Page 44

“Did erm, did Nik send you?” I ask, secretly hoping he did

“Nope. I just know that face” she replies on the inhale

Then we sit and finish smoking without another word or looking at each other. A few minutes later she puffs her cheeks and blows out in a big exaggerated motion before standing up.

“I’m Liska, and you need a drink. Probably a whisky, c’mon” she doesn’t really give me time to protest, she interlocks her fingers in mine and leads me into the building. How is she not freezing in the world’s smallest leather shorts and a cut off leather vest top? I take a second to read the leather top “PROPERTY OF THE BASTARDS”. I mean, that’s pretty fucking offensive - property of? You’ve got to be kidding me.

I pause and take the scene in, anchoring her in place when we get through the doors. It’s a huge bar, packed with patch-wearing psychopaths. Big beards, tattoos, and motorcycle and Bastards paraphernalia cover every warm-wooded surface. The air is thick and heavy, a strange combination of whisky, leather, BO, sandalwood, and… motor oil? I’ve been in here for like three point seven seconds before some fat Gandalf bloke comes stumbling over, he doesn’t even get his first word out before Liska raises her finger at him “Nope… fuck off” with a threateningly maternal eyebrow raise and honestly more aggression than I thought was warranted. He just chuckles, shrugs, and goes back to his pint. Bizarre. Who is this woman? And then she practically skips into Reaper’s arms, and it all kind of makes sense.

She leans over the bar, grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels and a couple of glasses. Reaper smacks her ass and she seems to say something that gets a laugh from the others. Standing back up Reaper grabs her by the nape of her neck and kisses her kinda bruising-hard. Then she… bites his beard? And tugs him round like a little Pitbull for a second. A little slap on his cheek and she waltzes back through the sea of scumbags towards me, nodding towards a table. I follow her lead because what in the junk yard dog pound is this place?

She sits with her legs folded, whilst I’m a bit more rigid. Liska shakes her head at me when I go to sniff and sip. “Get it down you, you ain’t gotta be a lady here” and she downs her second glass.

In solos and groups these big patched bikers give each other big back-slapping hugs and depart, many make a point of at least nodding, if not hugging and cheek kissing, Liska on their way out. That Property Of is making much less sense now, it doesn’t seem like she’s treated lesser than the men? This place is weird, but as the buzz kicks in I start to relax. We really don’t talk much other than Liska giving me little snippets of gossip or stories about characters in the bar. There are women, but most of them are decorating and trying to appeal to the bikers, and they basically ignore or avoid us. They seem mostly nice though, and a couple of the older ones, who literally get called “old ladies” are treated similarly to Liska. There’s a whole world and hierarchy here and I don’t understand.

Then there’s an old lady who isn’t old, and I’m buzzed now so I ask. It turns out there are varying “levels” of women in the social hierarchy - but that’s the same for the men. Women become “old ladies” and “Property of” if a member of the Club kind of commits to them, and it’s more of a mutual responsibility. It’s like a common-law marriage, and you don’t fuck with an old lady - it’s a kind of protected status, and it’s not just Reaper who backs that; it’s their whole world.

I keep looking over at Nik, who is propped up against the bar with Reaper and Ghost and a few others. Amongst all these seriously scary people, he is surprisingly at ease. How is he laughing and joking, slapping backs, and doing weird toasts banging shots on the bar and cheering “Bastards.” I’m struggling to make sense of it all, it’s like a bunch of people didn’t die tonight. Like I wasn’t one bullet away from death and now everybody’s just having a beer and chatting shit?

“Do you love him?” she asks me, so bluntly. It makes my head spin a bit, maybe that’s the whisky, maybe it’s the fact that I’m scared of the answer. She doesn’t actually wait for my answer before swigging another glass back. My jaw swings and I’m stunned. Who the fuck is she to ask me that? She’s never even met me.

“Men as fucked up as those ones over there, do not casually bring women into this life” she shrugs over her glass

“I nearly died” I kind of splutter before I mean to, my lips getting looser with each glass and then I lean in, and speak behind my hand - whispering a secret - “and he kills people!” before biting my lip as if I’m being a primary school tattle tale.

I feel even more stupid when she laughs before leaning into the table as she offers me a counter question “What kind of people?”

I stop and think on that for a minute, pausing only to put my hand over my mouth when offered another whisky, because I’ve lost count and they’re threatening to reappear and decorate the table.

“How does that even matter?”

This time she doesn’t even try to hide her laugh “Oh, baby girl - drink more” and she pours me another shot.

“He killed two men… tonight! And one a few days ago! In my house!”

“Be honest. Would you rather he hadn’t killed them? Are you sad they are dead?” she raises an eyebrow at me, calling me naive without calling me it

“That’s not the point! Killing people is not… it’s not normal!”

“Meh” she shrugs

“It’s wrong!”

“Not always”

I get exasperated at that one, and triumphantly manage another drink before slamming my glass on the table. My brows furrowed, a drunk that was asleep on a table nearby stirs and grumbles.

“How do you do it?! All of you, how do you live like this?”

“Like what?” she remains icy calm whilst my whisky-fuelled rage builds but I don’t say anything, I want her to answer the fucking question if she’s so sage and wise!

“That man over there… is mine. I would kill for him, he would kill for me. He would die for me. More than that he would live for me. One thousand percent. When the world is against me, I will never be alone. How many people find that? Die on my feet rather than live on my knees, little one. Do I give a fuck if he kills people in the life? Fuck no, they knew what they signed up for. Stop acting like you don’t know what it is. It won’t stand up in court and it don’t stand here. You’re not here because you got lost”

I just sit with that. It’s a lot to process. Even if I’ve accepted what she’s said, and I’m not saying I have right now, everything about my life has changed before I even knew what I was signing up for. But I didn’t stop Nik from killing Key, and he didn’t kill him for no reason. He didn’t kill Craig. And tonight… they would have killed me, they were trying to kill me. A knot in the wood on the table has my whole focus as I try to keep the room from spinning while I am lost deep in thought.

Liska stands, and steadies herself on the table. I move my head up to look up at her, but the room doesn’t stop moving when I try to focus on her. She bends down and gets weirdly close to me, before cupping my face in her hands.

“You will be fine, little one. I’ll see you for breakfast” and plants a kiss in my hair. Confused I watch her approach Reaper from behind, reach around and literally grab him by his balls. I watch in wild amusement as he laughs, slaps the backs of Nik and the other guys stood there, and follows her out.