“Yeah,” Jackson answers.
“Jackson, it’s Spike. Can we meet somewhere and talk?”
“What’s up? Addison ain’t shittin’ you off again, is she?”
“Nah.”
“Alright, where?”
“Bar in ten?”
“Be there.”
“Cheers.”
I flip the phone closed and head back into the sitting room. Granger looks up, lighting another smoke. Fucker smokes like a chimney.
“Goin’ to meet Jackson.”
He raises a brow. “What for?”
“To sort this Ciara shit out once and for all.”
“Sure that’s a good idea?”
I shrug, gripping my keys. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
T
he bar is quiet, but
she’s
working. I curse as soon as I walk in and she notices me. Her yellow eyes widen. Fuck those eyes. They’re the most beautiful fuckin’ things I’ve ever seen. I never told her that. Probably never will. Her lips part slightly in shock, and she runs her long, delicate fingers through her thick, blonde hair. Fuck. I hate when she looks at me like that. Like I can be fixed. Like I’m a project. She can spit out how much she dislikes me as much as she wants - I see that damned look in her eyes every time she looks at me, so her words mean nothing. I know she wants to fix me. But she can’t. I
won’t
let her.
I turn my eyes away from her to see Jackson, sitting at the booth in the left corner. I walk over, shrugging off my jacket. It’s just a sign of respect. He’s not wearing his either. This is mutual ground, neither of us have a claim on it, so there’s no need to show our patches.
He slides a beer across the table at me, and I wrap my heavily ringed fingers around it and take a sip. Jackson watches me, his eyes curious. He’s looking at me like he’s my fuckin’ dad. I hate when he does that. Fuckin’ Jack is too good for the life he lives. His heart is far too big.
“What’s up, Spike?” he asks, lighting a cigarette.
“She’s up.”
I nod my head towards Ciara, who is now serving a dirty old man who is making no effort to try and hide his lingering eyes. That fucker. I want to go and drive a fist into his dirty fuckin’ nose.
“Ciara?” Jackson asks, forcing my attention back to him.
“Yeah, Ciara.”
“What’s she doin’?”
I meet his gaze. “She’s a problem for me.”
Jackson narrows his eyes. “Why?”
“She’s...I don’t know how to put it, but she’s tryin’ to fix something here...between us...and it can’t be fixed.”
“I thought she got the message after the visit at the warehouse?”
“She didn’t. Well, she did but she ain’t willin’ to give up. She’s determined that we can get an old friendship back. It’s a problem, Jackson. I can’t have her gettin’ involved in my life, and the shit I’m doin’.”
“What shit are you doin’?” he asks, giving me a hard stare.
I stiffen. “None of your business, Jack’s. I don’t ask what’s goin’ down between you and the Knights...same goes this end.”
“It’s my turf. Don’t go bringin’ motherfuckin’ trouble here, Spike.”
“Fuck, Jacks. I ain’t gonna bring no trouble.”
Jackson gives me a long, hard, glare, but then he sighs. “I don’t own Ciara. I can’t tell her what to do.”
“She’s under your protection, Jack’s. Tell her to back down, that this ain’t a clever thing she’s doin’.”
“She just wants your forgiveness. Maybe if you give it to her, she’ll back off.”
“No,” I grunt. “She won’t. It goes far deeper than forgiveness.”
“Why don’t you tell her to back down?”
“I have,” I growl. “She won’t have any of it. She won’t back off. She thinks she can fix me. She’s as stubborn as they come. That girl ain’t backin’ down anytime soon.”
“Ignore her, eventually she’ll go away.”
I huff, clenching my fists, “You really don’t know her, do you?”
Jack’s growls. “Fine, Spike, I’ll have a word with her. I’ll try and get her to back off.”
“Excuse me?”
I hear Ciara’s angry voice and freeze. Well fuck, she wasn’t supposed to hear. Slowly I turn, and I see her standing with two beers in her hands. She’s glaring at me, and her eyes are alight with rage. Fuck.
“How. Dare. You.”
“Ciara,” Jackson begins, but she cuts him off with a glare.
“I thought better of you, Jackson. Is that all I am to you people? Some pathetic case you need to sort out?”
“It ain’t like that...” he protests, but her eyes are back on mine.
Fuck those eyes.
