Page 53 of Misguided
NINETEEN
Dog
Coming home seems empty without her there to warm my back. I never saw Mel again after she walked out on me—whether that was on purpose, or entirely a fluke, I don’t know.
Crackers got a hold of me the moment I showed my face in the kitchen for a coffee and ripped me a new one for the state I’d got in. I don’t know what possessed me last night, other than I was searching for anything and everything to preoccupy my mind with while I waited on Mel to decide if she was coming down to join us or not.
Showing the prospects how I could handle anything they threw at me seemed like a good idea at the time. The fuckers tend to forget us fully patched members, even the newer ones like me, have been there, done that. We’ve showed our grit, proved our worth, know how it goes.
Didn’t think how it would look doing those body shots until Mel walked in. The whore they laid out on the table was nothing more than a vessel for the drink; I didn’t once think of her that way.
But the look on Mel’s face, the way her eyes went some place else. Fuck—I knew I’d screwed up.
Wish I could remember what happened after. She was mad, I remember that much, but as soon as that fresh air struck me outside the house, I was gone. People say the cold air sobers you up some. I think it just proves to remind you how drunk you really are when the bubble of alcohol-induced warmth is ripped from around you.
I said something to her. I know that much. Something that meant she watched over me all night, cared for me, despite the fact she clearly wants nothing to do with me now.
“Home already?” King greets as I back the bike into my spot.
“Yeah.”
“Thought you’d be sleepin’ it off still.”
Word travels fast. I look over at Pres as he packs his saddlebag with a smug smirk.
“What you not tellin’ me?”
He chuckles, cinching the strap tight. “You checked your Facebook this morning?”
Oh, shit. “Fuck. Really?” I drag a hand over my face, aware what the hell Mel’s probably already seen too.
The bold reality of it all played out over and over and over …
“Can’t believe you stayed on your feet as long as you did.” King throws a leg over and then leans back with his hands on his thighs to look at me.
I pull my key out and dismount. “I can’t even remember what they gave me.”
“Bourbon, vodka, whiskey,” he counts off on his fingers. “And then they started mixin’ in absinthe from what I’ve heard.”
Fuck me. No wonder Mel was as worried as she was. No wonder I can’t remember much either.
“Shitheads,” I mutter, unstrapping my bag from the back.
“Worth a laugh,” King says before starting his bike. He idles out of his spot and level with the front of mine. “I’m headin’ out for a few hours to catch up with a friend. If Elena shows up, tell her I won’t be long.”
“Sure.”
He rides out into the yard, leaving me wondering why his old lady might turn up here at the clubhouse. She makes it her life’s mission not to step foot in here if she doesn’t have to.
I head inside and soon see why. King’s left his boy, Dante, here with Callum.
“Here he is!”
I cringe as Vince sweeps across the room and slaps me one on the back. “How you feelin’?” he asks louder than necessary.
I glare at the tall motherfucker. “Seedier than the used end of a condom, but hey, it’s to be expected.”
Dante turns to Callum who glares over the top of the boy’s head as he no doubt deflects questions about what I said. Oops.