Chapter Twenty-Five
Summer
Things officially start to go stale with Tigger after that night. It was almost like he told me his secret, told me he doesn’t believe in love, and then just completely pulled away from me. He’s still around, we still spend time together, but it’s almost like the Tigger I fell for is now gone. Makes me sad too, I liked having him around. He knew just how to make me laugh and smile. He’s helped to heal me in so many ways.
Things aren’t much better with Ryan, Natalie, and myself either. I’ve spoken to Ryan once in the last week, in which she continued to tell me how sorry she was for what happened to me, and Natalie I’ve seen a few times because I had to go and check on Bella. They both just keep apologizing to me. I don’t want their pity, I just don’t know how many different ways I can tell them the same shit. I just want them to be there for me, not feel sorry for me. It’s not like I’m dying or something. The only reason I’m struggling is because my birthday is in two days.
Two fucking days until my birthday and the anniversary of the day my teenage hopes and dreams died an evil death.
Tonight, I’m going to meet TR. He sent me a vague text earlier instructing me to wear a purple dress, and that was it. Why it matters what color I wear, who the fuck knows. He’s another one that’s been given me mixed signals over the past week. One minute he’s hot, the next he’s cold. Maybe I should just give up on men altogether? That would make my life so much easier.
I get ready and leave for the club more than an hour before I am supposed to meet him. I can’t stand being here, Tigger is out front entertaining the girls from the nightclub before their shift tonight, and I can’t handle it. That’s normally time he would spend with me, but he’s been avoiding me like the plague over the last day or two. I should just tell TR I can’t make it and lock my door and never come back out again. It would make it so much easier to avoid all the people in my life. I just want to be alone more than anything right now.
I walk past Tigger and the girls, everyone growing quiet when Tigger stops talking, but I don’t turn to face them, purposefully ignoring him when I walk by.
“Where are you going?” his voice behind me stops me. I think about getting into my car and slamming the door shut, but I won’t make it out of this lot if he tells the prospect to stop me.
I throw my purse inside and slam the door shut, leaning against the car door, I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.
“What does that matter? Don’t you have women you need to entertain?” I nod my head towards the women standing in the doorway watching us curiously.
I’ve had it this week with his hot and cold bullshit. One minute he’s all over me and the next he’s paying more attention to the women in the clubhouse. I just don’t get it. I don’t want to play these kinds of games. If he wants to play these games, I will just go about my business and continue to meet my stranger for a late night fuck and try to move on with my life.
He looks behind him at the women in the doorway of the clubhouse, and the next thing I know he’s advancing towards me and pulling me by the arm behind him across the yard and into the garage Dean has in the corner.
“Out,” he growls at Dean who looks all too annoyed but surprisingly agrees.
I try to beg him silently to stay, but he simply mouths a sorry to me and keeps it moving.
“I repeat it again, where are you going dressed like that?” he gestures towards my outfit like somehow its offending him. He works with women that take their clothes off all day long, and his number one concern is my purple dress.
“And I repeat it again, Tigger, what does it matter where I’m going? Worried I’m going to attract another man? That’s the point,” I turn sideways and stick my ass out in his direction, teasing him with it.
He’s on me in seconds and has me pinned up against the side of the garage, “Oh really, you want to play that game, huh?”
I think he’s going to kiss me, both our chests heaving up and down, but he simply steps away from me and backs away. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t, so I walk past him and out of the garage. I flinch when I hear tools being thrown inside the garage and a loud curse, but go to my car and leave the yard.
I make it to the club in record time, my hands shaking nervously when I exit the car. I don’t know why I’m so worked up, but I am, and all I want to do is go back to the clubhouse and beg Tigger to know what the fuck he wants from me. Either he wants to be with me, or he doesn’t. But it’s my own fault I guess. He never declared we were together or that we were even anything more than friends. I guess I’ve become like Cherry and the other women, sweet butts. Just great, that’s really the title I wanted for myself.
I stand outside the club toying with my phone for more than an hour, well past the time I’m supposed to meet him and finally an hour and a half after I show up at the club, I walk inside. It’s not overly crowded tonight with it being a Thursday, so it isn’t hard to find a spot at the bar.
“Tequila, double,” I tell the bartender and throw him some money and tell him to keep the change.
With my shot in hand, I turn to face the club, looking around for my stranger. I down the shot and order another.
