Burning Ember (10 page)

Lily gives me a smile as she tucks the money into her back pocket. “My pleasure. Any excuse to shop.”

Dozer sits back down. “If you want to get a part-time job or somethin’, I’ll check around and see if we got a spot open somewhere at one of the businesses the club owns.”

Lily chimes in, “I could run you around to some of the shops in town to fill out some applications.”

“Thank you.”

“So you know how to do laundry and shit?” Dozer asks.

I quirk a brow. “Define ‘and shit’?”

He laughs, “You know how to use the washer and dryer, iron? That shit?”

“Yeah.” I smile and a little bit of the tension in my body melts away. It feels good to let it go. Be real for a minute. However, I can’t let down my guard fully.

The side of his mouth jacks up. “Good, I’ll spread the word. Make sure you charge for that shit though, yeah? You’ll make a fuckin’ killing.” He grins fully, and adds, “You can start with mine.”

Surely, he’s kidding.

I cock my head to the side. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to pay me to do your laundry?”

“Hell, yeah. Then I don’t have to talk some sweetie into doin’ it for me.”

He must misunderstand my expression because he goes on to say, “Some of the guys have old ladies, or citizen wives, who do that shit for them. Others like me usually get some girl we’re dating or a random hook up to do it.”

“So no wife? Or old lady or whatever?”

“N-no.” But he hesitates as if he’s not being completely truthful. “Which means I either have to keep buyin’ new clothes or I have to talk some chick into doin’ it for me. And it’s not easy findin’ clothes to fit me. I’d rather pay you to wash ’em.”

We’re quiet for a minute afterward. He’s studying my reaction so I keep my face blank and take a drink from the water bottle Rigor left in front of me.

“Can you dance? The club owns the strip club in town,” Lily asks.

One abrupt laugh leaves me at the idea and her eyes widen. “Um, no, well, yes, I can dance. But no, not like that.”

“I could teach you,” she offers.

My skin feels itchy at the idea of taking my clothes off in a club full of horny men, which is kind of crazy considering what I just signed up for. I rub my hands on my shorts and try to stir my employment prospects into safer waters. “Maybe I could find an ad in the paper for a nanny or something during the day. I’m good with kids.”

Lily leans forward as if to address us both. She gives Dozer a long, meaningful look and says, “You know, Bethany’s been looking for some help with Medda. She mentioned it the other day and—”

With clipped words Dozer says, “Not a good idea, Lil’.”

She bites her lip and mutters, “Right, I guess not.”

Some emotion flickers over Dozer’s face, but it’s gone before I can decipher it. “If you get a job, you’ll have to clean early, do breakfast, and lunch around noon. Then most of us aren’t around until late for dinner, so just make sure you make it clear when you can work and when you can’t. Also, you’ll need to be here for club events.”

“Okay.” I doubt an employer is going to be able to work with those hours and I can’t help but feel a little defeated.

I pick up a chip and munch on it. One bite and I’m in heaven. The salty flavor bursts on my tongue and I close my eyes for a moment and savor it. My stomach growls between the first bite and the second.

Dozer watches me.

I dig into my sandwich next. After I swallow the first bite, I try to distract him for watching me eat. “You know, I didn’t know a biker could be such a nice guy.”

He gives me a wicked grin. “Don’t go spreadin’ it around. I have a reputation to uphold.”

The red-haired, older biker with a long beard comes over and takes Dozer’s attention away, which gives me time to finish my food. When I’ve eaten every last crumb, I push the plate forward.

Dozer glances over to me. “You were fuckin’ starvin’, huh?”

I grimace and wipe my mouth. “Sorry, was it that noticeable? And here I was trying to eat like a lady.”

The red-haired biker raises an eyebrow. “You full, sweetheart? ‘Cause if not, I could get Rigor to round ya up some more. I’m Griz, by the way.” He holds out his hand to me and I shake it.

