Status: Work in progress. Currently on hiatus.
Want You Bad.
Chapter One.
I stood at the counter of the salon, running my fingers through the freshly-dyed-pink hair on my head. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to get rid of it after the first time when I promised to do it for charity; it was too suiting for me. I chatted briefly while the girl behind the counter took my credit card, our heads turning to look out the windows at the loud sound of motorcycles coming up to the red light just outside the building next door. I recognized the group, simply because of the girl on the back of one of the choppers… She was unmistakable to me, her deep purple hair that she got touched up at this same salon being a dead giveaway to me before I even had to look at the patches on the vests.
While I had seen her in so many places before, even shared a few words on a few occasions, I couldn’t even really say we were acquaintances. For one, she was quiet and mostly kept to herself. The only time I really saw her being chatty was at the bar when she’d had a couple drinks; even then she mostly stuck to her group. Secondly, the leather vest she wore said it all: “Property of Sons of the Reaper.” I very rarely saw her without the man she was property to; the nametag on his own vest proclaiming that he was “Joker,” an enforcer for the Reapers. I knew next to nothing about motorcycle clubs, but these were the kind of guys you didn’t want to piss off.
Suddenly, she smacked his shoulder. His head whipped around, the bike tipping a little at his sudden movement. His face was angry and, without having to hear his voice, I could feel the venom dripping from each word. Her body language changed quickly, her head shaking a little as she slid back to the sissy bar. Again, his words and expression oozed hatred. After she sat for a minute, he grabbed her by the vest and forced her off the bike, giving her a hard shove toward the curb. She stumbled back and fell before the pack took off through the red light, Joker doing a burnout that left the girl in smoke.
I quickly got my card back and signed the receipt before heading out the door. She was now standing where she had fallen, watching the bikes disappear and screaming profanities aimed at Joker. Finally, she dropped onto the curb and put the heels of her hands into her eyes. I had seen them fight before in bars, and it was never pretty, but this was a first to my knowledge. I slowly approached her, “Hey, are you okay?”
She jumped, startled, and looked at me. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill, and her face burned red; in fury or in embarrassment, I didn’t know. She looked away to hide her face and nodded, “Yeah. I’m good.” Her shoulders slumped and she cleared her throat.
Debating silently, I wanted to make sure she was actually okay. I wasn’t just going to leave her sitting on the curb by herself. I couldn’t deny I had an unusual attraction to her... I wasn’t usually into edgy girls like this; especially ones that were already taken; girls that I didn’t even know. No, I wasn’t going to leave her just sitting here. “Look, I saw what happened... Is there someone you can call? I really don’t want to leave you by yourself like this…”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she looked forward out into the road. “Yeah, no, I’m good.” She stood up and pat down the pockets of her tight jeans, then her face fell and that same bitter laugh filled my ears.
“What?” I asked cautiously, watching her try not to lose her cool.
She nodded once, using her tongue to fidget with her lip ring. “My phone is in his cut.” She hung her head for a moment before looking up and pushing loose strands that had come from her braid out of her face. She caught a stray tear with her arm and nodded to herself. I watched her as she visibly thought hard. Then, suddenly in a fit of rage, she ripped her vest off and screamed, wadding it up and throwing it on the ground. “Fuck that stupid motherfucker! Fuck everything about him and that stupid club!”
“Whoa, hey!” I caught her as she seemed to buckle under the emotional weight and finally lost her composure. She tried to fight it, to keep the sobs locked in her throat, and it seemed to frustrate and anger her that she couldn’t do it; her fist balled my shirt tightly in her hand until her knuckles were white. People were starting to notice, gawking from inside the surrounding buildings and from cars driving by; people strolling passed turned to look, some whispering to whoever they were with and watching us. “Hey, come on. Don’t do this here. Come on.” I coaxed her to walk with me, one arm around her shoulders as I held her close to help make her feel less vulnerable.
She pushed me off for a moment to fetch her vest from the ground. She clutched it closely to her chest, as if her life depended on it. She stumbled, half burying her face in the leather, and I caught her again. I was fascinated by her loyalty; not necessarily in a good way. It wasn’t my place, it wasn’t my business, but curiosity burned inside me.
I walked her to my car and helped her into the passenger seat before walking around and sliding in. The collar of her shirt was now pulled up over her face as her body quaked with the sobs tearing through her. I put my key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb. As I pulled up to the first red light, I turned on the radio quietly just to help fill a little of the silence. She produced a pained sound and I caught the lyrics; I didn’t know the song or the artist, but the words were enough to tell me it wasn’t something she wanted to hear. I quickly changed the station, muttering an apology.
She fell silent after about forty-five minutes of driving. I glanced over to see her sitting back against the seat, her shirt pulled down to its normal place and her vest was draped over her shoulders and chest like a protective blanket; her cheeks were still damp with the tears, her eyes red and puffy. She stared out the window, her expression unreadable. She seemed just as content to just sit, staring out the window while I drove. So I didn’t stop.
“Are you okay?” I asked finally, chancing another glance in her direction.
Her chin quivered and she shut her eyes for a moment before she nodded silently. She opened her eyes and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t bother to sweep it away. She tucked the lower half of her face under the vest and closed her eyes again.
“I have to stop at my house for a little bit, let my dog out... Do you want to come or do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” Was it too forward to ask that? Yes, we had shared brief comments back and forth a few times before but we were strangers. Would she take it the wrong way, be offended? The last thing I wanted was to get on the bad side of Property... Just thinking that word being attached to someone disgusted me.
