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"That's it, Starry; dip the clutch; that's it; that's my girl." I giggle as Zayne laughs from the back seat. "Get it, Firefly."
I blink my eyes, wiping away some of my tears at the memory. I was only 8 years old when my father came home with this Jeep Wrangler for me. I remember like it was yesterday: my mother was worried while my sister was pissed because she was told she'd have had to have mom's old car because of her behavior in school, while Zayne jumped in the back laughing his butt off because my dad was trying to hold me at a certain height in order to see the windshield while also touching the pedals.
I wipe away the tears and take a deep breath. I can do this; I know I can.
Am I scared? Yes, yes, I am.
But I can do this for my dad; my results came back negative, so it's time.
I climb into the driver's seat, not even looking at my tiny, moldy flat, before reversing out of the parking spot. I'm meeting a guy named Timmy who's in high school. I swallow hard; I can do this.
I get to the high school parking lot within ten minutes, where he requested we meet, and a geeky kid stands next to an old blue Ford, looking concerned when I pull up next to it. He swallows hard, seeing my car, and I quickly climb out while he puts his hands up. "I don't know what game you're playing, Miss, but it seems you've got the perfect car, so I don't understand why you'd want to buy mine."
I give him a smile. "My car is perfect, but I need to go under the radar for a little bit, and I was wondering instead of me buying your car." I take a deep breath.I'm sorry, Daddy. "What about a swap?"
His chocolate eyes pop out of his head; they widen that much, and I just give him a smile. "I know you want money to add to your savings to buy a new one, so I thought this would be the perfect solution for both of us, but there's one condition," he nods, still speechless, "you treat this car with respect."
"You serious?"
I nod. "I need a fresh start, and I'll also need help swapping my stuff over."
That snaps him out of his shocked state before he opens all his car doors and boot, then goes over to my Jeep. No, now his Jeep is helping me move all of my stuff to my new old car, which should keep me incognito not only from the club but also from Hairy, the Devil's VP, their traitor, and the man who thought my father screwed his mother, knocking her up and ultimately causing her death.
I finally found out the truth after years of searching, and it wasn't easy.
Hairy's mother had a 'thing' with his then-current president, who also happened to be Snake's dad. She kept videos of her riding the then-passed-out Pres, who is still very much with hisold lady, whom he adores, hidden away, and I finally found them after delving into their pasts. She drugged him, and her online diary—seriously amateur—stated she bought roofies and basically raped him, and to this day he is unaware. When Hairy's dad, Bullet, found out she was cheating after he found the pregnancy tests, knowing he was sterile, she panicked, thinking the man whom she was obsessed with would be killed, so she told him and her son that it was my dad because he was in their clubhouse at the time doing business. It was the wrong time and the wrong place for my dad. Bullet didn't believe her because he knew how much my father loved my mother and his kids, so Bullet killed her for what she did, but only when her blood tests came back that there was no baby, and that obviously ticked Hairy off, still believing my dad's the culprit despite his mother being crazy and decided to take my dad while screwing with our club over the years.
I was just collateral damage to the whole thing.
Swallowing hard I take one last look at my dark blue Jeep. Memory after memory of myself, my father, and Zayne flash through my mind. I give Timmy a one-handed wave before getting in the Ford, happy he cleaned it before starting it up, driving away from the last thing I've ever treasured. I drive for about twenty minutes before coming up to the parking lot next to the Hudson Bridge, and I quickly park and lock the car up, then head to the Uber I ordered before leaving the high school.
It was time to put my plans into motion and say goodbye.
A few hours later, I'm sitting at the club bar, drinking whiskey. I'm only on my first glass. I don't want to be intoxicated by this. I'm in my own head, with my father on my mind. Today's his 46thbirthday—another birthday he has to spend with a psycho.
Like mother, like son if you ask me.
I drown the rest of my glass, putting my hand on the whiskey bottle in front of me, wondering if another glass would be wise when two very strong tattooed arms wrap around my waist. I tense up. I know it's Zayne; my body knew the moment he entered the dull brown common room.
I look down and see the shooting star on his left arm, the words, 'Always my star forever my heart' coming into view, and my eyes tear up.
One night, I'll forget about everything.
He didn't shove women in my face.
He didn't shove my own sister in my face.
He didn't leave me on our friend's date, where I ended up being raped.
I wasn't raped, and I don't feel dirty all the time.
One night, just him and me.
He puts his face in the crook of my neck from behind before rasping, "How's my Firefly on this hard day?"
My tears fall and I sniffle, my answer coming out as a question, "Co-coping?"
I feel him smile a little before he gently says, "Come on, baby, let's go to my room, and we can drink in there without prying eyes and without people constantly asking if you're okay," and I don't fight him when he leans back and takes my hand before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I don't fight him when he takes me to his room, where we reminisce and laugh at old memories.
