Chapter4
928 Words
Scarlett POV
The clubhouse was huge. Like, mansion huge. It was four stories tall with a wraparound porch on every level.
Women were standing near the door, dressed in barely anything, showing off everything they had. Some were sitting on the wooden fence around the porch. They looked like they were waiting for something.
I parked my bike in a neat row with all the others. There were way more motorcycles than cars. I climbed off, took off my helmet, and shook out my hair.
I heard some girls laughing at me, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t here to impress them.
Crusher came out of the clubhouse.
“Scarlett! You rode your bike. Nice!” He gave me a side hug and walked over to look at my motorcycle more closely.
The paint job on my bike was special. It showed a wolf fading into smoke. It took me months to get it right because I kept changing my mind.
“Who did the paint job?” Crusher asked, walking around the bike.
“I did.”
“Does Rick know you can paint?”
“He’s seen my bike when I did maintenance in the garage. He liked it, but never asked who did the work.”
“Awesome. We need someone to do paint jobs on our bikes. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and you should come with us.”
Lily and the other girls joined us.
“Crusher, you remember Lily. And this is Megan, Katie, Hannah, and Amy.” Amy was Katie’s sister, and she was friends with my sister Emma. I wanted Crusher to know what kind of person Amy was.
“Ladies.” Crusher stamped the backs of their hands. They all got a bear stamp except Amy, who got a rabbit.
I frowned, wondering what the rabbit meant.
Crusher pushed my hand away when I held it out.
“You’re family. You don’t need a stamp.”
That made me smile. I felt special. Then I figured out what the rabbit meant. It meant Amy would sleep with anyone. Crusher understood exactly what I was telling him about her.
“Come inside and meet the old ladies,” Crusher said.
Old ladies didn’t mean old women. It meant the wives and girlfriends of the club members. They had a different level of respect than the other women hanging around.
We walked inside, and the girls waiting outside gave us dirty looks. They were still stuck outside while we got to go in.
“What’s so special about them?” one girl pouted.
Crusher ignored her.
Inside was cleaner than I expected. There was a huge open room with tall tables, booths along the walls, and a long bar. I loved the space. There were pictures of motorcycles on the walls and motorcycle parts used as decorations. Some of the barstools were made from bike seats. It was different and cool.
“Sandra!” I called out when I saw her.
“Hey, Scarlett! How are you doing?” She stood up and hugged me tight.
Sandra was the club president’s wife. Her nickname was Sticks because she was tall and super skinny, but she was really nice. She had no filter and said whatever was on her mind.
“I’m doing better,” I told her. She knew what had happened with my family.
She introduced us to the other women sitting with her. I noticed Amy had already wandered off to try to pick up club members.
“What’s her deal?” Sandra asked, watching Amy.
“Same as my sister. Crusher gave her a rabbit stamp.”
The women burst out laughing.
“She’s going to get used and tossed aside by the end of the night,” one woman named Mary said. “We don’t need girls like her in the club.”
“The regular girls aren’t going to like her working their territory,” another woman named Tina added.
There were rules for the girls who came to these parties:
Don’t approach a club member first. Wait for them to come to you.
Don’t touch a member who has a girlfriend or wife. The women will make your life miserable.
Wait to be invited into the clubhouse, then stay in the public areas.
Don’t go upstairs without permission.
Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike without permission.
The club wives are in charge. If they tell you to leave, you leave.
Amy had already broken at least three rules that I knew of.
The doors opened to let more girls in. They looked at us sitting in the members-only area and pouted. They couldn’t come over here unless invited.
My friends left with some of the other women to get a tour of the place. I stayed with Sandra.
“Want to see the workshop?” Sandra asked.
Before I knew it, we were walking down a small path lined with flowers, heading toward some huge barn-like buildings.
Inside were motorcycles. Some were taken apart. Some were wrecked. Some looked brand new.
Men were working on bikes. They looked up when we walked in and frowned. If Sandra wasn’t with me, they probably would have yelled at me to get out.
“Who’s this, Sandra?” The biggest man I’d ever seen asked. His voice was so deep it seemed to rumble through the whole building.
He was even taller than the man at the gate, with more muscles. He looked scary, but something about him made my heart beat faster.
- Writer
