Thrash (3 page)

Rounding the table, he walks up behind
me and kisses the top of my head, saying, “Love you,
Sis.”

“
No more fighting?” I say,
lifting my head and tilting it back to meet his eyes. His eyes are
a navy blue that he’s used to melt the panties off more than one of
his female peers.

“
No more fighting,” he
says, backing up into the living room and then turning and walking
into his room. I know it’s bullshit, but it’s better than nothing.
If I can just keep him off the principal’s radar for the remainder
of summer session, he might be able to graduate on time next
spring.

Pushing up from the table, I cross the
kitchen to my purse atop the counter by the stove, and pull out my
small compact mirror. Checking my makeup for signs of wear, I make
sure I don’t look half as much of a mess as I feel. I powder my
nose and then shove the compact back in my bag and rush out of the
house. I’m a total disaster with my bleached blonde hair as messy
as ever and my makeup half worn-off. The only thing worse than the
way I look right now is the way I feel.

Jeremy’s going to be home
for the rest of the week doing God only knows what, but I don’t
have that luxury. I have to get back to work and explain to my boss
why I had
another
family emergency.

I lock up the small ranch house Jeremy
and I share and take a look up at the sky overhead. The cool air
hits my exposed skin, leaving faint droplets of condensation
behind. Rushing to my car, an old Toyota Corolla, I yank the driver
side door open and slam it behind me before I get too wet. It can’t
be above sixty outside and I’m wearing a low-cut black tank top and
tight ripped jeans. I’d grab a sweater, but business has been slow
this week and I need the tips, especially after missing half of my
shift this morning to deal with damn teenage shit.

The engine grumbles to life as
reluctant as ever. She’s on her way out, I can tell, but she’s got
to hang in a few more years until I can figure something out with
my brother. I make a mental note to take her by the shop in
Willits. Hopefully she makes it that far without issue. Backing out
of the driveway she practically wheezes, then makes a grinding
sound as I cut the wheel. I grit my teeth at the thought of having
to take her to the shop in town— the only shop in town— Forsaken
Custom Cycle.

I haven’t been on Forsaken property in
almost two months— not since the night I decided it would be
totally cool to act like an idiot and sleep with Duke. Not since he
all but claimed me, something most Lost Girls pray for, and then
totally disappeared. Not that I give a shit-- or rather-- not that
I’m trying not to give a shit. He’s been back in town from wherever
he went for weeks now. I’ve seen him ride by Universal Grounds
enough times just like he always has. He never stops in, never
checks on me. I spent weeks making up excuses for why he’s been
absent-- weeks where I let myself think that bullshit where he
claimed my pussy was anything more than punishment for making him
wait so long. But now I’m done and fuck him.

He knows where I live, and he knows
where I work, and still-- nothing. Like a moron, me believing him,
and him being Duke and being untrustworthy, I should have seen this
coming. But no. Like a moron I avoided the clubhouse because the
Old Ladies don’t spend much time at the clubhouse. It seemed like
the right thing to do, if I was going to take myself off the
market. And even though I knew it was going to hurt when he
eventually got tired of me, I set myself up for the prospect of
spending more time in Duke’s bed, and maybe even a little time on
the back of his bike. But he never showed up and now I’m left with
a bad case of embarrassment.

I make the drive through the
straight-up blue collar residential side of town and into downtown
in less time than I’d like. I’ve tried to consider the best course
of action in explaining my continual disappearances to my boss, but
so far, I’ve got nothing. It’s not easy having to apologize for
your fuck ups again and again.

Pulling up to Universal Ground, I check
my red lipstick in the rear view mirror, gather up my purse, and
pull my tits up high as I can in my bra. Downtown is pretty much
dead today, which doesn’t bode well for the next few hours. With my
purse over one shoulder and my long blonde hair pulled over the
other, I pull open the heavy glass and wood door to the front of
Universal Grounds. Inside, the air conditioning is on at a lower
than comfortable temperature— all a ruse to encourage patrons to
drink more overpriced coffee— and the place is spotless. Courtesy
of the two patrons inside and my co-worker Mindy, there’s light
chatter being thrown around keeping the shop from sinking into a
dead silence.

