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“Apple, of course. This is fucking Apple Andy’s, ain’t it? The only place west of the Mississippi with the bestapplepie, am I right? Ain’t that what it says on the sign?” Could he be the leader of the gang? He was the only one talking and seemed to be in control.
“Sorry, we’re all out.” I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders. “We have blueberry and pecan left.”
“You’re out?” the man growled as he rolled the hand at his side into a fist. “Not okay!”
“Yes.” I stepped back and prepared to run for the bathroom to lock myself in if this guy lost his mind over a slice of pie. Although, the entrance door was closest. I could bolt and run home. It wasn’t far, only a few blocks.
Meanwhile, one of the bikers could follow and kill my family and me in a fit of rage, all over a stupid slice of apple pie. The thought sounded ridiculous even to me. But these weren’t reasonable people. It were times like these I wished I’d taken self-defense classes, like my mother had suggested. How would I protect myself if one of these bikers flipped out?
“It’s okay, Uncle Keg. I don’t need apple pie.” Maybe one of them wasn’t insane. “What about a chocolate shake and fries?” the younger guy asked.
“Sure, I can get you that.” Slowly I lifted my gaze and looked at him. His sad gray eyes met mine, and my heart stumbled over my lungs and dropped into my belly. He was the hottest guy I’d ever seen in my life. His dark hair was short on the side, long and wavy on the top, and styled back. He wore a black leather vest and had tattoos on his arms. He actually looked like a rock star. If he could sing like Axl Rose, I’d be his number-one fan and fall to my knees to worship him.
“No fucking way!” the leader shouted. He reached for my skirt, fisted the fabric, and jerked me toward him.
“Ah!” I tripped over my feet and collided with his hefty body. “Let go of me!”
“Uncle Keg! I said it was okay!”
“My nephew always eats apple pie today,” he hissed through his clenched yellow teeth, his face mere inches from mine. He smelled of booze, smoke, and sweat.Disgusting. “Make him one.”
I tried to tug out of his grasp. “Please let me go. It’s not my fault we’re out of apple pie. The baker only makes so many a day, so they don’t get tossed out at closing. You should’ve been in earlier if you wanted the best apple pie west of the Mississippi. Obviously, others would want it too.”Shut up, Ella!My mouth was running off on its own.
The other men chuckled.
“You work here. It’s your fault. Now get RJ some fucking apple pie!”
“I don’t fucking want any, Keg. Just leave it alone.” The guy RJ launched to his feet and tugged me away. The sound of my uniform skirt ripping sent a bolt of ice down my spine. Holy terror and embarrassment crashed into my chest.
My face heated when I noticed the pink material in the old jerk’s grubby hand. “Oh my God!” I screeched and pushed away from RJ.
He stared at my exposed thighs as I backed up toward the counter. They all stared at me. Some with sinister smirks, others with heated gazes.
No one helped me. Not Brenda. Not the cook in the back. Not the panty-melting biker rockstar I had previously wanted to worship instead of Axl Rose. If he climbed onto the table and sang “Paradise City,” it would go a long way at this moment…
Get a grip, Ella!My teen girl fantasies were distracting me from the situation at hand. But also, the chaotic emotions pummeling my internal organs was confusing the heck out of me. Was it genuine fear or something else?
I was alone, unable to defend myself against four muscly, scary bikers. What sixteen-year-old girl could? Not me. But they pissed me off to no end, and I couldn’t be silent about it…
“You animals!” Traitorous tears stung my eyes. “There’s no stupid apple pie! So go home and bake your own, assholes!” I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in. Thought it better than going home, in the event one of them followed to teach me a lesson for my disobedience.
My knees buckled, and I broke down in a crying fit on the filthy floor. What was happening to me? I found myself scared one second and excited the next. I was filled with adrenaline, and I had no idea if it was good or bad.
It seemed I’d been right. The more I was around theriffraff, the more I liked them. One in particular.
I wanted to hate Scornrock, South Dakota, and the wicked locals. Hate my parents for moving me here and exposing me to foul-mouthed, violent men. And hate myself for being curious about their world.
I bent my knees, wrapped my arms around my legs, and lowered my head, crying. What was happening to me?
It seemed like hours had passed when a knock on the door made me jump. I held my breath. Could it be a customer? Or Brenda?
Another knock. “Hey, you okay in there?”
I recognized the biker rockstar’s voice.
“You don’t need to be afraid. My uncle’s a dick, but he won’t lay a hand on you.”
“He tore my skirt.” I wiped under my eyes to make sure my tears had dried up and got to my feet.
