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AGED 18
“Happy Birthday.” Skid’s voice is about as enthusiastic as a husky biker can get, and the cupcake he’s holding looks tiny in his huge, oily palm.
“Really?” Placing my hand on my hip, I scowl at him. He knows I don’t do birthdays, I’m against sentimental shit like that.
“Come on, not every day a girl turns eighteen.”
I manage a smile back at him before I snatch the damn thing out his hand. In one sharp blow, I extinguish the candle, then trail my finger through the frosting and bring it up to my mouth, sucking in the creamy goodness.
Chop sits at the desk watching me, his narrow eyes immediately causing me to pull my finger from my mouth. Suddenly the frosting doesn’t taste quite so sweet.
“Here, it ain’t much, but we had to get ya somethin’.” Skid holds out a gift, it’s clear from the way it’s presented that Carly’s wrapped it…
I undo the ribbon slowly, trying to remember the last time I got given a gift, then I quickly shake the dark memory that resurfaces away. Opening the paper, I can’t help smiling when I see the bright pink overalls, with ‘Rogue’ embroidered on the chest.
I’ve been hanging out here at the club’s garage for nearly ten years now, I even dropped out of school when I was sixteen so I could spend more time here. Of course, Skid flipped his nut when he first found out, but I managed to talk him around eventually.
But today, this is their way of telling me that I’m here for keeps. That I belonged here with them. And it means a hella lot to me.
“We’ve just about taught you everything we can. You officially ain’t the garage bitch no more,” Skid laughs, slapping me hard on the back.
“Thanks.” I launch myself at him, my arms not quite able to wrap all the way around his massive shoulders. He affectionately squeezes me back, almost taking all the air from my lungs. When he lets me go, I slowly edge toward Chop.
“Thanks, Chop.” I tense as I lean in and give him a hug too. Things between me and Chop have always been a little cold, Skid tries telling me he’s that way with everyone, but I sense differently.
Chop returns my hug loosely, his firm tap on my back signaling when we’re done.
“Carly wants you to come by the cabin tonight for dinner, that’s unless you got any other plans of course?” Skid picks up the clipboard and slides a pen behind his ear.
I’ve never been one for socializing around the club. I show up, I work, I go home. Skid and Carly are good people. They are kind to me, but they aren’t my family.
Still, the thought of spending my birthday alone isn’t all that appealing.
“Sure,” I nod, and I can tell Skid is pleased with my answer. How hard will it be to hang out around theirs for a few hours after work, eat some food? I enjoy their company.
“Dinner will be at eight.” Skid winks, before leaving the office to get stuck into the day’s jobs. I give Chop an awkward smile before following Skid out into the workshop.
Chop may look similar to his brother, but he’s very different in nature. He’s never mentioned anything about how I'd come to be here, not since the day he caught me stealing, but I know he doesn't trust me, and the feeling is mutual.
By late afternoon, Chop has done his usual and gone AWOL, leaving Skid and me up to our necks. The silence out on the yard quickly turns into chaos, and Jessie charges into the garage like a bull.
“Skid, we got to ride out.” His hand slams his against the bonnet of the car Skid’s working on. Rolling out from under the chassis, Skid is up on his feet and stripped of his overalls in seconds.
“You’re gonna have to manage things till me or Chop get back,” he instructs, pulling his cut over his shoulders. Whatever shit the club has going on sounds pretty serious, and it’s likely that’s where Chop is occupied too.
“I’m a big girl now, remember?” I tease, shooing him away.
“See you back at mine later,” he says, before rushing out the door and leaving me with a stack of jobs to do by myself. So, I crank up the stereo, pick up my wrench and get back to work.
Being busy is something I never take for granted. My mind only ever seems clear when I have tasks to put my energy into. I continue to work past dusk, and curse myself when I check the time and realize it’s already past 7. There’s no way I’ll have time to go home and change before dinner now, and with no sign of Skid or Chop, it looks like I’m gonna have to lock up by myself too.
Struggling out of my overalls, I do a quick check of myself in the mirror. Almost all my make-up from this morning has worn off. So I quickly touch up, pull my hair out of the messy bun on top of my head and try my best to smooth it out.
The low rumble of the roller door closing causes me to jump, and I spin around ready to curse Skid for damn nearly giving me a heart attack. Instead, I freeze when a very pissed-looking Chop is standing in front of me. His arms hanging at his sides and his fists clenched tight. He’s breathing real heavy, like there’s something he needs to get off his chest, and I quickly scroll my head for reasons for his anger to be directed at me.
“Did I scare ya, darlin’?” Chop moves a few paces toward me, and I step backward until the metal filing cabinet prevents me from going any further. I recognize the look his eyes hold, have seen it more times than I like to remember, and when he rubs his lips together like a hungry predator, gut instinct tells me exactly what's coming.
“You look worried, Rogue,” he taunts, hanging his head to the side as his body presses into mine. Judging from the reek on his breath, he’s drunk enough to ignite.
