Fuck.
I don’t know that I can.
CHAPTER 7
MARIETTA
By the time Celia and Betz show up two weeks later to help me move, I’m already packed.
I sublet my apartment with all the furniture. It’s better this way, so my parents don’t find out what I’ve done. They’re not footing the bill. I got scholarships to pay my tuition and worked all summer to pay for my apartment.
But they would panic if they mailed me a birthday card that got returned. I’m definitely not telling them I’m moving in with a motorcycle club.
I thought about this after I got a few texts from Merrick asking about my family. When I first saw his name on my phone, explaining he got my number from the Caller ID at the bar, my heart swelled up all hopeful.
But he just wanted to ask where my parents lived and if I had brothers or sisters.
I said they all lived clear across the country in Utah and didn’t have the money to visit. I would go to see them at Christmas.
For a hot second, I wondered if he was going to recruit my baby sister for the Wild Hair. I don’t know how anything works. But when I told Symphony about the texts, she figured theywanted to know if anybody was going to come after them for taking advantage of me.
She’s worried about that, too.
I think getting taken advantage of is the point. If they have people following me around to protect my cherry, they aren’t going to hurt me. Ibelongto them.
I’m not worried. I’ll help around the clubhouse, which will be easier than the coffee shop I worked in all summer. The Wild Hair can’t be any crankier than Miami residents without their morning brew.
When I hear the roar of motorcycles, I peer out of my window. It’s not just Betz and Celia in a pickup truck, but four members of the Wild Hair on their bikes.
What a sendoff! I hug a pillow to my chest. This is amazing!
I watch as they pull off their helmets, but Merrick isn’t with them. It makes sense. The bar opens in an hour. He has to be there.
A few of my neighbors peer through their windows as I head onto the sidewalk to the parking lot. “Over here!” I call, waving at the Wild Hair.
Betz steps out, looking like I remembered from the bar opening, short and wiry at sixty. She’s Low Joe’s ol’ lady, and I hope she doesn’t know about how I hung on him and Chain that first night I went to the bar. She might be the jealous type. Her sour expression suggests she’s not easy to please.
Her gray hair is tucked into a red bandanna. She wears a black denim jacket with the Wild Hair logo on the back. On the front is a patch that says, “Property” on one side and “Low Joe” on the other. I have no idea if she always wears that or if she’s making a point to me.
Too Fast Freddy’s ol’ lady Celia comes around the front. She doesn’t wear any Wild Hair gear, just jeans and a super tight leopard print top. Her bottle-blonde hair conjures MarilynMonroe. “Let’s get this move over with,” she says. “Then we’ll get drunk.”
Not gonna be hard with me.
“I have it all boxed up and easy,” I say. “It’s not much.”
Betz and Celia come inside to check it out.
“Noice,” Celia says. “You sure you want to live at the shack? You probably get good internet here. Ours always cuts out when I’m watchingLove Island.”
“I’m sure,” I say, although watching Betz glare at me, I’m less certain than I was. “The furniture is all staying. I leased it.”
“Smart girl,” Celia says. “Always have your own money, that’s what I say.”
“You don’t say shit,” Betz says. She stands in the doorway to yell outside, “Guys, get your asses in here and move these boxes.” Her gaze pierces me. “Your cherry is causing a lot of talk at the clubhouse.”
“Is it?” I’m guessing she doesn’t like that I’m coming. I didn’t think about how I might be living with someone who considers me a threat.
Celia drapes an arm around me. “Don’t listen to Betz. She’s mad her man threw his hat in the ring for your cherry when hers popped a half-century ago.”
