Wrong Side of the Tracks by Ashley Zakrzewski
ChapterSix
“Are you gonna get up and let me take a piss, or are you just gonna keep staring like a creep?” Jason mumbles in a sleep-roughened voice.
I lean up to give him a good morning kiss, which he reciprocates lovingly. “You’re cute when you’re sleeping,” I comment.
Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re cute when you shut your mouth,” he retorts. “Wanna share a shower?” he offers, changing the subject.
A shower sounds great after working up a sweat last night. We take an unhurried shower, spending way too long beneath the faucet getting dirty and clean at the same time. I’m exhausted by the time he’s finished pounding into me. My back is chafed raw from being rubbed against the cold tiles. Before the hot water runs out, we get out. We dry off, and I put on yesterday’s clothes, not feeling too good about wearing the same underwear. After I rake out the snags in my hair with my fingers, I rummage through my purse for some mascara. My puffy eyes are proof of a good night’s sleep, and now I feel rested and refreshed, better than I’ve felt in a long time. I catch Jason sniffing a dark gray T-shirt before putting it on. He sees me smirking and shakes his head sheepishly.
“You’re such a slob,” I say, chuckling.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grins. “Are you ready to meet the crew?” Jason asks, while doing up the fly of his jeans.
I already know the guys. It’s their girlfriends I’m unfamiliar with. And if I’m being honest, I’m nervous about meeting Ivy.
“Sure, I could use some breakfast after our vigorous workout,” I reply, rubbing my abdomen gingerly.
Jason winces, and I guess that means we all fend for ourselves. “The fridge is full of beer and not much else. But if you’re lucky there might be some leftover pizza in the box.”
“Forget it,” I answer, waving my hand in dismissal. “I’ll grab something from home.”
I notice him bristling as I mention home, but don’t think too much about it. My tongue is drier than the Sahara Desert, and I’m in desperate need of some coffee. If he doesn’t have that, then I’ll kick his ass. Jason brings me downstairs and puts on the radio, cranking up the volume as a hint for everyone to wake the fuck up. At least everywhere is cleaner than it was last night. I can tell Jason tried to make this rundown factory a home away from home, with shabby mismatched couches that have seen the best of their days, a grubby pool table with ominous stains on the red felt, a makeshift bar built from old pallet wood, and a flat-screen TV in the middle of the room with a trailing extension wire that disappears behind a stack of boxes against the wall. It’s not the Ritz by any means, but it’s a base to lay low for a while. The loud rock music alerts the dog to our presence; he barks from one of the upstairs rooms. Someone lets him out, and he bounds down the industrial staircase to greet us.
“Let him out before he craps everywhere,” Rooster hollers over the balcony railing, letting me know his room is the one next to Jason’s.
One by one, the guys emerge from their rooms with their bed-ragged girlfriends behind them. The only one I don’t see is Ivy who has the perfect excuse to stay in bed.
“Everybody, listen up!” Jason hollers. “We’ve got a new houseguest. I know some of you already know Ratchet’s kid sister, Kiera. But those of you who don’t, I’d like you to come down and meet her. And before you get any crazy ideas about inviting her to join you for sex. Don’t. She’s off-limits.”
I can’t tell if the last part was meant as a joke or not.
My eyes cut to Jason. “I’ll stay over occasionally, but I’m not moving in. No way.” I don’t mean to sound rude, but I prefer my home comforts.
An unladylike cackle shatters the silence upstairs. “She’s got the right idea. This place is a dump,” one of the women says.
When I eventually look up, I see three women all grinning down at us. Tex comes downstairs wearing his boxer shorts. He pulls a brunette onto his lap as he sits on the couch. I think she’s wearing one of his massive T-shirts as a nightdress and presumably nothing else because she’s paranoid about flashing me her ass. Rooster leans against the pool table in nothing but a pair of light gray sweatpants and socks. He’s cuddling a petite redhead who’s wearing a hot rock-burned bedsheet like a toga. Hustle and a pretty blonde are the only ones respectfully dressed. His woman has almost as many tattoos as Jason does. Dude bounds over to where Tex is sitting and plonks his ass down by his bare feet, Dude’s head nudging Tex’s leg as a hint for Tex to pet him.
Tex pets the dog, then his eyes cut to me. “Don’t be such a stubborn little bitch. It won’t be safe for you to live at your folks’ place alone. Especially now.” He rolls his eyes sarcastically. “You’re safer here with us.”
I look at Jason. “What does he mean, safer?”
“Thank you, Tex,” Jason drawls in a warning tone, then looks at me, and I notice the flinch in his eyes. “We haven’t exactly ironed out all the details as such. I’ll get to that in a minute.”
Well, that sounds ominous. Why would I be in danger? I haven’t done anything wrong. Surely, I would be in deeper shit if I stayed here with the culprits of last night’s bar fight. I need to get back to work. I don’t want these guys bringing trouble to my doorstep. If that’s the case, I’ll run Dad’s garage single-handed.
“Keira.” Jason turns to me, snaking his arm around my waist. “There’s nothing for you to be worried about. We’re all family here. You already know Tex.” The hulking mountain of muscle grunts obnoxiously. He’s the only member of the Hawks to keep his actual name.
Jason continues with the introduction, “The sour-faced bitch on his lap is Carly, also known as Claws. Don’t piss her off or she’ll scratch your eyes out. And then there’s Hustle.” I know his real name is Huey, but he absolutely fucking hates it. The silver-tongued heartthrob has the gift of the gab and could charm the panties off a man-hating battle-ax, he’s so good-looking. “And his woman, Tess, who we call Tequila because she can drink like a fish and still swim in a straight line,” Jason introduces the pretty inked blonde who returns a friendly smile. “Last but not least, Rooster’s old lady, Stevie, who we all know earned the name Soapbox because of her righteous preaching.” Jason gestures to Ryan’s woman. The guys have always called Ryan by his last name, Rooster.
