This Mess We''re In by Scarlett Grove
The reason for my arrival was the last thing I wanted her to know. The story about my clients had been innocent in the beginning, but everything had escalated into a cascade of lies.
Finally, the rush of the present moment caught up with me, and I turned to the guys. “Where did the girl get the smack?”
“Not from me,” said Jason, throwing his hands in the air. “I didn’t know that chick did hard drugs, man. I don’t touch that shit.”
I looked around at the faces of the other club members. Most of them looked completely dumbfounded. I stormed inside and called Martel on my cell phone. When he arrived, we went straight upstairs to his office. I watched him walk across the room and sit in his chair. I stood in front of the desk with my arms folded, glaring down at him.
“Have a seat, son.”
“I need answers, Martel.”
“What kind of answers?” He looked tired. He rolled the cuffs of his collared shirt to reveal the tattoos underneath. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for me to sit down. He pressed the side of his fist against his mouth and rested his booted foot on his knee. I finally sat down, but my stare didn’t waver.
“We had a girl here today doing heroin in the bathroom.” The statement made Martel appear even more tired than before.
“We need to keep that shit out of here. That’s your job, Damien.”
“Is the club trafficking drugs.”
“Heroin? God no.”
“There have been too many secrets since I arrived. I need to know what is going on. No more secrets, no more lies.”
“No one’s been lying to you, kid. We brought you up here under less than ideal circumstances, but that couldn’t be helped. I needed to make sure you’d come. I knew you wouldn’t otherwise. This is where you belong. This is your home.”
“Why do you get to decide where my home is?”
Martel planted both feet firmly on the floor , leaned over his desk , and looked straight into my eyes. “Your father saved my life during the war. It was the man’s dying wish for you to be part of the club. I honor that wish. I owe him that much.”
“Where does what I want factor into the equation?”
“Haven’t I set you up with a nice place? Your own shop? You’re making more money now than you did in LA. I checked.”
“Why didn’t you just offer me the business in the first place?”
“Shit, Damien. To be part of the club, you need to go through hazing. It’s the only way. Just grow the fuck up and stop whining about it.”
I sat back in my chair and stared at him. My heart thumped in my ears, but I didn’t let it show. This was the most I’d ever pushed him, but I needed answers.
“What exactly do you do in this club?”
“You know about everything you need to know. Most of the guys who are officers and some of the other members are local business owners. We’re a collective of concerned citizens who want to protect our town.”
“I know there’s more, Martel.”
He looked at me for a long moment and sighed. His chest seemed to deflate, and then he finally spoke. “Look, there are certain things going on in this town that are not exactly on the straight side of the law. But believe me, it isn’t hurting anyone, and it’s part of the lifeblood of the community.”
“What are you talking about?”
“In the original charter, back in the seventies, the club was set up to police and protect the local pot growers. We still keep them from getting robbed, and we settle disputes. Sometimes we run their weed. It’s not something the law can deal with, but it’s a major part of the local economy. The growers here are good people. Multi-generational families. They aren’t drug cartels.”
“Where is the heroin coming from?”
“Believe me, I’ve done everything I can about the smack and meth. It’s become a major problem. The suppliers are a 1% criminal gang out of Sacramento. They’ve been pushing into our territory for the last several years. Getting them out is going to require either expert negotiation or full-on aggression. Blood and murder have never been our racket. I’ve been trying to negotiate with their leader. Trouble is I don’t have anything he wants. Until now.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked at me skeptically and twisted his mouth. “TJ (Ripper) Callahan runs a cage-fighting operation out of Sacramento. It brings him some pretty big bucks from gambling. He’s made it clear that if I bring a contender who is a member of our club to his cage fight, and we win, he’ll stay out of this part of Mendocino and Humboldt Counties.” His crystal blue eyes narrowed on me.
“And you want me to fight for the club.”
“It’s for the whole town, for the whole North Coast. For people like your girl’s sister.” How did he know it was Claire’s sister? Martel seemed to have his ear to the ground on just about everything in town.
“When?”
“There’s a match this weekend. If you come with us this Saturday, we can get you entered. If you win, they leave us alone. If we lose, they get free reign in our area.”
“That’s a terrible idea. I’m not in nearly good enough shape for a cage fight right now. I haven’t even sparred with anyone in months.”
“Those are our options.”
I stood up from the chair thinking those were the worst options ever. I didn’t want that kind of weight on my shoulders. “I’ll have to think about it,” I muttered.
“Don’t think too long, son. We’ve only got a few days.”
Chapter Twenty-One: Claire
His motorcycle pulled up the driveway and Bradly jumped around in circles to be let out to greet him. Rose was napping, and Zoe had gone out with some friends. Regan, thank God, was sleeping off her drug haze in her bedroom.
I flung open the door and stood on the porch with my arms crossed. He pulled off his helmet and looked at me with solemn eyes. He slowly moved up the path until he stood below me on the stone walkway.
“What?” I said angrily.
