Page 41 of Rolling Thunder

“Listen to me, girl. Just because this is what everybody taught you to do don’t mean you gotta live like this. You hear me?” She nodded. He turned and left before she began to cry again.

The pain was so familiar, it was almost comfortable. It was a heavy squeeze in her chest so she could barely breathe. It perfectly accompanied the headache and the bruise on her cheek. It was a darkness on her shoulder, speaking in her ear, reminding her that she would lose everything she cared about, one way or the other.

The next morning, she texted Ashley from the club and got the scoop. Apparently, Trent was under investigation for underage dancers and a few worse accusations. Most of the girls had been contacted by the police, and Trent had to assume they would find Kayla next. She hadn’t worked there in the previous few months, but they might find out about her nonetheless. What she said or didn’t say could potentially change everything.

Her phone was blowing up like a firestorm. It was a good thing she didn’t have any extra horses for training this week, because she couldn’t concentrate anyway. Between a horrific hangover and drama pouring in via text from all angles, she was toast.

When she finally made it to her kitchen, there was a hardcover book on her counter with a note written on a receipt tucked into the front cover. The title read, Alcoholics Anonymous. The note was from Bill.

You don’t have to live like this anymore. Let me take you to a meeting.

Un-fucking-real.

Now she really had to stay away from Evan, and it hurt her heart. There were only a few possible outcomes, and none of them were good. Trent could show him the video, and he’d know what she really was. He was just about to finally get his life back and be vindicated. The last thing he would want would be to get caught up in another police investigation. It was clear what he thought of that sleazy lifestyle too. Either he’d find out what kind of a girl he’d been hanging around with and run, or he’d wind up being associated with another criminal investigation when he had just truly cleared his name. Or both. She couldn’t allow either to play out.

She thought of the way he hugged her, the way he made love to her. Like he needed her. She needed him. But she just couldn’t have him, and it was as simple as that. This was a brutal reality she’d known since she was young. Wanting and needing people so badly, and watching them slip away.

Now she was desperately hungover and still in the same predicament she’d been in the night before. She heard Bill’s motorcycle come up the driveway and idle by her porch. In a rush, she brushed her teeth and threw on a clean shirt, then went onto the porch.

Bill looked up at her from the old bike, waiting. She saw him notice the bruise that had formed on her face overnight.

“Meeting starts in forty minutes,” was all he said.

Should she go to the meeting with him? Her alternative was to keep drinking and crawl back to Trent like a whipped cur. She lifted her chin a bit in defiance to the thought. She didn’t know how to avoid her mother’s and Trent’s clutches. She didn’t know how to protect Bill from Trent’s threats.

She had only that moment, where Bill didn’t judge her. He didn’t mention her antics from the night before. He just waited for her to get on the back of his bike. It was the unconditional acceptance and support that she’d had so little of in her life. It hit her like a sip of cool water in a parched desert. She wanted more, so badly that she was willing to get on his bike and go wherever he intended to take her.

There was a circled-triangle on the door and a crowd of people talking, smoking, and drinking coffee. They laughed heartily, and a few genuine, if sympathetic smiles were sent her way. She glanced up at Bill, feeling like a fish out of water. He held the door and jerked his head for her to go in.

“Men stick with the men. Women stick with the women,” he told her. That would be a first in her life.

She was hyperaware that everyone seemed to notice her coming in with Bill. He steered her toward a group of women as she tried to take it in and gauge where she was. There were bikers, people in business clothes, a few others looking strung out as if they’d just walked in off a bender. She felt immediately self-conscious, wondering if she looked as strung out and hungover as she felt. Was she being judged?

A man in an expensive suit turned, saw Bill, and smiled broadly. What followed was a genuine hug between two men from completely different walks of life who, in any other life situation, would probably never even acknowledge each other. Kayla just gaped at them. The businessman smiled at Kayla and said, “Welcome” before turning away to talk to someone else.

Men weren’t eyeing her, although there were enough bikers in attendance and she’d walked in with Bill, so she doubted they would. Still, this felt different from anywhere she’d ever been in her life.

“You need to get a sponsor,” Bill said matter-of-factly.

“What’s a sponsor?” she asked, feeling awfully small and totally baffled.

“Someone who’s been sober awhile who can help you,” he replied as they arrived at the group of women. There was a tall, darkly tanned woman standing in the middle.

“Annie, this is my granddaughter, Kayla.”

Annie smiled warmly at her. Kayla’s heart pinched. He’d called her his granddaughter. No man had ever called her that in her life. She was always just the half-orphan child of a junkie mother.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Annie replied easily.

“Why?” Kayla blurted, with all the tact of someone who had been raised in a barn. Well, at least she really had been.

Annie laughed, but it wasn’t spiteful, and it was followed by a genuine smile. “I know it isn’t easy to walk through those doors. So I’m glad you made it here.”

Kayla wanted to bristle and run. She had no idea what was going on. People weren’t kind to strangers without an ulterior motive. Women were never kind to other women. The girls in Fort Myers were vicious to one another—they were unwanted competition.

The cold knowledge that Trent was after her even now was a deadweight around her neck, strangling her even in the presence of all these people.

“She needs some phone numbers,” Bill said, then returned to the group of men, leaving her with Annie.

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