some time way back
I lean against the bar, noticing empty beer bottles every-where. I think we may have partied just a little too hard last night. I take my hands off the bar in search of a cup for coffee, noticing my fingers are sticky.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
I press my thumb and forefinger together and watch my skin stick together when I pull them apart. Looking down at the bar’s countertop, I notice grime and dust coating the top of it. I feel my knee brush against the dish bin, causing glasses to clash together. Looking down, I find it overflowing with dirty cups. Some have been there way before the party, along with week-old beer bottles. This place really needs a cleaning, and these boys are not up for the job. Hell, I have to put a gun to a prospect’s head just to get them to take the trash out.
The club’s front doors slam open with force, shaking all the pictures of mug shots and memorabilia on the wall, grabbing my attention from the filth lining the bar.
A fuming Babs walks in, her red curly hair piled on her head with little strips falling loose framing her heart-shaped face. Got her name Babs because she talks too much. Every time we have a get-together, you can hear her loud mouth from anywhere. She’s wearing a white button-up shirt that ties at the bottom, tight blue jeans, and black leather boots up to her knees. She looks good, busty and confident. She looks like she just turned thirty rather than being in her forties. How Locks got such a spitfire, I’ll never know.
“Morning, darlin’.” She glances up from looking at the floor, her green eyes squinted with anger, and flips me off. I laugh so hard my body shakes. I forgot she’s pissed at me. Locks has been playing her dirty here lately. He’s been staying here with whomever will warm his bed, and uses me as a scapegoat, telling Babs I need him here, that shit went south on a deal and I might need him at a moment’s notice. It’s all a lie though, and I didn’t agree to be a scapegoat either. Not to mention, I’m not entirely in favor of him sleeping around on his ol’ lady the way he does. But there’s no law saying he can’t cheat on her, thanks to my pops. He was president before I was, and pretty much made the rules of the club. Sure, I could hold a meeting and have it changed, but I already know that vote wouldn’t pass.
A huge crash echoes from down the hall along with screaming and shouting.
I rub my face and sigh. I already know what’s going on. Locks finally got caught.
“Fuck you, Locks!”
I stride out from behind the counter, going toward the commotion. I walk in the room and find the end table turned over with the lamp broken on the floor. Locks is standing with his shirt unbuttoned, buckling his belt, and Candy is getting up from being on her knees. Well, more like being pulled up by her hair by Babs.
“What’s going on here, brother?” I question Locks, but I can clearly see what’s happening.
Locks takes his fierce gaze from Babs and looks at me. His brown eyes stare at me, eyebrows furrowed, causing a swarm of winkles to form.
“You might be involved with a lot of shit around here with you being the club president, but this doesn’t concern you,” Locks replies, his tone sharp.
My jaw clenches with anger, and my fist trembles with the urge to punch him in his disrespecting mouth. I look away from Locks and look toward Babs. Her green eyes are widened with rage, as she clenches her hand in Candy’s blonde hair looking at me warily. I rub the scruff of my face, and leave. Who the fuck does Locks think he is, talking to me like that? I’m his fucking president, and he should show me more respect, but I’m going to leave it for now because I respect Babs too much to punch Locks right in front of her. She has enough to deal with right now.
I position myself behind the counter, my jaw gritting with anger. When I glance up, Babs is rushing toward the doors to leave, holding her cheek and looking down at the floor.
“Babs?” I call after her. My tone is questioning, curious as to why she is holding her face.
She ignores me and walks out the doors. I jog out of the club, trying to catch up to her.
“Babs!” I yell again, trying to gain her attention. She continues to ignore me, not faltering in her steps toward her red truck.
“Delilah!” I shout, using her real name. She suddenly stops, but doesn’t turn around to face me. I catch up to her and place my hands on her shoulders. She’s still holding her cheek with her hand, her face turned away.
“What happened?” I question softly. She doesn’t reply. She just keeps looking down, holding her cheek. I grab her hand gently and pull it from her face, revealing a hand mark staining her porcelain skin. It’s so red it looks purple. Little goose bumps rise from the pain firing through her cheek.
“What the fuck happened, darlin’?” I whisper, my eyes widening with concern. She’s silent, just a lone tear escaping her eye.
“Candy hit you?” I ask. Candy, a common whore of our club, has mattress hopped every room of the club, and then some. I can’t stand that bitch; reminds me of her momma, Roxy. I used to fuck around with Roxy before I found a woman I was crazy over. Bad thing is, I just didn’t realize how crazy I was over that woman till she left. Candy and her Momma have a thing in common, taunting the ol’ ladies. I sure thought one of the ol’ ladies would have taken care of Candy by now, like they did Roxy, but that must just be wishful thinking.