I’m feeling overly stuffed. My stomach’s shrunk in the last month. It’s down to the size of a tennis ball. “Thanks, but I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

He smiles and his smile even reaches his soft hazel eyes. “Us gingers gotta stick together. You need anything, darlin’, you let me know.” He picks up my hand and kisses it, which earns him some hooting and hollering from the peanut gallery around us, before he drops my hand and walks away.

Dozer turns to me. “See, we’re not all assholes.”

“I see that. Thanks for giving me a chance.” And I mean it. It’s nice to have someone on my side. Makes me feel like I’m not an inch small anymore.

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, you’re built like an ox, but I’m starting to think maybe you’re a big ol’ softy.”

Two seats down from me, Goose spits beer out all over the bar. Then I realize what I said and how it could be misconstrued.

Laughter rings out around us again.
Jeezus . . .
did I really just say that?

Dozer flashes a flirtatious smile. He yanks my chair closer. “Softy, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. Tell you what . . . in thirteen days, I’ll make sure to introduce you to some of my harder parts.”

“Oh, God, I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

He chucks my chin. “No really, it would be my pleasure.” He focuses on my lips. His hand rests on my thigh. He leans over and murmurs close to my ear, so only I can hear. “You’re gonna have the whole club house lined up to taste you by then. But, you can bet, I’ll be the first in line.”

I bite my bottom lip and look up at him. He’s flirting with me and now is the time I have to start playing the part of the girl who wants to be here. With him. With a bunch of bikers.

His steely eyes flare as they watch my mouth. “Yeah, you’re gonna be trouble.”

I arch a brow. “And you’re not a fan of trouble?”

His hand slides up my leg until his fingers breach the hem of my shorts. “Not usually, but I think I could get addicted to your kind of trouble.”

We flirt for a few minutes. But eventually he groans and removes his hands from me. “Shit, you’re gettin’ me all worked up, babe. Not gonna end well for me.” He stands, laughs, and winks as he adjusts himself. Then he says, “Better get this part over with.” Spinning me around on my stool, he has me facing the room. He again places his big hands on my shoulders. He yells to be heard over the music. “HOCs listen up. Pumpkin, here, is Edge’s welcome home gift.” Cheers ring out. “She’s hands off until after the party.” Boo’s follow that statement. “Any of you fuckers so much as touch her, and you’ll be smacked with a thousand dollar fine. And a beat down from the entire club.”

“You’re touchin’ her,” the cute blond with a nice smile shouts. I believe his name is Bodie.

“That’s because I’m gonna be her protection from you sick fucks for the next twelve days.”

Lily puts her hand in mine, and I startle a little until I realize it’s her. With her, it’s harder to hide my anxiety. It’s almost as if she knows exactly what I’m feeling.

“Come on. Let me show you around, and you can shower and get cleaned up. I’ll find you some clean clothes, too.” I suddenly feel drained, but I give her a weak smile.

“Hold up.”

We turn back to Dozer.

He reaches into his pocket and produces a key. Hands it to Lily. “She’ll be stayin’ in my room. She can shower in there.”

Before taking the key, she eyes him for a moment. “You sure?” she asks him and gets a terse nod in response.

She tangles her arm with mine and leads me out of the main room.

I get the impression that his gesture means something significant. But what, I have no idea.

It feels like it’s been days since I’d left the shelter. And although I took a shower earlier, I can’t pass up the opportunity for another, especially a shower with hot water, non-generic shampoo, and a sense of privacy I haven’t had in weeks.

When I finish, I wipe the mirror of steam and stare at myself.

No matter how much I try to forget my mother, I see her in my reflection every day. Almost as if I see her before I see myself in the mirror, and I have to analyze my features over and over again to identify the differences that make me . . . me. Like how my hair’s always been a few shades darker than hers, and is even more so now from my failed attempt to dye my red hair brown. Also my eyes aren’t quite the same color, because where hers were only blue, mine have a burst of green. And lastly, my freckles. Something she had but only across the bridge of her nose. Which makes me think that maybe mine were a gift from my sperm donor of a father.

