Page 2 of Devil's Valentine

I wince slightly before forcing words I dread, words asking for help, past my lips, “Can Andrew come by after school?” Valerie gives me a curious look, and I sheepishly explain, “I need someone to paint the back wall. I’ll call someone if he can’t come by, but I figure he’d be interested in making a little cash.”

Valerie’s face softens and her voice drops to a whisper so customers can’t hear her, “Graffiti again?”

“Yes,” I grunt, “it could be worse.” I let out a long, suffering sigh, “At least they only got the back wall, not the front and didn’t come inside this time.”

Valerie’s deep frown at the memory of the one time whoever has it out for my bakery mirrors the feeling in my chest. It was a fucking mess. I suppose the only good thing was that they only destroyed things and didn’t steal anything. That should not be a victory, but it was.

I can only suspect that they didn’t steal anything because most of the equipment is heavy as fuck. It struck me as odd. But, then again, so does the graffiti. It seems childish and fueled by so much anger. I’ve never made an enemy in my life, not one I’m aware of at least.

With a shake of my head, I push the thought away. There’s no point in trying to unravel the mystery, not when I know I won’t be able to uncover the answers. I could install some cameras, but that’s not in my budget. Not at the moment at least.

It’s already pushing it having my back wall repainted. That’s why I’d rather hire Andrew than some professional. He’ll do the job well, earn a little cash, and I won’t have some astronomical bill that’ll make me think twice about splurging on meat for dinner.

Thankfully, I’m able to get lost in helping customers and Valerie for a while until there’s a lull in customers. It’s the best kind of distraction.

The bell chimes when the door opens, and a smile stretches across my face when I see the women who have walked in. They’re regulars of mine, which means that I know they’re the women of the Devil’s Saints MC. I’ve heard them use the term ‘old ladies’, but I haven’t asked them if I heard them right and what that means.

What I do know is that they’re the sweetest women and I love when they come into Crescent Sugar. They light up when they see me and give a little wave. Warmth fills me because I’ve struggled with connecting with people in the past, but now I have more people in my life who feel like they’re really in my corner and like me for me. I have Valerie.

And I have the Old Ladies of the DSMC. I make my way out from behind the counter and head their way. I reach Cherise first who immediately pulls me into a hug. I’ve learned that she’s the head Old Lady since her man is the president, Lucifer. I haven’t met him and I’m not sure I want to, but she’s an amazing person who is warm and welcoming.

It’s impossible not to relax into Cherise’s hug. It brings me a sense of peace I desperately need today. It’s not just warmth that comes from Cherise; there’s a sense of authority and power as well. It can be a little intimidating and I’d hate to be someone on her bad side. I’d probably fall out if I were to ever meet her man.

I’m pulled out of Cherise’s arms and into a half hug from Wrenley as she also holds her daughter, Maya, who is around six months old. Maya is also Cherise’s granddaughter and the love between them is clear to see. Part of me is envious of this little girl because she has so much love and family surrounding her and it has nothing to do with blood. I only ever really had Mom and now she’s gone.

I laugh as Maya makes a happy sound, but it sounds a little hollow, even to me. For some reason it’s more difficult to shake off the negative feelings from seeing the graffiti this morning. Knowing that there’s not much I can do to stop it, and constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop is exhausting and overwhelming.

“I have your treats, ladies,” Valerie’s bright exclamation brings me back to reality.

Sioux, who is with Apostle and is also Wrenley’s best friend, and Tallulah who is Apostle’s sister and with Scythe, give me bright smiles. From what I’ve learned, both guys are enforcers for the club. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I can gather that they’re the intimidating muscle of the club.

I look over the women and realize that there are some Old Ladies missing from their usual crew today. “You’re a few ladies in leather short today,” I chirp, the forced smile on my face making me feel like an imposter and a horrible actress.

“We promised to take a box of goodies back to the clubhouse for Diana and Sherry. Heather’s little one is sick, so we’ll drop her some treats as well,” Tallulah informs me with a smile. “Oh,” she exclaims, “and we’ll take some by Sacred Tattoos for Emery.” She grimaces, “If we forgot about her, we’d never hear the end of it.”

“Let’s hope Driller doesn’t eat everything while she’s with a client,” Wrenley murmurs while setting Maya up in one of the highchairs I keep on hand for little ones.

The ladies wince and I get the feeling that they’re speaking from experience. Valerie smiles at me while heading back behind the counter. Just as I’m about to give the ladies some room, step away, and head toward the back, Cherise looks at me. Really looks at me.

Her brows furrows and she sits up a little straighter as if she can see everything I’m trying to hide and keep at bay. There’s softness in her voice, but it’s wrapped up in a demand, “What’s going on, Scarlett?”

I try and keep my face neutral, “Nothing’s wrong.” I wave my hand toward the pastries and coffee on their table, “Enjoy your treats.”

When I turn and try to scurry towards the back, Cherise’s voice rings out, “I don’t think so, missy.” My movements are slow as I turn in her direction to find her eyes hard, but not in an angry way. “I can tell something’s wrong. You’re trying to hide it, but I can see. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.” She reaches out and grabs my hand to give it a squeeze. “Please tell us,” there’s a plea in her voice.

My shoulders slump and I stare at my feet for a moment, shuffling back and forth a little as I debate with myself. Whenshe squeezes my hand again, words start to spill from me. “I’ve been having problems with someone destroying my bakery. This morning I came in to find graffiti on the wall out back and it’s not the first time.”

“What else has happened?” The deadly tone in Cherise’s voice and the way all the women sit up straighter with anger in their eyes as me almost taking a step back. “Tell us everything and don’t leave anything out,” she demands.

And I do.

I tell them about the break-in and the destruction I’ve found on numerous occasions. It’s not easy to look at them as I admit everything that’s gone wrong, but once I start talking, I can’t seem to stop. When Cherise wipes the tears rolling down my cheeks, I realize that I’m silently crying.

Everything feels so fucking overwhelming. Once Cherise pulls me into her arms and I spill, it feels like I can breathe again.

I’m also instantly embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” I whisper sheepishly, “I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you. It’s just so much, especially with Valentine’s Day coming up. It’s a busy holiday for orders. Last year I was busy, and I had just opened, this year is already shaping up to be busier.”

“Yes,” Wrenly insists, steel in her voice as she shoots me a look, “you should have; you should have said something sooner.”

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