I grab Babs by the chin and pull it upward so she has to look at me.
“This is all your fault,” she whispers, pinning me with angry eyes. “I understand you got your guy code, bros before hos and can't be a cockblocker bullshit, but you’re still just as much an asshole as he is.”
I nod. She would think that, and she's right. I knew it was going on and I felt like shit watching it. I know she deserves better, but damn, it's not like I could do anything about it. Fucking Locks. I look back down at Babs and I groan deeply. She is so beautiful. I have always had an eye for her. That fiery red hair and sassy mouth of hers is captivating. To see her so broken, it’s unnatural and unfair to her.
“Let me make it right,” I offer.
She pulls from my grip and stares at me. Why the fuck I feel so guilty is the question of all this. I wasn’t the one who fucking cheated and I didn’t cause this, regardless of what Locks told Babs.
I look back at the club and push my hands in my pockets. The rage from Locks disrespecting me in front of the girls surfaces as I stare at it. I look back at Babs and grin.
“Work for me,” I suggest. She winces, closes her eyes, and looks back at me.
“What?” she asks, her face scrunched in confusion.
“My club could use a woman’s touch, someone to cook a few times, clean some sheets—”
“Do I look like a fucking maid? How is that supposed to make it right?” she interrupts, her hand held up to stop me from talking.
“I’ll pay you,” I say, sliding my hands through my hair, her tone starting to anger me.
“I have a job, thank you very much,” she spits, placing her hand on her hip.
“Where do you work, doll?” I ask, crossing my arms, curious who could handle her attitude and big mouth and not fire her in one day’s work.
“Dirty Barrels,” she replies. That dirty little bar across the freeway? I try not to laugh. Of course she would be a bartender. I’ve been to Dirty Barrels though. It’s a shit place, and I bet the tips aren’t any better.
“I’ll pay double, and working here you can keep an eye on Locks.” She snorts, as if I’m ridiculous. “If you want to look after him that is,” I continue. She looks off into the distance, as if she is thinking about it. I don’t have time for this. “Take it or leave it,” I say, walking back toward the clubhouse.
“Fine, I’ll take it,” Babs says, giving in.
I keep walking toward the club, turning my head just barely to get a glimpse of her. “Good choice, I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”
I walk into the club and find Locks in the kitchen and Candy on a barstool examining her nails as if nothing just happened. The calm state she’s in angers me. I grab her by her trashy blonde hair and pull her off the stool.
“Time for you to leave!” I growl.
“Let go of my hair, you asshole,” she screams, grabbing at my fist in her hair. I push her out of the club doors and stare down at her. I can tell this bitch is going to be a problem.
“You are going to fucking pay for my hair; I just had those extensions put in!” she shrieks, looking at the strands of hair falling from her head.
“Yeah, don’t hold your breath, doll,” I spit angrily.
“Wait until my mother hears of this,” she threatens. I curl my lip, looking at her in confusion. Why the fuck would I care what her mother thinks?
I shut and lock the doors, scowling at the slut littering my courtyard.
I jump in my truck and fly out of the courtyard of the club, my eyes leaking uncontrollable tears as my mouth makes this horrible sobbing sound.
“Fucking asshole!” I scream as my foot pushes down on the gas pedal.
“I knew he was cheating, I knew it, and he didn’t have one ounce of guilt!” I yell, my voice echoing through the truck. It started several months ago; he started staying at the club overnight. As the weeks carried on, he began to stay at the club for days on end. He tried to blame Bull, but I knew better, especially when I came across a pink lacey thong, which wouldn’t even fit my left tit, in Locks’ jean pocket. When he didn’t come home last night, equaling a week total he hasn’t been home, I came to the club pissed, and find out exactly what I had expected the whole time. He’s been sleeping around on me.
Another sob escapes my mouth. He hit me. He actually fucking hit me, and I did nothing in return. Why? How could I not stand up for myself?
Locks and I met several years ago at the Dirty Barrels. My dad split when I was twelve, and when my mother died of cancer a few years ago, I came to California to be with my sister. I’m starting to think it was a big mistake. I should have stayed in Texas.
“You are way too gorgeous to be working at a place like this.” I looked over from making a rum and coke and saw a guy my mother would have killed if I had brought him home. He had his long blond hair pulled back, tattoos up and down his arms, a leather vest that had patches on it, and the most ruthless grin I’d ever seen.
“Flattery don’t pay my bills, babe,” I sassed, making him laugh.
He stayed until closing time. Every time I glanced up, he was staring at me with smiling eyes. I literally felt my skin burning from his intrusive stare.
“Last call,” I warned him, wiping up the bar where he sat alone.
