Tangled in a Web of Lies (23 page)

Two weeks later

***

I’m surprised when Odin asks me to go on a trip with him back to his home town. I know he has a lot of demons he needs to work through, and I’m humbled that he wants me by his side. I miss the time we spent in the car, back and forth on runs. But the real excitement comes when he tells me we’ll be riding the chopper out.

The next few days inch by. Odin has a few things to finish up at work before we can take off. He comes home Wednesday night, and we finish packing our bags. Right before we go to sleep, he presents me with a black bag, and gives me one of the most intimidating warnings of my life.

Things work a little different in Louisiana. I’m giving you this, because I want everyone to know that you’re mine. But if at any point, you see something, or something happens that makes you change your mind about me, I promise I won’t blame you if you take it off. If you’re still wearing it by the time we get back, you can consider yourself my official old lady.

Inside the bag is a black denim vest that Odin has taken the liberty of attaching a few band pins to. On the back is the bandits skull, with a bandana around the face and a skater hat, only the bandana is pink and on her head are pig tails. The rocker above, in bright pink letters reads ‘Odin’s Old Lady’.

I love it the second I lay eyes on it. Shannon and Keila both have ones like it, although theirs are leather. I much prefer the black denim, because it matches Odin’s cut.

We hit the road in the morning. Sporting my new favorite article of clothing, I straddle Odin’s back.

After a two day ride, we finally reach Louisiana. Odin is following the parish signs along the side of the highway. I see truck after truck with carcass horns on the bumpers, and shotguns bracketed to the back windows. I’m realizing what Odin meant by
they do things differently here.

The first place we stop is Red’s Crawfish Company, where Odin introduces me to what he calls ‘the best seafood in Louisiana’. It’s really spicy, and I wind up eating more of the sides than the seafood itself.

Then we take a ride out to Odin’s old house. As we slowly make our way down a swampy dirt road, I feel Odin’s body tense in my arms. I know this is going to be hard for him. I don’t really know what to do, other than hold his hand.

He parks, and hits the kickstand. The house doesn’t look like much. It’s so run down, it’s literally become part of the swamp that surrounds it. Thick Ivy covers most of the front, and the trees that have grown above are cutting into the roof. The entire place is littered with thick oak leaves.

“Home sweet home,” Odin mutters with a dark look in his eye. I reach out for his hand, and he takes it. Then, he goes through the front door, telling me to watch for snakes.

As if confronting Odin’s ghosts aren’t bad enough, now I get to worry about snakes. But the first thing I see that has my skin crawling is a giant spider, hanging in the middle of a thick web that blocks the hallway.

The furniture inside has all been slashed open, and everything has been thrown about. It looks like my old house the morning after one of Jaime’s parties, if a hurricane had struck that day and we’d all evacuated 10 years ago. There’s a mess of broken picture frames on the floor. As Odin lets my hand go to knock down the web blocking the hall, I carefully use my toe to push aside the glass, gazing down at the pictures.

There’s one of Odin fishing, he looks young, maybe six or seven. While Odin isn’t looking, I lean down to grab the picture, folding it quickly I push it into my pocket.  Then another one catches my eye. A picture of what I assume is Odin’s mom and dad on a motorcycle. I only guess that because I can tell it’s old, and the man on the bike looks just like Odin. The woman on back bears little resemblance, other than her gorgeously long blond hair.

“Coming?” asks Odin, once again holding his hand out for me. I take it, and he leads me back through the hall, and into a bedroom.

“This your parent’s room?” I ask, taking in the dirty pink comforter on the bed, and the bottle of Jack that’s still sitting on the nightstand without a lid.

“Yeah,” says Odin, taking a seat on the corner of the bed and staring out the window blankly.

I’m afraid to sit, afraid to touch anything, not just because it’s a filthy house, but because I’m afraid I’ll find a rat, or a spider or a snake.

“When I was a kid, my parents fought constantly. My dad was a violent drunk who used to beat the shit out of me and my mom all the time. For whatever reason, she didn’t leave. Until one day, she’d finally hit her breaking point.” Odin’s eyes are steel, glaring out the window. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling chilly as he continues.

“She was loading the station wagon, right there,” he points to the driveway, a few feet from where his bike is parked. “Dad came home early, caught her loading our things, told me to go to my room. Instead, I came in here, sat right here and I watched. I watched him beat my mother to death, strangle the life right out of her.”

