“Stay here,” Jake orders me as he pulls the T-shirt that he’d discarded back on and heads down the stairs.
“Like hell,” I mutter under my breath, pulling my top back up to some level of decency. I tip-toe to the top of the stairs so I can get a look at what’s going on. From the angle I’m at, all I can see is Jake yanking open the door and talking to someone on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, his tone harsher than I think I’ve ever heard it.
“Easy, lover boy, no need to get all bent out of shape,” the weedy voice replies, chuckling lightly. The sound immediately makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“What are you doing here, Ryan?” Jake repeats, folding his arms and planting his feet firmly on the ground. I can see that the muscles in his back are bunching and getting ready in case he has to fight.
“Chill, man,” Ryan insists, and his hyena-like laugh makes me wonder if he’s high. “I’m not here for you. Not yet anyway,” he assures Jake. His hand darts out and slaps Jake on the shoulder in what was probably supposed to be a patronizing gesture. But Jake sidesteps him, making Ryan stumble, and I see his shoes appear as he almost falls into the body shop.
“Don’t touch me.” Jake’s voice is ice-cold and I pray that he’s not preparing himself to do something stupid.
“Don’t be an idiot Jakey-boy,” Ryan taunts. “You’re on thin ice, you know that. If your little girlfriend hadn’t saved your ass you’d be a Patch now and you’d be doing exactly what I tell you,” he says, sounding overjoyed at the prospect.
“What do you want, Ryan?” Jake repeats again, his voice coming out through gritted teeth. I know that he’s all too aware that if he ever became a member of the Bleeding Angels, he’d be on the lowest rung and Ryan would do all he could to make his life a living hell.
“Aimee,” he replies, and the way he says my name makes my stomach roll. “I want to talk to Aimee.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jake asks, taking another step towards the door, forcing Ryan to step outside. His feet disappear from my view completely. “And what is it that you want to talk to her about?” Jake tilts his head, probably trying to assess just how out of it Ryan actually is.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ryan teases with that hyena-like laugh of his again. “That’s between Aimee and me.”
“Well, that’s a real shame,” Jake says sarcastically. “She’s not here. So whatever thrilling piece of conversation you have planned for this evening it isn’t going to happen. See you, Ryan.” Jake starts to close the door in Ryan’s face, but a hand shoots out, keeping the door open.
“Be smart here, Jakey-boy,” Ryan hisses, and he seems to have shaken off the haziness that whatever drug he’s on had cast over him. “Do you really want to piss me off? Scar might’ve given you a pass for a week or so, but that doesn’t mean that you might not have some kind of accident in the meantime,” he finishes innocently.
“Are you threatening me?” Jake asks, his voice low. I know that his anger levels are reaching stratospheric levels.
“‘Threaten’ is such an ugly word, isn’t it?” Ryan asks. “More like ‘incentivizing,’” he corrects. “That’s a much better word, isn’t it?”
“Get out of here, Ryan,” Jake orders.
“What are you going to do? Call the cops?” Ryan lets out another high-pitched laugh that sets my teeth on edge. “Be smart here, Jake. The next time I come round I won’t be so polite.” There’s steel in his voice that I haven’t heard before.
“Enough,” I say loudly before I’ve really had time to get to grips with my actions. My voice silences the two men and, as I start walking down the stairs, I take a moment to shake off the nerves that Ryan’s presence in the body shop has given me.
Jake is looking at me like he doesn’t know whether to kiss me or to shout at me. At the moment, he seems to be leaning towards the latter. “Aimee,” he says warningly, and he grabs hold of my hand.
“It’s okay, Jake,” I assure him. “You’ll be right here with me.” He visibly relaxes, turning his attention back to the sorry excuse for a human being that we have in front of us. “So, Ryan, what is it that you wanted to say to me that couldn’t wait until, oh I don’t know, never?” I ask sarcastically, before I remind myself that antagonizing a sociopath probably isn’t the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done.
“Nice to see you, Aimee. You look pretty.” Ryan’s voice is sugary-sweet and makes me want to yack.
Jake snorts, shaking his head, and his expression says that he’s clearly thinking how pathetic Ryan is.