Stevie raises her eyebrows at Jason. “Excuse me, but I can’t help it if I’m always right.”
Jason exhales nasally. “Since you’re so fond of preaching, you can tell Kiera the rules.”
Stevie doesn’t hesitate to take center stage, sitting up straight with an air of superiority. “The rules around here are simple. Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you. Partners included. Ask first. Don’t be a dick. Respect one another, and they’ll respect you. We’re a family. We watch each other’s backs. If we have a problem, we take it to Havoc. We don’t discuss club business outside of the clubhouse. If we fuck up, we get punished. End of story.” She shrugs.
“You forgot one. Ask no questions and they’ll tell you no lies?” a woman speaks from the balcony in a cynical tone.
I glance up and see Ivy leaning on the railings. Who knows how long she’s been standing there listening, the stains of grief visible for all to see in her sunken eyes. She glares at Jason as if she was talking about him. But Jason doesn’t rise to it. If anything, he dismisses it completely.
“Stiletto, Bodie’s old lady,” Jason introduces the dark-haired, sad-eyed beauty. It feels awkward to be meeting her for the first time under these circumstances. She didn’t show at Bodie’s funeral, so I assumed they weren’t as serious as Bodie made out. She’s carrying around so much anger, and I can’t say I blame her. When was he planning to spring this on us? After she gave birth? Our parents are going to freak out when I tell them. They would want to be here to support her through it all. I certainly will, whether she wants me to or not. I’ll win the aunt of the year award; I’ll love that kid so hard.
“Hi, you must be Ivy. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” I blurt out, trying to alleviate the tension.
“Yeah, nice,” Ivy huffs, her tone bitter and hostile. “We should raise a toast to celebrate.” She rolls her eyes, then goes back to her room and slams the door hard enough to make me flinch.
“Oh my god, I didn’t mean to upset her,” I utter, turning to Jason. “Maybe I should go after her and apologize?”
Jason shakes his head, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Nah, leave her be. It isn’t you she’s mad at. It’s me.”
Hm. I wonder why?
Tex snorts. “We’re all cut up about Bodie. But if Stiletto is gonna be pissed at anyone, it should be Mayor Booker and that fuckwit, Marcus Jackal.”
“Mayor Booker?” I blurt out, noticing Jason bristling beside me.
Is Tex insinuating it was the mayor who gave Marcus an alibi because they’re in cahoots?
“The mayor can’t see straight without his glasses,” Jason cuts in dismissively. “All that matters is that Marcus gets what’s coming to him.” He dips his gaze at me. “Do you wanna go somewhere for breakfast?”
I look down at yesterday’s clothes and grimace. “Nah, just take me home, thanks.”
Jason nods.
“Do you want some coffee first?” Stevie asks.
“Sure,” I reply, following her to the kitchenette.
Something tells me Stevie likes to gossip, and that’s fine by me. She can run her mouth all she likes. To hell with the club code. It sounds like they fray the edges of the truth, only sharing information on a need-to-know basis. Jason can’t be around me all the time. He isn’t my personal bodyguard.
“It won’t take too long to brew,” Stevie mentions as she works. “Don’t mind the noise. It works just fine.”
A few seconds after she switches on the machine, it starts clunking like the nuts and bolts are churning around in the coffee grinder. I put my hands over my ears until it quiets down and starts hissing.
“I’m putting in a complaint to the Prez,” I joke. “He ought to dig deep and buy the club a new one.”
Stevie chuckles. “Oh, man, if only he pulled that Robin Hood shit for the benefit of the club and not the community, we’d be rolling in dough.”
My eyes twitch, and I glance over my shoulder to check Jason isn’t listening. He’s busy reprimanding Tex for running his mouth at me, which means I’m free to poke Stevie for information.
“Look, Stevie, can you help me out with something?” I say, cringing. “I wasn’t listening to what Havoc said to me while he was giving me an ass whooping. Something about the mayor and the Jackals. I really don’t think I can take another spanking today. Can you fill in the gaps?”
Stevie’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Fine, I’ll help you out. You can owe me one when I need a favor.”
“Thank you.” I sigh with relief.
Stevie leans closer. “Well, think of Marcus Jackal as the Sheriff of Nottingham, and Mayor Booker as Prince John.” She continues to rhyme off characters, assigning names to members of the Hawks like she’s telling the most compelling story of the century. “Mayor Booker approached Havoc first, wanting to recruit some hired muscle to force the residents of Mountview to sell their land to developers. When Havoc told him to go fuck himself, the Jackals rode into town. The Hawks have been doing everything they can to stop them, but it’s our word against the mayor’s.”
Maintaining a stoic expression, not wanting her to see how shocked I am, I spare a quick glance at Jason, resenting him for not trusting me with that vital piece of information. If the Mayor wants our land, then my garage is on the hit list. What am I doing wasting time waiting around for coffee? I need to tell Sheriff Dan.
“I think I’ll pass on the coffee,” I say to Stevie. “Thanks anyway.”
Her face sags with disappointment. “Oh, okay.”
Jason takes me home, and we share an awkward goodbye kiss on my doorstep. I fake being fine just to get him to drive away and leave me be, but the minute he turns his back, my smile melts off my face faster than ice cream on a hot day. That conniving son of a bitch. I don’t know what it is with men like him thinking they can protect us women from the truth. I’m not a delicate flower. I’m like a thorn. And believe me, no one wants one of those stuck in their side.