She was silent and unmoving for a few minutes. Finally, she spoke in a raspy, tired voice, “I’d like to go with you... If you don’t mind.” Her gaze slowly shifted and she turned her head to look at me. She looked so fragile and vulnerable. I nodded and headed home.
While I had seen her in so many places before, even shared a few words on a few occasions, I couldn’t even really say we were acquaintances. For one, she was quiet and mostly kept to herself. The only time I really saw her being chatty was at the bar when she’d had a couple drinks; even then she mostly stuck to her group. Secondly, the leather vest she wore said it all: “Property of Sons of the Reaper.” I very rarely saw her without the man she was property to; the nametag on his own vest proclaiming that he was “Joker,” an enforcer for the Reapers. I knew next to nothing about motorcycle clubs, but these were the kind of guys you didn’t want to piss off.
Suddenly, she smacked his shoulder. His head whipped around, the bike tipping a little at his sudden movement. His face was angry and, without having to hear his voice, I could feel the venom dripping from each word. Her body language changed quickly, her head shaking a little as she slid back to the sissy bar. Again, his words and expression oozed hatred. After she sat for a minute, he grabbed her by the vest and forced her off the bike, giving her a hard shove toward the curb. She stumbled back and fell before the pack took off through the red light, Joker doing a burnout that left the girl in smoke.
I quickly got my card back and signed the receipt before heading out the door. She was now standing where she had fallen, watching the bikes disappear and screaming profanities aimed at Joker. Finally, she dropped onto the curb and put the heels of her hands into her eyes. I had seen them fight before in bars, and it was never pretty, but this was a first to my knowledge. I slowly approached her, “Hey, are you okay?”
She jumped, startled, and looked at me. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill, and her face burned red; in fury or in embarrassment, I didn’t know. She looked away to hide her face and nodded, “Yeah. I’m good.” Her shoulders slumped and she cleared her throat.
Debating silently, I wanted to make sure she was actually okay. I wasn’t just going to leave her sitting on the curb by herself. I couldn’t deny I had an unusual attraction to her... I wasn’t usually into edgy girls like this; especially ones that were already taken; girls that I didn’t even know. No, I wasn’t going to leave her just sitting here. “Look, I saw what happened... Is there someone you can call? I really don’t want to leave you by yourself like this…”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she looked forward out into the road. “Yeah, no, I’m good.” She stood up and pat down the pockets of her tight jeans, then her face fell and that same bitter laugh filled my ears.
“What?” I asked cautiously, watching her try not to lose her cool.
She nodded once, using her tongue to fidget with her lip ring. “My phone is in his cut.” She hung her head for a moment before looking up and pushing loose strands that had come from her braid out of her face. She caught a stray tear with her arm and nodded to herself. I watched her as she visibly thought hard. Then, suddenly in a fit of rage, she ripped her vest off and screamed, wadding it up and throwing it on the ground. “Fuck that stupid motherfucker! Fuck everything about him and that stupid club!”
“Whoa, hey!” I caught her as she seemed to buckle under the emotional weight and finally lost her composure. She tried to fight it, to keep the sobs locked in her throat, and it seemed to frustrate and anger her that she couldn’t do it; her fist balled my shirt tightly in her hand until her knuckles were white. People were starting to notice, gawking from inside the surrounding buildings and from cars driving by; people strolling passed turned to look, some whispering to whoever they were with and watching us. “Hey, come on. Don’t do this here. Come on.” I coaxed her to walk with me, one arm around her shoulders as I held her close to help make her feel less vulnerable.
She pushed me off for a moment to fetch her vest from the ground. She clutched it closely to her chest, as if her life depended on it. She stumbled, half burying her face in the leather, and I caught her again. I was fascinated by her loyalty; not necessarily in a good way. It wasn’t my place, it wasn’t my business, but curiosity burned inside me.
I walked her to my car and helped her into the passenger seat before walking around and sliding in. The collar of her shirt was now pulled up over her face as her body quaked with the sobs tearing through her. I put my key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb. As I pulled up to the first red light, I turned on the radio quietly just to help fill a little of the silence. She produced a pained sound and I caught the lyrics; I didn’t know the song or the artist, but the words were enough to tell me it wasn’t something she wanted to hear. I quickly changed the station, muttering an apology.
She fell silent after about forty-five minutes of driving. I glanced over to see her sitting back against the seat, her shirt pulled down to its normal place and her vest was draped over her shoulders and chest like a protective blanket; her cheeks were still damp with the tears, her eyes red and puffy. She stared out the window, her expression unreadable. She seemed just as content to just sit, staring out the window while I drove. So I didn’t stop.
“Are you okay?” I asked finally, chancing another glance in her direction.
Her chin quivered and she shut her eyes for a moment before she nodded silently. She opened her eyes and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t bother to sweep it away. She tucked the lower half of her face under the vest and closed her eyes again.
“I have to stop at my house for a little bit, let my dog out... Do you want to come or do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” Was it too forward to ask that? Yes, we had shared brief comments back and forth a few times before but we were strangers. Would she take it the wrong way, be offended? The last thing I wanted was to get on the bad side of Property... Just thinking that word being attached to someone disgusted me.
She was silent and unmoving for a few minutes. Finally, she spoke in a raspy, tired voice, “I’d like to go with you... If you don’t mind.” Her gaze slowly shifted and she turned her head to look at me. She looked so fragile and vulnerable. I nodded and headed home.