“You,” she snarls, leaning down so close her face is only inches from mine. She’s panting with rage, and her words come out like fucking steel. “How dare you come in here and try to get Jackson to do your dirty work? You’re pathetic, Spike. If you have something to say to me, man up and say it. You can try as hard as you fucking like, I’m not going to run away crying like the little girl I once was, because honey,” she leans down, closer, “I got tough.”
Then I feel the cold beer hit my chest. I jerk and my eyes widen as she tips the fuckin’ beer down my front. The stare she’s giving me is that of pure determination and, fuck, is that hunger? Fuck her. Fuck. Her. I growl and reach up, gripping her wrists.
“Quit what you’re fuckin’ doin’ Ciara.
Now
.”
A slow smirk stretches across her face and she stands up straight, smiling down at us as though we’re just two customers she doesn’t know.
“You two have a lovely night, and do call if you need more beers.”
And just like that, she turns and walks off. I stare down at the beer that has now soaked my shirt and pants, and I curse loudly.
Well, fuck.
This ain’t goin’ to be easy.
The girl is gettin’ under my skin.
“W
here are you going, Ciara?” my mother asks, following me down to the front door.
She hasn’t asked where I’m going, or whom I’m hanging out with for months. I know why she’s doing it now, because Cheyenne had a problem with her friend and is now sulking in her room, and I’m expected to stay and give her some company. Not going to happen. Cheyenne certainly wouldn’t do it for me. I meet my mother’s gaze, and shrug my shoulders. It’s so very teenager of me.
“I’m going out with a friend.”
“Cheyenne is upset, it would be nice if you supported her like most sisters would.”
I hate that. Just because she’s my sister, doesn’t mean I should have to drop everything for her. It takes much more to create a bond with someone, then just being blood related. Cheyenne has very rarely done anything for me. The whole ‘family bond’ thing doesn’t really cut it in this household. Sadly, it never has, but my mother still expects me to want to drop everything to help Cheyenne out when she’s in need. I don’t mind helping her either, when her problems aren’t petty and childish. I know for a fact this problem is just that.
“She’ll be fine.”
“Ciara, I am tired of all this attitude. You continually backchat me, and treat your sister like she’s no more than an acquaintance. She’s family. Family always comes first.”
I snort. “Yeah, well, funny she doesn’t have the same values when it comes to me.”
“Cheyenne would die for you, don’t be so selfish.”
I roll my eyes, and she crosses her arms.
“Sorry, Mom, but I’m busy tonight. Perhaps you and Cheyenne can have a girls night, because you do enjoy those...”
I’m being sarcastic and mean, but I don’t care.
She gives me the pained, hurt expression. “At least go and see her, she’s hurting.”
I sigh and growl loudly, before turning and storming up the stairs. I won’t get to walk out of this house until I see Cheyenne and listen to her bitch about a friend who did wrong by her, even though she was likely the one who started it. I get to her room, swing the door open, and find her lying in bed, staring out the window. It’s seriously like a movie. Next minute, it will be raining and a sad song will start playing. Can anyone say ‘drama queen?’
“What happened?” I say, though my voice sounds snappy.
She rolls, pinning me with a glare. “You don’t need to be here, Ciara. I know Mom is making you. I never asked you to care and we both know you don’t.”
Well shit, now she’s making me feel bad. I drop my bag at the door and walk over, sitting on her bed.
“I wanted to make sure you were ok before I left.”
Her eyes widen, and she sits. That’s all it takes to get her to talk. “I’m not, it’s Lisa.”
Ah, the beloved best friend, with whom she fights on a daily basis. I nod my head, encouraging her to go on and trying to ignore the fact that Danny will be here in five minutes.
“So, I was seeing this guy...you remember him? Jerald?”
What a
stupid
name.
“Anyway, things were going really well until this afternoon when I saw him at the café with Lisa. They were laughing and joking, like they were on a date.”
God save me.
“Maybe they just ran into each other...” I offer, trying to play it down as much as possible.
“Or maybe,” she snaps, “she was trying to steal my boyfriend.”
“Have you asked her?”
“No.”
“So you could be moping over nothing? Unless you ask her, then you shouldn’t be jumping to silly conclusions.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have spoken to you...” she growls. “You wouldn’t understand men. You just hang out with that idiotic motorcycle man who you say you don’t like, but we all know you do.”
