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His eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t say anything, punching it into the GPS and driving in silence. I stare out the window. Holy shit. Mom is going to bepissed. I need to speak with Wren.
Maybe they can front me some cash to pay the first and last month's rent for an apartment. Crap. I hope Lisa says I can stay in their second bedroom until I find my own place.
He pulls into the clubhouse compound, and I climb out, hesitating, my eyes glued to my suitcase.
“I can leave that here as collateral while I get the cash.”
“What collateral?”
I glance around and recognize Bullseye, the blond biker from The Pines who is a year older than me.
“My suitcase. I need to borrow the cab fare from Lisa.”
Bullseye snorts, pulling his wallet out and shoving some cash at the driver. He grabs my suitcase, helping me carry it into the clubhouse.
“I-I’ll pay you back,” I stutter. Bullseye smirks over at me.
“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as a welcome gift.”
I frown because that doesn’t make sense, but I smile tentatively. I think he’s trying to be friendly. I’m not about to throw that back in his face.
Lisa’s eyes drop to my suitcase as we walk in.
“Are you moving in?” she jokes. Bullseye walks out, pulling the door shut behind him, and I sigh.
“Yes. Is your second bedroom available?”
Lisa’s eyebrows shoot up, and she shrugs. “Yeah, but are you sure you’re gonna need it?”
“Yeah. Mom won’t let me back in the house. I can be sure of that.”
Lisa looks like she’s about to say something else but shrugs, grabbing her keys.
“Come on, let’s get you settled.”
Relief courses through me. Thank god for that. I really didn’t want to have to be homeless. I wouldn’t last a day on the streets.
MERCH
My finger hits the call button again, and I curse as it rings out. I slam the front door, striding out of the building. Fucking hell.
Throwing my leg over my rig, I roar to the clubhouse, striding to Lisa’s office. Fucking empty.
“Fuck!” I snap, turning to stalk out of the room, almost barging right over Wren Esk, where she stands in the doorway.
“Problem?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Taking a deep breath, I try to get my anger and panic under control.
“Shelley’s not answering her phone,” I growl, glowering at Wren. “She’s not at home. She’s not at Palmer’s. She’s not here.”
Wren chews her lip, sighing. “I dropped her in Pinedale.”
She did fucking what? I keep glaring at her, but there’s nothing I can say. She’s Bruiser’s old lady. Fuck. I grind my teeth as Wren recites the address. Punching it into my phone, I storm out of the clubhouse and jump on my rig, turning for Pinedale.
Wren's address is some big, fuck off, three-level McMansion. I can’t picture Shelley here. Michelle, maybe, but not my Shelley. Fuck it. I’ll go in there and take her back. There’s nothing for it.
Striding up to the front door, I grit my teeth and press the doorbell. No answer. Growling, I hammer on the door for about a minute straight. Still no fucking answer. Fuck.
Maybe Lisa will know a way to contact her. She’ll probably be at the clubhouse. I should have checked the café before I left.