“What’s your name?” he asked, sipping what’s left of his jack and coke. I bit my lip, debating if I wanted to tell him what I told all the drunk men hitting on me, or really tell him my name. I looked back at him, thinking. He tilted his head to the side and smiled, making me melt on the spot. Why not? I wasn’t getting any younger and I could use some excitement.
“My name is Delilah,” I finally answered, my skin tingling from the excitement sweeping through me.
“Delilah,” he said, my name playing on his lips. “Well, Delilah, I’m Locks,” he said, putting his hand over the bar for me to shake.
“Locks?” I asked, confused. What kind of name was that?
“Yeah, it’s my road name,” he said, tugging on his cut, which hugged his shoulders perfectly.
“What is a road name?” I questioned, laughing. “Why do they call you that?” I continued to interrogate.
He smirked, his finger playing with the rim of his glass.
“What?” I inquired, curious what was so funny.
“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” He smiled, his brown eyes meeting mine again.
I shrugged. I’d been told I talked a lot; when in reality, I just asked and said what was on my mind. A lot of people didn’t do that, too afraid of pissing someone off. I couldn’t care less; take me as I am.
“I’m a part of a motorcycle club called the Devil’s Dust,” he informed. I had seen the group of bikes flying back and forth through town. They were rugged, tattooed, and sexy.
“So how did you get your road name?” I questioned. He smirked and eyed his glass.
“I’ll tell you what, you go for a ride with me, I’ll tell you why they call me Locks,” he suggested, his hand slapping the bar’s counter.
I grinned. “On a motorcycle?” I asked, my face feeling like it was going to split from smiling so wide.
He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, on a motorcycle.”
The light turns green, snapping me from my daydream. Locks and I were inseparable from that night on. I fell so fast and hard; it was all a blur. Even though I know he has been cheating on me for the last several months, seeing it, finalizing the death of our marriage, shreds me.
A sudden laugh escapes my mouth, breaking through the sobs. But Bull, he just hired me to clean the club and keep an eye on Locks. Not that it will keep him from messing around on me, but if it’s one thing Locks preaches about, it’s women aren’t allowed at the club. Like it’s a fucking man cave or some shit, so at least this will really piss him off. I mean, I’ve been to the club and stayed my fair share of hours, but it’s mostly before or after get-togethers. Locks never seemed happy I was at any of them, not here lately anyway. My phone rings from inside my purse on the passenger seat. I lean over and grab it, swerving into oncoming traffic as I fish it out.
Just as I lean up, a black car swerves to miss my truck, honking its horn at me.
“Fuck! What?” I answer the phone, frantically.
“It’s me, Ruby. What the fuck is your problem?” my sister snaps. I sigh. I only talk to her every couple months, usually when she needs something.
“I just caught Locks messing around on me,” I say softly. I should be more broken-hearted than I am, but I’m angry more than anything.
She gasps. “Shit,” she whispers. “Anyway, we have a problem. Meet me out front of the hospital,” Ruby demands.
“The hospital? What for?” I ask.
“It’s Scarlett; she’s overdosed, again,” Ruby says, ending the call, not even saying bye before hanging up.
“Shit,” I whisper as I do a U-turn right in the middle of the freeway, cars honking their horns, swerving to pass me, and slamming on their brakes not to crash into me.
“Yeah, screw you too, buddy!” I yell out my window to an old man flipping me the bird.
***
I meet Ruby at the front of the hospital. She looks beautiful as always with her bright red hair straight and flowing down her shoulders and her green eyes done up with black, smoky makeup. She is wearing blue jean capris with a green tank. My little sister and I have nothing in common but the color of our hair and eyes. At my age of forty and hers of thirty-two, we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. She got pregnant young, and our mother kicked her out. Ruby leaving was one of the hardest things I have been through.
She came to California and shacked up with some rich guy, got her a job, a house, and a car. Then she found out he was married and took everything he gave her and left. Some bitches have it so lucky. If I took what Locks gave me, it would be a cheap wedding ring he bought me years ago and that’s it. I look down at my hand; I don’t even wear the damn thing anymore. We have grown apart I guess, so what’s the point.
Ruby and I make our way into the emergency room and into Scarlett’s room. She is pale and has vomit all over her. I stare at the tubes going into the crook of her elbow and wires going down the front of her gown.
“She really did a number on herself this time,” Ruby whispers, not entering the room.
Ruby crosses her arms and looks down the hall, her lips pursed
“I can’t do this anymore, Delilah,” Ruby says, beginning to cry.
“Do what?” I ask, placing my hand on my hip, curious at what she’s going on about.