I think about going out to the middle of the dance floor like I always do, but tonight, I don’t do it. Instead, I lean back against the bar, and people watch. I discretely look around me, looking for my man, but he never approaches me, and I never see him, not even in the darkest corners of the club.
After I use the bathroom and don’t find him waiting for me outside, I give up and leave the club. I walk out the front of the club and stand in the middle of the parking lot with my hands on my hips, the alcohol fueling my anger.
What the hell is up with the men in my life this week? First Tigger wants to get all defensive when I tell him I’m going out after he ignored me all day, and then my mystery man never shows.
I take out my phone and check for notifications, but come up empty.
I shoot a quick text to TR, but a response never comes. I growl in frustration and stomp my heel against the pavement, throwing it down onto the passenger seat and slam my door shut.
I’m resting my hands on the roof of my car when I hear a motorcycle idling directly behind me. I peek to the side and find a green motorcycle behind me with a single rider on it. I turn around to face the motorcycle, and the driver crooks his finger for me to come closer.
Fueled by alcohol and anger, I approach without thinking.
“Want to go for a ride?” asks a deep, unfamiliar voice. That isn’t TR.
“Maybe,” I reply vaguely.
He lifts his visor, and I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and green eyes in the darkness. He’s a handsome man, I’ll give him that, but then I remember the description Clara gave of the man that attacked her. This man looks a lot like the one she described to me.
“What’s your name, biker?” I ask, tilting my head to the side and batting my eyelashes at him invitingly.
“Leo,” he responds vaguely. That doesn’t sound like the name Tigger gave me. If I’m not mistaken, he said his name was Lefty.
“Nice name,” I comment, slowly backing away towards my car. “I’ve got to go, I’m meeting someone.”
I quickly turn and start for my car door, but a hand over my mouth and another around my waist stops me. My scream is muffled by the hand covering my mouth.
“Bite me, bitch, and you’ll die,” I stop struggling against him when I hear the gun cocking behind me and feel the cool metal of the gun against the side of my temple.
I nod once in acknowledgment, and he drags me to the tree near my parked car and backs me up against it. He wastes no time, removing his helmet in the darkness and shoving his tongue into my mouth and viciously biting my lip.
I make the mistake of biting him back and attempting to knee him in the groin. Bad error in judgment when he uses his helmet to hit me across the face.
“You stupid bitch,” he hits me again with his helmet, and I crumple to the damp ground beside the tree moaning in pain and grabbing the side of my face. I pull my hand away from my face and find it covered in blood. Dizziness assaults me when he straddles me and punches me in the eye, and it instantly starts to swell shut. When he punches me in the stomach, my world starting to turn black.
I don’t remember much of what happened after that. I vaguely remember him issuing a string of curses and struggling against him when he ripped my dress. I think he raped me too, but between the pain in my face and the alcohol in my empty system, I can’t say for sure.
I wake up some time later and struggle to get to my feet, unable to see clearly in the pitch black dark of the night. I look around in fear with one good eye making sure my assailant is gone before I make my way on shaky legs towards my car. I somehow managed to lose my shoes in the struggle and care very little, instead focusing on making it into my warm car.
I’m surprised to find no one stole my phone or car keys, and quickly start my car and turn on the heater to attempt to calm some of my shaking. But it’s all done in vain because even after I’m warm from sitting in the car for more than twenty minutes, I’m still shaking like a leaf.
I put my car in gear and slowly make my way back towards the clubhouse. The time is after three in the morning, so I’m hoping no one will be around at this time of night to see me coming into the Dragon Skulls lot, but much to my chagrin, there are still plenty of people around.
I pull to the corner of the lot and pull the leather jacket in the backseat over my body to hide my torn dress. Lucky it’s three sizes too big and covers my body almost all the way down to my knees.
Thinking quickly, I pull my phone from the passenger seat and call Ryan.
“Hello?” her voice is groggy, and there’s a male voice in the background moaning in protest.
“Ry, I need your help,” I whisper. I can’t seem to find my voice, my words muffled and cracked around my dry and sore throat.
“Summer, what’s wrong?” I can hear her rustling around and a curse when she bumps into something.
“Help me,” I beg her.
“Where are you?”
“Outside the clubhouse, in my car around the corner, bring Drag,” I whisper.
“Not Tigger?” confusion fills her voice. She knows now how much I care about Tigger.
“No, Drag,” I struggle to keep my breathing even, my panic level rising inexplicably, and my world starts to grow dark again. “Help me.”