Now I get a full-on grin out of her. “Nah. They just talk. They’re all words, no substance. Just a headache, really. I promise, no issues you need to worry about or for your dad’s club to get involved in. Consider it family drama.”
“Except you don’t have a family,” I point out.
“Exactly.” She rests her head on the back of her seat. “That’s what makes it so complicated.”
I let her sit in her own head for the rest of the drive home while I try a breathing technique I read about. I’m all for finding sensible ways to let my anger out. Sometimes it doesn’t work and I end up hitting someone or something, but I just got this car, and despite Nat obviously hiding shit fromme, I don’t want to hurt her. And if I push too hard, I could do more than hurt her—I could hurt myself.
Right now, Nat is my safe haven. I’m not some girl who can’t do things on her own. Who can never leave the nest or something like that. I have friends here—well, acquaintances, really. I can’t trust people outside the club most of the time. Those I keep close are inside the club. My whole damn life is wrapped up in it, and I don’t even fight it. But I know I need to be connected to those outside it as well.
I’ve got plans. Big ones. I’m going to start a physical therapy practice after college. It’ll take a few years, but you’ve got to have goals if you plan to go anywhere in life. And if I want to bring in clients from outside the club, I need to make nice with the civilians.
Natalie is my trial period. Sorry to say, but I’m using her. I still like her, but I’m testing myself out on her, seeing if I can be reasonable long enough when people piss me off to keep going without breaking things. ’Cause I just know that the firstKarentype to come into my place of business will not be leaving smiling. And that’s going to cost me a ton in lawyers’ fees, I bet. That’s why I already started saving. Not for the place to set up shop, but for the attorney who’ll take my case. We all know it’ll happen; I’m just preparing for the inevitable. If I were smart, I’d get myself caught by one of the prelaw kids around here. Might save me financially, and if I can ease them into who my family is, maybe they won’t be such a punk-ass bitch around them after a while.
But so far, despite me forcing myself into situations to meet said students, I walk out with shivers of regret and disgust. I can barely last three minutes talking to any of thembefore I’m leaving. I can’t even imagine being intimate with one. Yuck.
I’m sure the “good old boy” type does it for some. Most, according to the girly magazines in the checkout stands, but I’ve never liked clean-cut. I’ve tried. A few times, actually. Each one left a bad taste in my mouth, and only one of them got close to actually trying to kiss me. Emphasis ontrying. He missed me and hit my fist. Several times.
When we make it back to our place, we dump our bags at the small half table closest to the front door that we jokingly call the foyer. I grab us each a drink, her a water and me a Red Bull. I don’t need the caffeine, but I like the taste. It’s crap for my teeth and liver, but it’s better than cocaine, and that’s how I rationalize most things. If cocaine is bad, then the other things that are bad for me are on that level. But so far, nothing has been that harsh, so I like to think I’ve never had anything terrible in my life.
After parking my ass next to Nat on the couch, we put on a rerun ofFriendswe’ve both seen and just veg. It’s a routine of sorts. No one really talks when we both get home. It’s like a detox for having to go out and socialize or something. I swear I got the best roommate, because she gets me on so many levels. I need my quiet time, just like I need my ass-kicking time. It’s all about balance in my book.
“How did Tits—I mean Jules get two prospects kicked out of the club? You never told me that.”
Nice of her to remember some of the things we talked about at the coffee shop before she went apeshit on that customer. Which we’re meant to pretend didn’t happen.
I shrug but don’t look over at her. “It was a few days back. Dad asked me to come and do some work on hershoulder, and she was sitting at a table coloring. We started talking, and then some assholes used myfavoriteword, and shit went down.”
“Oh.”
I glance at her and notice her wide eyes as I nod. I’ve got a problem with one word, and one word only: cunt. I’ll use it myself, hypocritical bitch that I am, but I refuse to be called that or for another person I know, and like, to be called that either. I knew instantly that Jules was one of the girls I could get along with. So when a punk-ass wannabe biker opened his mouth, I shut it for him. His and his friend’s.
“Exactly. Koop was pissed when he saw what I did.” I smile as I lift the can to my lips and take a long drink. Seeing him mad makes me all tingly on the inside. I bet it’s how the devil feels when he pisses off God.
“Koop? You mean Kooper? The guy who’s like your babysitter or something? Why was he pissed at you?”
“Civilians ain’t meant to touch a brother, even if it’s a brother in training.”
“Civilian? Aren’t you club?”
Sometimes I forget that, like Natalie, I keep a lot of stuff about me and my past out of our conversations. She gets a few things, but not everything.
“Civilian can apply to many people. I’m part of the club because of my dad, but I’m notclub. I shouldn’t have touched them at all. Rules say if someone not club has a problem with a brother, they’re to report it to the person they’re connected to. Like an old man, or in this case, my dad. I should be kicked out, or my dad should be punished for what I did.”
“But he isn’t because he’s the president of the club, right?”
I shake my head. “More like because of what they said to me. I might not have been in the right for what I did, but I was justified enough to have it overlooked. Especially when one of them came to and started talking to Kooper as if it was fine to call the president’s little girl a free piece of ass. Well, that and they had no clue who I was, which is idiotic. I mean, if you’re applying for a job, which prospecting basically is, you learn everything you can about the company and who works for what. The guys were kicked out for pissing off Kooper and showing they were only there for the free ass that comes with the patch and not the honor to wear it.”
I finish my drink, crush the can, and set it on the coffee table. I would throw it across the open floor plan we have to the trash can, but it’s full, so it would just fall to the ground. Like the other three pieces of trash I threw on it already before we left this morning.
“What’s the difference in age?” she asks.
“Between who?”
“You and Kooper.”
“Twelve years.”
“Wow.”
