The Rage: Hell's Disciples MC 3(40)
"Really, what is this place?"
"A cabin in the forest."
///
"How'd you know about it?"
"Like you, I had a shit childhood. Mom brought me here when I was little, maybe six. One of the only fun things she did with me; one of the few good things I remember about her." My heart hurts for that little six-year old Jameson.
"What was your mom's name?" His hands on my shoulders tighten and I can feel his body go rigid behind me.
After a long quiet moment, he says, "Georgia." I don't push for more. That's more than enough for me.
"Thank you. So why'd you bring me here?"
"It's your birthday." He says simply. I don't ask how he knows ‘cause it doesn't matter.
The cottage is small, it's old, it's in need of repair, but it's perfect. Just like the small beach house we stayed at, this one is full of old rustic charm and character. It's beautiful.
****
"Thank you for bringin' me here." I feel those damn tears well up. Jesus Christ, Rampage has turned me into a big ass baby. It's hard not to get emotional because he's been so wonderful. Taking care of me, looking out for me. I give nothing in return, yet he's still here, being so damn good to me.
"Don't start gettin' all girly on me, babe." He looks a little scared, which makes me laugh.
"But you're just so good to me. Why? I just don't get it."
"Why?"
"Yeah. I mean, you're not nice to anyone like you've been nice to me, so why?" A big arm wraps around my neck, pulling me further into him. His lips press into the top of my head.
"Lala, don't ask that kinda shit. You know why, baby. Now go to sleep." His hand stops moving after about ten minutes. I'm almost sure he's asleep ‘‘til I hear him whisper, "Because I fuckin' care about you."
****
The tantalizing smell of breakfast pulls me from my sleep. The bed dips and a big hand lands on my lower back. Pressing his face into my neck, Rampage growls, "Wake your ass up." No good morning. No traditional soft and sweet, this is his soft and sweet. Rolling over, his large body looms over me. A white tray with a plate full of whipped cream, strawberries, and waffles wait for me next to him.
"You made me breakfast?"
"Tried." He tried? Well it looks like he succeeded. In fact, it looks mouthwatering.
"It looks delicious."
"We'll see." Damn him.
"Shut up and hand me the plate." At that I'm rewarded with my plate and a smile. A fucking smile. It's perfect. He's fucking beautiful when he smiles. Best.Birthday.Ever!
****
"Alright. Whatcha wanna do today?" He asks with his arms crossed over his chest, ankles crossed at the feet, leaning against his bike.
"I get to pick?" That's seriously surprising.
"Your birthday, right?"
"Right."
"So what are we doin'? Pick whatever the fuck ya want."
"I want a tattoo." That surprises him. His eyes widen and he looks at me like I've lost my mind. It's something I've always wanted, and I couldn't think of a better time than right now.
"A tattoo?"
"Yep."
"You want a tattoo? You get a tattoo. I know a guy, so hop on."
****
I left a grumbly and growly Rampage in the front of the small tattoo parlor. I followed a man to the back room, tattooed from head to toe, ears gaged, and bald. He introduced himself as Snake and I knew I'd like him. Snake had a big ass smile from ear to ear when I told Rampage it was a surprise and he'd couldn't watch.
"Love virgin skin," Snake said, rubbing his hands together and giving a smirk to a very pissed off Rampage as he led me back. I can tell Snake is fun.
"Up on the stool, darlin'," He nods at a plastic covered stool.
"So, you're a friend of Rampage's?" I inquire. I don't know a whole lot about Rampage, so whatever I can get, I'll take.
"He's my brother. I'm a Nomad of the Disciples, babe."
"Oh." I remind myself to ask Rampage what the hell a nomad is. No way in hell am I asking Snake. He'd probably laugh if I did.
"You're Rampage's old lady, huh?" He says with his back to me as he sets up his gun. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. I don't answer, because I have no clue what to say to that. "So. Where am I tattooing on that perfect, clean skin?"
