Bitter Sweet Beginnings (4 page)

It’s like a time capsule in here, a frozen picture of when things were perfect. But, I know they aren’t anymore.

As I place my things on the kitchen counter, an image flashes in my mind of Clink bending me over that same counter to where my fingers were clammering and gripping at the edge for dear life as he pounded me relentlessly while I screamed his name in ecstasy.

I shake my head hard to rid myself of the thoughts, but I’m not fast enough. Just the mere memory of that encounter has my body reeling in a conflicted web of emotion. I hate him on one hand, while I crave him on the other. I turn from the counter as if that will somehow leave the memory in its place.

Next, I move along to the living room where the extensive set-up of electronics is displayed. I rest my hand on the back of the tall, leather man’s chair and instantly, I flashback to Clink sitting in this chair with his legs spread as I sat between them, kneeling on the floor, dragging his attention from the large screen on the wall with my teasing tongue, until I was the center of his focus and the football game forgotten.

I close my eyes and curse myself for revisiting the night that introduced me to the surefire way to steal my man’s attention… let’s just say it involved my mouth, an ice cube, and the eleven inches of his body that succumbed to my command.

The hallway is darkened, with only the sunlight from either end offering light. I trace my fingers along the flattened walls and remember being hoisted up against them, his body filling me and pushing higher and higher as I held on, scratching my marks deep into his back as he delivered intense orgasm after orgasm, never tiring as his strong muscles supported us both for what must have been an hour or more.

I picture the imaginary trail of clothes left behind as if they are actually still there, ripped into shreds as he impatiently tore them from my body.

I step over each of those ghosts as I make my way further down, past all of the closed doors to the one at the end. The one that he savagely kicked down during one of our blowout fights.

It was stupid. I don’t even remember what we had fought about. Sometimes, I think we egged each other on, to fight about something inconsequential just to get to the making up. And that night, boy did we make up. Over and over until we were both apologizing for pissing the other off.

Well, that might be a stretch. Clink had a way of apologizing without ever having to admit fault. I guess it was the stubborn, macho, caveman in him that taught him how to be able to do that over the years.

The door was fixed the next day, but I couldn’t help but think of that raw masculinity he had oozed while kicking it in after I had locked him out every single time I passed through the doorframe. I won’t lie. Each time I walked through it, I tingled down where he staked ownership.

He knew it, too. He would just follow me into the bedroom and find me well lubed and ready for him to take me without any foreplay or even a dirty word. The door was enough of a turn-on in its own right.

The bed is made, the carpet recently vacuumed. It’s clear that the prospects are watching over the place while Clink’s out of town. There were years where those prospects were the main caregivers of this place while Clink had written it off and essentially left it to rot after his ex had taken off with baby Brendan.

I’ll never forget the first night he brought me here, shared this place with me. I was scared as hell. He might have been, too, but he never let on. That first night came out of nowhere, and it marked the turning point for us.

That was the first night, the beginning, and I hadn’t spent more than a single night back at my own place… that was until after I was released from the hospital. I didn’t even think to come back here after that, it just simply wasn’t an option in my mind.

I knew he wouldn’t be here. I knew he would have taken Brendan with him, and without the two of them, this place is nothing more than a tomb of painful memories.

The bed is what begs my attention next. I find myself walking against my better judgment toward it. I collapse into it and crawl up in a ball, hugging my knees close, a small twinge of pain radiating from the incision in my back from the movement. I wince, but accept the pain as some sort of cosmic punishment for all my sins.

The tears begin to pool, and then explode like a dam being burst into the pillow as I sob so hard the shaking ripples violently through my body until I’ve spent every tear I have.

~*~

I feel his hand snake up under my shirt, warm, hot even, harshly pushing aside the fabric of my top. His roughened skin is powerfully moving, splayed out over my flattened belly and kneading its way upward.

It doesn’t take long for his fingertips to find the peaked tips of my breasts, rolling them between the long extensions of his hand. I moan, stirring from the sleep he’s torn me from.

“How was the run?” I ask sleepily through the dark as his lips find the skin of my shoulder, his teeth latching onto the thin strap of my tank top, pulling the string-like apparatus down.

