Twenty-Six
Skye
It felt like I’d been with the Warlords forever. Gone was my anxiety and dread. My wariness morphed to excitement because everyday at the clubhouse was a riot.
The women were the best. I’d never gotten along with girls growing up, but the chicks at the clubhouse came from equally poor upbringings, and one look at me and they just knew what my life was all about.
Even the Club Candy were sweet girls. They weren’t the wives of bikers, and they often spoiled the men during their down time by tending to them in ways I chose not to stick my nose in. In return, they were looked after. These girls were brought in off the streets, other times they were given jobs around the pub, cleaning up, or helping serve. They were given a roof over their heads (a nearby complex they all shared), and they banded together, never treating one another as competition. If they did, the Warlords were quick to snuff that out. They made it clear that under the Warlords protection, they needed to get along.
The bikers weren’t all about drinking and partying, either. They set up charity functions around town, and Roy (or Bull as I was told to call him by in public) had asked me if I wanted to help organize them. He wanted me busy, I thought, and he was determined that I got to experience their way of life and enjoy it. Anyway, I loved playing a part in charities. I loved seeing people from rough conditions brighten when the bikers came around and helped them out. My favourite was seeing the elderly people smile when their groceries or bills were paid for. Roy had emphasized that the elderly had once looked after us, and we in return would look after them. Roy was usually a hard ass, but man, he had a soft heart.
By Springtime, the Warlords had donated money for the kids of Brown Bay and knocked down an old playground. They had it rebuilt into a massive jungle gym with sprawling wooden bridges and play centres for the kiddos. They placed picnic tables all along the public field, and we wound up doing barbecues for the kids when the weather turned warm enough to venture out. I remember standing for hours, handing out hot dogs from one smiling face to the next. It was an exciting time for the town to come together, and I loved that the Warlords encouraged this.
Those were my fondest memories. Feeling like we were part of a community. Then returning to the pub and having a blast there.
Something blossomed inside me. A flip had switched, and I found myself less guarded around people. Where I was so distrusting before, I found myself surrounded by people who didn’t live behind a façade. What you saw was what you got with the Warlords, and it was my favourite thing about them.
But it wasn’t always rainbows and sunshine.
Hunter’s stints on the Road were getting longer. Sometimes I wouldn’t see him for days. When he did come back, he would stay the same amount of time he had been gone, and I noticed his behaviour gradually changing. He seemed more…confident in himself. The jobs were easy, he said. They hadn’t faced danger like I’d worried. Their name was feared far and wide. The Savage inside him abated, except when he took me to bed. I welcomed his savage with open arms then.
His Road Captain never warmed up to me. Miles was the only person in the club that I always felt guarded against. My spine always stiffened around him, especially when I made eye contact with him. Taking his orders was never fun, and I could count on one hand how many conversations I had with him all up.
Yet when we came together to party, Miles lingered nearby, and oftentimes when Hunter and I got rowdy, I found Miles was never far away. He’d touch a girl while he watched us, and when I asked Hunter about it, he asked, “Does it bother you?”
And…I found it didn’t.
Which didn’t make sense.
But in those passionate moments, when I was hungering for the flesh of Hunter, I found I was enjoying the attention, too. I sensed Miles got a kick out of this, too, but we never talked about it. He went back to loathing the sight of me, which was fine—I loathed him right on back and trusted him as far as I could throw him.
I fell into an easy rhythm.
I was…happy.
I couldn’t remember a time I was happy for so long a stretch without something ruining it.
Maybe…this could work, I told myself often. I could be here for half the year and feel like home.
A knot formed in my throat then because…well, when you were part of something, it was hard to stomach being ripped from it.
My time wound down, and it seemed to go faster the further in I drew.
I saw the misery in Hunter. By the end, his demeanour had changed. His wariness settled in, his expression was flat, and his gaze travelled to me and stayed on me. He followed my every move as he breathed slowly. I caught the flicker of sadness in the dark depths of his gaze. I noticed the way his hands searched for his carton of smokes like he did when his anxiety was high. I worried the beast in him stirred, and I worried without me around, he would find something to take it out on.
We never spoke about my impending leave, but I could feel his desperation when he took me to bed. His touch was more erratic, his kisses soul sucking. He fucked me like it was his last timeeverytime.
He pained me with his sharp thrusts, bruised me with his tight grasps, and left me aching for days. Then he’d cradle me into his arms at night and watch me sleep. He’d trace circles down my spine, breathing me in as his heart thumped loudly in my ears.
By the end, he never slept.
*
It was the first day of Summer.
I left before everyone got up. The clubhouse was still. I waited by the glass counter, body turned in the direction of the entrance doors. It was still dark out, but the sun was due to rise, and with it the heat would settle in.
It had gotten hot fast. The weather shifted so suddenly. One day I was in pants, the next I was in jean shorts and spaghetti tops.