Chapter Two
Damara
My life has always been a neverending movie with an indiscernible genre, yet seemingly nonstop action. I’m like if there was a main character that nobody gave a fuck about – but still had pink hair and that attitude.
The problem is… I don’t know when to slow down. I wish I did, but it just doesn’t come easily to me. I came out here to fix that with a little bit of adventure.
Tamiya warned me to stay away from the bikers tonight. I promised her I would because… who wants to get up under a nasty white boy that smells like a car? Please. I just had my hair done in Tulsa bythemost famous black braider in the area on Instagram and I need a man who appreciates my hairstyles, not some funky white boy holding me up to an impossible standard that I have no interest in meeting.
I’m here to enjoy the start of a three month sabbatical to figure my shit out… again. The daycare is doing just fine. I hired a few girls Oske freed from some fucked up circumstances to work and cover shifts for the next few weeks. My sister Tamiya understands a good portion of my past, but there are some secrets not even that corn-shaped blond she hangs out with could pull out of me.
Tamiya doesn’t have to worry. I can handle any of those bikers. As tough as they might be… let’s just say I handled tougher. I just like to keep my past in the past where it belongs. And I like to have a good strong drink at the end of the week. Oske says the bar here has only top shelf liquor despite the biker aesthetic on the outside.
Despite my lack ofsexualinterest in the biker’s, I’m really having fun at this club meeting in the middle of nowhere. I have major problems with the desert because of my past relationship and all the shit that went down in Utah, but this spot isn’t as hot as Nevada and the clubhouse feels more like a Western-style lodge than a sweaty den of bikers. I can’t even smell any ass cracks.
Just beer. There are so many black wives at this establishment that it’s easy to find people to talk to while Tamiya and her man get handsy in front of everybody playing pool together. Then there’s Oske, my current BFF. She has issues with her two brothers – who sound like some fools – and seeks my advice because… well, that’s just what you do when you’re at a bar.
“Wyatt wants to initiate Chitto and Nokose but… they barely know how to boil an egg,” Oske says with genuine concern.
“Maybe they need more time. Isn’t there a phase for that?”
“Sending them out to commit more criminal acts. I don’t know. I think they need to go back to high school.”
“Well, did they finish?”
Oske shrugs. “I had my own problems. I never asked.”
This girl has had a tough life marked by survival and trauma. She clearly has a soft spot for her doofus brothers, which I can relate to. If it weren’t for my younger sister, I wouldn’t be alive today,most likely. We didn’t have our childhoods together either and I understand Oske’s guilt over that too.
“Okay. Maybe y’all need to start with the basics. Communication.”
“I yell at them every single day and explain how to do better and be better. They either have their stupid AirPods in or they’re playing some video game on the PS5.”
“Pause. How did they get a PS5?”
Oske shrugs. “They’re my brothers. I felt guilty and bought it for them.”
“Step one, we’re selling the PS5. Step two, y’alldefinitelyneed some communication.”
Before Oske can answer me, she scowls at some figure standing behind me and says rudely. “Can I help you,Sinclair?”
Who the hell is she addressing as “Sinclair” all angry like that? My guess is it’s Ryder – the one with the religious wife – and I flip my braids over my shoulder to see an entirely different man from the one that I expect.
Damn.That man istall.He’s the tallest one I’ve seen out of all the bikers and none of them are exactly cutie patooties. Each of this man’s arms are ridiculously thick. Oske grows more visibly uncomfortable as he leans over the bar counter.
“You can’t help me at all,” he says, turning to face me, nodding like he’s actually talking to me. “But you, miss thing with the pink hair… You can introduce yourself.”
His eyes are a pure, grassy green color with flecks of blue around the black pupils. I’ve never seen eyes like that up close. He must be one of the older bikers based on how thick and easily his sandy beard covers his face.
“Miss thing?”
“Magnum,” he says, sticking out his giant meaty hand to shake mine. “I like the pink.”
“Damara. My sister is Tamiya, I don’t know if you know her.”
He smirks and I hate that his smile sends a little throb straight down to my coochie. Not this big white boy making me feel something in my coochie. After the situation with my ex, I swore off white boys forever. Those cute eyes and that soft ass hair had me acting like one dizzy ass bitch out in the desert. If I can’t keep a clear head around a white man, I don’t really need one around me.
“Gideon Blackwood’s old lady.”