I don’t even know what to say. Odin doesn’t look at me, he just stares out the window.

“Things changed after that. I changed after that. Something inside me became increasingly violent. A few years later, he caught me out there in the shed, mutilating a bunny rabbit.” I look out the window to see the shed, which is now just a heap of scrap metal.

“I don’t know why I did it.  Made me feel good I guess, gave me some sort of sick release from the anger I had inside me. Made me feel like I had some sort of control that I didn’t have otherwise.”

“That’s when he decided I was old enough to be part of his fucked up world. Started bringing me around the club, let me prospect. Becoming a Bandit was the best thing that ever fucking happened to me. I needed a purpose, and an excuse to rage. And then, just when I started to quit hating him so much, he showed me something else, something he kept hidden from the club.”

I know exactly what that something is, but I don’t pry, not now. Odin is already on the brink of something big. I can see the battle inside him. No words can really console a man who just admitted to watching his mother being killed. I just continue to hold his hand.

“Want to show me your room?” I ask with a suggestive smile, hoping to put him in a different mood.

Odin takes my hand, standing up he leads me to the room across the hall. The first thing I notice, are the dozens of fist sized holes in the wall. Signs of an angry teenager that I recognize. His walls are covered in mostly band posters, and a he has a giant pot leaf blanket on his bed.
Nice!

Odin seems indifferent, being back in his old room. I guess this was probably his sanctuary, seeing several locks on the bedroom door. Other than the clothes strewn about, Odin’s room doesn’t seem to have suffered the weather of the rest of the house. It’s pretty well intact, other than the layers of dust and cobwebs.

“You bring a lot of girls back here in the day?” I muse curiously.

“Only one actually,” says Odin with a look that suggests there’s a lot to that story.

“Did you fuck her?” I ask, biting my lip playfully, standing in front of Odin, I push myself against his chest.

He smiles at me, a wholesome, teenage boy smile and says, “Trust me, I was not about to stick my dick in that mess of crazy.”

I laugh, now very curious as to who she was.

“What about this mess of crazy?” I ask, putting my arms around his neck, I pull his lips to mine.

“Baby,” he whispers, his lips close to mine, “I’m all about your kind of crazy.” His hands grasp my ass, and I feel that familiar pull my body has to him. That,
I want you to fuck me, I need you to touch me,
pull that consumes my whole body every time Odin stares down at me the way he is now.

“So, you wanna stick your dick in me?” I ask, gazing up at him as I press my hips into his groin.

“Actually,” he says looking around, “I had kind of a different idea in mind for this place. Care to be my partner in crime?”

“Of course,” I smile without asking any questions.

Odin’s eyes burn with excitement. His lips crash against mine, smiling even as his tongue dips into my mouth.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling me away from his room.

I follow him out to the shed. Odin finds two red gasoline containers, and pulls the cap off one of them, to smell its contents. They’re definitely flammable.

“Perfect,” says Odin  Then he glances towards a small work bench. “Grab those two cans of white fuel too.”

I look to see the Coleman tins, realizing we’re about to burn this house down. This should be fun, if we don’t get busted.

I follow Odin back toward the house, and take his lead, spilling white gas all over the furniture. With the amount of cobwebs and dried oak leaves covering this house, it’s going to ignite like a Christmas tree.

As we leave out the front door, Odin tosses me the keys to his bike. I catch them, with a completely dumb expression on my face.

“Move my bike down the driveway a little,” he says, shocking the hell out of me.

I’ve never driven a motorcycle. I know how, or at least I know how to turn it on, and I’ve ridden on a ton of dirt bikes. I have no doubt I can successfully move it down the driveway. But no one’s ever trusted me with their bike before. I feel… special, ridiculously special as I turn toward his bike with the keys in my hand.

I straddle his bike, and turn the key. When I look up, Odin has his back to me, taking a piss on the front porch. I can only hope that burning this fucking house to the ground will help him feel more at peace about watching his mom’s murder, and all the other shit that happened here.