“I came to check on you.” He sounded hurt. I didn’t care. I was hurt by his lies.
“I don’t need you to check on me.”
“Regan was in bad shape when she left.”
“That’s my business. You don’t even care about her.”
“Claire.”
“What!”
“Please, Claire. I’m sorry.”
“You lied to me! How could you be associated with drug dealers? Drugs are killing this town. They killed Jessy. They’re killing Regan. And you’re one of the people who put the drugs in their hands!” I was so furious tears wouldn’t even collect in my eyes.
“Claire, let’s go inside and talk.”
“No. Why didn’t you tell me you were in the Black Blades?”
“It’s a long story. Just let me explain.”
“You were using me for some sick twisted reason. Don’t you get enough pussy during one of your biker orgies? Did you want a little MILF for some flavor, to add to your list of conquests?” I shivered violently. My body felt numb, even though my heart flailed like a frantic, caged bird.
“Claire. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous! You’re ridiculous!”
“You’re just stressed out. I should have told you. I came up here to visit my dad’s old friend. They wanted me to get involved in the club, so I did. Martel is helping to finance my shop. It’s no big deal.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Tears finally flooded from my eyes and dripped relentlessly down my cheeks.
“It’s a long story. I want to tell you now. Just let me come inside.”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Damien. You betrayed me. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”
“Come on, Claire. Just let me explain.”
“I knew this would happen. I knew you would break my heart.”
“Please. Don’t say that.”
“Just go.”
“Claire!”
“Go!”
He turned away, l
All this time and no mention that he was part of a notorious motorcycle club. People in town gossiped that they were drug dealers. Nice girls stayed far away from The Clutch and far away from bikers like that. If being part of the club was no big deal, there shouldn’t have been any reason for him to avoid telling me about it. Plain and simple.
I sat up on the couch and buried my head in my hands. I wouldn’t let this tear me apart. I’d been through much worse in my life, and I would get through this too. So I’d fallen for a liar. I’d survive. I had to get on with my life.
I went to the kitchen, took a long drink of cold water, and splashed some on my face. When I felt a little more solid, I walked straight across the living room and got onto the computer, ready to get to work.
Zoe had set up a storefront for me on Etsy several weeks ago. We had taken photographs of the dresses I made for Emily, then used them to post the listings last week. Once something sold, I could sew a dress to order and send it to the buyer.
When I clicked on the website, I was completely stunned. I looked at my dashboard where the sales were recorded. I’d already sold eight dresses at a hundred dollars each. I covered my mouth to muffle the massive squeal that came through my lips. The roller coaster of emotion, from despair to elation, made me lightheaded.
Thoughts of Damien took a back seat as I tried to figure out how I’d get all those dresses made in time. It was the most money I’d seen in forever.
A windfall like that could take care of almost all our problems in the short run. I could pay off the nagging electric bill that still haunted me from the winter. I could finally replace the leaking roof.
I spent the next few hours sending email and cutting out dress patterns, and tried to keep Damien out of my mind. Every so often, he snuck in, and I had to stifle my crying.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Damien
I rode away from Claire’s house. Dusk settled over me. I was lost. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. The main reason I stayed in this town was because of her. She had to come around. I couldn’t take it if she didn’t. I needed her. She’d become my world.
I went to the gym. Working out usually helped me clear my head. I parked my bike and went to the locker room.
My gym clothes were stale from my last workout, but I put them on anyway. In my shorts, top, and tennis shoes, I went out onto the gym floor. The girl who worked the counter, with the fake blond hair and fake boobs, jogged on a treadmill.
I took the treadmill beside her and started to warm up. She gave me a big smile, showing bleached white teeth. I let myself watch her body as she ran.
Turning up the speed, I sprinted for two miles. The girl looked over at me as she slowed her machine. She hopped off and threw a towel around her neck.
“You’re an animal,” she said suggestively.
I stared at her breasts as she leaned against the front of my treadmill.
“I’m training,” I said, trying to keep my breath even.
She ran her hand over the top of my machine and said, “What for?”
“MMA match this weekend.”
Her eyes widened with excitement, and she stretched into a suggestive yoga posture. Her body was tan and toned. She smiled at me, knowing I was looking at her.
“That’s so cool. I’d love to see you fight.” Her perfect white teeth clicked together as her big hazel eyes flashed.
“Sacramento. Saturday.”
“My car is in the shop. Maybe you could take me.”
I stared at her, considering. My eyes drank in her sex appeal. My dick moved even though my energy was entirely extended at a full run. She would be so easy. I could probably have her tonight. I imagined bending her over on the floor and pushing my cock inside her wet pussy while her breasts jiggled underneath her.
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally. Frustration was making me weak. I looked away.
“Well, you’ll have to give me the details.” I watched her ass move under her tight yoga pants as she walked away. Lust and guilt flooded my veins and fueled my workout.
After I finished with my cardio, I went to the weight room and lifted for an hour, pushing myself as far as I could go. My strength and dexterity were at top performance, but working with a punching bag didn’t give me the practice I needed. I would be completely lost if the cage fight went to the floor.
