Trace

7 - Another day in the life of...

Fallon

Last night should not have happened. It was idiotic. Even if it was the hottest night of my life. That huge man fucke.d me so hard, so powerfully, so perfectly. I’ve always wanted a man to take control of me the way Trace did. I never thought anyone could.

I’ve been with a handful of men in my life. The first two were okay, but I was scared to ask what I wanted. The three that followed were better. I found my voice, and they fucke.d me hard the way I asked them to.

But Trace, my God, I totally lost my head with him. I wasn’t scared to ask him for what I wanted, and he wasn’t afraid to give it to me. It was amazing, and I know I will never find another guy who can make me cu.m the way he did. And so many times!

I was so lost in what Trace was doing to me, the way he was taking me, that I had nothing on my mind but how he made me feel. For the first time since Scott was shot, I thought about nothing. Everything was gone, and I was finally me.

The trouble was that as soon as I came down from my orgasmi.c high, or enough for everything to flood my mind, I knew I had to get away from him. I knew the second Trace lay beside me on that embankment that I could quickly become addicted to him and his ability to help me let go. I couldn't risk that.

I don’t need anybody. I’m stronger alone.

I haven’t been able to get motivated today, though. I only slept a few short hours last night. It was after 3 a.m. when I got home, almost 5 a.m. before I crawled into bed. 8 a.m., which is when Duke woke me to let him out to pee.

I could have gone back to bed once I’d fed him, but I figured I’d take him for a walk. Duke doesn’t need a leash; Scott trained him from a puppy to obey both of us and only us.

Scott found Duke dumped by the side of a road in a box four years ago. Poor thing was barely alive, his siblings, three of them, weren’t. Scott took him to a vet and had him checked over. There was nothing wrong with Duke other than a case of fleas and hunger.

Scott cleaned up the fleas, fed Duke up, and made him into something magnificent. I was so desperate to keep him, and Scott wasn’t in a hurry to find him a new home. So, Duke became part of the family. Scott trained him well, and Duke has been a loyal friend ever since.

There hasn’t been a day since Scott’s accident that Duke hasn’t pinned for him. Whenever he hears a motorcycle engine, he’s at the window, tall, wagging, whining, when he realizes Scott isn't coming home. Sometimes, seeing that beautiful gray dog crying for my brother breaks my heart.

I cry for him sometimes, too. There was a time when I was so angry with Scott for leaving me alone like this that I couldn’t cry.

There were days when I did nothing but run for miles, trying to outrun the pain with Duke by my side.

There were times I would work out for hours, using the punchbag like it was my enemy. Even tearing up my knuckles more than once.

Back then, my brother’s MC had taken it upon themselves to look out for me. Brick, the President, used to come around every day and take me to the hospital to see my brother. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to take me. It was his duty, he once said.

The whole MC used to visit Scott back then. They even helped with the medical bills until I was old enough to get a job at the strip joint in order to pay myself. I started making good money, and that’s when they stopped helping. Brick told me they couldn’t help Scott anymore. He’d always be there if I needed anything; all I had to do was call. But he couldn’t have me around the clubhouse if I didn’t want to be with him. He wouldn’t allow me to be with one of the other members.

Sick, isn’t it?

That I fell into bed with a man more than twice my age the day after my brother was shot. I mean, I was in a state, terrified of what had happened and my part in it. Scared to death of being alone for the rest of my life.

I ran out of the hospital after the doctor told me he didn’t think Scott would make it. Brick chased me, grabbed my arm, and tried pulling me into his. I hit out at him in anger, punching his chest. He just pulled me against him and held me close. I lost all fight within me and sagged against him.

It was me who kissed Brick first. Me who begged him to take me home and make me forget for a while. He did. It was good. He fucke.d me hard and showed me what a real man was.

It was just that once, and I hated myself afterward. And I do mean hated myself. Brick would ask me all the time to be his, that he would take care of me in ways I didn’t know were possible. I didn’t believe him. I knew the man he really was. Brick would never have been faithful to me, to anyone. Not to mention, I was eighteen, and he was thirty-nine at the time. I didn’t want to be anything to him.

I think when it finally sank into his brain that I would never be him, that’s when he pulled the club away from Scott and me. Brick was the President, and it was his choice to make. Even if some of the other members didn’t agree with him. Brick believed that casting me out would have me falling at his feet and begging him not to leave me. He thought wrong!

It hurt me to think the men my brother treated like family would just walk away from us like that. Like we never meant anything to them. But of course, we didn’t. Men like them care about no one but themselves. Although one or two of them were decent men, they dared not go against their President. Not for a girl like me.