I park the bike, and leave it running as I lean it on the kick stand. The flames start slow inside. Odin comes running in my direction, his pocket chain dangling from his waist. I scoot backwards, and he tosses his leg over the bike. I wrap my arms around him, and we both watch as the flame quickly grows in the house. There are a few small explosions, clouds of smoke and flames bursting through the windows. Odin pulls a joint from inside his cut, and lights it, watching as his house burns. He passes the joint to me and I take a hit, watching him curiously for some kind of a reaction. But there isn’t one. Odin calmly smokes his joint, as the house begins to cave in on itself. Not a tear, not even a strange look, nothing.

“Are we gonna catch this whole forest on fire?” I ask, noticing the tree behind the house start to burn.

“We’re completely surrounded by swamp. Louisiana is a wetland, it won’t spread far,” he replies, tossing the joint down on the ground. I quickly wrap my arms around him and he takes off, leaving the burning shit hole of a home behind us.

It seems like everything in Louisiana is down a dirt road. We pull up to a bar in the middle of the sticks somewhere, just outside of New Orleans. For being in the middle of nowhere, the place definitely stands out. There’s a neon sign on the top of the wooden structure that says,
Saloon,
giving it a Western appeal. The music and laughter from inside is loud.

Behind the bar is a motel, although it’s clearly been turned into to a giant biker club house. The motel sign has been shot out, and mounted over it is a giant metal plaque of the Devil’s Bandits insignia.

As Odin parks in the dirt lot next to a line of bikes, I’m speechless. Things are most certainly done different in Louisiana. There are alligator skulls hanging everywhere. They rattle against each other as the breeze rushes through them.

There’s a guy and a girl on the other side of the lot screaming at each other. He’s wearing a Bandits

cut, and black trucker hat. She’s got on the shortest pair of little jean shorts that I’ve ever seen in my life! The pockets are hanging out the dark denim scraps she’s passing off as outer wear, and I can see the faint line of her thong from a good twenty yards away. She’s hot, I’ll give her that, but anyone who seriously feels the need to wear a black bandana as a shirt with no bra, is clearly trying too hard. Typical club whore. The ones back in Cali aren’t any classier.

“You are a crazy fucking bitch!” the guy yells at her, and with that, she shoves into him with all her might.  She barely lands on her feet, and he goes toppling over onto his bike, which falls to the ground with him on top of it.

My eyes widen, expecting to see him get up and beat the fuck out of her. I saw Shannon go a little nuts on Micah once at the club house, but in general old ladies treat their men with more respect, and whores wouldn’t dare shove a member like that.

“Jaylie fucking Bateson! You crazy little bitch!” yells Odin, startling me completely. Her face immediately lights up when she sees Odin. “Give poor Mason a break, and come give me a hug!” he demands, leaving me on his bike as he takes a few steps towards her.

Jaylie takes off running towards us, “Holy shit!” she shrieks, tits bouncing like something straight out of a porno in her makeshift bandana shirt. I try not to gape, half expecting one to come popping right out.

She jumps straight into Odin’s arms, almost knocking him over as her legs wrap around his waist. Feeling strangely jealous, I quickly move to Odin’s side as he sets her back on her feet. I wrap my arm around him, giving her the death glare behind my nicest smile.

“Still breaking hearts I see,” says Odin, glancing across the lot at the guy still propping his bike back up.

“I’m not so sure Mason even has a heart!” she sneers, glancing at him over her shoulder. 

I watch Mason dust himself off, starring in our direction as he lights up a cigarette.

“If he doesn’t, it’s because you ripped it out and ate it,” says Odin. She smiles, as if it’s true and she’s proud of it. She seems like a bitch, but I can easily see the appeal in her captivating eyes. Thick dark hair falls over her shoulders, feathering neatly about half way down her arms. Her body is smokin’ from her fat round tits tied into a faded black bandana to her two tan legs.

I feel my nerves tingling, watching Odin stare at her. She smiles at him beautifully, like she doesn’t even notice. I’m sure she’s used to the effect she has on men.

“It’s really good to see you back in town,” she says, excusing herself as Mason slowly begins to walk toward us.

“Yeah, you too Jay.”

I want to slap the smile right off Odin’s face as he watches her walk away. But something on her back catches my eye. It’s not her ass that compliments the rest of her perfect shape, but scars that run down one side of her back. They look like burns only part of the skin is still black. I don’t get long to stare before she’s inside.