When I was done with my workout, I showered and changed. On the way out of the gym, I stopped to talk to the guy at the front desk. I asked him if he knew of any other fighters in town. He told me the only person he knew was a fifty-year-old ex-amateur boxer. That wouldn’t help. I needed someone who would challenge me.
At home, I sat on my bed and ran my hand over my head. I missed her already. We’d just been together earlier that day. It felt as if it were a million years ago. I wanted her back. I wanted her to smile at me again. I should have found a way to tell her the truth, and I hated feeling that it was too late. My cell phone lay on the bedside table. I stared at it, wondering if I should call.
It grew dark outside, and I lay on the bed. My stomach grumbled, but I didn’t want to get up to make food. Darkness ran over my shoulders and down into my heart. I had to prove to Claire that I’d never put her sister or anyone else in danger. The only way to do that was to get the drugs out of Leggetville. I had to win this fight.
I sat up, feeling determined. I grabbed the phone and dialed.
“Yeah,” said a husky male voice.
“I’ll do it,” I told Martel. “I’ll fight.”
I spent the rest of the week working out for long hours at the gym. I had to make my body a fighting machine. The gym manager found me a few dudes to spar with, but neither of them was even close to my skill level. They didn’t give me the kind of practice I needed.
The girl at the gym hung around me while I practiced. I could have fucked her if I’d wanted to. I was tempted. Believe me. I was tempted. Instead of fucking her, I just talked to her. I told her about the fight, and all the things I wanted to tell Claire. I told her how I was going to fix everything.
I tried to call Claire almost every day. We shared a few tense words and she hung up on me before I could explain anything. It motivated me: win the fight on Saturday. It was the only way I could prove to her I was on her side. Then I would make her listen to me. I would return triumphant.
The day of the run came too fast. The drive to Sacramento was hot and dusty in the midsummer sun. We drove south down 101 and then east past Clearlake. The land was full of walnut trees and rolling yellow hills that looked like the breasts of a sleeping giant goddess. My mind shifted to Claire.
We made it to Sacramento at dusk and stayed in the clubhouse of a group under the same charter as the Black Blades. It was a warm greeting. Some of the guys came out and sized me up. Martel made sure I had my own room.
Since I’d learned the full extent of the Black Blades’ involvement in Leggetville, my feelings toward them had done a one-eighty. I saw them as my brothers-in-arms — hometown warriors defending what was ours. I’d never been more proud to be part of something. I needed that camaraderie more than ever, before my hour of reckoning.
I’d trained as hard as I could under the circumstances, but lacking a sparring partner or coach, I knew I was at a disadvantage. I should have gone to San Francisco to train, but there was so little time. Part of me wished I’d told Martel to hold off. I’d been so motivated to prove myself to Claire, I hadn’t been thinking clearly.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Claire
I spent all week sewing and missing him. He called a few times, but I still couldn’t talk to him. He kept trying to explain himself, but I didn’t want to hear it. If he had been lying to me all along, what was to stop him from lying to me again?
Still, I couldn’t help
Why did he have to come into my life and turn it upside down? I sat in front of my sewing machine stitching a seam. I’d finished the eight dresses in record time and was sewing a custom order for Emily at Dream Weavers. She agreed to raise her prices if I did a publicity shoot and an interview for her website.
Getting dolled up to have my photograph taken in the shop had been fun. She hired someone to do my hair and makeup. I needed all the help I could get in that department. When I saw myself in the mirror wearing one of my dresses, with my hair and makeup done by a pro, I was amazed at how good I looked.
That was another moment when I wished Damien were there. I finally realized what he saw in me. He saw me without any of the glamour. He saw me when I was in baggy pants and no makeup.
By the weekend, I’d made a thousand dollars, with plenty more coming on top of that. It was the biggest windfall I’d ever had in my entire life. The money from my online sales was set to hit the bank that day. I’d made a separate business account just in case anything happened with the joint account Zoe and I shared for living expenses. I’d examined it closely for the first time in a long time and saw that there were mysterious withdrawals that neither of us could account for.
Usually, they happened on Zoe’s day off. We thought that maybe Regan had taken Zoe’s card and gotten cash from a store to buy drugs. Zoe opened a new account too, and we both became much more careful about hiding our purses.
Regan had been quiet most of the week. She came and went without telling me what she was doing. As long as she didn’t take the car, steal my money, or destroy the house, I was fine with her for now.
I couldn’t deal with her yet. I was too busy with my business. Zoe and I wanted to have an intervention. I felt guilty for ignoring it, but I finally had money coming in. I had to focus on that for just a little while longer.
I drove down south with Rose in the backseat on a warm Saturday morning. Rose called every animal she saw out her window “doggy,” and I couldn’t stop laughing. I’d bought myself a new pair of sunglasses at Dream Weavers, was jamming to the car radio with Rose, and felt pretty good about myself.