“You know nothing,” I snap.
She hits me with that icy glare. “I know you want him. Better tell him soon, Ciara, or someone else will snap him up.”
Every time
. We cannot speak without her turning sour.
“Whatever,” I say, turning and walking towards the door.
I don’t bother saying anything else. Our heart to hearts always end in the same way – with Cheyenne and I fighting. We are always fighting, and the rare moments we aren’t, go by so quickly I couldn’t name any memorable ones. It’s not that we don’t love each other, because we do. It’s just that we have nothing in common. She’s outgoing, bubbly, and the light of most people’s lives. I’m quieter, more reserved, and tend to stick in the shadows. It’s how it’s always been, and likely how it always will be.
I grip my bag, storm down the stairs and straight past my parents sitting in the living room. They don’t even call out for me. Why would they? There’s nothing for them to say to me. Not even a
be careful
. I rush down the front steps just as Danny pulls up. He sees the look on my face, and pulls off his helmet. I wave at him frantically, letting him know I don’t want to stop. I just want to go. I need to get out of here, and away from the constant reminder that I’m second and I always will be. I lift the spare helmet off his bike, and climb on the back, saying nothing. He pulls his helmet back on, takes off, and we head to the movies.
I hold him tight the entire ride, struggling to steady out my emotions. When we pull up, and we’re both off the bike, he turns to me. His big, brown eyes scan my face, and I can see he’s worried about me, but he’s also not the type to talk emotions. He’s hard. It’s just the way he is. His parents died at a young age, and he was left alone. He lived a hard life, and he’s continued to live a hard life. He tried though, he went to school, got a job, and tried to build up something that had been so severely broken in the past. Sadly, it didn’t last long. I know he’s into some pretty bad stuff, even though he leaves me out of it.
“You okay, Tom Cat?”
“Just Cheyenne being an ass again,” I say softly.
“Sorry,” he says, it’s the only thing he ever says, emotions aren’t his strong point.
I wave my hand, plastering a smile on my face. “It doesn’t matter. What are we watching?”
He grins, offering me his hand. I take it, and we walk into the theatre. Girls automatically turn and stare at Danny, it’s hard not to. He’s wearing dark denim jeans, a tight black shirt, and heavy black boots. He’s got a few colorful tattoos running up his left arm, and he’s wearing a great deal of silver jewelry. He looks like a bad ass, and let’s face it, girls love a bad boy.
“You wanna go funny, or scary?” he asks, as we scour the titles, still hand in hand.
“Scary.”
He smirks, and we order two tickets to some horror flick that I have no doubt we will laugh the entire way through. It’s our thing. We come to the movies, and we laugh. It doesn’t matter if it’s a scary, funny, sad, or downright boring movie. We laugh, and we have a great time. We’re both the kind of people who will laugh right at the moment everyone else is crying. I remember watching the Titanic when it came back on big screen for the second time. Right at the end, people were blubbering and a complete mess, but Danny and I? Nope. I’ll never forget Danny’s comment right at the end, when Rose has just let Jack go, and she whispers, “I’ll never let go, Jack.” Danny snorted, and stared at the screen in horror as Jack sunk. His words? “She just fuckin’ let him go!”
We laughed for days about it.
That’s just us.
And our friendship might not be for everyone, but it’s ours, and because it’s ours, I love it.
“I
’m so sorry,” I say when my boss comes back from his few nights away to see the mass amounts of chairs and tables missing because of the brawl that broke out in the bar the other night. I’ve managed to clean most of it up during my last few shifts, but there were some things I couldn’t replace.
He’s glaring at me, panting angrily. “You fucked half of my fuckin’ bar!”
“I’m sorry, it was a bad call on my part. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”
“Damn right you will. You’re goin’ to go a week without pay to replace what you fuckin’ broke.”
I want to argue, but there’s no point. I’ll only lose my job, and I need this job. It’s all I have. If I lose it, I have to go home, and there ain’t no way in hell I’m going to crawl back to my parents.
No way in hell.
“Of course,” I say, my voice small.
“You’re lucky you’ve still got a job. If I could find girls easier, I would have fired your ass.”
“Thank you for giving me a chance.”