Page 12 of Bad Like Me

11

Ray

Hearingpeople call him Crow and not Logan would be bizarre, really fucking weird, honestly. We both agreed to dive into each other’s world to see how things would go. It might be the ending we both sought after, or it could be a very peculiar beginning to something entirely different. Neither of us had any clue at all, but it got me out of bed today, so that was something.

“Here, put this on. Don’t want to hurt that beautiful head of yours.” Logan smiled, tossing a helmet to me and helping me hook it under my chin. He’d told me to wear boots, jeans, and layers because the ride from his house to the clubhouse—I think that’s what Logan called it—might be cold. No one really could prepare for Ohio weather because it was unpredictable from one minute to the next. Thankfully, I could still fit into the clothes hanging in my closet that I’d left behind at Mom and Dad’s. I appreciated the sentiment, so I didn’t tell him it was pretty clear what I should wear, that would have made me look like an asshole. I merely told him thank you before we swung by last night to pick up a few things so I could stay the night at his house to make things go a little smoother. We both knew I hated mornings and would be more likely to actually go if he was there to keep my mind on course.

Mom was full of questions but seemed only partly committed when asking them. Something told me she had a part in this, but I couldn’t prove it. Logan hadn’t expected me to be home, believing Mom would be. In her defense, she had invited me to go out with her and Wren, but I’d declined. Perhaps she was giving me an out without actually telling me what she was doing. It was right up the lane of things she would do to try and fix things. She was naturally a nurturer, and her go-to was busying herself with caring for other people when she should be doing it for herself. I was supposed to be taking care of her, but I think it had somehow transformed into the reversal. She was looking out for me and taking Dad’s death better than I was. Of course, she was. She saw it coming, and they waited until the last minute to bring me into the loop. A part of me wanted to hate my parents for not telling me, however, knowing my Mom and Dad, they didn’t want me to worry until there was really something to be upset about.

“Wrap your hands around my waist and scoot—”

“I learned to ride when you did, Logan,” I interrupted and straddled the Harley behind him. “It’s been a while since I’ve ridden, but it isn’t that hard to sit still.” I linked my arms around his sides and cupped my hands together in front of his stomach, giggling a little at his reaction in the mirror.

His eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head to the side. “Oh, you’re bad, huh?”

“That’s right, buddy.” I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and pulled the black and red handkerchief up over my face to keep the risk of windburn down as much as I could. “Are you bad like me?”

“You bet your fucking sweet ass I am,” he gruffly said, plastering a devious smile across his face as the engine of the bike roared to life. “I’m the worst, a fucking nightmare.”

I grinned wickedly behind the material and leaning forward to whisper into his ear as I got comfortable on the bike, “Depends on the judge.”

It was nice to be on a bike again. It was something I hadn’t realized I’d missed, but I did. After a while on the road, signs and trees all blurred together, blending into the background. My eyes became transfixed on the sky ahead of us as it pulled the sun into the horizon. Being on a motorcycle for a prolonged time was kind of like driving in a snowstorm, you didn’t pay attention to the things around you, only the road ahead. This was much like the situation between Logan and me; we had tunnel vision and weren’t giving any thought to the things around us. I hoped it didn’t come back to bite us in the ass, but I didn’t want to over-analyze anything. If I did, that meant this was more personal to me than it needed to be. We weren’t putting a title on it, mostly because a status of “Who the fuck knows” didn’t really roll of the tongue well for when nosey ass people would ask. Yet, with the exception of answering Mom, it would most likely be the answer I would give to people, either that or “Mind your damn business.” I never claimed to be eloquent, there was a reason most of my co-workers had been male and not female. I often said things that didn’t go over easily with others. Truthfully, I should come with my own warning label, but then again, people really should mind their damn business and tend to themselves. What was going on between Logan and me didn’t concern anyone else, not that anybody had asked about it other than Mom. Neither of us really gave her an answer simply glanced at each other and then shrugged our shoulders in agreement.

The trip was short…or long…frankly, I wasn’t sure. I had lost track of time and wasn’t paying attention to the duration. Logan parked his bike, and as soon as it was safe, I climbed off the back, groaning due to the pain in the middle of my spine as a result of sitting in one position too long. I guess that answered one thing, it wasn’t a quick ride by any means. I stretched my arm above my head and pushed against my elbow with the opposite hand to force it a little further toward my shoulder, doing the same to the other side afterward. Logan was doing similar movements with his body, but they weren’t as exaggerated. He obviously wasn’t as bothered by the ride. Over the course of the last week, I’d only seen him drive his truck one time, and that was to go get some guy named Spider who I would apparently meet tonight.

