Riding with the Beast (an MC Fairy Tale)

16 - Sonja

The inside of the MC reminded me too much of things I wanted to forget. The plain, faux wood on the walls gleamed like they’d been dipped in grease. That rough economy carpeting that’s often used in hotel hallways and elevators blanketed the floor. Shot glasses and drinks were stacked against a grimy mirror behind a bar. The smoke from cigarettes laced with marijuana obscured everything.

I knew this place, these smells, these men. I tried not to look at them. I tried not to think about them looking at me.

Two balls hit each other over on the pool table. After, the room got so quiet I could hear the man at the bar hiss as he slapped down his drink.

The stool squeaked as he spun. His long salt and pepper beard frayed over his pot belly. When he smiled, his skin looked more leathery than his cut. “Beast.”

The Beast didn’t return his smile. “I’m sorry, Prez.”

The old man stood. He didn’t look that tall, but then no one next to the Beast ever did. His hand shook a bit as he slapped the Beast’s arm. “Don’t be. It’s good to have you back.”

Then, the old man turned to me. He kept his smile, but his eyes turned to steel. “So this is her?”

“This is Sonja,” the Beast corrected.

“Sonja,” the old man repeated. His voice was polite, but those steely eyes were full of accusations. I didn’t know what the Prez had heard about me. I could guess, but I couldn’t know for sure, which also meant I didn’t know which rumors he’d heard were true.

The Beast had trusted me blindly. This man did not. And he was right not to.

The president sighed. “Well, why don’t you take her back, get her settled. Then, you and I can talk.”

The Beast’s hold on me tightened. “Alright.”

The man got back on his stool and spun a few inches to the left—just enough so he could rest his elbow on the table. “Nice to meet you, Sonja.”

I said nothing.

The president’s eyes narrowed.

A familiar emptiness filled me as I held his gaze.

I knew that the Beast wanted to help me—that he’d do anything to protect me—but in the MC world, this man’s word was law. The Beast could go against him, but that wouldn’t help me or him. It would just make us outcasts. Until I knew this man’s play, I couldn’t let my guard up for any reason.

The president nodded, dismissing us. “Don’t take too long.” It wasn’t hard to guess the assumptions he’d made about the Beast and me.

I blushed. I had used my body, and I would have done more if the Beast had let me.

The Beast crushed me to his side again. “Come on, Sonja,” he whispered as I let him lead me deeper into the club.

***

Sonja

The Beast dropped me off in a small room in the back of the compound. He flicked the switch near the door and light poured down, so soft and old that it reminded me of old paper. He closed the door as quietly as he’d opened it. I shut my eyes as he leaned down. He exhaled. A chill rushed from the sides of my neck to my toes as I remembered how his lips had felt on my hairline, my forehead, and all the other places his breath now touched.

He swallowed. I stepped away.

There wasn’t much in the room. A few books on a small bookshelf with spines were so worn-out I couldn’t make out the titles. On top of the shelves were lose change and a bong that looked like it’d never been cleaned. A TV sat on the floor next to a cot.