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Chapter 10

Lying on my bed I stare at the picture of Professor Prescott on the college website. “Michael,” my tongue slides along my teeth as I say his name out loud. He’s so damn handsome it’s almost unfair. I sigh, my nails digging into the skin of my right thigh as I think about what it would be like to have him lying on top of me, or is he the kind that would rather have me on top.

The TV catches my attention and I close the laptop.

If you have any information on the whereabouts of Harley Vander, please call 1800 - Missing.

A picture of a beautiful young woman with long blonde and pink hair with soulless eyes is plastered across the TV screen. Her eyeliner thick and dark, her nose and lip pierced. She’s covered in colorful tattoos, too.

Stepping over to the mirror hanging above a cracked sink in the corner, I look at my reflection. My dark brown hair streaked with parts of pink, and lips are stained with pink lipstick from earlier.

I smile like the Devil as I gaze upon myself. They’ll never find Harley Vander, not until I say so.

She’s not pushing me to the side again, relenting me from coming forth. I’m a part of her, regardless of what she tells herself.

She’s the darkness, I’m the light. Without me, she’s just a lonely nightmare lost in the atmosphere of reality. She’s the rough touch, the misfit of society. I’m the soft caress, the flirty girl next door.

She needs me, otherwise… why would her mind and soul create me?

***

Benji

Twelve Years Old

“Harley, want to go play in the motorcycle graveyard?” I ask out of breath, running from the clubhouse. The graveyard is behind the club and is a mountain made up of used motorcycle parts. Harley and I have been trying to piece our own bikes together for a while now, and sometimes when we get bored we pretend to ride the ones that are still half built.

Harley turns and glares at me. She looks… different. Her hair is cut shorter, and she’s wearing a dress. I’ve never seen her wear a dress before, not since the day I met her.

“What’d you call me?” she sneers, shoving me in the chest hard. Her choppy blonde hair flinging in her face.

“Ow,” I whine, looking her over in a curious manner. Is she playing a game?

“What are you playing?”

“Playing? I’m not playing anything,” she shrugs, kicking some rocks with high heels that are way too big for her. “Do you want to play spin the bottle?” Her eyes light up, as she holds a dusty beer bottle in her hand.

I’ve been trying to accidentally kiss Harley ever since I met her. She made it clear she wasn’t ready for that with me or anyone though, so playing a game of spin the bottle is throwing me off. Why now? What’s changed?

“Huh? I thought you said you just wanted to be friends?” I hate myself for reminding her, but I don’t want to make her do anything she’d regret. When I kiss her, I want it to be like one of those war-head candies. Explosive at first, leaving her lips tingly and mouth watering for more just before it gets sweet and savory.

“I’m Farrah, and I’d love to be more than friends.” She holds her hand out, her tone of voice soft and sexy. Farrah? I squint my eyes and tilt my head to the side.

“Are you sick, Harley?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the sun. Harley is different today. The way she stands, talks, and looks at me, it’s as if someone else is standing before me.

A voice sounds from behind, a cackle more like it.

“Sick? That girl is a fucking retard. Who does she think she is today? The president, a… a famous singer?” Prospect Bats laughs, slapping his knee like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

I look back at Harley, who has tear-filled eyes. It twists my chest in a way I feel my ribs might pull apart one by one.

“Don’t talk about her that way!” I shout, stepping in front of her in a protective stance.

“Oh, give it five minutes, she’ll think she’s Sara, the gymnast who has cancer,” he throws a hand at me. Waving me off like making fun of Harley is no big deal.

“Stop calling me names. My name is …” she looks down confused and hurt. My chest pulls tightly wanting to protect her. I promised her I’d protect her the day we were both shoved in the back seat of my dad’s car together.

Bending down, I grab a rusty muffler and throw it at Prospect Bats. It strikes him right across the face before skidding across the cigarette butt littered concrete.

“You little Bastard!” Bats hollers, holding his cut cheek.

“RUN!” I tell Harley, and we make a bolt for it into the graveyard. From that moment on, I knew Harley would need my protection for the rest of her life.

I didn’t get that first kiss that day, but we never saw Prospect Bats ever again.

***

Benji

Present

Leaning up against the clubhouse, the desert kicks up in the night’s sky, the moon casting shadows on the ground. A lone coyote runs across the way with a rabbit in its mouth, leaving a trail of blood behind it. The sight of it raining crimson into the dirt makes my hands ache. For the rage building inside of me is becoming unbearable. Sitting idle while Harley is missing is not my calling.

Grudge, my president and Harley’s father, ordered a missing persons report, and went about his life as usual. As if his duty as a caring father to a sick daughter is done because he had the police station put out a missing person alert. What the fuck?

We should be out there ourselves looking, cause we both know ain’t no fucking cops out there looking for Harley.

But as his enforcer, I’m supposed to agree with his decision and keep the fuck quiet. I’m not sure how much longer I can uphold that duty.

I was born and raised inside the life of being a biker. The wild lifestyle of being an outlaw is dangerous, and a privilege. Yeah, that’s right, a privilege. Not everyone is granted a spot at the table or given a cut with the Shadow Keepers colors. You have to prove that your loyalty to the brotherhood is your only fucking family tree.

The club comes before yourself, before Harley. Grudge says anyway.

I think family should come first, otherwise what the fuck are you trying to protect in the first place.

Taking a drag off my cigarette, I wonder where Harley is. It’s all I’ve thought about since I noticed she wasn’t coming back to the club. I checked the roof, the graveyard, everywhere. I’m scared for her. She is strong, but not strong enough. She needs me and she doesn’t even fucking know it.

She never has. Friend-zoned and I fucking hate it.

“You all right?”

Glancing to my left, I find Tickles standing outside the club door. Her arms crossed in front of her, pushing her tits nearly out of her top.

I ignore her, exhaling smoke. She’s always trying to fuck, but I’m not into sloppy fifteenths.

“You lonely?” she asks, looking out into the night. She has on a jean skirt, and black corset. No shoes. Most of the men in this club have been up in that pussy, but not me. I only have eyes for one wild woman. Harley.

I still ignore Tickles, but she’s not one to back down so easily.

“I don’t know why you hold out for that bitch. She doesn’t give two shits—”

I grab Tickles by the throat before I realize what I’m doing. Shoving her up against the building her eyes widen with fear. She knows she’s fucked up now. Nobody speaks ill of Harley. Not around me. Not ever.

“That bitch is your club princess, and she is more woman than you’ll ever be, Tickles!” I rasp, my grip tightening around her hickey printed throat.

She pinches her eyes shut, her fingers scratching my hand as I take the life from her. I should, I should kill her right here. Make an example to this whole fucking club that Harley is not just a sick girl.

But if I kill this slut, I’d have some horny brothers pissed at me.

I let go, and she doubles over coughing, rubbing her throat.

“She’s crazy! She needs to be locked up, Benjamin!” she cries, singing the same tune a lot of people who don’t know Harley have sung… Right before me and my close brothers killed them.

I scoff.

“Harley is crazy, but she’s original. That’s what makes her beautiful.” I smile, picturing Harley and her wild spirit as if she was right beside me. She’s not what everyone tries to be or thinks they should be. Harley is her own woman and one day… she will be my woman.

She just hasn’t seen that yet.

She’s making me chase her, and I will.

Grudge named her Harley knowing the day she was born that she would be a free spirit. Untamable.

He didn’t know how right he was until she reached puberty. Her dad swore me to stay away from her, and that’s the day I fell in love with the forbidden Harley Vander.