There were a lot of guys dressed the same as Logan with black leather vests called “cuts” decorating most of their torsos; however, a small number of them wore blue jean cuts that had a “Prospect” patch on the upper right side of theirs. I didn’t say much at first because I didn’t understand all of the biker jargon they were using when talking to each other. Although I didn’t know much about biker gangs, the one thing Logan made sure I did know was that the most important thing with them was having and giving respect.

“The fuck you been? Did you forget how a phone worked?” a loud voice boomed as soon as the door opened and Logan stepped inside. He led me by the hand into the clubhouse and stopped in front of the person I assumed owned the loud voice.

“This fucker here, this is Ghoul, our Prez,” Logan introduced me to a bear of a man as we passed the pool table, and the stranger untangled his body from a redhead clinging to his side.

“The man,” Ghoul waved his hand in front of his body, “The myth,” he tapped the word President on the patch across his right chest wall, and finished, “The Legend—”

Logan grabbed Ghoul’s hand before he could grab his junk, and Ghoul winked in my direction, his head falling back as a huge hoarse laugh filled the air. “You should see your fucking face, brother,” he guffawed and pulled his hand from Logan’s, holding it out for me to reciprocate. “It’s a pleasure, young lady.” He gave my hand a firm shake and clapped Logan on the back with his other.

“Don’t get your panties in a fucking twist, Crow. Nobody is going to mess with your girl, you know that.” He released my hand and nodded toward the bar, leading us through the crowded place. A ball of nerves swelled up into my throat, and I tried my best to force them down as I swallowed hard. Is that what I was now? His girl? I started to correct Ghoul but remembered what Logan had said about respect, especially to their President. He was the boss of the whole gang, and although Logan hadn’t been too liberal with the details, he made sure I understood he wasn’t someone to fuck with. He and Ghoul were close; he’d told me that much, but that wouldn’t mean much if I straight up disrespected Ghoul in their house. This was their turf, not mine, so I did try to mind my p’s and q’s more than I normally would.

“Borrowed the panties from your drawer, Boss,” Logan laughed as we three sat down on stools at the bar. It was nice to see Logan laid back. Well, as laid back as he could be, I guess. “Any updates from Heavy when they’ll get here?”

Ghoul shot him a look and his eyebrows drew together. “I’m sure your lady…What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Ray.”

“I’m sure Ray here doesn’t want to hear shop talk. Let’s save business for later; pleasure always comes first.” He opened his hand and the guy behind the bar gave him a piece of a straw before Ghoul pulled a baggy from his shirt, pouring a little onto the woodgrain of the bar. I hadn’t ever seen cocaine up close and personal, but I figured it was what the white powder was. “Want a toot?” he spoke to me, and I fought the urge to giggle out of nervousness. It made no sense, but when I was on edge, I tended to chuckle when other people talked to me.

“A toot?”

“You know, a snort, a line, a toot? Damn, Crow, I don’t know where you got this one, but she needs some education,” he joked and elbowed me in the side before sliding a straight razor out of his pocket and tapping the pile of drugs out into a line. “My name is Dr. Ghoul, and I’ll be your drug instructor,” a huge guffaw bellowed out of his throat, and he shook his head.

“Ghoul,” Logan warned him.

“Crow.” Ghoul met his gaze and obviously didn’t give a shit. I didn’t understand what words they were silently exchanging with me in the middle, but they didn’t appear pleasant.

“Fucking hell, Crow, I’m just having a little fun, ain’t that right, Ray?”

“Right,” I answered, unsure if I was supposed to really answer him or not.

Logan leaned close to my ear and whispered at a volume no one else was able to hear, “You okay?”

A smile crept onto my lips, and my eyes flickered to Logan’s, finding his filled with concern. He was trying to be protective and keep me safe, but the thing was, Ghoul reminded me of Randall, one of my old co-workers. They were both harmless in the sense, they didn’t really mean half of what they said to me, or at least, I thought that was what Ghoul was doing. I could be completely wrong, and if I was, I would probably find out sooner rather than later. I hoped I was right, though. I hadn’t really thought of my old co-workers since I came back to Ohio, I didn’t think I’d had the time to, honestly. Yet, seeing the exchange between Logan and Ghoul, made me miss them and the constant back and forth shit we all gave one another.

“I’m good. I promise, Log—ow.” I tried to call him Crow as soon as I remembered, but it didn’t exactly work out.

“Fuck. See, she’s good, Logow.” Ghoul’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead, and he slid a shot to me. “Ms. Ray and I are going to handle the pleasure portion while the rest of you fuckers talk business in the back,” he said in a firm tone with a hint of humor. It was an order, but my guess was he was trying to keep the conversation light on my behalf.

---