“I do,” she admits.
Eagle eyeballs me. “You asked for complete disclosure,” I remind him.
“Yeah, I did.”
“I know not all of you are assholes. But Sammy was a sadist. He lifted my wedding gown above my waist, bent me over a table, and fucked me in front of the club—my father included.”
I fist my hands under the table—the images her words conjure aren’t good. I want to kill something or someone.
“I’m sorry,” Eagle says. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“No, but it did. I failed to mention the pile of money the brothers threw at me while my husband had sex with me—like I was a prostitute. Raised two thousand dollars in an hour. Sammy was more pimp than husband that night. But I did my duty for the club.”
“Do you want a drink, Starlet?” I shoot up from my chair. This shit stops now. “I think she’s said enough.”
“Not your call,” Axe says.
I lean across the table but the asshole is just out of reach.
“Sit down, Brick,” my prez orders. “Don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment or interfere with what we’re doing here.”
“Motherfucker…” I swallow my rage and drop back down in my chair.
“And you…” Eagle gives Axe a hard stare. “Shut your mouth.”
The tension is palpable, but Eagle knows how to keep the peace. My gaze is locked on Starlet, who despite her wretched past, is standing tall and proud. Not sure how much more I can take. I had a little sister, but she died in a car accident when she was two-years-old, an innocent life taken. That’s who I see standing in front of me, Anastasia. It makes me want to explode, to destroy anything that gets in my way while I’m trying to protect Starlet. My sister touched the hand of God too soon, but I’ll be damned if Starlet suffers the same fate.
She mouths the wordsthank youat me.
“Are you ready to continue?” Eagle asks her.
“I am.”
I close my eyes, praying mercy was shown at some point in her fucking marriage.
***
Starlet
If I doubtedBrick’s feelings before, he just gave me every reason to have hope. Turning on a brother is risky, especially in front of the whole charter. As I look down both sides of the table, trying to memorize all of their faces, I’m struck by their similarities to the Devil’s Crusaders. Not that all bikers look alike, because there’s a definite mix of young and old here. Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic. Even though I suffered tremendously, there were some good times growing up with the Devil’s Crusaders.
Juanita being one of the best. The rest, the monthly family get-togethers, or at Christmas time when we’d give back to the community, raising money for homeless families and hungry kids. The public only got to see the best side of us. I’m grateful for that, because I wouldn’t wish the life on my worst enemy.
“Starlet?” Eagle prompts.
“I’m sorry, it’s hard to talk about this.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” How can he? He’s the president, married to the perfect woman, expecting his first child, and from what I can see, the very opposite of any of the men I knew in the Devil’s Crusaders. It makes me sad. If my father hadn’t been a sociopath, there might have been some hope for us. “I can’t tell you how many trips we made to Mexico. Sammy packed my body with baggies filled with cocaine and heroin. That way, if we were ever caught, he’d claim innocence. We were delayed by the Mexican authorities on several occasions—probably the scariest memory I have. Sammy bribed the police and we were released. One of the baggies burst and I suffered an overdose, nearly died on the road back from Matamoros.”
I spend the next hour relaying details about my Netflix-worthy life. Occasionally, one of the brothers stops me and asks a clarifying question, unaffected by the drama. Women are assets, like motorcycles or guns, sellable and replaceable. I know my place. I know my future. And it most definitely doesn’t include Brick.
Suddenly I’m finished. If they can’t decide what to do with me yet, I’ll make the choice for them. “As much as I’ve enjoyed being here,” I say sarcastically, “It’s time to end this.”
Brick walks to where I’m standing, his look a clear indicator that he’s done, too. “Come on.” He doesn’t drag me out of the room fast enough.
I didn’t notice the details of the common room before, there’s framed movie posters along the walls and two rows of leather theatre seats arranged in front of a projection screen, nicer than I would have expected for an MC compound. Brick directs me to a full-service bar with six stools. Choosing a middle one, I sit, grateful to be out here. Just being surrounded by all the Iron Norsemen artwork in the conference room felt like being in a torture chamber.