Leaning over the counter with a rag in
hand, Mindy nods her head full of strawberry blonde curls toward
the back room. She knows exactly why I’m here because she’s the one
who was cool enough to cover for me this morning when the principal
of Jeremy’s high school called to ask me to come pick him up.
Mindy’s cool and totally anti-Forsaken, so I’m thinking we might be
able to be friends which is totally up my alley at this point. But
then she’s also kind of a prude, so I don’t know what we’d even do
if we did hang out.

“
Thanks, Min,” I say,
crossing the shop and squeezing behind the counter on my way to the
office that’s in the back. I blow out a few heavy breaths and
psyche myself up for the conversation, but don’t have much time. As
I round the corner, I see the door to the office is open. Universal
Ground’s owner, Eileen, is at her computer, typing furiously. I
give a soft knock on the door frame before stepping into the small
office. It’s more of a broom closet, really, but it serves its
purpose.

Eileen looks up, her natural gray hair
is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wears a sad smile on her
face. She waves me in and I close the door behind me. I don’t even
have to ask. We’ve been here before.

“
Nicole,” she says as
pleasantly as her mood will allow. “I assume you’re here to talk
about why you left your shift early?”

Inwardly, I cringe. Setting myself in
the chair across the desk from her, I nod my head and say, “Yes.”
She waits as I collect my thoughts to present the most compelling
argument for not writing me up.

“
Principal Beck called,
asking me for an immediate meeting and to pick Jeremy up for the
day,” I say, figuring she’ll find out eventually. It’s near
impossible to keep anything a secret in this town, and it really
doesn’t help that Eileen’s youngest son is in the same grade as
Jeremy. She’d likely find out by dinnertime even if I didn’t tell
her.

Thoughtfully, she nods her head and
leans back in her chair. She’s dressed in her usual attire— clean
cut khakis and a colorful polo shirt. My eyes dip down to my ripped
jeans and tight blank tank for only a moment before I stop myself
from comparing us any further. She’s the epitome of class in a
soccer mom uniform, while I’m… not. She’s always been good to me
which is one of the reasons I hate ditching out on her so
often.

“
I’m sympathetic to your
family situation, Nicole. I understand that occasionally things
will come up when you care for a child. I’m not interested in
making you feel any worse than you already do, but we need to
figure out a way to limit the number of times you have to run off
for a family emergency.”

“
It won’t happen again,” I
blurt out, knowing it’s a lie. Eileen knows it, too. I always tell
her it won’t happen again, but then it does. Jeremy hits some kid
in the hallway, or he’s been caught cheating on a test, or even
worse, he’s at the police station for truancy. It’s one thing after
another and no matter how hard I try to keep him in check, it’s
useless.

“
Okay. Let’s let Mindy
finish out this shift. You can resume the rest of the week as
scheduled,” she says in a kind voice. I mumble an incoherent
“thanks” and stand from my chair and slink out the door. I’d
thought I would ask if I could finish my hours this afternoon, but
it doesn’t seem like a good idea to push it now, especially since
she’s made up her mind about it already. Sympathetic or not, she
kept the conversation short and to the point. Plus, I’m not in any
position to be asking for favors right now.

Heading out of the backroom, I run into
Mindy as she’s turning the corner. With a perky smile on her face,
her eyes widen, and she gives a giggle-laugh. Between my boss, the
soccer mom, and Mindy, our resident Barbie doll, I’m ready to just
throw in the towel. Mindy ducks around me, mumbling something that
has the words “silly” and “goose” in it. I try to ignore her
despite the fact that her quirks are really fucking cute. What
grown woman actually calls herself a silly goose-- Mindy, that’s
who. I sort of envy her. Anyone who says shit like silly goose
can’t be all that fucked in the head.

