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I lock the door and then descend the stairwell, head up to my truck and go over to the coffee shop. Rebellion meets me there, and she’s wearing a pair of black jeans with a Mardi Gras purple top. Shoes-wise, she has on some classic Converse. She’s a total kind of artsy girl. The more I see her and chat with her, the more I see it.
“Hey!” She seems overly excited to see me, which oddly makes me feel good and bad at the same time. I genuinely like Rebellion as a person, and I think she likes me. At least she likes the man I’m showing her. Sure, parts of him are me, but I think I’m a bit more complex. I’m glad she likes me because it means what I’m doing is working, and that’s the end goal here. The goal is to get as close as I can to the Burning Heretics MC, and Rebellion is my way to do that. I just hate deceiving her in the process.
“Hey there. You look phenomenal.”
“So do you. I love the whole bad boy vibe you’ve got going on.” Rebellion smiles widely, and there’s a sparkle of mischievousness in her eyes.
“Why, thank you. Did you want to get going, or do you want to grab a coffee first?”
“Honestly, I need a coffee. I’m sure we’ll be up a little late, and I don’t want to zonk out on you. I hardly ever stay up late these days.”
“Enough said. I could use a pick me up too. It’s been one long ass day.”
“Hopefully, just a long day and not a bad one,” Rebellion murmurs, and I nod.
“Yeah, just a long one. Luckily for me, my days are usually never bad ones.”
“You have to tell me how you manage that.” She laughs lightly, but something about the way she’s looking at me tells me she’s serious. There’s a pain in her eyes. A pain she doesn’t want anyone to see, and I . . . I want to knowwhyit’s there. I know I shouldn’t, but why would a woman like her hurt? She’s got everything she could ever want in the world, right?
We both head inside the coffee shop and order our drinks. I pay for the two of us, and when we get them, we head out to my truck. Like a true gentleman, I open the door for Rebellion and then head over to my seat behind the wheel. I start up the truck, and Rebellion proceeds to give me directions to her father’s clubhouse. She’s said the word clubhouse a few times, and I’m acting so casual about it. I guess I should question her on it so I don’t look like I know what she’s talking about.
“So, this is a party at your dad’s house, right?”
“Uh, kind of. It’s at his clubhouse.”
“Clubhouse?” I turn to look at her and raise my eyebrows for a minute, then look back at the road.
“Yeah, my father is in a motorcycle club.” From the corner of my eye, I see she gulps hard. This is probably the part that makes it difficult for her to date.
“Okay. Cool.” Is all I muster up. I don’t want to scare her, and I don’t want to act like it really means anything to me.
I continue following her directions, and within ten minutes, we’re pulling up to the clubhouse. I find a parking spot, and we get out of my truck, but the moment we do, I notice something about her. Rebellion’s body language has suddenly shifted. She’s tense and not nearly as lighthearted. Her shoulders seem stiff, and instead of smiling like she usually does, there’s a stoic expression crossing her face.
“Are you good?” I ask her, not sure if she’s nervous or something.
“Oh, yeah. I’m good.” She offers me a soft smile before returning to her guarded demeanor. Guarded. That’s the perfect word for what she is right now. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m a little stressed out. I was pressured to show up here tonight. My father and I have a tense relationship, so thank you for coming. I’m glad I didn’t have to come alone.”
“I’m glad too. I enjoy spending time with you, Rebellion. As far as complicated relationships with parents, I get that. Don’t worry about anything tonight. Just focus on having fun. This is a party, after all, right?”
“Yeah, it is. Oh! I almost forgot.” Rebellion walks over to my truck and opens the door. She ruffles through her oversized purse and pulls out two masks. One is black with a little bit of flare, while the other is a combination of purple, green, and gold. The fancy one with all the colors is obviously for her since it matches her outfit perfectly. It goes over one side of her face, while mine just covers my eyes and cheekbones. “I made these the other day. I hope you like yours.”
“It looks fuckin’ awesome. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Well, we’d better get inside.”
“Yeah, guess so.” I slide an arm around Rebellion’s waist. I don’t want her to feel unsupported at all. She’s already expressed she’s stressed out about being here, so I’ll do whatever I need to make sure she feels good.
The two of us walk inside through the front door. The clubhouse is packed with people. Every single person has a mask on, and I’m so focused on everyone in the room at first. It doesn’t keep my attention for too long because I’m staring at the walls, and I damn well know Rebellion had to do it. There’s no one else here who could create something so magnificent. “Fuck, you are one talented woman,” I tell her as I stare in awe at what she’s created.
“You like it? I really was going for the whole Mardi Gras vibe.”
“It’s amazing. I can tell you’ve put a lot of thought into everything you’ve done here. Hell, I could see that from the photos you’ve shown me too. You really think about what you’re creating before you do it.”
“Yeah, I do.” Rebellion smiles softly just as a dark-haired man comes up to us. His face is mostly covered, but I don’t think it’s her father.
“Rebel, who’s this here? Huh?” Rebellion seems aggravated as all hell at the nickname this guy is calling her and rolls her eyes.
“Rager, this is my friend, Leon.”
