Page 8 of Wolf.e

“He’s in the… importing and exporting business. It pays well.” Layla shrugs, taking a shot. “His interests are spread all over Georgia.”

She says it like he’s any local businessman. I’m sure he is a man of business, but something tells me it isn’t of the legal kind. She puts her hand over mine.

“Look, I’ve missed you, Brin. It hasn’t been the same since you left. God, six years is a long time. Come on, you need a weekend to not think about your own problems. We’ll have so much fun and maybe you’ll see. They may be a little scary but they’re not who you think. Say yes,” she chides, her long fiery hair falling over her shoulders. She’s still one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.

“I should work on opening up the house. God knows what’s waiting for me. Since Mom died and my aunt left a year ago, no one’s been checking in on it.”

I’m definitely grasping for excuses. Layla knows it.

“Brin.” She gives me the look I know well from my youth. “Stop being so fucking responsible and proper for once and come have some fun. The rehearsal dinner is next Friday night at the club and then we’re all heading to Tybee Island on Saturday morning.”

I look up. “At the club? The Hounds of Hell clubhouse?” I repeat, eyeing one of the men behind her smacking another in the back of the head playfully. It’s obvious to anyone they are essentially the bodyguards of these girls because no one has come to speak to us. A ripple of fear snakes up my spine. Even though I know it’s wrong, something about the idea of seeing their world from the inside piques my interest a little more than it should.

“And your excuses are bullshit. You have all week to work on the house and make connections for a job; plus, even if you don’t get it done, all that work will be there for you after the wedding.”

Layla hugs me again happily.

“Please say you’ll come?” she squeals. “This is so exciting. We are going to be able to hang out all the time now that you’re home.”

I look to the men behind her. The idea of actually being sucked into this world of hers? That’s what scares me.

She pulls back, and I force a smile. I’ve done the right thing for twenty-four years and where has that gotten me? Alone, jobless, and questioning everything. For the first time in a long time, I find myself feeling free and spontaneous.

“Okay. I’ll come.” I nod, which only makes her smile grow and she lets out another little squeal.

A rush of excitement runs through my blood.

“Yay! Can you believe I’m getting married?” Layla chirps. “And let’s have lunch during the week.” She turns her head. “Chris?” she calls to one of the men behind her. He’s leaning on the small private bar in the VIP area, he has a patch labeled prospect. I recall that means he’s not a member yet, just hopes to be. He comes over to her with few short strides. “Call the Lighthouse Landing and book my bestie here a room—one with an ocean view.” She winks.

“Oh, I can’t afford… fancy. I’ll just do a basic—” I start to say.

“Nonsense, we’re paying for our guests and that includes you.” Layla looks back to the guy she called Chris. “Like I said, please,” she says sweetly to him.

He nods and pulls his phone out of his pocket, making me wonder again just what kind of life my friend is living having these men at her disposal.

Visions of Beyond The Law or The Gauntlet, those old biker movies my dad used to watch fill my head. But this isn’t the movies, it's real life.

Hopefully, my friend telling me I’ll be safe is true because unless I come up with a really good excuse, it looks like I’ll be spending next weekend with Harmony’s most notorious outlaws.

The sound of cicadas buzzing and birds chirping wake me from my sleep, which tells me it is no longer early morning. I pull my mom’s comforter up over my face. Thankfully, when I got to my family home last night, I found it still in one piece and critter free. My parents' old house is massive. It sits on over an acre of land and is stately. It hasn’t changed décor-wise since I was a kid, and it was definitely an eerie homecoming. The once warm halls, which used to echo with Mom’s favorites—Reba McIntyre or worship music—were silent and sterile with everything covered in sheets. It felt more like the typical haunted houses you see in old movies. All my mother’s clothing was donated, and her fancy dishes were packed in bins on raised shelves.

My aunt did a good job of hiring a preservation company to seal this place up before she moved away with her new husband last year. All the pillows and bedding were still vacuum sealed in the linen closet and almost still smelled fresh when I pulled them out and made the bed.

I did fear for my foot going right through the rotted boards of my wraparound front porch when I made my way up the old creaky steps last night. But aside from that, everything seems to be okay, which is a relief.

I rub my eyes and glance at the time. 10:30 a.m. I check my phone out of habit for any calls from Evan. There are none.

“Day one of a new life,” I say as I blow out a deep breath and stand, pulling on my slippers. I plan to spend my day both unpacking and getting the house feeling like a home again. But first, I have to head to town, get some sort of coffee and grab a few things, including a dress for Layla’s wedding because that is definitely not something I brought with me.

My phone buzzes with two texts from Layla before I even get out the door.

PB

I’m so glad you’re here!

Let's do lunch Wednesday, you looked so nervous last night.

I did not

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