“Long,” he answers in a single syllable, his lips quickly returning to the flesh he craves. He’s been gone for three days, leaving me alone here in his home although he reprimands me whenever I refer to it as that.

The last time I called it “his home” he pulled me across his knee and spanked my bare ass until I gave in and admitted it was my home now, too, before rewarding me with his finger, deep inside, preparing me for where his dick would soon settle.

I roll over, my breast bouncing free from the thin, poor excuse of a tank top. “Welcome home, baby.”

His lips take mine, deep, demanding, making up for the lost nights while he was gone.

“Miss me?” he asks.

He doesn’t give me an opportunity to answer, though, as my mouth is taken in his. His hands snake down to my hips, gripping and pulling hard to move me down under him, his body settling in between my knees, spreading them to fit perfectly on either side of him.

He’s naked, wearing nothing but his tats as I feel every inch of his bare skin on mine, rubbing furiously against each other like feral animals in heat. My hands grip around his muscles, urging him on, as his body reacquaints itself with mine.

I push the covers aside and away from us, our bodies heating up the space, causing tiny beads of sweat to break out on my brow, matching the moisture that builds on his back, slipping under my hands as they stroke the indent of his spine.

I find myself growing anxious, needing his body as much as I need the air I breath. The pent-up frustrations over the last few days are escaping, adding fervor to my movements. I bite his tongue with just enough pressure for him to understand the need I feel.

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “It’s gonna be like that, hmmm?”

His hands disappear down between my thighs, pushing the tiny strip of fabric covering my opening aside, and his body thrusts inside harshly. I squeal in delight, clapping my hands down to the flesh of his ass clenching tightly as he buries himself.

He pauses just long enough for us to both take in the moment, that second where you get what you’ve been wanting, been lusting for while apart. He doesn’t linger long, gathering himself for the hard work he executes so perfectly. The headboard bangs loudly against the wall behind us, marking each thrust with a loud bang that adds to the excitement.

His powerful shoulders flex above me, supporting his weight as I lie underneath, vulnerable to his size. His hands snake into my hair holding my head where he wants it, while his kisses bore deeply.

“Yes!” I call out loudly as he’s gotten me close enough, to almost touch the prize.

My words prove to have power over him, causing his actions to double in intensity, knowing that he’s about to give me what only he can. And I take it, I take every inch, every thrust, every ounce of his body that he gives and let it work its magic over me.

I quickly place my knuckle between my teeth, using it to stifle my screams as he throws me over the edge, exploding around him.

He takes my hand in his, weaving our fingers into each other’s and away from my mouth.

“I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole fucking world to hear you. To hear how your man takes care of business when he gets home.”

And I’m damn sure the whole fucking world heard me.

~*~

I waken harshly, jetting upright while panting furiously.

It was a dream
. A fucking dream, no more real than the title he had once given me.

I feel sick to my stomach at the first moment of peace I’ve felt in days, only to know that it was no more than the wishful thinking of my subconscious. And, it worked, too.

The skin on my arms prickle in gooseflesh as it felt his imaginary touch. The crotch of my panties soaked from his imaginary body having his way with me. But what hurts the most? My heart. Because for one split second, it felt the love I’m certain it will never feel again.

Disgusted with myself, I quickly leave our old bed,
his bed
behind and close the bedroom door, sealing those memories inside where I pray they’ll rest in peace and no longer haunt me.

I almost run past the closed door to my left. Brendan’s room. I can’t even bring myself to open it, to look about at the small boy’s things. It will wreck me. I’m smart enough to know that if I enter that room, I won’t be able to leave of my own volition.

Dashing into the kitchen where I had placed my things earlier, I rummage around in my purse for my key ring and clumsily work the key fob detaching the metal key Clink had given me.

Once it’s free from my collection, I place it in the middle of the table, with the hollow thudding of the steel ringing through me, signaling some type of finality to all this.

The one other possession I have that, for my own sanity, must not leave this place with me… is the leather cut with his patch on it.

It was mine for such a short while, and truth be told, I never thought I’d grow attached to what I had initially seen as a title of degrading oppression.

