Authors: Kaylee Song
Thrash (8 page)
One thing I could guess, though, was that they were probably just as dangerous as their biker boyfriends. It was both frightening and exciting. It was funny to realize I was really hoping they would like me.
“So his name is DeMarcus, huh?” I asked Layla. I had seen it on the check he had written for my painting, but we had never discussed it. “He told me his name was Thrash.” He looked like a Thrash to me, at least now. Maybe DeMarcus would show himself later.
Layla smiled at me. “It is. But he’s always been DeMarcus to me. Always will be.” She looked me over, eyeing my dress again.
”Ah,” I murmured, slipping my hands discretely into the pockets in the skirt.
I loved pockets in skirts. I had attended the functions my parents sent me, and there had always been so many unspoken rules. What you could wear and when and how and why. I had hated going to these functions, but hiding in my room had not been an option.
One season, baggy shorts with pockets had been the thing to wear. My mother had put me in pressed suiting shorts, pleats and all, and pranced me out for a social luncheon. I had thought I was going to die until I found myself unconsciously burying my hands in my pockets. It drove my mother nuts. She called it “uncultured” and accused me of “hiding,” but of course that only made me enjoy slipping my hands in my pockets more.
I’d been able to bluff my way through the party. My mother never bought me pocketed shorts again, which meant that all the clothes I bought after being thrown out had big, lovely pockets. They had been bought on clearance, too, and which had been fun. Well, it had been fun until I realized that I couldn’t afford anything else. Then I had realized that shopping just wasn’t much fun if you didn’t have a lot of money. I wasn’t thifty by nature. I’d had to learn it.
My dress had been an early purchase that I had refused to sell when the bills came in. I loved it. And I wasn’t about to explain my pockets to Layla. Not with that other woman around.
To be honest, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what the rules were. I didn’t want to insult anyone. I definitely didn’t want to make anyone mad. I was enjoying Thrash’s company, and I knew he was a MC man. These were MC women. I had a funny feeling that MC’s and the upper class weren’t that different when it came to who had what power. The guys might pick the girls, but it was the ladies who were already entrenched that held the keys to the kingdom.
I looked at Layla and her friend and hoped this wasn’t going to be too awful.
Layla smiled, leading me away from the edge of the lot and into the bustle of the event. There were small games of strength and quite a few bingo tables. The main event was the picnic though. I watched Layla wave to people. Emma called out to others. They were well entrenched here.
Emma introduced me to one of the women running the bingo tables and Layla was nice to me, asking me about the mural and whether Thrash and I had fun white-washing the wall.
“Mmm-hmm. Have you known him long?” I asked politely.
“My entire life,” she replied. “He was a kind kid. Sweet and tough and loyal. He’s harder now, but he’s still a good man. And I couldn’t ask for a better right hand man for Cullen.”
He must be awfully important to her.
“And you?” I asked Emma.
She just shook her head. “No, I just met him a few months ago, but he does seem like that – tough and loyal. He’s the guy you go to when you have a problem. Just a warning though, he will tell you how like it is if you do something dumb.” The wry smile on her face spoke volumes.
I honestly wondered how anyone would have the guts to call this woman dumb to her face. She was beautiful in her own way, the angles of her face full of personality and her gait unconsciously confident. She looked like she worked out, not for looks but for strength.
“He told you that?”
She laughed at me. “No, Wrath. My man.”
I’d heard of him. I could believe those two had swapped words. I remembered the worry in his voice in the truck, but decided not to speculate too much.
I just smiled.
“So?”
I stared at her.
“
So
?” she pushed.
“So what?”
“What do you think of Thrash?”
The way her eyes lit up made me blush. This was a happy woman, and she was meddling. And it wasn’t hard to figure out what she was getting at.
“I think he’s handsome.” I thought he was a lot more than that, but that was the politest answer I could manage.
“Handsome? He’s a major hottie,” Emma said, then winced. “Don’t tell Aidan I said that, though. I don’t want any club fights breaking out.”
“You… Are you –?” I was confused and not sure how to ask.
“Pff! No! I’m just not blind.” She gave me a narrow look. “And neither are you, so no bullshit. You like him?”
I nodded, still pink, and she grinned, decided that was that.
“So Rage is Cullen? And Wrath’s real name is Aidan?” I asked quietly after a moment.
They both nodded.
A kid walked by with his mother, his face covered in the remnants of cotton candy, and his fingers sticky around the paper cone.
“And the M.C., it really does stuff like this? Hold charity events?”
“All kinds.”
I was surprised. “The school agrees to cooperate?” I asked. I blushed again, realizing that was probably rude. But it was honest. Why would a school allow a biker club to come onto their property, much less host an event? It seemed like the sort of thing rich women like my mother made up to scare each other.
I could practically hear her, like a ghost come to haunt me.
I’d never let men like that near my child’s school!
Layla didn’t know my memories, but she knew just how to shut them down.
“Yes, the school has been holding events with us for years. People see the tattoos and bikes and they assume we’re trouble. And we do protect our own. But we also contribute to the community. We work with the kids and support the school system. Legally, by the way.” Layla had heard the rumors, too, then. “There is a lot more to Fire and Steel than patches and vests and bad boy looks.”
I was listening. Layla and Rage were having a baby together. Rage was the head of the club. That made Layla a leader in her own way. She would have to be, but she seemed really well suited to it.
She had also said she had known Thrash for a long time. I wanted to know more about him, and not just because he was, as Emma had put it, “hot as hell.”
