Page 9 of Twisted Ties

Slash pulls his jacket lapels together and his pensive frown paired with the death stare gives me the impression he thinks I’m not with him. “What are you trying to say? Who are the members? Sit down, tell me.”

“It’s what I’ve heard, that’s all. I don’t even know if that’s the still the feeling right now. Might have passed.”

A long silence ensues as Slash adopts a thinking pose with his hand clasped under his chin. “The crew has to give me a chance. I’m good for it, it’s my father. He started this! Did they forget that?” Slash flings up his arm and I let him take a minute to cool off.

“You think I forgot that? Your father and mine were founders. Side by side, just like we are now.” I clasp his hand together with mine and he relaxes into a grin.

“Yeah, Slugger. Sucks that your old man is in the slammer. You must fucking hate it. You seen him lately?” Feeling shame, I look down at my short fingernails. I should go check on him more often.

“Nah, I haven’t seen him, but I’ll get over there. We got enough to fix here. I want those fucking drugs back. I don’t know how they managed to get them back to their spot, all of them are drug-fucked I swear. Can’t fight a lick, either. That’s why they need guns. Probably using up the drugs for themselves. Bastards. I want to nail every last one of them to the cross.”

“I hear ya. Bullshit, but I got a plan. I got your back if you got mine.”

“No doubt, boys since we were seven. I’m not switching up.”

Slash ripped a hand through his hair and blow out a long, hard breath. “Thank fuck, ‘cause I don’t need heat on the inside. I want the club onside, I have to get them onside, you feel me, Sledge?”

“I do. I do. You were steady when Bull told you the news about Hunter’s girl,” I sneered.

Slash opens his eyes wide and shakes his head, shrugging. “Boy, you are playing with heat, but I can’t say nothing.”

“You know I love you, brother. I got your back no matter which way you move. I’m just giving you the heads up.”

“Thanks, appreciate it man. By the way, what’s up with the Jackson girl?”

It’s been fun with her, but a mistake is a mistake. I keep it cool; I don’t want Slash suspecting it’s deeper than what I tell him. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

But Slash ain’t stupid and he rolls his eyes at my dismissal. “Looks like a little more than nothing to me, bro.”

I don’t let him off the hook either and chuckle. “How about you and that Fiona?”

“Hell nah, man, she’s too young Besides…” The door creaks open, and we’re interrupted by Snatch, who has a toothpick in his mouth.

“Fellas, I’m ordering pizza, you both in?”

“Yeah, count me in. Make sure you get pepperoni.” I nod my head at Slash and get up. “See you later brother. You’re good.” I tap him lightly and he bobs his head up and down and I can see his mind ticking over things.

“Yeah, everything is legit. Dark Angels will be fine.”

CHAPTER SIX

Fallout

(Simone)

The next day I can feel the shift between me and Sledge. He’s not touching me anymore. I have my own room at the club, but he’s hasn’t come by like he normally does in the morning.Fuck.Another biker who wants to play the hot and cold game. It’s the same game Slither Road used to play with me, but he was on drugs half the time.

I’m sick of this shit. Men. Who fucking needs them? This isn’t what I wanted anyway. I wanted to blow this joint. Serenity, my ass. More like Destruction Ville. I’m out. As soon as I can organize a bus ticket, I’m rolling.

I check myself in the mirror and don’t like what I see. My ribs are sticking out and there’s a red bruise from where Slither pushed me. I pull down my tank top and do something reasonable with my hair. At the old clubhouse I had to watch my back—so many sleazebags, immature bikers, and the whole environment was always predatory. Having good people around me is hard to find, so I feel shitty about Sledge going cold on me.

It’s time for breakfast and I can smell the bacon on the grill. Must be a fry-up, so at least if we’re eating, he might wanna talk to me. Say something. Anything.

One of the patches is cooking on the grill, flipping sausages and turning bacon. There are eggs as well and my stomach starts to rumble. “You sound hungry,” he says. “We don’t do this all the time, but I don’t mind being on the grill so I thought I would fry up something for the crew. We take it turns once a month.”

I shove my hands in my back pockets, feeling insecure as bikers are posted up around the club eating in various spots. Half of them are watching me, but not the one I want. Sledge sits in one of the booth seats, his back to me. There’s nobody else there. I turn back to look at him, confused as to whether to talk to him first or get a plate.

“Ah, I’ll get a plate. Pile it up.”

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