PROPERTY OF….

I’ve always been fiercely independent. The thought of being someone’s
property
, was not something someone like me could tolerate. That’s what I thought… but then I grew to understand the meaning of the words. In his world, that was the strongest of a declaration that a man could make to a woman.

It was his word. And now, his word was as good as shit with his taking off and abandoning me. A sudden rage takes hold of me and I blindly reach into the butcher block for the shears, using them to cut my way through the vest, almost exactly in half, from seam to seam, breaking the patches in two.

There. Now it’s truly fitting.

Broken.

Just like his words, his promises.

Broken.

Just like me.

Grabbing my bag, I escape the house and all that was once precious to me, pulling the locked door handle behind me, the remnants of the leather cut left on the table.

My car is my only refuge right now. I seal myself inside and start the engine, eager to leave this place and never return. Before I place my bag on the passenger seat, I find the one thing I know will help numb the pain.

I twist off the cap and pour two of the little magic pills into my palm, before swallowing them dry. Looking into the hollow orange plastic cave that was once full, I tell myself that I need to get more.

CHAPTER FOUR

CLINK

“More turtles, daddy! More turtles!”

I laugh to myself as I adjust the steering wheel in one hand while sifting through the loose DVD’s in the center console to find one that he hasn’t watched a
bazillion
fucking times already. I’m careful as I switch out the movies inside the dash, pushing the buttons to begin another couple hours of entertainment for my boy.

He has his little earphones on listening to the cartoons, allowing me peace and quiet. Normally, I think any parent would welcome that. But… on this trip it’s gotta be the worst thing for me. All it does is leave me alone with the thoughts in my head. Thoughts I try like hell to avoid, but, I just can’t help but punish myself.

Nothing helps.

I know if I were on my bike, it would be different. The wind whipping in my face, the loud noise of the road, I’d be able to think of anything except her. Anything except Sugar.

I haven’t seen her in days, having left the very night after I confronted her in the hospital recovery room. But that doesn’t make her any less real to me. The conversations I have in my head are almost as if she were sitting right here next to me, answering for her crimes.

It’s all my fucking fault
.

I knew there was something up with her from the moment I laid eyes on her. She was carrying some heavy shit on those shoulders. I could see it in her eyes. All the little clues I convinced myself to overlook… Jay catching her snooping at the clubhouse, lying about where she came from, her ma, Dana… I should have known better.

I didn’t want to, though. It’s as plain and simple as that.

I didn’t want her to be anything other than what I had convinced myself she was…
my Sugar
.

I could have saved us both, not to mention everybody else involved, especially my boy, a whole lot of fucking heartbreak if I had just looked further into it. Who knows? If I had found out the truth early on, maybe it would have been something I could have gotten over.

Fucking with the Prez’s daughter isn’t something you just jump into, but it could have worked, she would have been worth it. But, finding out at this late stage in the game?

She made a fool of me. She weaseled her way into my home, my life, my heart, only to carry out some sick fucking twisted part of her plan.

I play devil’s advocate with myself and argue that it can’t be true.

If she were simply here to use me and destroy her pop, then she never would have done some of the things she did. She wouldn’t have risked her nursing license to help Lil’s when Jay was in deep shit, not for a brother she barely knew and probably hated.

She wouldn’t have donated her marrow to Vince to save his life.

And she wouldn’t have taken to my boy like she did.

It just… it doesn’t fit.

On the one hand she’s an evil, self-serving, conniving, lying bitch… but on the other, she’s a fucking saint.

Women are fucking crazy. And she’s making me crazy right along with her.

~*~

THEN

“
You understand what I’m telling you, son?”

Looking back now, I know I didn’t understand the full weight of his words, but back then, I thought I did.

“How long will you be away for?” I ask my pop.

My dad was the strongest, bravest guy I knew. If he was asking me to step up and be the man around the house while he was gone, I knew I had only one answer for him. I’d done it before. But, it helped to know just how long he was going away for each time.

He lifted his hand, pushing back on the faded grey bandana that was serving as a cap, and ran his fingers through his reddish hair. That’s how he got his road name, Rusty. Because of his hair.