“Fucking Odin. Holy shit brother, where the fuck have you been?” says Mason, holding his hand out for Odin, before pulling him in for a hug.

“Good to see you, Mason.” There’s a fondness in Odin’s eyes when he looks at Mason

“Looks like California has been good to you,” Mason has a hint of a southern accent, as he glances down at me with a smile. I almost want to say, hey thanks for noticing.

“Yeah! This is my old lady, Lila.”

Mason holds out his hand to shake mine, and just then a riot of people come piling out the front door.

“Look who’s home!” bellows a man wearing a Bandits cut and a black hat with a fish hook through the front.

There’s a ton of yelling as they all start barreling toward us. I’m introduced to a lot of faces that I’ll never be able to remember. I make a point not to forget the name of their president, DJ. The rest of the names come out fast, West, Reaper, Tuff, Blue, Jasper, and Cox, who seems to be the most enthused about Odin’s triumphant return. Odin introduces me to some of his old brothers, holding me close to his body as I shake their hands. We follow them inside for a drink, and Odin keeps his arm draped around me.

We sit at the bar where there are only two drinks on the menu, Whiskey or Beer. I’m handed a cold brew, and Cox takes a seat next to Odin, asking him all about California.

In the corner of the bar, there is a stripper pole on top of a round table with a booth encircling it. There are currently two girls on the pole, tonguing each other while a slew of boys cheer them on, tossing dollars at them.
Classy!

Neither of them have any dancing skills, but they’re making do with their ability to slut each other up instead.

“Have you met our new prospects? Sally and Susie?” asks Cox, gesturing to the younger Indian looking kid tending the bar.

“Actually, I’m Susie,” he says with a half baked smile. “Sally is the ugly one.”

I smirk. Prospects being given silly girl names on top of being treated like bitches, is harsh. But Susie is clearly making the best of it.

“Susie, Sweetheart, fill me up will you baby?” says Jaylie, from the other side of Cox. Susie fills her up with Whiskey on the rocks and she tilts it back, finishing in one large gulp while Cox watches in with a lusty look all over his face. I roll my eyes without even noticing it.

“You good?” Odin whispers in my ear.

I shake my head. “Of course. I guess some things aren’t any different in Louisiana,” I joke, looking over at Jaylie and implying that every club has its sluts. Jaylie sits right on Cox’s lap at the bar and pounds back another shot.

“You have no idea,” says Odin, making me even more curious.

Across the bar is Mason. He, too, is watching Jaylie only his gaze is more than just lust. I’ve seen that look before, it’s like he’s watching her on self destruct mode, but he cares too much to look away. Poor bastard’s in love, or so it would seem.

And as if she’s fully aware of it, Jaylie makes her way toward the table where the girls are still kissing on the pole. She stops for just a minute at the juke box in the corner, and
Fat Bottomed Girls
starts playing.

Jaylie takes the table over, and the boys at the booth instantly start hollering. The whole club practically starts rioting. Even Cox gets up, and takes a seat over at the pole table.

Girls got some moves, and her tiny little shorts ride up her ass as she straddles the pole. I look back to see Mason, who’s practically fuming as he watches all his buddies pine all over a girl he clearly has feelings for.

“Fuck Yea Foxy! You’re the sexiest bitch ever!” yells Cox, and I turn to watch him tuck a few wads of dollars into Jay’s tiny shorts. She turns, and looks right at Odin with a smile. Then, she grabs her tight little tits through her triangle shirt and squats down with her back to the pole, spreading her legs so far I can almost see her cooch.
Slut!

As soon as her song is over, she takes a seat straddling Cox. I turn to look at Mason, curious as to what his reaction will be, but he’s gone.

“Who is she anyways?” I ask Odin. Again, I want to slap the grin right off his face.

“That, is the very beautiful, extremely fucking crazy, Jaylie Bateson.

“Is she someone’s daughter or something?” I ask. She’s too young to have been hanging out with the club as a sweet butt back when Odin lived here.

“Nope, she just found her place here a long time ago, and never really went home.

“Did you fuck her?” I have to ask. I’m really hoping to hear him say no.

“You remember when I said even I wouldn’t stick my dick in that mess of crazy?”

I nod, realizing she was the girl Odin had in his room. I don’t know why I want to keep asking questions. It’s weird to be so curious about someone I’ve only just met.

