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Turns out Max’s friend is actually, friends and these friends are notorious in Florida. The Steel Vipers Motorcycle Club are a bunch of hardened criminals disguised as bikers.
“Max, I don’t want to be here. I’ve heard all about the Vipers. They’re deadly and criminals.”
“What do you think I am, Kitten? I told you, never forget who I am.”
That’s the only reply I got. It shut me up, like it was supposed to. That was thirty minutes ago, and we haven’t talked since. I was ushered into Dawg’s—which is apparently Max’s adopted name, given by Marcum, the leader—honorary room and locked in. I didn’t have to test the lock. There isn’t one. I’m locked in by the guard on the outside. A huge, boulder disguised as a man and given the appropriate name of Mammoth. They called him Moth for short. I called him nothing because he was a good seven foot, and so broad he made ten of me easily. He was marked in ink from head to toe and had these large, gage-like things in his ears that looked painful as hell.
I look around the, pretty much empty, room. The walls are paneling that belongs in the seventies. There’s an old dresser with a mirror that again belongs in the seventies and a matching bed with a blue velvet and a definitely, seventies bedspread thrown over it. Still it’s soft, and there’s a connected bathroom, so I don’t really care. I head straight for the shower, planning on using all of the hot water and not leaving Max one drop.
I make good on my promise, and it feels divine. The water works magic on the aches and pains that living in the wilds the past few days had given me. There is a scratch on my breast; I can only assume, left there by Hernandez, and I want to hurl all over again. I suck it up and instead wash myself raw again. I’m wrapping a towel around myself and walking out into the room but stop when I see there’s a redhead sitting on the bed popping bubble gum.
“Hello?”
“Was wondering when you were going to get out of there. Of course, I guess if I’d been sleeping in the Florida swamplands like you have; I’d stay in the shower for hours too.”
“Umm…yeah,” I say holding the towel a little closer. It feels like I’ve been months without talking to anyone other than Max.
“I’m Cherry, sugar. I belong to Marcum. He asked me to bring you some clean clothes and take you to the kitchen to find you some food.”
“I appreciate it a lot, Cherry, but well…I don’t think anything you have will fit me,” I answer, and I’m not lying. Cherry is everything I always wanted to be and never could be. She’s taller than my 5’6 frame by a good four or five inches. She’s all tits and ass, I mean it should be illegal for a woman to be stacked that well. My sad b-cup and hardly there ass, weep at their failures.
Cherry laughs, and it’s a nice laugh. She looks to be mid-to-late thirties, and she’s got a beautiful face to match the rest of her. She seems like someone I would be friends with, which surprises me. I didn’t expect that here at the Vipers—especially from a woman claiming to be the President’s property. I’m not even sure what that means. Are they married? Is she like, one of many he claims? I don’t ask her because I don’t want to offend her, especially when she’s being so nice to me.
“Marcum mentioned you were kind of tiny. He said he didn’t know how Dawg bent you over without breaking you in two. No worries, I borrowed some of Callie’s clothes for you.”
“Umm…Max and I well…we haven’t really…” I start to explain, and then stop because I don’t know what to say to that. “Who’s Callie?”
“You haven’t fucked Dawg? Woman what is wrong with you. They say that man is legendary in the sack, and he sure is fucking easy on the eyes.”
My face heats and I wish I had kept my mouth shut.
“I well, he took me hostage…” I defend.
“He could take any woman hostage, and they’d willingly go. You must be crazy or something.”
“Who’s Callie?” I ask again because I really need to change the subject here.
“She’s Marcum’s.”
“I thought you belonged to Marcum?” I ask, deciding since she left the door opened, I’d walk on in.
“Callie is his daughter; she stays here sometimes. She’s away at school now. She’s small, like you, though she does have a little more in the chest area. They should still fit.”
“You’ll have to thank her for me,” I tell her, reaching down and finding a pair of slim fit jeans and a green hoodie. I could almost giggle in delight. “I don’t suppose you have some makeup I could borrow?” I ask, sounding almost hopeful. Cherry reaches behind her and holds out a cosmetic bag. “Cherry, I could kiss you!”
“Well, I don’t normally swing that way, but it might be worth it just to say I got in where Dawg couldn’t.” I stop and look at her, and then we both start laughing. I hurry and get dressed and throw some makeup on to hide the circles under my eyes and we head towards the kitchen. Food. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry in my life. I still haven’t seen Max, and I guess he figures that as long as someone is watching over me, he doesn’t need to bother with me. It doesn’t sit well with me, but there’s not much I can do about it. A part of me wishes we were still in the woods, and I had Max to myself.
Cherry feeds me a BLT, and I will never take the taste of bacon for granted again. Once I polish off the glass of milk she gives me; she asks me if I’d like to walk out back with her where the rest of the women are. Since there is still no word from Max, I shrug and figure, why not.
I don’t know what I expected when I found out we were going to the Vipers compound. Maybe cement walls covered in blood, orgies, dead bodies and skulls thrown around for good measure. Instead, it’s like a giant community. When Cherry takes me out back, it’s to a fenced-in yard, full of swing sets and children playing and surrounded by a large privacy fence. It’s probably the last thing I would expect to find in a motorcycle club’s stronghold.
We sit down at a picnic table where two other women are talking. They’re dressed much like Cherry and me, jeans, and a t-shirt or sweater. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought every woman at a biker’s club wouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes unless it was like a G-string bikini.
“Tessa this is Babs and Jinxy; they’re the other old ladies. Babs belongs to Topper, and Jinxy just got claimed by Blaze. Ladies, this here is Tessa, she showed up last night with Dawg.” I smile at them nervously, feeling very much out of my depth.
“You Dawg’s old lady? That’s gonna piss off Jenna for sure,” Jinxy pipes up.
“I…no, I don’t guess I am…”
“Too bad, it would have been fun to watch Jenna lose her shit,” Jinxy replies.
“Amen,” Babs adds in agreement.
Apparently Jenna is not well liked among these ladies.
“Who is Jenna?” I ask because it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that her and Max have some kind of relationship. She’s probably the reason I haven’t seen Max yet.
“Club whore, and I mean the word whore. Some of the muffler bunnies are good women, yanno? Jenna? Not even a little bit. She’s rotten clear to the bone,” Cherry says.
Babs adds in another amen. She obviously is a woman of few words.
“Why do you let her stay around then?” I ask confused.
Cherry laughs, and Babs proves me wrong by speaking up, her voice sounds like a woman who smokes ten packs of cigarettes a day.
“The men demand it because she can suck dick like a Hoover. Same reason Dawg even messes with her skanky ass.”
Something cold and bitter twists in my chest. I may not have met Jenna, but I’d like to scratch her eyes out right now.
“Who do all of the kids belong to?” I ask to change the subject, wishing Max would show up so I’d know he’s nowhere near Jenna.
“Members of the Vipers. Those two little blonde hellions over there are Marcum’s twins. Moth’s daughter is over there pulling Blaze’s kid’s hair. Charity Lynn! You stop that this instant or I’m going to have your daddy tan your hide!” Cherr
y says. I watch as the little girl looks at Cherry, and you can see rebellion in everything she does. She’s an adorable child with pale blonde hair curled over her head.
“So, spill it, woman, what’s going on with you and Dawg?” Bab’s asks and suddenly I wish she really didn’t talk.
“I, well…”
“Stop being a nosy bitch, Babs,” Max says coming up behind me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I relax a little.
“Dawg. You’re looking good for a jailbird.”
“Yeah, you’re looking good too, for a chick who’s stuck with Topper.”