“Don’t know, kiddo. A year, ten months with good behavior, maybe.”

If it were true, then that would be one of his longest stretches behind bars.

“You take care of your momma. See to it that she don’t worry herself sick. You don’t give her no reason to make this harder than it has to be. She don’t need to worry about you, too, you hear?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He play punched me in the arm. “Thatta boy. You go to school, get good grades, do your chores around here… and don’t give your momma no lip. I may be going away, but I hear one bit about you acting up, you best believe it won’t take long for that shit to get straightened out.”

Didn’t I know it. My pop may not be around, but that didn’t mean the rest of his brothers wouldn’t step in in a heartbeat to beat my ass if he gave the OK. Hell, sometimes, they didn’t even wait for the directive. They were all my defacto-uncles and if I was getting out of line and they saw it… let’s just say, it wasn’t fun.

“When do you have to turn in?” I asked him.

“Tomorrow. Gonna ride up tomorrow afternoon.”

Whenever a brother turned-in to the pen, the entire club rode out with him, one last run, with the soon to be inmate taking the lead, regardless of his position in the club. For that trip, there were no titles. President, Vice-Prez, enforcer, road captain… they had no place there.

It was simply life-long friends, brothers, supporting their own before he’s taken from them. I knew we would all see them off, meeting at the clubhouse and gathering around as they left for the ride. I’d say my goodbye then, with my ma, even though I wanted so bad to be on one of those bikes.

I was nearly old enough, but not quite. Soon, though… soon I would be one of them, able to make that last ride to say goodbye at the end, at the gate, like a man, in those last few moments when the reality of the shit sets in. When a man is faced with the true consequences he’s about to face. That’s when he’d need the support of his club the most. I can’t be there for him like that tomorrow, but it wasn’t too far off.

The night before my dad began to serve his time was always quiet around the house, with the club leaving us to ourselves to savor each moment with him. That night, I remember I had given my parents privacy by hiding out in my room, listening to the newest Metallica album while fantasizing about when I would be able to ride with my own patches on my back.

I had slipped out to grab a soda from the kitchen, but stopped when I saw my ma and pop slow dancing in the living room. There wasn’t any music playing. There weren’t any lights on. They weren’t saying any words.

In that moment, they weren’t just my parents… it was a man and his Ol’ Lady. She was resting her head on his shoulder, crying silently, and he was resting his chin against her hair. His eyes were closed. I could see his lips moving just the tiniest bit, whispering things in her ear. Things only meant to be shared between them.

His hand was rubbing her back, calming her.

And then I saw the one thing that I remember most about my pop. Right there, in that living room, during his last night with us as he was saying goodbye to his wife, the mother of his son, and the Ol’ Lady that had his back… I saw the glimmer of a tear in the inner corner of his closed eye.

It never fell.

It just stayed there as I watched them from the shadows dancing their last dance together, though neither of them knew it. Looking back I knew that I would settle for nothing less than what they had.

~*~

NOW

My ma’s place up by the lake is peaceful and quiet, just as she likes it. Years after my pop passed, and I was busy with the club and my own life, she decided to pack up and move out here away from the chaos.

Pop had left her with plenty of cash, and she gets a pretty healthy income from his stake in club investments… but I pick up the tab for whatever I can.

She’s made enough sacrifices in her life, and I know my pop wouldn’t have wanted her to do without.

It’s getting late, with the sun setting hours ago. I pull into the familiar drive as it winds through the woods and up to the cabin. My headlights are bright against the deep colors of night that paint the house.

The lights are on inside, though, even at this late hour, and the car isn’t even fully turned off before my ma comes flying out in her bathrobe and slippers with her arms outstretched.

“Finally!” she calls across the lawn as she draws closer. “I thought you’d never get here!”

I’m careful to close the car door softly, as Brendan was sleeping in the backseat last time I checked.

“Hey, ma.” I scoop her small frame up and twirl her around as I hug tight. I haven’t seen her in about four months or so, and it feels good to be here. “Sorry. We had to make a few more stops than I thought. The boy’s always hungry.”