“I will not watch my daughter kill herself, shoot herself up with poison and whore herself out for a high.” Her voice cracks, heavy with emotion. “I have watched my daughter die more times than a mother should in one lifetime,” Ruby says, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“So what are you saying?” I question, looking back down at the fragile eighteen-year-old in the hospital bed.
“I’m done. I have given her more than enough chances; this was her last. She wants to kill herself, she can do it elsewhere,” Ruby declares, turning and walking away. How can she say that? How can she give up on her daughter? Does she not remember what her own mother did to her, throwing her out to the wolves? This is why Ruby called me. She knew I wouldn’t walk away from Scarlett.
I grab Scarlett’s limp hand and give it a squeeze. I look at her and take in her deathly sight. Her red hair, which is just a bit darker than my own, hanging in clumps, big dark bags sagging from under her eyes. “Looks like it’s just you and me, baby girl,” I whisper.
I wake up chipper today, anxious to see the look on Locks’ face when Babs comes in for the day. I grab some clothes off the floor and hold them to my nose, sniffing for cleanliness. One good thing out of having Babs at the club, I’ll have clean clothes. I put on my black shirt, ripped up jeans, boots, and cut. I grab my cigarettes off the side table and head into the main area.
“Oh, Locks, you’re the worst,” Juliette flirts, pulling on her green jacket. Juliette is one of the girls who has daddy issues, stays around fucking any man who will show her the least bit of attention. She flips her long hair over her shoulder, her vibrant spider tattoo climbing her hand and catching my attention.
“Oh,” she says, surprised, “I didn’t see you there, Bull,” she continues with a fake smile.
“No problem, darlin’,” I reply, squeezing past her. I pluck a cig from the pack with my lips and light it just as my phone vibrates. “What?” I snap into the phone.
“How dare you touch my daughter like that?” It’s Roxy. I was wondering when I was going to hear from her.
“I got shit to do. What’d ya want?” I ask, getting straight to the point.
“She just got those extensions; you better pay for that!” she demands, her tone screeching into the line, causing my head to instantly throb. Roxy is like a damn Barbie, but with ass and tit implants. As long as she didn’t open her mouth to speak, she was a good lay. But that was about it.
“Yeah, okay?” I say flat.
“I’m coming down there and—”
“You come down here, I will shave your fucking head,” I threaten into the phone line. She gasps and goes silent.
“What happened to us, Bull? We used to be so good together,” she responds, her tone soft and more reasonable.
“We weren’t good together. You were just a chick I fucked. Your daughter keeps her shit up, she will be banned from this club.” I hang the phone up and growl in frustration. If only getting rid of Candy would be so easy. Candy is well liked by the boys around here. If I got rid of her, I would have a riot of horny men on my hands.
Babs walks into the club just as I’m making my way into the common area.
She has her curly red hair down, letting it drop down her shoulders. Her leopard top is so tight it outlines her tits perfectly, and her black jeans show off that nice ass of hers. What can I say? I’m a tits and ass man.
“I’m here,” she says, her hand on her hip, smacking some gum.
“You are,” I reply, taking a drag off my cigarette. I glance around the bar; it’s disgusting. How she will get it cleaned is beyond me. I pull some cash from my wallet and hand it to her. “You are going to need to go get some cleaning supplies,” I inform her. “Oh, and pick up some coffee and something to eat around here.”
She takes the cash, eyeing it.
“What are you doing here? I thought I told—”
“I work here now!“ Babs yells over my shoulder, interrupting Locks mid-sentence, who has just entered the bar.
“What the fuck you going on about?” Locks questions, shrugging on his cut.
“She is working around here now. This place needs a woman’s touch. She just happened to be at the right place at the right time when I came to that conclusion,” I explain, stepping in front of Babs. I look down at my feet, curious how they moved without my thinking. Why do I feel so protective of her?
“This ain’t no place for a fucking woman,” Locks barks, his face turning bright red.
“You might be involved with a lot of shit around here with you being my vice president, but this doesn’t concern you,” I reply, quoting his words he said to me just yesterday. Locks bares his teeth, his hands flexing as he hollers out and knocks over a stool. He points at Babs, blowing air into his cheeks, spit bubbling over his lips in the process. Babs stands a little taller and slaps his hand out of her face. Good for her.
Locks’ face takes on a stunned expression, gone with the red blustery look. His face turns pale and his mouth parts with surprise.
“Go cool off,” I order Locks.
“What?” Locks says, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts.
“I said go clear your fucking head,” I repeat, pointing at the doors. Locks scowls at me and stomps to the doors, throwing them open with anger.
“Shadow, go make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” I command. Locks hasn’t been himself lately and I would hate for him to do something stupid.