I’m almost to the door when the bell
chimes and it door swings open. A man of average height and build
stands in the doorway looking around. I can barely see his face,
but I already know who it is: Darren Jennings. We used to date back
in high school, and things had gotten pretty serious until it all
went to hell. He eventually upgraded to some chick I didn’t really
know, but I felt bad for her all the same. He’s got a little scruff
on his face and a ball cap pulled over his brown hair. For just a
second, I freeze. I can practically feel my face paling. Before I
can duck around, recognition covers his face and he smiles at me.
It’s never been an evil smile. It’s pleasant in that unsuspecting
way.

“
Nicole,” he says. “It’s
been a while.” Checking out his khakis and polo shirt, I can’t see
much change from high school.

Acting surprised, I say,
“Darren Jennings?” as if I hadn’t already made the connection in my
head. He swoops down and wraps his arms around my torso, pulling me
into what probably looks like a friendly hug. My lungs feel like
they’re shrinking down to nothing as a swell of panic overtakes me.
I stay perfectly still and wait for it to end. I pause, then try to
hug back, but my right arm is crushed between our bodies. I pat his
back softly with my left and hope he lets go any second. I hate
people who are huggers. It’s like they have zero sense of
boundaries. And Darren has always been a hands-on kind of
guy.

“
How have you been?” he
pulls back, holds me at arm’s length, and asks with a huge smile on
his face. It’s a challenge to stop myself from telling him that I
feel like puking all over his loafers because he’s touched me. I
want to tell him that despite whatever was fucked up in my life
before this moment, that shit just got a whole hell of a lot worse.
I really just want to gouge his eyes out.

“
Listen, I gotta go,” I
say, refusing to have this conversation with him. I mean, if I tell
the truth, it’s a pretty gloomy story-- and it’s half his fault--
and I’m not about to go down that road with him. Last time it
didn’t end well. He narrows his eyes slightly at my
response.

“
So, I just graduated from
USC,” he says like I’ve forgotten our long-lost plans or something.
Darren was always supposed to go to the University of Southern
California, as he did. He’s a legacy, meaning his dad graduated
from there, and now he has too. I wasn’t ever going to get into
USC, but I was shooting for a school nearby there. But that was
before everything fell apart and I decided that I’d rather rot in
this place than to spend anymore time in his presence than
absolutely necessary.

I try to offer my congratulations as he
continues. “I’m back home for the summer. We should hang out. We
have a lot to catch up on.” The mere thought of hanging out with
Darren turns my legs into Jell-O.

“
I’ve just been really
busy,” I say in an attempt to end the conversation without really
pissing him off, not that there’s a formula for keeping him calm or
anything.

“
You were wild back then,”
he says, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. It almost makes me
sick.

“
She’s wild now,” a deep,
masculine voice sounds from behind me. I practically jump in place
at the intrusion. Darren’s eyes jump from mine over my shoulder to
the man behind me. Turning around, I see the person I least expect
standing in Universal Grounds: Diesel. He’s tall and thick in every
way imaginable; a little more portly than most of the club members,
but he wears it well. His shaved head has a short black buzz
growing in and he’s scowling at Darren like he’s a piece of shit
that dared make its way to the bottom of his shoe. He may be a
serious bad-ass, but I’ve always had a soft spot for
Diesel.

Living in a small town
like Fort Bragg, California, with a local motorcycle club like we
have-- the Forsaken Motorcycle Club-- you’re either their friend or
their enemy. There is absolutely no in-between, especially if
you’re like me and you’re the daughter of one of their incarcerated
members. It’s wise to make good with the club, and for lack of a
better social scene, I’ve made
real
good with the club.

“
Hey,” I say. Inside, I’m
screaming at him to leave. Club members showing up at my work-- for
the first time in as long as I can remember-- is not a good thing.
I don’t care that it’s Diesel and we’re on good terms. I guess I
can at least breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not
Duke.