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“You both promised trouble would never end up at her doorstep. I was naive to believe you could make that happen. I was naive to believe that your group was a club and not a gang. That you played by the rules.”
“The club is legit. You know that,” snaps Olivia. “Don’t blame this on our way of life.”
That sets Mom into a tailspin and she’s off the bed, her tablet bouncing in her hand, and we get dizzying views of the hotel in Louisville. Olivia leans back so that her head is behind mine.
“Your mother always had a flare for the dramatic,” she tells me.
I say nothing in response because she’s correct.
“Eli promised your mom that if you stayed, the truth would stay buried,” Olivia whispers to me. “You’re calling her to see if she’ll tell you what you’re starting to realize is true, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would she do that when lying to you has worked so well?” Olivia pushes a stray hair of mine behind my ear. “You loved for me to brush your hair, but you don’t remember that, do you? Your dinner is on the nightstand. Of course, you’re more than welcome to join us in the kitchen if you’d like company.”
She leaves as easily as she waltzed in. The scene before me is blurred and then my father appears on the screen. “Calm down, Meg. Let me handle this. What’s going on, Emily?”
I draw my hair over my shoulder and twine my fingers into the strands. My father grew up in a gated community with parents who tried to shelter him. He craved to see the world. They demanded he stay home. He had courage, defied them and left. If he had never done that, he would have never met Mom, and he would have never adopted me.
How many times has he told me that story? A hundred times? A million? First as my own personalized fairy tale as he tucked me into bed at night. When I became scared of the dark at eight, it was the fable to show me what would be won if I found courage, then he recounted it several times over the past two years to inspire me to fly.
Well, I’m somewhere new and I’m flapping these new wings like crazy, and you’re right, Mom’s not going to spill. “Everything’s fine, Dad, but I don’t think Olivia and Mom like each other very much.”
Oz
MY BIKE PURRS beneath me and the wind blows through my hair. No helmet this morning and Mom will be pissed, but I don’t care. The open road calms me and since Emily’s popped into my life, I’ve been restless.
The first light of dawn peeks out in the east. Emily and I never did see that sunrise. Truth be told, I don’t know what to think of her. She’s hot, has an attitude, can kiss and she sure as hell is handling this insane shit better than I expected, meaning she hasn’t gone psycho and shot any of us yet.
It’s been three days since she said goodbye to her parents. I’ve been around but mostly keeping my distance, and I’m not the only one. Emily’s silent as a church mouse and spends most of her time in her room. At least she does when I’m at Olivia’s.
I downshift and ease near the group of motorcycles parked by the clubhouse. Standing beside the bikes are their owners. Some smoke cigarettes. A few drink from steaming mugs.
With coffeepot and foam cups in hand, Mom flutters about with a smile on her face. Her black hair is drawn back into a messy knot and she wears her Terror Gypsies cut. The Terror Gypsies support the Reign of Terror and their membership is made up of the Terror’s old ladies. Can’t be a member unless you’re an old lady and you have to be an old lady who plans on sticking around for good.
Because Eli only does one-nighters and Olivia had to relinquish her duties, Mom is now the highest-ranking member of the Terror Gypsies. Most of the time, Mom doesn’t mind the job. Dad loves the club and she loves Dad. As I said before, women like her are rare gems.
Eli nods his chin at me as I shut off the engine and swing off my bike. He leaves the circle of guys he was talking with and flicks his cigarette into the yard as he strides toward me. “Morning, Oz.”
“What’s up?”
Eli scans the yard to confirm no one else is listening then turns his back to the crowd. “Until I get back, you’re Emily’s last line of defense. I’m trusting you with her and I’ll be real fucking pissed if she gets hurt, you read me?”
Like a book. Eli told me last night how he’ll have other guys posted near the main road, but he doesn’t want Emily to feel imprisoned. “Stick with her, but give her room and don’t let her know you’re carrying. That could scare her. You can let Emily wander the woods as long as you’re with her, but she doesn’t leave our property.”
“That would require her to leave her room.”
Eli freezes ice with the glare he gives me. “Cut her some slack. This isn’t her world. I’m hoping when we leave she’ll relax and at least open up with Olivia.”
Doubt it. Emily’s withdrawn already and she hasn’t even seen what the club is really like in action. Cyrus and Eli ordered everyone to stay away to allow Emily room to adjust so the clubhouse has been empty when usually it’s streaming with people.
“Are you getting me on how you need to handle things?” presses Eli.
“I got it.” Just like I understood it last night. Keep Emily happy and in her helpless unrealistic bubble.
“One more thing,” he says. “You keep my past a secret. If Emily wants to know about me then you dodge the question. If you hear anyone talk about me, Meg or anything involving the two of us you steer Emily clear.”
“So Emily lived here for two years of her life. The end result’s still the same. What’s it matter if she knows?”
