Chapter 6-2
1129 Words
Sadist chuckled. “The chipotle?”
Beth looked at the bottle again and saw he was right, but she could only nod as she coughed and took another drink.
“Hang on, I know what will help.” He disappeared into the other room and came back a couple minutes later carrying a small foam cup. “Here.” He handed her the cup and a spoon. Beth was surprised to find ice cream. Trusting him, she scooped a little and put it in her mouth. The relief was almost instant. Well, on the part it was touching. Another bite helped. By the time she was done, the reminder of the fire was still there but the intense pain was gone, and the rest of their food had arrived.
“Thank you,” she said once she could speak again. “I didn’t expect it to be that hot.”
Sadist smiled. “You have to be careful with that heat, sometimes it sneaks up on you.”
“I’m usually okay with some, not a whole lot but some. That stuff’s more than I’m used to.” She picked up the bottle of offending sauce with two fingers and set it away from the others so she wouldn’t pick it up again by mistake. Next she picked up the hot and repeated the process of putting a little on her finger to taste.
“Are you sure you want to do that, after the last time?” Sadist smiled.
Beth smiled and licked the sauce off her finger. It had some spice to it but wasn’t as bad as the chipotle sauce. She tasted the rest of the sauces the same way, trying to decide which she liked best before using it on her chicken.
“You know what I do, what do you do?” Beth asked after a moment.
“I’m a tattoo artist.” He rubbed one hand over the tattooed knuckles on the other.
“That makes sense, I guess.” She’d known that much but didn’t want to let him know she’d taken a cruise by his shop the day before. That smacked just a little too much of stalking. She took a bite of a fry. “Where’d you come by a name like Sadist?”
Sadist smiled. “It’s not really my name, it’s the handle my club gave me before I was fully patched in.”
Beth frowned she wasn’t sure she was following.
“I love the tattooing. It’s a kind of magic for me. But it hurts. I hurt people and I like it… Sadist,” he explained.
It took just a second for it to click, then she laughed. “I get it now. But club?”
“My MC. You had to have noticed the kutte.” He shrugged, drawing her eyes to the leather vest he wore. She’d noticed it but hadn’t realized it was significant. Looking it over there wasn’t much significant about it other than the V. President patch on the right chest, at least not to her.
“Vice president?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.
“I am.” He nodded. “But that’s not important to you or to here and now. Tell me something about you, where are you from? What was growing up like for you?”
“Not all that far from here, actually. I grew up in Marana, typical childhood, I guess. I did 4H and then FFA.”
“That’s where you learned how to ride.” He’d been thrilled to learn that.
Beth smiled. “Some, I grew up riding. My parents always had a couple horses around, and we’ve all been riding since we could walk. I’m a little surprised how similar the motorcycle is to riding a horse.”
“It’s only vaguely similar,” he said with a half-smile, “but there’s a reason bikes are sometimes called iron horses. Enough about that, you said we? You have siblings?”
“Three, two brothers, one older and one younger, and my sister’s the baby.”
“You close to your family? Talk to them often?”
“I am. We talk off and on through the week and there’s Sunday dinner at my parents’ every week. I go when I don’t have to work. Tell me about your family? Do you have siblings?”
“I do. I have a brother, but I haven’t spoken to him in years.”
“Why not?” Her chest ached at the thought of not talking to her family in a month, much less years.
“We had a falling out after my parents died. He wanted me to stay and help run the ranch and I couldn’t stand to be there, to see where they were killed every day. I left. The last time I went to see him, he took one look at me,” he lifted his arms, she assumed he mean the tattoos covering most of the exposed skin, “told me I was worthless and that our parents would be ashamed. I never went back.”
“I’m sorry.” Just the thought of how much it must hurt to have your family, the people who were supposed to love and protect you; the ones who were supposed to be on your side, say something like that made her stomach hurt. She pushed what was left of her food away and reached across the table to take his hand. “You’re not worthless. You’re sweet. You make beautiful art. I’ve only known you for a day and I know that much. I don’t know how your own brother could say something so horrible.”
“It’s been a long time and the worst of the sting has faded, but I won’t lie, it wasn’t fun.” He shrugged as if it was nothing.
They talked while they ate, then set the baskets their food had come in aside and talked a while longer. Beth was embarrassed when she yawned while Sadist was talking, telling her about a client he had tattooed once.
“I’m so sorry.” Her face was hot.
Sadist checked his watch. “No worries. You know we’ve been sitting here more than three hours?”
“Three hours? No way.”
“It’s almost ten. I guess I better take you home. You probably have to work tomorrow.”
“I do.”
They cleaned up their table and Beth took one last drink from her soda before dropping it in the can with the rest of the trash, before leaving. She’d been a little nervous about getting on his motorcycle the first time. This time though? She looked forward to it.
- Writer