15
Virgin Skin
Rampage
Goddamn virgin skin. Fucking Snake knew what he was doing. He's lucky it's Lala's birthday, and if she didn't want that fucking tattoo so goddamn bad, he'd be breathing through a tube right now. I fucking hate that I'm stuck in the front, waiting like an asshole, twiddling my goddamn thumbs. Who knows what kind of shit he's spitting in her ear back there, or what kind of shit he's putting on her body.
///
I've no fucking clue what that asshole is permanently marking all over that perfect skin. All that soft and smooth will forever be changed. It'll no longer be virgin skin. It won't be completely naked anymore. Sweat starts beading on the back of my neck while my legs bounce. I think I'm about to have a fucking panic attack when a sweet and innocent Lala comes walking back out, followed by a smirking Snake. He's looking like the asshole who just popped her cherry.
"Thank you, Snake." She beams sweetly up at him. Hate when she looks at other motherfuckers like that. Those eyes, that smile − they're mine. They are all fucking mine.
"Anytime, baby doll. All that perfect skin makes a man antsy to draw all over it. You want more ink, you come see me, and only me."
"Deal. I'll be back." The fuck she will! Over my dead, cold body. That's the last time anyone touches her.
"Later, Rampage," Snake chuckles. Yeah, he's super funny.
"Fuck you." The last thing I hear is Snake's laugh. Asshole.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, I run my eyes from head to toe, looking for ink, but find nothing. Snake watches me through the window. He knows that I'm lookin' ‘cause he's pretty fucking happy as he watches me try to find it. The fucker tattooed somewhere under her clothes, or the little bit of clothes she's got on, which leaves little fucking skin to tattoo. I'm going to kill the both of them.
Finding her wrists, I see a white piece of medical tape covering it. Grabbing her arm to take a look, she tugs it away from me. I hate that shit.
"It's a surprise, Rampage."
"I hate surprises."
I can't wait. It's not my birthday, so I'm not getting the surprise here, anyway.
"I wanna see it, baby." Pulling her arm behind her back, she gives me that look − Sexy and feisty.
"Nope."
"Not fuckin' ‘round. I wanna see it."
"You're gonna have to wait." Putting her free hand on my chest, she pushes me away. Goddamn woman. I have shit for patience and with her, it's non-existent.
"Fine, but by tonight, I'm seeing it whether ya like it or not."
****
Following behind Lala, I watch her stop and start digging through a bin on the sidewalk outside of a store.
"The fuck you doin', babe?" Reaching a hand inside, she digs around, tongue worried between her lips. She's beautiful. I'm still not sure how I pulled that shit off. I'll never understand why she picked me, but I'll never fucking argue it.
Pulling out a CD, she looks at it and tosses it back, "Lookin' for old school music," she mutters. Old school music?
"Lala. Shit isn't old school to you. Fuck, you were born like, eighteen years ago." Pulling out another, she flips it over and smiles.
"I'm twenty-four, but thanks," she laughs.
"Right. Still, babe." Seven years may not be a huge fucking number, but the way I've lived, that shit might as well be twenty years.
"Ohh! George Michael!" She screams. Jesus Christ. Give me a goddamn heart attack.
"You scream like that again, imma duct tape your goddamn mouth." She just waves me off, smiling.
"What's a George Miller?" Throwing her head back, she starts to laugh. The sound is something I'll never get used to. The melody of her laugh still fucking lightens all that dark inside me.
Standing on the side of the road in some short, flowing dress, hair blowing in the wind, and tears of laughter running down her face, she couldn't be any fucking sweeter. There is nothing better than her for me.
"George Michael," she corrects me through her laughter.
"No clue, babe." And that's the truth. I don't have a fucking clue, but whatever makes her smile.
"Father Figure, Faith, I Want Your Sex?" The last one sounds about right. I shrug and she rolls her eyes at me, "I'll introduce you later." No thanks.