“Yeah, Kurt wants me to find a pack outside of the club. Has laid down the gavel that I’m untouchable in all ways to anyone with a Dead Palm symbol on them. Patched in or not.”
“He’s right,” I say, the agreement with my father feeling foreign coming out of my mouth.
She glares at me before walking away. I grab her by her arm and pull her back into the shadows between the two buildings. “Why would you want to stay here?” I ask her.
Her eyes narrow at me. The realization that she’s not the sweet little girl I met on a few rare occasions sinks in the moment she speaks. “Because this is my home, and that means something to me,” she states. Tugging free of my grasp, she walks towards the house I grew up in, her dress swishing in the late-night breeze.
I’m not sure what I thought I would find when I came home, but a half-hard dick over my stepsister and a near-complete dismissal from my father wasn’t it.
It’s late,and the party is still going on strong, though most of it has moved into the clubhouse. The one place I’m not allowed unless accompanied by Kurt or my brother.
It’s fucking annoying. I’m just so tired of being treated like a child or like I’m a complete idiot around here. I’m far from naïve, I know more of the club’s secrets than I should. Part of that has to do with how much of a night owl I am and how much I hear when I open my bedroom window.
My room is on the second floor and it overlooks the square. Sometimes I feel like a princess in a tower waiting for someone to ride in on a motorcycle and save me from this life. It’s not even the lifestyle but my current life that I need saving from. I’m so goddamn bored, I want to scream.
I thought maybe with Tate coming home and seeing how different I am, maybe he would see me as the adult woman I’ve become. But he didn’t. He sees me just like Kurt does. Like I’m on some ridiculous pedestal and if I stay here, the club will tarnish me. I desperately want to be dirtied up.
I’m sitting on the nook Dread built below the window as I look out into the square. There are a few pairs of people fooling around outside, and a lone figure smoking on top of a picnic table. I slowly crack the window open so I can hear and see if I know who it is.
They’re just sitting there alone for a moment until someone else approaches them. Based on their size, I have a few guesses on who it might be, but then the man who is sitting speaks, and I immediately know it’s my brother.
“Fuck off, Mick. I’m not in the mood tonight,” he says.
“I see how it is. You’ve got that sweet piece and now you don’t want me anymore. Is that how it is?” he replies. I’m shocked by this information, not because I didn’t know Leon’s preferences, which is anyone who's attractive, but because I would have never guessed that he’s been fooling around with Mickey. I guess he didn’t tell me about Shelby, either. My brother keeping so many secrets from me has me feeling like he’s pushing me further away from the family.
“Go bother someone else tonight, Mickey,” my brother sighs softly.
“It’s Mickey now? Go fuck yourself, Leon,” Mickey snarls before storming off. I watch as my brother takes a deep inhale of whatever he’s smoking before lifting his head to the sky to blow out the smoke.
I’m about to close my window, maybe read or listen to something to help me fall asleep when I notice the first crack in my brother's armor as he crumbles before me. His hands dive into his hair and his elbows fall onto his thighs as he sits there,clearly upset. I’m on my feet and headed downstairs before I can even think. Just as I open the door, I look down at myself. My pajamas are presentable enough, so I pad across the square in bare feet.
“Seat taken?” I ask him, his head popping up from his hands. He forces a smile and shakes his head no. “What you got there?” I ask. Instead of giving me an answer, he hands it over to me. I bring the vape to my mouth and let the sticky tang of weed travel down my throat. I cough a few times before handing it back to him. “Is everything alright, Leon?”
“Nothin’ you need to worry about,” he replies.
“You’re my brother. I’ll always worry about you,” I remind him.
“It’s club business. I don’t want to talk about it.” He isn’t as shitty with me as he was with Mickey a few moments ago, but he’s still being standoffish.
Instead of dwelling on his attitude, I change the topic. “What do you think about all the guys who want to patch over?” I ask him.
“It’ll be nice having more young guys around here, that’s for sure. But it’s definitely going to be an adjustment.”
“Ten new guys is a lot,” I say, doing the math in my head. If they all patch in then that means the club will have twenty-six members, which isn’t massive when you think about some of the clubs out there, but for one chapter, it’s pretty significant.
“We’re gonna have to expand on the compound to fit all of ‘em.”
“Are any of them packed up or bringing their ol’ lady?”
Leon looks over at me skeptically and shakes his head. “Not that I know of. But we only have four available rooms at the clubhouse. So it’s gonna be tight for a bit.”
“I could help,” I offer, hating how everyone here treats me like I’m incapable of lifting a finger.
“Nah, Lil, you’ve got other important shit you need to worry about,” he states.
“Like what?” I question with attitude.
“Like finding a pack and getting the fuck out of here,” he responds sternly.