I’ve been alone ever since, with pain as my only friend. I wish I had someone on my side to tell me it’s okay to let Scott go, that it is what’s best for him so he can finally be at peace, and that I’ve done right by him these past three years.

But there is no one here for me but Duke.

The more I think about it, the more I wish I could track down my father the way Scott did. I hate him for leaving us, and I don’t want anything to do with him. But I can’t let Scott go until our father sees him again. My brother’s spirit would never rest until my father told him how much he loved him, how proud of him he was, and how sorry he was for leaving him.

“What am I gonna do, boy?” I scratch Duke’s ear, his head in my lap as I sit on the couch in my PJs. “Why didn’t Scott tell me Dad’s name? Where the hell do I even start looking?” I sigh and lay my head back.

Trace is a biker; he knows MCs, and maybe he could help me find my father. But then I have fuc.k all to go on. So, what the hell would I tell him?

Maybe if I could figure out what this key is – the one I found in the inside pocket of my brother’s MC cut after they gave it to me at the hospital – then it might lead me closer to what I need to know.

Why haven’t I found out before now?

Because for the first year, I was too scared to leave Scott’s side for more than an hour a day, and only then so I could shower. I had Brick constantly on at me, and then I was left alone. And in the years after, I was too busy working my ass off to make payments on time.

Truth be told, I forgot all about the key until the other day when I went through an old purse and found it. It took me a while to remember where it originally came from. Even longer to realize I have no clue what the damn thing goes to.

God, I can’t sit around here any longer. I’ve wasted the whole day as it is. I need to get ready for work. I’m going to need as much money as I can make over the next few days. I have a funeral to pay for.

* * *

“What do you mean, I’m not working tonight?” I am pretty aware of how raised my voice is, but Tammy has just informed me that there isn't a spot for me tonight, and she's not sure there is tomorrow either. I fuckin.g need this job!

“Fallon, after last night, I’ve been asked – no, I’ve been told – not to let you work the main stage.”

For a second, I think she means me sleeping with Trace. But I soon realize that’s not what she means. There’s no reason she’d even know about that. Unless Trace bragged about it, I can’t see that somehow. But then, I don’t even know the man.

But no, she’s referring to what happened with the customer who grabbed me.

“Shi.t like that happens all the time. I’m used to it. I need this job, Tammy.”

“I’m sorry. I’m putting you on the bar tonight.” I’m not even going to make a quarter of what I make on the stage if I work the damn bar! “Sweetheart, it’s nothing personal.”

“It is to me.” I’m trying to keep the hurt out of my voice, but it’s hard. My brother deserves a decent funeral.

How can I give him that without money?

“There’s more going on here, isn’t there?”

I have nothing to lose by telling Tammy what’s going on and why I need this job. Maybe if I tell her, she’ll put me back on stage.

So, I do. I tell her about my brother and the fact that I have to turn his machine off sooner rather than later. How I have to pay for his funeral and the unpaid medical bills. I even tell her about needing to find my father. I don’t know why I tell her about the stupid key, but I do.

When I’m done, Tammy looks at me sympathetically from her seat behind her desk in this small office at the back of the club.

“I’m sorry you’re going through all of that alone, sweetheart. It can’t be easy.”

“It isn’t,” I tell her honestly.

“I can’t put you on stage tonight, Fallon. But I’ll talk to the boss about putting you back out there tomorrow before the nights out.”

I nod in thanks.

That’s all I can do right now.

“As for your key? It’s a safe deposit key like the ones you get from a bank. There should be a letter followed by a sequence of numbers somewhere on it.”

I take the key from my jacket pocket curiously and look at it. She’s right; there are numbers at the head of the key, very small, very hard-to-see numbers. I had never noticed before, but I had never paid much attention before.

“H427.” I say out loud.

“The H will stand for the name of the bank. The numbers obviously are the box belonging to your brother. I can find out what bank it is and let you know.”

It’s not her place to have to do that, but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t need her help right now. She’s a lovely woman; I feel like I can trust her. Which is crazy when she’s a bikers Old Lady.

But if there’s one thing Scott always taught me, it’s that I should never tarnish a person with another’s brush. No two people are ever the same. No matter who they are or where they come from.

“Thank you,”

“No problem.” She smiles. “Now, get to work. I’ll speak to you at the end of your shift.”

I nod but don’t say anything; there really is nothing left to say. I’ll finish this shift and see my brother before I go home.

Just another day in the life of Fallon Caldwell.