I’d left it when I’d left for work that afternoon.
This feeling of paranoia had grown considerably since the other night, when I’d found the rumpled outline of a body on my bed. I’d seen my share of horror movies. I have a vivid imagination and I’d come up with all kinds of colorful and terrifying explanations. When Anna had come home that night, I’d still been sitting on the couch, clutching my pepper spray like my life depended on it. After telling her about my feeling of being watched, and showing her my bed, she looked panicked for a moment before her face had smoothed out. She’d brushed it off, saying that I mustn’t have made my bed up as perfect as usual. She and I both knew that wasn’t even a possibility. I was a nut when it came to a properly made bed.
Since then, there have been no further incidents so I’m trying to let it go. Trying would be the key word. My mind still wanders over various theories and each one gives me goosebumps. Every noise I hear in the night makes my heart pound so hard, I’m sure an intruder would hear it from the other room. This means my nights have been mostly sleepless, and I now go to bed with my pepper spray close at hand, just in case.
I enter my apartment and do a cursory look around, reassuring myself that I’m alone. I’m exhausted. Grabbing a quick snack, I get ready for bed, crawl beneath the blankets and curl up on my side. Between my fear of someone being in my home and my nearly constant thoughts of Ryker, I know that I won’t be getting much sleep tonight either. My heart clutches when I think of Ryker. Even though I barely know him, I miss him.
***
Ryker
I’m sitting at the clubhouse bar, downing whiskey like water, surrounded by my brothers and a bunch of club whores; all of them drinking and having a good time. The air is thick with smoke and the booze are flowing freely tonight. It’s a celebration. Today we’d laid Smokey to rest.
Smokey’s funeral had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. How do you say goodbye to the only person who ever really cared about you? Brothers from all over the country had shown up for the event. The parade of motorcycles following the hearse had been at least three hundred bikes long.
The service itself had been quick and informal. Jase had said a few words about him and he’d done a good job. He’d told stories about Smokey, adding a few memories that had all of us chuckling. He was going to be missed by many.
Afterwards, we’d all come here to the clubhouse for a celebration of his life. The party is wild and crazy – just like Smokey liked them. I’m on my fifth whiskey in less than an hour and the buzz is settling in nice, working it’s magic to numb my pain.
Just then, Jase approaches the bar, beer in hand, and slides onto the stool next to mine. “Hey, fucker.”
I smirk. “Hey.” I take another swig, finishing off my whiskey and motion to the prospect at the bar for another one. Turning slightly, I face him. “You did a good job today, Jase. Smokey would have loved that speech. Especially that story you told about the three girls on the pool table.”
Jase and I both chuckle. “Yeah. He always did like to be the center of attention. I’m gonna miss that fat fuck.”
Nodding my head in agreement, I grab my fresh whiskey off the counter. Jase and I had both grown up in the clubhouse and had been best friends since we were six. Jase’s dad was a brother, although he wasn’t as active in the club anymore. He’d been away a lot back then, and Smokey had been a big part of Jase’s life too. I know he’d loved him almost as much as I had.
“So I went to the home today to get the last of Smoke’s things.” I turn my head to look at him, waiting for him to continue. “Wasn’t much there, but I put it on your bed here for you to have a look through.”
I pull in a deep breath through my nose. I can’t even think of going through Smokey’s things right now. I just nod. “Thanks man.”
“No problem.” He takes a swig of his beer and looks around the room. Swinging back to me, a wide grin splits his face. “Gonna miss seein’ some of them hot fuckin’ nurses every day, I must admit.”
My chest tightens. Charlie. Am I ever going to get that girl out of my head?
Jase keeps talking. “You see that tall one with the short blonde hair? Ellen? Fuck me. Girl has the tightest ass I’ve ever seen.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Or better yet, you see the one with the dark, curly hair? Charlotte, I think her name was?”
I nod my head, praying that he’ll shut the fuck up. He’s not helping me not think about Charlie. He doesn’t shut up though. He keeps talking. “Now she’s fucking hot. The tits on her?” He pulls his lip in between his teeth. “Mmm. Fuck. She can be my naughty nurse any day. She was busy when I left, but I’m thinkin’ ‘bout goin’ back tomorrow and askin’ her out. I’d break my no datin’ rule for a chance at tappin’ a bitch like that.”
