MY LEGS SHAKE as I walk through the bar and out the noisy front door. There was a time when I wouldn’t have smarted off to Darren, much less walked out on him. But times have changed, and so have I, but apparently he hasn’t. Still, I walked away without even thinking about it. Neither of us are in high school anymore, and I’m no longer that terrified and fragile little girl I once was. She’s been gone a long time, and thank God for it, too.
Struggling with the key in the door lock, I waste precious time trying to calm myself down. Taking deep breath after deep breath, forcing myself to relax before trying to unlock the car door, I don’t hear the footsteps approach behind me. A large hand lands atop the roof of my car. I jump in surprise and drop my keys in the gravel below.
“You okay?” Darren’s voice travels through the tunnel of paranoia that overtakes me. He sounds so calm, and so nice, but I know better than to assume he’s not the same person he once was. Nothing he’s done is any different than it used to be. As I turn to face him, he brings up his free hand. I take a step back and press myself against the car. My stomach lurches at the movement, and my face contorts in fear.
Looking him in the eye, I see the softening of his features. His face falls and his forehead smooths. His thin lips turn down, and, for the briefest of moments, I feel sorry for upsetting him, which is beyond fucked up considering our history. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I can be a real jerk. I’m just nervous and sad because I don’t want to mess this up.”
I almost believe him, but even I’m not that stupid.
“Okay,” I say. It’s all I can manage. I can’t bring myself to forgive him, and I can’t say that I trust that he’s being genuine. Not that any of it matters. He’s going to be gone in a few months anyway.
“Okay,” he says and turns around, walking across the gravel lot toward his shiny BMW. Maybe in the last few years he has grown. I guess it’s possible that he really is maturing.
With that, I regain my confidence and easily slide the key into the lock and crawl into the driver’s seat. I check my phone and find eight more missed calls and one from Duke that reads, FINE.
For once, the car starts up immediately. Without another cognitive thought, I pull out of the lot and head north on Main Street. Somewhere in the back of my head, I realize that I’ve missed my turn toward the house, but I keep going. It’s another few blocks before I swing into the left turn lane at Adler Street. I hadn’t really considered what I was doing when I got into the car, but apparently there’s something I need here. Maybe it’s the ability to forget what I’m searching for. Maybe it’s just Duke and all of his fake promises of being there for me that I want to hear. Maybe it’s his strong arms and his imposing size. So as the gates to the Forsaken clubhouse swing open, I don’t delay in hitting the gas and pulling in.
It’s a weekday, but the clubhouse is pretty active regardless. It’s a rare occasion when nobody’s around, and that’s especially true at night. The guys never seem to tire of one another, or at least they don’t very often. Before Dad got locked up, he was always at the clubhouse, and even more so after his bitch wife left us. Parking the car, I climb out, and take my time walking across the lot. Most of the party’s inside, but some of the guys have filtered out here. On a picnic bench between Chel and Bear is Chief. His dark brown eyes meet mine, and a smile spreads across his face. He gave up long ago trying to tell me that I don’t belong here. As my dad’s closest friend, he took it upon himself to try to care for both me and Jeremy. Chief and his absent wife— made evident by the way he and Chel were so close together— have always been good to me and Jeremy.
“Baby Girl,” Chief says. He moves his long, pitch-black hair over his shoulder and leans forward, swinging an arm over Chel’s shoulders. Chel smiles uncomfortably at me and then looks away, but doesn’t move. She knows how fond I am of Chief’s wife, Barbara, and it’s not cool for her to be with Chief in front of me. It makes me feel disloyal to Barbara and their kids, but that’s not something I’m allowed to even touch on, so I don’t.
“What’s up, Old Man?” I ask with a smirk on my face.
“Nothing good, that’s for sure. What are you doing here?” he says. I’ve never understood it— the blind loyalty to the club, but the often disregarded promises these guys make to their wives. How they hang around here and fuck whoever and however they want, totally turning their backs on the people who they’re supposed to love the most. But that’s the problem with club life— the thing these men love the most is the club. It’s always been that way and always will be. The women who marry these guys are just too fucking stupid to accept it.