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Needing Me, Wanting You(2)

By:C. M. Stunich


“The name's Tease,” I tell the man, looking him up and down, immediately casting him aside as any sort of romantic interest. If he's in the MC, I'm not interested. One day, I'm afraid I'll be forced to choose someone to stay, and my chest gets tight. For now, I'm only eighteen years old, and my brother still takes care of me. I have no idea what'll happen later, when I get a little older and he stops looking at me like his little sister and more like a woman with nobody and nothing. I try to tell myself I'm being paranoid, but what happens if Darren isn't the President? What then? “And if Tax hears you calling me that, he'll beat your ass down.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder and move into the room. I'm comfortable here, surrounded by all these people. A good portion of them have been around my entire life, friends to my father and now to my brother. This here is fuckin' family. I tuck my hands in my pockets for a moment and try to decide where to sit. I avoid anybody that doesn't already have an old lady by their side. I'm absolutely, one hundred percent not interested in anyone here, and I don't like people getting ideas. Ideas breed trouble when they're cast in the wrong vein. Besides, most of the men here are twice my age and while I love and respect and even admire many of them, when I do look for a partner, I'd like them to be at least close my own age.

I wander slowly through the group, listening in on snippets of conversation. I try to collect as much information as possible, just in case. You never know when it might come in handy.

“Triple M?” I hear one of my friends ask, leaning forward. Her elbows rest on the table as she runs her tongue over her lips and stares her husband, Cape, down. He's gossiping again which my brother really hates, but situated here around the dinner table, it's hard not to talk about your day. It happens sometimes. “Why does the name sound familiar?” she asks, letting her eyes roll to the ceiling in thought. “They from Virginia?”

“They're not from anywhere,” Cape says, staring into his drink. I think he's had a little too much personally, but I sit down on the bench next to Angelina anyway and watch as his red face scrunches up. “They travel around the country … ” Cape's voice trails off and he leans in conspiratorially, even when his brother slams his beer down onto the wooden tabletop a bit harder than necessary. “Robbing banks. Banks is their territory.” Cape takes another swig of his drink and sighs. “Robbin' banks and changin' lives, I guess. They're ready to revolutionize the world, one city at a time. Stupid motherfuckers.”

“Goddamn it, Cape,” Tim growls, giving his brother a dark-eyed glare. I pretend not to be interested, reaching into the basket in the center of the table and withdrawing a roll. As Tim continues, voice heavy with anger, I slather butter across the bread and put it to my lips. In a moment or two, somebody will bring me a plate; they always do. If I was here as an old lady, I'd get up and get it myself, take my husband his first. Instead, I get to sit here and pretend I'm one of the guys. It's an illusion, but I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. “Stop running your mouth and at least get the fucking facts straight.” Tim slaps one big hand into the other for emphasis. “Triple M is a joke. They rob banks and they play games. I don't know what they're getting at here, but starting shit with Bested by Crows and Broken Dallas wasn't the smartest fucking decision. If they keep at this crap, somebody's going to put them down just to prove a point.”

“And what's that point?” I ask. Angelina gives me a look, adjusting the red bandanna she wears on her head. It's not just for looks: Angelina lost her hair in chemo. I reach out and curl my fingers around hers. She's my sister, and I'd do anything for her. I know she'd do the same for me. That's a good feeling. My real sister, Lizzie, she wouldn't give me the scraps from her table.

“The point is that you can't just change the way things are. That's not how the world works. There are rules and you follow 'em. If you're going to try to break boundaries and knock down walls, you have to own them. And they don't. Triple M is a bunch of wannabe riders in easy-to-order jackets. I think we should greet 'em on their way to the coast and take their cuts. They're not worthy of wearing them.” Tim finishes his beer with a huff and stands up, cursing his way across the room and towards the doors in the back corner. He's probably off to smoke and play pool. That's pretty much the favorite activity around here on our Friday night get-togethers. I don't often play, mostly because nobody wants me to, but when I do, I kick all their asses.

I smile.

“Something on your mind, Tease?” Angelina asks me, and I shake my head, resting my chin in my palm. There's something comforting about being here, about knowing that every single fucking person in that room would take a bullet for you. A sense of camaraderie that's hard to find elsewhere. At the same time, it feels like there's a glass ceiling, too. Nobody talks about, but it's there. I can excel, but only in certain areas, only in the places where I'm supposed to excel. There's something soothing about that, too, believe it or not. As long as my head is hitting that ceiling, I know I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.