CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brick
After the meal, the women gather in the kitchen to clean up and church starts. Eagle takes his place at the head of the table and I sit to his left, wrestling with my conscience on what to do with Starlet.
At dinner, she proved her skills as a president’s old lady. I didn’t know what to do with myself, because she fit in so naturally here. The women liked her immediately, and most of the brothers warmed up to her right away, too. For a brief moment, I could picture her as my old lady and liked it. Good thing I cleared my head—there’s no room in my life for her—not beyond my bedroom.
Eagle calls us to attention and the room quiets down. “The first thing I want to say is Starlet deserves a chance to explain her situation before we take a vote. If any of you have already made up your minds, I can only ask that you try your best to remain neutral. The fact that she cooperated with Brick and showed up here without any resistance demonstrates respect for our patch.”
There’s a murmur of agreeance and I settle back in my chair.
“Invite Starlet inside,” Eagle directs.
Johnny-Be-Bad, our newest member, jumps up and opens the double doors. “Starlet.”
I hold my breath until she steps inside. Everything about the woman entices me, tempts me to break all of my own rules and maybe a couple bylaws. The first thing I’d do … take her to the best ink artist in town and cover up her dead husband’s name and that fucking DC royalty tat. The rest of her ink—beautiful.
Women aren’t permitted at the table, so she sits on a stool along the wall, patiently waiting. Our gazes meet, and I want nothing more than to go stand next to her and show her I’m not the enemy. But she needs to do this on her own, prove that she has a valid reason for leaving the Devil’s Crusaders. I’d only hurt her case, knowing how some of the brothers feel about my involvement with her. The idea that things were going to be easier in the south is the biggest load of bullshit I could have ever believed.
“You understand why I invited you here, Starlet?” Eagle asks.
“I do.”
“I need you to be completely honest with us. The last thing we want is a war, especially with an MC we have no relationship with.”
“I don’t want a war either,” she says. “But I want my freedom, from the Devil’s Crusaders and you.”
I don’t like where she’s going with this or that tight, judgmental tone.
“My father, Daniel Worthington, aka Heartless, cofounded the Devil’s Crusaders after he separated from the Army. He was thirty years old, addicted to drugs, and probably suffering from PTSD. The original charter was established in Huntsville, where I lived until a few weeks ago.”
“I’ve heard of your father,” Eagle offers.
“Yeah,” Starlet says, swiping at a tear. “A lot of people have.”
“Why’d you leave, sweetheart?” Shorty asks.
“How many reasons do you want? The life isn’t for me. Do you know what it feels like being forced to marry someone eighteen years older than you? To swallow your pain and rage every time he fucks you? I was sixteen when my father chose Sammy as my husband. I didn’t know better—I just wanted to keep the peace. My father wasn’t the kind of man you wanted to piss off.”
“Sixteen? Jesus Christ,” Tango says with disgust. “My daughter, Mary Jane, is only sixteen.”
“I did what I was expected to do.” She looks at me, her eyes wide. “At first, Sammy ignored me. I cooked, cleaned, and didn’t talk much. But after the first year, once I started realizing I wasn’t happy, and asked for a chance to really get to know him, that’s when he changed.”
“How?” Tango asks.
“The humiliation tactics. Talking down to me in front of the brothers and their old ladies. Making me eat in the corner on the floor or tearing my clothes off and making me cook for the club in my underwear. If I covered my breasts, he’d tie my hands behind my back and make me stand in the middle of the clubhouse for hours. If I tried to hide in the kitchen, he’d drag me into the dining room by the hair. I called him sir in front of everyone, even my father. It seemed the older he got, the more violent he grew.”
“Tell us about your wedding night, Starlet,” I say.
Her shoulders droop a little and she takes a deep breath. “Does it matter?”
“Does to me,” Eagle answers.
“I-I don’t like to talk about it. Use your imagination—a sixteen-year-old-virgin and a drunk biker.”
“Got something against us, sweetie?” Axe asks.
I’d like to punch the smirk off his fucking face.
“I do,” she admits.
Eagle eyeballs me. “You asked for complete disclosure,” I remind him.
“Yeah, I did.”
“I know not all of you are assholes. But Sammy was a sadist. He lifted my wedding gown above my waist, bent me over a table, and fucked me in front of the club—my father included.”
I fist my hands under the table—the images her words conjure aren’t good. I want to kill something or someone.
“I’m sorry,” Eagle says. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“No, but it did. I failed to mention the pile of money the brothers threw at me while my husband had sex with me—like I was a prostitute. Raised two thousand dollars in an hour. Sammy was more pimp than husband that night. But I did my duty for the club.”
“Do you want a drink, Starlet?” I shoot up from my chair. This shit stops now. “I think she’s said enough.”