I’m trying so hard to ignore him. Trying not to go ballistic on him for even noticing Charlie’s tits. He’s just Jase and Jase is a dog. He talks shit about women all the time and he fucks a new one almost every night. I’m surprised the fucker’s dick hasn’t fallen off yet. But when he talks about tappin’ Charlie, I can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the booze, but I can’t help it when I spear his eyes with mine and growl, “Charlie’s mine.”
Jase’s eyebrows raise high in surprise. “Yours? Since when is she yours? You claimin’ that bitch?”
I hold his shocked eyes with my glare and keep growling. “Since now. She’s mine. Off limits. Got me?”
Jase’s face breaks out into an ear to ear grin. “Well fuck me sideways. I never thought I’d see the day when little Ryker Cole would meet himself a nice girl and become a family man.”
I keep scowling at him which causes him to burst out laughing. “Ok. Ok man. I hear ya. She’s yours. I’ll go ask out the blonde one instead.” He wags his eyebrows at me and then stands. “Gotta take a leak.”
I watch him walk away, my mind running back over the conversation we just had. Jase had called me a family man. I’m no family man. Why the fuck had I called her mine? I have no intentions of ever seeing her again, but there’s no way I’m letting that slutty fuck anywhere near her. She’s a nice girl, just like Jase had said, and nice girls didn’t belong to guys like me … or him.
All my life, I’d stayed away from people that weren’t related to the MC. This included women. I slept with a lot of them, but they were all club whores or friends of the MC, looking for a good time. From a young age, I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t be responsible for ruining the lives of decent people by involving them in our chaos. It was something I’d seen happen before and I’d be damned if I was going to live through that shit again.
My mother had been a civilian. She’d met my father at a bar and they’d had a one night stand. That one night had turned into many nights and once she found out she was pregnant with me, he moved in with her. He never settled down though. He never married her. He continued to fuck any woman that looked in his direction and left my mom at home, alone, to raise me.
She was a good mother – great even. I can remember many little things about my time with her. I remember her reading me stories at bedtime and singing silly songs with me while giving me a bath. I remember her taking me to the park and out for ice cream. I also remember them fighting. It would wake me up in the middle of the night. It was always him screaming at her, her crying and the sounds of objects being hurled across the room. The next morning, he would be gone and she would be full of smiles, acting like nothing had happened, but even as a kid, I could see the sadness in her eyes and the bruises on her body.
One night, when I was six years old, three men had broken into our house and dragged me from the bed by my feet. When I cried out in shock and fear, one of them had drove his fist into my temple, causing my head to swim and my belly to hurl up everything I’d eaten that night.
They dragged me down the stairs to the living room where my mom was tied up on the floor. She was crying and saying something to me, but I couldn’t understand her through the gag tied across her mouth. The three men had demanded to know where my father was, but neither of us knew. We hadn’t seen him in over a week, which wasn’t uncommon.
One of the men, the biggest one of the three, had pulled out a gun and pointed it at my mother’s head. He screamed at her about his wife, saying something about how my father had taken her from him. I was too young to understand what he was talking about at the time, but now that I’m older, I know he was pissed because my father had banged his old lady. She’d cleaned out a substantial amount of money from their bank accounts and left him, taking off with my old man, and now he wanted to make him pay.
I’d watched, eyes wide with fear, as my mother cried and pleaded with her eyes. I knew all hope was lost when he placed the gun at her temple and she squeezed her eyes shut. He pulled the trigger.
Watching my mother being shot in the head is an image I see in my nightmares almost every night. I’d been a little kid and helpless at the time. Now, in my dreams, I’m a grown man and I fight back. I fight with everything I have in me, but I never save her. She always gets her brains blown all over the carpet.
My mother dead, the man turns to me and places the gun under my chin. “You tell your old man that we’re even now.” Then they left. I’d lain on the floor for a long time, staring at my mother. After what felt like hours, I went to the phone and dialed the only number I knew. Smokey.
That’s why I don’t get involved with civilians. My mother had been a good, ordinary person. Just like Charlie. She’d met my father and her life had gone to hell. She’d been brutally murdered because of him. That’s the way it goes in my world, and that’s why I can’t claim Charlie as my own. No matter how bad I want to, I need to leave her to live her life free from that shit.