Want You Bad.

It had been over a month since the ordeal at the salon when I took the blushing bride-to-be back to her tormentor. He had seemed decent enough but I wasn’t happy leaving Jaime in his care. I tried to convince myself that she deserved better and that I shouldn’t have left her with him, then I tried to ignore how I was the first person to come to mind when it came toher “deserving better.” I tried to ignore emerald eyes, violet hair, and tight leather clothes that frequented my dreams, especially when those dreams began to turn… inappropriate. I would wake with a stiff, aching agony nagging in my loins.

It actually irritated me how I finally had a real conversation with her and it had affected me so deeply. I wasn’t usually like that; some ridiculous, lovestruck boy with no control over himself. It didn’t matter how beautiful she was or how sweet she seemed, I was a grown man and she was spoken for; the ring on her finger and the patch on her vest made that all too clear.

But I just couldn’t get her out of my head!

Then, as luck would have it, I bumped into her again. Walking down the aisle to buy a new bottle of shampoo, the only other one there was a girl in tan short shorts, a red tanktop, and a light grey beanie on her disheveled purple hair. I froze mid-step for just a second before approaching her. “If it isn’t little miss Quinn.” I sounded more bitter than I had wanted to, so I smiled.

She appeared surprised as she whirled around to look at me, quickly putting on what seemed like a forced smile. But that’s not all her face held. A fading black eye, a healing cut on her cheek bone... I could instantly feel my blood boil. “Oh, uh, hi Mark.”

I stepped forward to inspect her battered face, my face burning with fury. The first person that came to mind that would do this was Joker and that made a very protective side of my flare more than normal. “What’s this about?” I snarled in a voice that surprised even me.

She flinched as I reached my hand toward her and offered a weak smile. “It wasn’t Joker. Trust me, if he had laid hands on me then I would’ve done him way worse.”

Her tone reassured me. There was no desperation to convince me like when she told me about their fight. I nodded once and approached her a little more gently, putting my hands on either side of her face to look closely. The way she looked into my eyes, so timid and defeated, made me get lost for a minute. She seemed too fragile. The moment was intense, our gazes locked, so I dropped my hands and looked at my shoes for a minute. “So, uh, if it wasn’t Joker that did it than who was it?”

She was silent for a moment -- thinking or trying to recover from the moment herself, I didn’t know. “Come to find out, Joker was cheating on me. I laid low for a while, because I know one of the whores he was fucking around with; when we finally saw her again, like I knew we would, I beat the shit out of her. She got in a couple good swings, hence my face,” she reached a hand up and tenderly touched her healing eye, “But she looks far worse than me. Anyway, Joker got pissed and blamed me for his cheating. Said I brought it on myself and it was my own fault.” She rolled her eyes. “So I slowly and discreetly started packing my stuff. He finally noticed and, well, here I am.” She forced a smile.

“I’m really sorry, Jaime…” Part of me was. It was clear she did love this guy, for her own reasons that existed beyond the jealous opinion of someone that pretty much only saw them fight in bars and picked her up on the side of the road one time; her love was obvious, and I knew how bad it hurt to be cheated on. She deserved more and it seemed like maybe she had come to that realization herself. It was stupid and selfish but I wondered what the likelihood was of me meeting her qualifications.

She nodded and chuckled bitterly, averting her gaze, “Yeah, me too…” She shut her eyes for a moment as he face turned a darker shade of red.

I stood awkwardly, wondering what I should do and what was appropriate of me. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Where are you staying now?” I really didn’t want to hear her say she was still at Joker’s house but I wanted to know she was safe and okay.

Her face now flushed of color as she opened her eyes. “Oh, well, uhm…” Her eyes fell to the can of dry shampoo in her hand. She stuttered and stumbled over words and I knew there was something wrong. Finally she took a deep breath and, picking at the label on the can, mumbled, “I’ve just sort of been living out of my car, actually.”

My jaw dropped. I didn’t know what I thought was worse, her still living with Joker or living in her car. How long had this been her situation? Why was that what she was doing? I couldn’t believe what I had heard. Surely she could be at a friend’s house or with family. Was the prospect of Joker finding her something that worried her? So many questions bounced around inside my cluttered mind, but all I could manage was a vague, “Why?”

She seemed to grow even more ashamed as her cheeks grew darker and her eyes bugged a bit. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” she mumbled again, her voice barely audible. Her eyes shifted and she swallowed hard. “I’m not from California so I don’t have family, and I’m pretty anti-social so I don’t really have friends that are mine and I trust enough right now.” She continued to fidget with the label.

My suspicion of her being worried about Joker finding her grew. It made me wonder exactly what had happened between them. What were the complications of being “property” of a motorcycle club? That question alone brought on numerous others. And how could she not have an escape other than her car? “I have a spare room at my house.” I blinked, wondering how that thought had escaped my lips just as it had entered my mind. “You are more than welcome to it if you want...” I straightened my posture and stomped my foot softly against the linoleum floor, “In fact, I won’t take no for an answer.”