Page 7 of Outlaws' Dirty Secret

That doesn’t mean I believe a word of what they’re telling me. They’re no more farmers than I am queen of Norway.

But… If they’re actually volunteering to do the heavy lifting, thatwouldsave me lots of time and tears. And my desk does overlookthe backyard. I managed to write more after their last visit than I had in a month. There are worse views to look at while trying to write about sexy men.

Skyhigh cocks his head, blue eyes flashing in challenge. “So, you going to show us what to do? Or are you so fucking stubborn that you’d rather break your pretty back doing what we can finish by the end of the week?”

Ooooh, that almost makes me want to throw the offer back in his sexy, smug face, but now it would just make me look petty. “Fine. Follow me. I’ll show you where the tools are.” I give them a significant look. “The other tools, I mean.”

5

WILLOW

“Happy birthday,Willow! Welcome to the last year of your early twenties!” Grace declares with a giggle, raising her glass. In the distance, motorcycles roar, the low growl of the engines getting progressively louder. “Starting next year, all you’re going to start hearing is, “When are you getting married?” and, “Your eggs aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

I pretend to sob for a second before laughing and downing the rest of my champagne. The bubbles go straight to my head. “Oh, please. If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them to check for a best by date when they kiss my ass.”

Terry throws back his head and laughs. “Damn, I want to be there to see it. Are your parents pushing for you to settle down now that you have the house?”

That’s a question that would require a whole new bottle of champagne to answer, and it would just drag the mood down. I shake my head. “Not really. They’re uh… free spirits.”

So free they didn’t even call me for my birthday. They’re alwaysbusy, or somewhere they insist phones don’t work, but the truthis they’re just living in their own world and it doesn’t occur to them. Last I heard they were working at a meditation retreat in Thailand in exchange for a place to live. The place offers live streamed classes, so I know they could contact me if they remembered. They will eventually, but it could take a day or a month.

Grace puts a hand on Terry’s leg and throws me a glance of sympathy. She knows a lot more about my parents than he does and I suspect she’ll update him later.

A sudden blast of gunfire from the Outlaw Sons compound has us all jumping and ducking. It’s followed by several more in quick succession and a whoop of laughter which is my cue to relax. She and Terry aren’t used to it though. They are visibly terrified.

“What the hell was that?” Terry asks.

“The bikers have a firing range,” I say, like it’s a completely normal thing to have to deal with.

Grace looks horrified. “HERE? Is that legal? That can’t be legal.”

“Probably not, but I called the police when I first moved in and they laughed at me. Told me I could complain to them myself if I wanted to.” I take a gulp of champagne. “You kind of get used to it after a while.”

“Really?”

“No, not really, but they aren’t going anywhere and neither am I.”

More motorcycles roar past, and then in the distance, the heavy beat of music kicks up. I can’t hear the song, but I can feel the bass vibrating through my ribcage. Terry and Grace look at eachother, silently communicating in the annoying way people in love do, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess what it’s about.

Grace puts down her glass. “Maybe we should go. It’s getting kind of late…”

“It’s not even midnight. They’re not going to bother us,” I plead, but I can see on their faces that they want to get out of biker central.

“She’s right,” Terry says apologetically. “We couldn’t have stayed much later anyway. I have a shift in the morning. Are you going to be okay? If you want, you can come back with us and crash on the couch.”

The back window rattles when a flurry of gunshots punctuate the night. Grace plasters herself against Terry’s side, and he puts an arm around her. I bet Skyhigh, Blackout and Dragon are up there having the time of their lives while I’m just trying to get one nice evening for my birthday.

I’m going to kill them. “No, no, I’ll be fine. It’s just noise.” I suppose I should be grateful the Outlaw Sons at least waited until after dinner to destroy the peace.

The house feels extra empty once Grace and Terry leave. Not ready to sleep, I start to clean up, nearly smashing a plate as I rush to fill the dishwasher. Meanwhile up the hill, the bikers party like they don’t have a care in the world. I clench my fists and glare out the back window. I usually put on my noise cancelling headphones and hide in my room with a book when they get noisy, but something about getting bullied around on my own birthday is really ticking me off.

This. This is why I don’t believe them when they come down here pretending to be sweet little helpful boys. Because this is reality.They act like they own the whole neighborhood and nobody else has a say in it! Never mind that I’m basically the only “somebody else” that’s left. I’m still here, aren’t I?

The police won’t touch them. So who will?

I grab my keys and start marching up the block with a lot of feelings and zero plan beyond making sure someone else is just as annoyed as I am. My nails are digging half-moon shapes into my palms, and I don’t care how stupid it is to confront a motorcycle club about making noise on a Friday night.

But even as furious as I am, I almost chicken out when I turn the corner onto the next street and see a row of bikes lining the sidewalk, with bikers and their women hanging out under the streetlights in front of their clubhouse.

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