To me, he seemed deeper than that. He seemed to have sad eyes.
I’d never seen eyes like that before, except when I was looking in the mirror…
He had chosen that picture. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to understand it or not…
“You like him, or are you just fucking with him?” Emma asked the question out of nowhere.
I looked at her, confused. “Excuse me?”
Layla cleared her throat softly. “What Emma means to say, is that DeMarcus is a good guy. He is cynical and can be an ass sometimes, sure. But he is loyal and good-hearted, and he would follow any of us right into hell and back. We don’t want you to hurt him.”
Oh. “I don’t – I’m not sure it’s like that –”
“Don’t bullshit us. We see the way you look at him. You like him.” Layla looked me right in the eyes. “We are a family, Nora. We look out for one another. Do not hurt my family.”
I swallowed and resisted the urge to run. This woman, these women, in front of me were being honest. Brutally so.
I mouthed for a moment, then stopped, collected myself and answered as best I could. She had been honest with me. I wanted to be honest back. And I had the strangest feeling that here, with these people, I really was supposed to tell the truth.
“Thank you for being honest. I do not know where this is going, but I do like Thrash. He’s nice. I don’t want to cause any harm.”
Layla seemed to like that. Her face relaxed and the wariness in her eyes softened a bit.
“I’m glad. Ugh. I’m sorry. I have a baby just starting to push on my bladder and frankly, I don’t have patience right now.” She winced.” He’s already like his dad.”
I pointed to a chair, which she took without a word.
“It’s a boy?” I asked, resetting a chair near her. Emma stood. She didn’t have to, but she seemed to have a difficult time staying still.
Layla smiled at her ruefully, like she wished she could keep moving, too. “Maybe, I dunno. I think so. I guess we’ll find out soon.” She put her hand over the slight curve of her baby bump and gave it a little rub before looking back up at me. It was the first time I had seen her look shy.
Emma chuckled. “She’s not as much of a bitch as she was a month ago. Be glad you didn’t meet her then.”
“Hey!”
“You were!”
“I’m not like that all the time.”
“No! Just when you want to be!”
“Which isn’t as often as needed.”
Emma laughed outright and didn’t argue with that.
Somehow, I doubted Layla was as bitchy as either of them let on. I liked them, both of them.
“What are you ladies talking about?” Thrash asked then, pulling my attention away from them.
“Just about how much we love you.” Emma answered sweetly, a big smile on her face.
“You better not be scaring my date away,” he warned. “Don’t listen to preggo and her bestie over there. They are not always in their right minds.”
And now I was getting to see the “ass” side of Thrash.
“Hey!” Emma smacked him on the shoulder, and he grabbed her and pulled her in to ruffle her hair.
“See what I mean?” he asked, grinning.
“Whatever, we’re going to go and get some cotton candy, leave you alone with your lady.” Layla smiled at me and then punched Thrash in the arm.
They were almost like family.
A happy family. Who actually liked one another. I had no idea what that looked like.
It made me happy. Thrash really was more than he appeared to be.
“Charming, aren’t they?” Thrash – DeMarcus – asked as he surveyed the crowd. Then he looked at me. “How do you feel about grabbing some lunch? Wrath is cooking.”
“Sure,” I replied, happy. As we headed towards the grill pit though, a faint voice stopped Thrash in his tracks. “DeMarcus?”
We turned to see a middle aged woman, a beautiful one, standing near a ring toss booth. Her face was lined with age, and sun, but she was absolutely stunning.
He stiffened. “Mom. I didn’t think you would be here.”
She smiled at him and took a step towards him, her blue eyes sparkling, but he remained stoic.
“I thought you might be here, so I convinced your sister to come with me.”
“Where is she?”
“Somewhere around here.” Her lips quivered, the red of them flush against her very light, very pale skin. Whatever was between them was strained.
She looked at me expectantly, those eyes bright, and I stepped forward automatically.
“I’m Nora. I’m a friend of your son’s.”
She shook my hand. “I’m glad to meet you. My daughter Desiree is somewhere around here. Do you know her?”
I shook my head. “I just met Thrash.”
She laughed lightly. “Well, DeMarcus never has been one for talking about the past. He got that from his dad.”
Thrash visibly flinched.
“You’ll have to come to dinner sometime, both of you. I’d love to get to know more of Thrash’s friends outside the club.” She looked past me, at her son, searching for something.
He gave her nothing but a cold stare.
I was surprised, but I knew better than to judge. I had seen looks like that. I even had one. Life happened. Families weren’t as tidy as we were told they should be. But we didn’t dare talk about it… It just wasn’t done. You pretended everything was fine, but who cared? No one really. No one except you. Anyone who said they cared did so because they got something out of it: a paycheck, juicy drama, leverage.
I suppressed a shiver at the old cynicism. Cherry-printed dress or no, I knew that bitterness better than these people would credit me.
I looked up at Thrash, at the haunted look in his eyes. It was amazing he had warmed up to me as much as he had. That’s when it hit me that I was being awfully daring, too, trusting him the way I had. He had just made sense. How strange…
I kind of liked the realization.
“Hey man, sorry to interrupt –”
Cullen had approached us, the crowd parting as he made his way towards us.
“Elena. It’s been a while, we miss seeing you up at the club.” Cullen looked at her, then back at Thrash without a second thought. “Got a prospect needs us over in the North Hills. Shit went down, and he gave us a call. You up for the ride?” he asked.