She laughs and slaps my shoulder playfully to put her down. “ ‘Course he is! He’s just like his daddy and his granddaddy! Never could feed you boys enough. Where is he?”

I lift my chin over to the truck, signaling the back seat.

She smiles broadly and leaves me, her only child and son, to go get my boy. Because of the nasty shit that went down when Brendan was a baby, his momma didn’t let me or my ma see him much.

Ma hasn’t seen her grandson in nearly two years. I step back and watch the reunion as it unfolds.

“Come ‘ere, darlin’. Gram’s here now.”

She scoops Brendan up in her arms and masterfully works the confusion of buckles and straps to free him from his seat. She’s petite but manages to balance him well as she steps forth to carry him into the house. I stay close by just in case.

The cabin is just as I remember, with the old brown carpeting and wood-paneled walls. Ma moves right passed the furniture and carries her only grandchild down the hall to the guestroom, settling him on one of the two twin beds that occupy the space.

I make a movement to turn on the light switch but she quickly reprimands me with a harsh look. “You’ll wake him,” she whispers.

Brendan’s almost as deep of a sleeper as I am. I doubt anything will wake him up, but I appease her and let her work in the dark to remove his little sneakers. I had changed him into his pajamas a few hours ago at our last stop, so he’s comfortable enough to leave be until morning.

My ma kisses him on the forehead and steps back carefully, watching over him. I shut the door behind us and we tiptoe back to the main room. Now that my boy has been seen to, she finally turns her attention back to me with another hug.

“I swear, you’ve gotten bigger since I saw you last, Bri.”

My mother refuses to call me Clink, as the rest of the world does. Yet, she doesn’t call me Brian much, either.

“Nah,” I joke. “I think you’re just getting a little bit shorter.”

She slaps me half-heartedly on the bicep.

“Go put those muscles to good use and get your bags. I’ll heat up a plate for you, we’ll talk when you get done.”

I move to leave to follow her direction, when she pulls me in close once more. “It’s good to see you, son.”

I kiss the top of her head. “You too, Ma.”

~*~

“Have you spoken to her since?” ma asks me as she sits back in her chair. I’ve just unloaded the whole story on her.

I shake my head, no. “There’s nothing left to say.”

Ma looks me hard in the eyes. “That’s one way to look at it. Kind of a sad way to approach life, though, son.”

I take another sip of my beer. “She lied to me. Over and over again.”

Needing to do something, she takes my empty plate from in front of me and carries it off to the kitchen, placing it in the sink and grabbing two more beers from the fridge. She gives me one and helps herself to the other.

“Ain’t no love perfect, Bri. You should know that.” She swigs long on the drink. My ma’s not usually a drinker, but gives in every once in a while. “Anyone can love someone when it’s easy. It takes balls to love someone when it’s not.”

I scoff. “That’s not how it works in this life.”

“I lived ‘this life’ far longer than you have, son. I don’t need you telling me how it works. Your daddy and me… it took some real hard work to hold that together. I don’t know of one single relationship that don’t work the same way.”

I defend myself. “That’s just it. Not everyone’s cut out to be an Ol’ Lady, Ma. All those sacrifices you made to make it work--”

“Right there’s your problem. It’s not just one person who makes the sacrifices. Those patches ain’t a one-way street where a woman is held up high on some Goddamned pedestal to not fuck up and her man gets a
get outta jail free
card whenever he needs it.”

“That’s not how it was with you and pop,” I quickly retort.

She sets her beer down, hard. “How do you know? My marriage was not an arena sport for people to sit back and watch the bloodshed, but trust me, there were blows on both sides. Your daddy and I worked hard to learn to forgive each other and work towards something, together. Your dad was an honorable man and never aired our dirty laundry in the streets. So it may appear that I was the only one who had to sacrifice, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”

I study her as she tells me of this new twist to my parents’ relationship. There’s pain behind some of her words, pain I’ve never heard before.

“You want to see what a one-sided marriage looks like? Look at Butch and Marie. They fell apart because the two of them couldn’t work together. Even Vince and Jean were close to splitting before they figured it all out,” she recounts a list of club relationships.