“Not your call,” Axe says.
I lean across the table but the asshole is just out of reach.
“Sit down, Brick,” my prez orders. “Don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment or interfere with what we’re doing here.”
“Motherfucker…” I swallow my rage and drop back down in my chair.
“And you…” Eagle gives Axe a hard stare. “Shut your mouth.”
The tension is palpable, but Eagle knows how to keep the peace. My gaze is locked on Starlet, who despite her wretched past, is standing tall and proud. Not sure how much more I can take. I had a little sister, but she died in a car accident when she was two-years-old, an innocent life taken. That’s who I see standing in front of me, Anastasia. It makes me want to explode, to destroy anything that gets in my way while I’m trying to protect Starlet. My sister touched the hand of God too soon, but I’ll be damned if Starlet suffers the same fate.
She mouths the words thank you at me.
“Are you ready to continue?” Eagle asks her.
“I am.”
I close my eyes, praying mercy was shown at some point in her fucking marriage.
* * *
Starlet
If I doubted Brick’s feelings before, he just gave me every reason to have hope. Turning on a brother is risky, especially in front of the whole charter. As I look down both sides of the table, trying to memorize all of their faces, I’m struck by their similarities to the Devil’s Crusaders. Not that all bikers look alike, because there’s a definite mix of young and old here. Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic. Even though I suffered tremendously, there were some good times growing up with the Devil’s Crusaders.
Juanita being one of the best. The rest, the monthly family get-togethers, or at Christmas time when we’d give back to the community, raising money for homeless families and hungry kids. The public only got to see the best side of us. I’m grateful for that, because I wouldn’t wish the life on my worst enemy.
“Starlet?” Eagle prompts.
“I’m sorry, it’s hard to talk about this.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” How can he? He’s the president, married to the perfect woman, expecting his first child, and from what I can see, the very opposite of any of the men I knew in the Devil’s Crusaders. It makes me sad. If my father hadn’t been a sociopath, there might have been some hope for us. “I can’t tell you how many trips we made to Mexico. Sammy packed my body with baggies filled with cocaine and heroin. That way, if we were ever caught, he’d claim innocence. We were delayed by the Mexican authorities on several occasions—probably the scariest memory I have. Sammy bribed the police and we were released. One of the baggies burst and I suffered an overdose, nearly died on the road back from Matamoros.”
I spend the next hour relaying details about my Netflix-worthy life. Occasionally, one of the brothers stops me and asks a clarifying question, unaffected by the drama. Women are assets, like motorcycles or guns, sellable and replaceable. I know my place. I know my future. And it most definitely doesn’t include Brick.
Suddenly I’m finished. If they can’t decide what to do with me yet, I’ll make the choice for them. “As much as I’ve enjoyed being here,” I say sarcastically, “It’s time to end this.”
Brick walks to where I’m standing, his look a clear indicator that he’s done, too. “Come on.” He doesn’t drag me out of the room fast enough.
I didn’t notice the details of the common room before, there’s framed movie posters along the walls and two rows of leather theatre seats arranged in front of a projection screen, nicer than I would have expected for an MC compound. Brick directs me to a full-service bar with six stools. Choosing a middle one, I sit, grateful to be out here. Just being surrounded by all the Iron Norsemen artwork in the conference room felt like being in a torture chamber.
When Brick lines up ten shot glasses on the counter I smile. “Drink much?”
“Tonight we do.”
Yeah, I won’t argue. We’re pretty much alone now. I can hear a few women laughing in the kitchen, but it appears the rest of the guests have gone home or maybe outside. Another thing to be thankful for. I never enjoyed big crowds, not after being put on display for so long by Sammy.
Expecting whiskey, I’m surprised when Brick proffers a bottle of Jägermeister. “This will make you forget everything, Starlet.”
“If it doesn’t kill me first.”
He fills the shot glasses, then sets the bottle aside. “Ladies first.”
Choosing the sixth and seventh shots from the lineup, Brick waits for me to drink first. It burns my throat but I don’t care. I pluck another one from the bar, happy Brick is matching my pace now. I usually don’t drink to get drunk, but Brick is absolutely right. Sometimes you have to cut loose. Sometimes you have to wash away your sins and bad memories with alcohol, because the come to Jesus thing isn’t working for me—though I’d like it to.
Brick is about to refill them when the doors to the conference room open. Eagle nods at us and I know it’s time for the vote.
Brick murmurs something unintelligible before he rests his hand over mine. “No matter what happens, Starlet, I’m on your side. I wouldn’t offer the Devil’s Crusaders a fucking thing.”
I believe him, but he only gets one vote. “Thank you.”
He kisses the top of my head and stalks away, not looking happy. What I’d give to be a fly on the wall inside that room.