Page 2 of Grease's Guide

I tap my foot and cross my arms, staring daggers at the fucker heading for his woman. Jade is trying not to laugh at my current state, and Grim turns to look at what she finds so funny. When his eyes meet mine, I reach down for my gun to aim it at his boisterous, loud, laughing ass-face. Just to realize I can't get tomy gun. Want to take a guess about why? Yup! You guessed it! THIS FUCKING ELSA DRESS!!!

“Oh, it's so much better than I imagined,” he barely gets out through his laughter.

“You better just be happy I love my nieces and nephews. If not, I would stab you straight through the fucking eye socket,” I say, growling at him.

“With what? Your icicles? Or you gonna have Olaf do it for you with that big carrot nose he’s got,” Rome interjects.

With that, the entire room erupts into laughter. The women are crossing their legs, which I’ve been told is so they don't pee themselves since they've all had kids, and Grim, Trip, and even Alex are nearly in tears. The fuckers. I’ll have to put a bunny rabbit in his car again before he goes to work. I get up to walk out, flipping my white braid and my middle finger at the room. All I can say is payback is a bitch.

Four hours and a million pictures later, I’m standing on the platform where the pool tables are usually moved for the party. I clear my throat, getting ready for my performance. With my club brothers, their old ladies, and all their children as witnesses, I belt out ‘Let it go.’

I’m right on key, the beat is strong, and I’m just getting into my routine when I hear a small voice from the crowd.

“You’re singing it wrong,” Paisley says from the front row. I continue as if I wasn't interrupted during my debut, but another voice is louder this time.

“Yo Unk Grease. My girl said you’re singing it wrong. That means start over and do it right!” Rome hollers, and with that,I stomp my motorcycle boot and dress-wearing ass over to my club President, bend down from my stage, and throw my hands in the air,

“I can't work under these conditions!”

****

I yelled at my president, upset Paisley, and nearly ran after, and strangled, Rome after his “Well, at least you’ve got the Queen role down perfectly. Drama Queen, that is,” comment. So, I was banished to the garage and forced to slave away here for the rest of the day.

Well, that works for me because I have two cars, one truck, and two motorcycles to work on, and not one damn person criticizing my work.

I pull up my fucking skirts and lay flat on the roll cart, tinkering around under the car, replacing the drive shaft, then rolling back out. I move around the car, sit in the driver's seat, and give it a go. Just when I think I’ve got this thing fixed, the fucker backfires. Loudly. So loud my ears are ringing.

“Fuck, I need to check the spark plugs,” I say aloud, working my jaw and trying to relieve some of the ringing in my ears. I really wanted to be done with this piece of junk. Doesn't help that I’m in this fucking dress… still. So, the spark plugs might be faulty. If it's not that, then it could be the fuel. Just add another thing to the list of shit going wrong around here. I hate this shit. I usually love my job. I can spend all day and night at the shop. But not in this fucking dress.

As my hearing returns, I lower my brows when I think I hear a whimper coming from somewhere nearby. I stick my finger in my ears and wiggle them around, thinking I must be hearingthings. I get out of the driver's seat, and when I do, my eyes lock on the figure standing in the doorway. Not just any figure. Becky, and she looks absolutely terrified. I see the signs a moment before she goes down and lunge for her, knowing there's no way in hell I can get to her in time.

I watch in horror as she hits the hard ground before curling into a ball.

“NO!”

Chapter Two

Becky

I smile again as I come out of the bathroom, thinking about the ‘performance’ Grease couldn’t complete. A chuckle breaks through my lips at the antics that man can get himself into. What really makes me smile is that he goes with the flow of it all. Yes, he is a big badass biker, and I know from eyewitness accounts he is a very dangerous man… but then there's this side of him. This side of that infuriating man that I love.

Well, love might be a bit much. It's more of a fine line between love and hate between the two of us. I love to give him a hard time, and he gives it right back. I wipe the smile off my face as I return to the common room. As far as anyone knows, Grease and I loathe each other and can barely tolerate being in the same room. I can't have them seeing the amusement he brings me as well.

As for the real reason we can't be in the same room, well, my side of it is chemistry. I fall more head over heels in love with him the longer I’m with him. It doesn't help he is the sexiest fucking man alive, and all I want to do is explore all those piercings and tattoos that are speculated around the clubhouse. So this might sound like one of the other love stories I’ve heard coming out of this place. The issue? Yeah, Hi, that's me. I’m the issue.

My past is still chasing me with the fire of thirty death hounds nipping at my heels. I’m marked for death, and these people have saved me for the past two years, and they don't even know it. They gave me a chance and shelter when I needed it most. The last thing I want to do is form too much of a connection and get them involved in any of my shit. I’ve held myself away from these people as much as I can. I should have left over a year ago. Hell, I shouldn't have stayed longer than six months, but they made me feel special and safe. I needed to feel safe. But trying a relationship, even just a sexual one, is out of the question. It's too close to home. I know without a doubt if I were to go there, if I had a taste of that life, I wouldn't survive leaving it. I might as well let the past catch up.

“He rushed out of here so fast he forgot his phone,” Piper chuckles, grabbing it from the table. She spots me coming back into the room and smiles.

“Becky! Hey love! We were just talking about taking all the kids back to the house and getting a nap after all the excitement of the party. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?” she offers, smiling so warmly it causes a pain in my chest.

“If you're sure?” Truth is, I hate my days off. They are spent alone in my tiny apartment or at the bookstore in town. Every day except on Saturdays. I teach a class at the gym in the next county over Saturday mornings, but no one here knows that. I’d rather be here with the amazing kids I’ve come to love so much.

“Yeah, of course! Do you mind taking Grease's phone on your way out? He should be in the garage.” She hands me the phone before pulling me into a hug and whispering: “You could give it a chance, you know. We already see you as part of the club family. An old lady cut would just make it official.”

I give her a tight smile as I pull away. She just doesn't understand how badly I want that, too. Unfortunately, it's just out of reach, and that's assuming Grease would even want me in that way. Don't get me wrong, I know the man is attracted to me; he doesn't try very hard to hide it. Still, he pushes me away as much as I do him. Our relationship, if you can call it that, is… confusing to everyone, including us.

I sigh as I turn and make my way to the garage. I smile as I inhale the scent of grease and oil. It reminds me so much of him. The smile falls from my face the next instant as I walk through the bay doors.

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