“What do you want, Ryan?” I ask, stealing from Jake’s script. I know I should make more of an effort to be polite, bearing in mind Ryan is Scar’s son, but I’m losing patience as this is dragging on.
“Not in front of him,” Ryan says, looking at me but motioning towards Jake.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, pal.” Jake shakes his head emphatically, refusing to move.
“Not in front of him. This is just between you and me, Aimee,” Ryan says in his slimyvoice, and an involuntary shiver passes through me. “You’re the smart one in this little relationship,” he adds, still focusing his attention on me. “So tell your boyfriend here not to push his luck.” With that, he lifts his t-shirt up slightly to show the handle of a knife that’s sticking out of his pants.
Jake moves as if to put himself between Ryan and me, but I squeeze his hand and shake my head as he looks at me. “It’s alright, Jake,” I assure him. “I won’t be long.” I sound much more confident than I feel.
“Finally, someone that sees sense,” Ryan says, looking up at the sky. “I’ll just be outside.” He sounds like he’s promising more than just a conversation, but I don’t allow myself to focus on that.
“I don’t like this,” Jake says, his face close to mine.
“Neither do I. But unless you want to make a guy with no social skills and a knife angry, I don’t see we have much of a choice,” I point out, trying to make light of the situation, but failing miserably.
“What can he have to say to you, anyway?” Jake asks, looking over to where Ryan has disappeared outside.
“Nothing important.” I shake my head dismissively. “He probably just wanted to come and freak us out to show he’s the big dick on campus. It’s a power play.”
“Be careful,” Jake says, holding my face between his hands and rubbing the pad of his thumb over my cheek so tenderly it makes me ache a little inside.
“I will be,” I tell him. “This won’t take long, I’m sure. Besides, I’m not sure how long Ryan’s going to be able to stand up for,” I note, referring to how high he seems to be.
Jake cracks a smile, but I know it’s not a sincere one. It’s just for my benefit, to show me that he’s alright and that he trusts me. Even in this situation he’s trying to make me feel better, and that makes me love him even more.
I walk out of the body shop, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness outside. The sun was setting, so there were only a few rays of dusk to light the way. Ryan is leaning against his bike expectantly. He’s parked so we’re just out of earshot, but we’re close enough for Jake to see us from the window of the studio. I wonder how intentional this had been and whether Ryan had planned for Jake to be able to see us while we were talking, just to infuriate him even more.
I walk towards Ryan slowly, trying to figure out what he could possibly have to say to me. Whatever it is, I sincerely doubt that it’s anything good. The realization of that sits heavily in my stomach like a dead weight and I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. Perhaps I should have just called his bluff when we were inside. Would he really have tried to goad Jake into a fight, knowing that Scar had agreed to a truce between us?
“What do you see in him, anyway?” Ryan asks without any preamble as I stop a few feet in front of him. I’m close enough to talk, but not for him to reach out and touch me.
I fold my arms, unconsciously duplicating Jake’s position inside. “Is that what you came here to talk about? What qualities I find attractive in Jake?” I ask, my tone impatient.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Ryan smiles widely, making his yellow teeth visible. I’m close enough to see how red and bloodshot his eyes are. I wonder if he’s had to get high to pluck up the courage to come here or if he’s so confident of getting what he wants that he doesn’t think he needs to be sharp.
“If there’s nothing you want to say…” I start, making a move to turn around and head back in the direction I came in.
“Stop,” Ryan orders and, much as I hate to do it, I turn around, facing him again. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to walk away when someone’s talking to you?”
“Well, you weren’t talking. You were playing whatever game it is that you’re trying to play,” I say, reminding myself that I can’t afford to be quite so disdainful toward him.
“This isn’t a game, Aimee,” he says, pulling his platinum, greasy hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture that I recognize from school. It was the same habit he had when a teacher asked a question he didn’t know the answer to. “Unless you think Jake’s future is a game,” he says breezily, looking up towards the window that I know Jake is watching us from. “But I didn’t have you pegged for that kind of girl.” He shrugs laconically and I have to resist the urge to shake him into telling me what he’s talking about.
The mention of Jake’s future has put me on edge, which I’m sure is exactly what Ryan had been aiming for. “What about Jake’s future?” I ask, forcing myself to sound as civil as I possibly can.