I look back to Jaylie, who’s making out with Cox back at the pole table. I get a closer look at the scar on her back.  It’s one hell of strange looking burn. There is no denying she’s fucking beautiful. But what kind of nut job shoves a man twice her size into his own bike, then proceeds to slut around with his friend?

“How long you planning on being in town?” DJ is standing where Cox was next to Odin. “Got a room out back if you need it.”

“Yeah. That’d be great. Just here for tonight,” Odin tells DJ.

Then Odin asks me if I’ll be okay alone for a minute, while he and DJ have a private word.

Once he’s gone, Jaylie comes to sit next to me.
Fucking wonderful, I’m on slut duty.

“You’re lucky. Odin is a really nice guy.” Her remark catches me a little off guard.

“Thanks,” I say, not really giving her any time of day.

“You must be special, if he brought you all the way out here.”

“Must be.” I look down into her cold blue eyes for a moment, letting it sink in that I am special to Odin. I wonder if that bothers her.

Just then, Cox comes up behind her, grabbing her around the waist and picks her up making a crude gesture with his hips. He gropes her boob, and she slaps him away. I roll my eyes at both of them.

“Come here Foxy!” he teases as she tries to get away from him.

“I do not look like Megan Fox!” she protests. But actually, she looks a lot like Megan Fox.

“You’ll always be Foxy to me Darlin’” says Cox, and the way he uses the word Darlin’ could charm the panties off a nun. Cox has a shaved head, with a small amount of copper colored stubble that matches his reddish beard. He’s wearing a dirty white tank top, black jeans with a Lynyrd Skynyrd patch on the knee, his Bandits cut and suspenders. His arms are covered in mostly band tattoos I notice, as he takes the seat next to me.

“I love your hair,” he says, complementing my main of bright red curls that I have pulled back with a folded bandana.

“Thank you,” I smile.
Unlike some people, I don’t try to wear a bandana as a t-shirt
. Odin emerges from a smoky room with DJ a few moments later.

“Ready baby?” he asks, finishing off his beer and setting the can on the bar. I take his hand and follow him out of the saloon.

I hold Odin tight as we ride. I can feel him getting tense in my arms. Even I’m afraid of what will happen when we get there. All kinds of fucked up shit happened to him there. Odin gave me fair warning that this whole trip would change both of us.

He takes a left down an old dirt road, and we come to a locked gate, where Odin parks the bike. He kills the engine, and peddles down the kick stand. He takes off his helmet, so I do the same. He takes a few deep breaths, starring up the road ahead, beyond the gate.

“I want you to come with me. But at the same time, I’m afraid of what happens if you do.”

“I didn’t come all this way to get left at the gate, O. I’m coming one way or another.” He nods, leaving me on the back of the bike. He fishes in his cut for some keys, and then opens the gate.

Somewhere inside me there used to be a little voice that told me to be afraid. This is one of those times she’d be telling me to turn around. But an eerie silence still lingers in my head, where all sanity and reason used to be. It wouldn’t matter anyway. My love for Odin is blind.

I should be at least cautious of what will happen when Odin comes face to face with the darkest part of his past. But after surviving 4 years with Jaime Mosley, I feel like I’ve already been through the worst this world can throw at me. Whatever happens up there, we’ll walk out together.

It’s only when I see the slaughter house, covered in graffiti of demons, and pictures of hell that I realize I truly must be crazy for coming here.

There is an strange smell in the air, like death lingers in every crevice of this place. There’s a barn off on the right that has definitely seen better days. It looks haunted.  Large cobwebs hanging in the spaces between boards, and more demonic looking graffiti with a message. “She who comes here, dies here.” My hearts beat faster.

Large sets of sheers hang on the side of the barn, along with old fashion hunting traps, the kind that would snap a leg in two. They rattle against the wall as the wind blows. It’s a bone chilling noise, mixed with sound of an owl in the distant woods behind the barn.

Hay litters the ground that Odin walks across, moving toward the inside of the barn. I follow him, careful to watch my step, and keep an eye over my shoulder. Light floods in through the cracks in the old wooden structure. There are obvious blood stains on the cement floor, covered with hay. Still I have no voice of reason telling me to run, just an undeniable emptiness longing to be filled.