My mother used to tell me that each freckle on my body was a blessing given to me by the angels. I believed her until I was sixteen and learned how full of shit she truly was.

It’s ironic that I look so much like her and nothing like Sunny.

My heart pinches in the next instant as I think of Will.

I miss our songs. Reading her stories at night. Tucking her in like a bug in a rug. Sometimes when she’d have bad dreams, she’d come crawl into my bed, and there’s nothing better in this world than waking up to a warm and cuddly, curly-haired angel.

Tears brim in my eyes and fall over. I let three escape before clenching my eyes shut, stopping that train of thought. I can’t afford to get lost in thoughts of Will. Because I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to function. I’ll save them for another time. Another day. When I’m safe and alone, and free to wallow for more than a minute at a time.

I force myself to get ready, pull a comb through my hair, and use the blow dryer, curling iron, hygiene items, and the make-up Lily brought me.

Stepping out of the bathroom in a towel, I head over to the collection of clothes she left on the bed.

Dozer’s room smells of leather and oil, and his woodsy cologne. It also has the added stench of stale food, sex, and spilled alcohol, judging by the look of the stains on the floor. At least, I hope it’s alcohol and not something else
.

I’m tempted to start cleaning up the mess, but the door swings open and Lily walks in. She’s added a leather vest to her kickass outfit, and I notice right away the club insignia marking her as HOC property.

“I stole anything I thought might fit. Don’t worry about givin’ it back. It’s survival of the fittest around here. They’ll probably bitch. But all the girls here steal clothes from each other. So they’ll get over it.”

“I have no idea how to dress. I mean for this place,” I admit.

Lily sits on the edge of the bed. “I know. But no one expects you to. The club colors are pale yellow, orange, and dark red. Or anything along that line. Wear those or brown or black. Gray’s a safe color too, and girly colors like pink, purple.

“Safe colors?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to be caught wearing another clubs or gangs colors. Some guys might let it slide when you’re new, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

She combs her fingers through her hair and flips it to the other side. “When you’re a part of the club, people scrutinize everything you do and say. As an old lady, everything I do, or don’t do for that matter, reflects on the club.

“You’re not a clubpiece and word will get around that you’re”—she uses air quotes with her fingers—“‘a virgin’. So they won’t be expecting you to dress like one or put out like the rest of the girls here. So wear something kinda sexy-cute, but comfortable. You want to be somebody they want to look at, talk to, but not something they want to drag off to their room for the night. Make sure you stick close to me or Dozer, especially the next few nights. At least until word gets around who you are and that you’re not to be touched.”

“Okay.” I pick through the pile of clothes.

“I hope you’re not mad about the virginity thing. And about putting you on the menu for Edge’s party. I just didn’t know what else to do to get Mav to agree. He’s not too keen on redheads, as you know by now.”

I hold up a few strands of my hair. “Right. Should I dye it purple? Think that would help?”

She pulls my hair away. “Don’t you dare. In fact, I’ll bring you some special shampoo tomorrow to strip what’s left of that awful brown color out of it. What did you use anyway?”

“I don’t know. A box from the store.”

She looks horrified at my admission. When she recovers, she says, “Don’t let what Mav said get to you. He may not like redheads but there are plenty of guys here that do. Dozer for one, which is surprising.” She hurries on to add, “Oh, not because you’re not gorgeous”—she winks—“he’s just had a thing for someone for a long time.”

“Let me guess, Bethany?”

“Yep. But she’s not into him. Or well she is, but she’s not doing anything about it. It’s a long story. Short version is her husband was a brother. He died . . . last year . . . motorcycle accident. I guess her and Dozer had something going on years ago before she ever got with her old man, but it didn’t work out. Dozer got sent on a tour of duty and she fell for Hodge while he was gone. I thought maybe now they’d finally . . . you know, hook up and resolve their problems.”