“Well, you know what happens in a couple of weeks. We come for Jake, he gets patched and tatted, and he becomes an Angel. You don’t get to see him anymore, he forgets about you, the perfect little Summers family is ruined and you end up with—well, with nothing,” he says, painting a picture that probably isn’t that far away from the truth, no matter how bleak it sounds.
“Thanks for the pep talk, Ryan. Always good to chat,” I sigh, pretending that his words have had no effect on me at all.
“Don’t be cute with me, Winters,” he advises gruffly, and the force of his anger makes me take a step back. The change that has come over his expression and his eyes is frightening—it’s what earned him his nickname at school. The other kids would call him Rabid Ryan because of the crazy look he would get in his eyes. The nickname didn’t really have the desired effect on Ryan. He seemed to wear it as a badge of pride rather than proof that all his peers thought that he was mad, not just a little scary.
“I’m not trying to be cute, Ryan,” I say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “But it’s getting late, I’m getting cold, and I’m tired of all the riddles. Can you just tell me what you came here to tell me?” I ask, hugging myself to keep out the cold desert night air.
“If you’re cold, you could come a little closer, Aimee. I’m sure I could figure out a way to keep you warm,” he says, and then laughs at his own joke before stopping abruptly and giving me what I can only assume are his bedroom eyes. It’s not a look that works for him.
I hope that the revulsion I feel at his suggestion doesn’t translate onto my face, but I’m afraid that some of it might. “I’m fine here, thanks,” I say, pressing my lips tightly together to stop myself from saying anything further. “Can we just cut to the chase here, Ryan? If you don’t mind?” I add as sweetly as I can manage to soften the blow.
“The chase, right,” Ryan says slowly, nodding in agreement. “Well, I suppose, in that case, the chase is you,” he says simply. “I’ve been chasing you for a long time, Aimee. My lovely, lovely, Aimee.” Then he looks me up from my sneakered feet, up my long legs, to the shorts I wish were longer, to the strapless top that is doing very little to help combat the seeping cold that I’m feeling, and finally settling on my face. The way he looks at me makes me feel as if I’m completely naked, and I suddenly feel vulnerable out here and very far away from Jake.
“What—what do you mean?” I ask, my voice quivering.
“Come on, don’t be shy with me, we’ve known each other too long,” Ryan breathes out, taking a step towards me and looking like he’s about to launch himself at me. “You know I want you. You know that this is how it’s all supposed to end.”
“What? How what is supposed to end?” I ask, still confused and feeling all the more unsettled by his confident tone.
“You and me.” Ryan reaches out to touch my hair, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from rearing back. “We’re supposed to be together,” he says calmly.
I look at him in horror, thinking this delusion must be because of whatever drug he’s on. But his eyes are clear, and then it dawns on me: he really means it.
“Ryan, I’m with Jake. I’m in love with Jake,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and as reasonable as I can manage. I want to tell him I would never be with him in a million years, but I bite that part back.
Ryan waves away my words as if they’re not important. “That’s what you think now, but that’s not how it’s supposed to be. That’s not how it ends,” he asserts confidently. I shake my head stubbornly and he continues. “You being with me would really go a long way to helping Jake out of this bind he’s found himself in.” Ryan tapps his index finger on this chin as if he’s thinking it over.
“What are you saying?” I ask, but I’m afraid that I already know what it is that he’s driving at.
“I’m saying that you give yourself to me, and Jake gets his life back.” Ryan shrugs casually.
“What?” I ask dumbly.
“If you’re with me, then I can talk to my father and convince him that Summers isn’t worth our time,” he assures me, holding his hands out as if to say, “take it or leave it.”
“I don’t believe you,” I reply. “I don’t believe Scar would just let Jake go, not after all that he’s been through to try to get him.” My mind flits to the photograph of Scar/Travis at Jake’s birthday party all those years ago.
“With the Feds crawling over this town, Scar’s got bigger things to worry about. Jake’s small fry. At least for now,” Ryan says, shrugging. “But it won’t stay that way for long. Not unless I have a little chat with daddy dearest.”
“Oh yeah, the Feds,” I say absently, as if they barely registered on my radar. “Bit of a messy business with that army truck, huh?” I ask, knowing I should stop even as I’m saying it. I think back to the conversation the night before with the men at the diner and their warnings over getting involved.
