“Yeah, you know, I thought maybe you wanted to have some lunch, or something,” I say, wishing I didn’t sound quite as happy and excited as I do. Because whatever this scene just now was, it was very heavy and sad.
She glances at the others again, then fixes me with her spring sky eyes. “Yeah, sure, why not?”
She strides towards the door and I have to jog after her to catch up. But I’d gladly crawl after her if that’s what she wanted. I don’t remember that last time I’ve felt as much joy as I do over this simple lunch she agreed to go on with me. Which is depressing as hell if you think about it.
But fuck it, I’m due some joy. So I’m milking this lunch for all it’s worth.
3
Alice
First the nerve-wracking decision to ask to go after Gael, then the pity in everyone’s eyes and finally Zane blowing up at me like he did. Not a great start.
I asked Zane, if he’d come with me because he’s the only one who can’t actually go on missions for the MC, at least not the legal ones. I also asked him, because he’s shown a high level of intolerance for bad priests in the past. Yes, by killing one. But above all, I asked him because he’s my friend.
I did not expect him to freak out like he did.
I was positively shaking by the time Nico stepped between us. To do what? Protect me? It sure looked like it. I don’t need protection. I can handle my own.
But as I looked back at Rogue and the others, I knew I could not handle the pity and commiseration they’d doubtlessly shower me with. That’s why I said yes to Nico’s offer of lunch. I had to get out of there.
Why exactly I got into Nico’s shiny red sports car instead of the back of my bike is a mystery though.
I didn’t even think twice as he opened the passenger door for me. I just slipped in like one of his super model or actress dates.
“I thought we could just go to the diner,” I say, meaning the one near the clubhouse, as I see it streak by, because we’re going so fast.
“Nonsense,” he says. “I heard of this place down by the beach that’s supposed to be exceptional. Beautiful spot, too. Just like you.”
He grins at me as he says it, and I feel my throat close up just a little more. I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead, which is the only view not moving at nauseating speed.
He clears his throat. “Sorry. So what was that all about back there? Looked pretty heated. I’ve never seen Zane say that many words in one go.”
He chuckles again. Uncomfortably.
I could just say nothing. Or that I don’t want to talk about it. But I actually do. I can’t talk to anyone at the MC, because it would make me look weak and the Sarge is never supposed to be weak. And Nico did save my life. We’re connected that way, even if I know next to nothing about him and he knows less about me.
“There was this priest when I was young, he… he, ummm, well, he molested me,” I say.
He brakes hard, does a crazy, action movie style turn onto the gravel by the side of the road where a taco truck is baking in the sun, spraying everyone there with dust and rock.
“What was that?” I ask, breathing heavily.
He’s grinning at me sheepishly. “Sorry. But I want to give you all my attention. Fancy restaurants can wait. We can just eat here.”
I look at the taco truck dubiously, but there’s so many people eating here that it must be fine. I hope. The last thing I need on top of everything else is food poisoning.
“Yeah, sure,” I say and step out of the car.
All the people here are glaring at us as we walk to the truck, probably annoyed at all the dust Nico kicked up. But he’s wearing one of his fancy silver-grey three-piece suits, I’m in my full biker club Sarge outfit—leather jacket, black jeans and boots, my hair braided as though for battle—so no one says anything as we place our orders.
Or as we sit at one of the wooden tables to wait for our order.
“So, you were saying?” Nico asks and I’m no longer sure I want to tell him everything. Or anything. I’ve kept my story to myself for so long that it just doesn’t want to come out.
“You had a run in with one of those nasty priests, huh?” he says, looking out past the taco truck at the glimmering ocean in the distance, his normally green eyes the color and texture of steel—the kind used in swords. “We had some of those back home.”
“Yeah? So you… you know…” I clear my throat to stop this unseemly stuttering. “You’ve experienced it?”
