“I’m sorry. I…” I haven’t prepared myself on what I would say if I ever did see them again. Her club that is.
“Should I get someone for you?” Her concern is genuine and that’s when I know it’s them. It’s really them.
I hesitate but then my mouth moves before my brain can intercept. “Do you know a woman named Tequila? I blurt out, not wasting any time on being subtle.
“Auntie Tequila! Are you two friends?” the little girl named Chloe asks me.
Relief washes over me. “I suppose we are.” I dart my attention to the woman whose expression is blank yet confused. “My name is Danika. I’m not sure if you know who I am but—”
“Yes! I do.” Her face brightens as she reaches over the table and sets her hand on mine. It’s warm and I know these people are good. “I’m Jules and this ball of friendly energy is my daughter, Chloe. The walking testosterone is my ol’ man, Charger.”
Ol’ man?That must be what they call their fiancé’s.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say with a shy smile. But with her knowing exactly who I am, the shame creeps up.
Charger walks back inside the same time my boss shows himself, popping out from the back and scanning the area. When he spots me, an angry scowl takes over his expression all while he stomps over to the table.
Shit.
I jump to my feet, not able to dodge my boss as he grips my arm tightly and my stomach lurches.
“Excuse me, folks,” he says dragging me off to the side. But I don’t miss the look of disdain he throws their way. “Is there any particular reason you were just sitting instead of working. In case you haven’t noticed we’re slammed.” Eric is an out of shape fifty-year-old. He can’t breathe just from spewing his angry words at me.
From his touch alone, I tense, and my mind starts dancing into an unpleasant nauseating frenzy.
A bodily presence appears next to me, and I glance to the side at Charger who’s shooting a death glare at Eric’s hand still holding on to me. My boss notices and quickly releases my arm.
“You okay, Danika?” Charger asks me. Jules must have caught him up rather quickly.
“This doesn’t concern you, boy. This is between me and my employee.”
“I wasn’t taking to you.” Charger shoots a mean look at Eric before sending a gentler one to me.
But I need this job.
“He’s right. I have to get back to work.” I dart pass them both not being able to get away fast enough.
Jules stops me, handing me a piece of paper on the way. “It’s our address and my number. I’m sure Tequila would love to see you.”
I glance down at it before slipping the paper inside my apron’s pocket. I never looked them up after the incident but having their address does give me a sense of comfort.
After work, I step inside my two-bedroom apartment and almost hurdle myself onto the couch. My roommate is never home. She was always traveling with her hippie boyfriend, and I was glad about that. Being alone didn’t dissatisfy me in any way but it is a painful reminder of the friends I don’t have. The family I would never see again. Which makes me pull out the piece of paper. Sure, there’s Lydia, and while we did connect on a friendship level, it’s mostly a work bond.
I’ll hold onto this, while I’m not one hundred percent certain I’ll go and see her, I’m not about to throw it away either. Jules’s number is written there as well and without thinking twice, I add her to my contacts. Just in case.
THREE
Hush
The paint fumes linger in the air as I remove my mask and step out from the booth.
Another late night.
This is the best form of distraction. Creating art. Keeping my mind busy. It’s quieter when I don’t have down time. The voices are lessened. So being here, doing this, is my therapy. A few things keep me going nowadays and this is one of them.
I love my brothers. The club. My work. But the MC life fuels my rage. When we take out the bad guys it makes me crave more. The anger inside grows like an annoying weed. But when the anger wears off, I’m left with a hole. A void.
So, I paint.