“And what would you know about it?” Ryan asks, challenging me.
“I know that Scar can’t be all that happy with your two boys in hospital,” I say lazily, taking a risk, but knowing that I don’t have anything else to gamble with.
Ryan snorts. “That’s one way to put it,” he says quietly, not volunteering any other information.
“Not really your style, is it?” I ask, emboldened by the fact that Ryan’s proved my hunch right.
“They were trying to score something on their own. Trying to prove a point,” Ryan says contemptuously. “They couldn’t have screwed it up any more if they’d tried.”
“So what’s going to happen now? Is Scar going to see if he can buy off the Feds just like he has the rest of the law in this town?” I ask, struggling to keep the disdain out of my voice.
At these questions, Ryan’s eyes start squinting in suspicion and he advances towards me, looking me over, but more in panic this time. “What the fuck with all the questions, Winters? You fucking wearing a wire?” he asks, starting to pat me down until I twist away from him.
I’m ready to defend myself if I have to and I try to figure out how long it would take Jake to get to me if I started to scream. But I notice that Ryan doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks like the cat that got the cream and I realize, with growing disgust, that it’s because he’s managed to get his hands on me.
“If you wanted me to touch you, babe, you only needed to say,” he says, his weedy voice making him sound like a horny adolescent. “Anyway, where were we?” Ryan asks, looking like he’s casting about for a cue of where we left off. “Oh yes, we were talking about the best offer you’re ever going to get.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say, pulling my head away, almost imperceptibly, so that the piece of hair he’s holding slides out of his fingers. “You want me to sleep with you and, in exchange, the Angels forget about Jake forever?” I ask. This conversation has to be a dream. I’ll wake up at any moment.
“Got it in one, gorgeous,” Ryan confirms, doing the trigger gesture with his thumb and index finger, which in itself, goes a long way to explaining why Ryan has never had a real girlfriend.
“And why would I believe that you’d keep up your end of the bargain?” I ask as soon as the thought flits across my brain.
“You got a whole lot of other options?” he asks, smiling at his own cleverness.
I don’t reply that I’m waiting for the Feds to send all their asses to jail. I don’t think it’s really the time for bravado. Not only that but, as Jake has pointed out any number of times, we have no idea how long it’s going to take for them to find something on the Angels that’ll stick.
Even though I know that Ryan’s right, and I don’t have overwhelming options in my back pocket, a lot would have to change for me to even consider his deal. Aimee, the little voice in my head warns me. But I pay her no mind. To hell with keeping a hold on bravado. “Ryan, even if my only other option was to stick my head in a vat of boiling oil, that would be preferable to what you’ve offered me,” I say, unable to keep the revulsion out of my voice.
But, to my surprise, he doesn’t fly off the handle like I expect him to. He just nods as if that’s exactly the answer he was expecting. “You always did have a way with words, Aimee,” he admits, not sounding even slightly offended. So much so that I start to question if he actually heard what I’d said to him. “Tell you what—I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that. I’m going to give you some time to sit with the other options that you have,” he says confidently, swinging one leg over his motorbike and revving the engine.
“I don’t need any time. I’ve given you my answer already,” I say, struggling to be heard over the sound of the bike.
Ryan shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in me. “You’re supposed to be in love with that pussy inside, aren’t you Aimee?” he ask, innocently. “If that were true, wouldn’t you do whatever you could to save him from becoming what you both seem to hate most—one of us?” He leans over the handlebars of the bike, smiling lasciviously at me. “Could you really live with yourself if Jake became a sworn brother to the people that killed your beloved daddy? If you really could, then maybe you’re not as much of a good person as you thought you were,” he points out. “See you around, Aimee. I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he says before gunning the engine and heading out onto the road, leaving a trail of dust behind him that makes me splutter and cough.
I must be in shock, as I don’t move until I hear the sound of Jake’s pounding feet coming up behind me. He whirls me around to look at him, checking me over to make sure that I’m alright despite the fact I’m pretty confident he had seen the whole exchange from his vantage point inside.
“What the hell was all that about?” he asks, holding me at arms’ length and looking into my eyes.
“I wish I knew,” I say, staring at the trail in the dust that Ryan left behind him.