“Wives or serious girlfriends of club members. It’s this special designation that means you belong to a guy and no one can mess with you without serious consequences.”
“Belong?” I don’t care for the sound of that.
“Some other clubs call the women their property.”
“Property?” I’ve turned into a parrot.
“The Terror don’t take it that far. Oz’s mom, Izzy? If she ever heard Oz’s dad calling her property, she’d tear his privates off and hand his balls to him. It’s still a boys’ club, though. Don’t fool yourself into thinking anything different.”
She slides her thumb against the condensation of the glass creating a path. My chest aches for her. Being the sole girl surrounded by a boys’ club. It must be lonely. “Who’s part of the quintet?”
“It was supposed to be you, me, Chevy, Oz and Razor. Razor was born first and the rest of us popped out within a year. Have you met Razor yet?”
I think the answer is yes, but I shake my head no.
“Good. If you see him, run in the other direction. The wires in that boy’s head are messed up beyond repair.” She pauses then angles herself toward me. “Look, I don’t know how long you’re here for and I know you don’t know me very well, but I’m around if you want to talk or text or anything. This place is crazy and it’s not for everyone. God knows it’s not for me.”
Her forehead furrows and, in that moment, I like Violet. She’s real and she’s honest and there aren’t many people in life who are that way. I yank out the burner phone Eli bought me and hand it to her. After a quick sultry pout pic of herself, Violet types in her number.
“It’s not easy to fit into Snowflake to begin with,” she continues, adding another picture then another number. “It’s harder when you have the title of Reign of Terror offspring to struggle out from underneath.”
Her blue eyes meet mine and when she offers me the phone my heart folds in on itself. I can’t imagine growing up around this house, next to a clubhouse full of bras, with a matriarch who’s okay with jumping out of coffins. I’ve always been grateful for the life I’ve had, understanding that any choice at any time could have made my life completely different from what I know now, but the weight of that knowledge just got heavier.
I rest my hand over Violet’s. “I puked when Olivia rose like a zombie out of a casket.”
She flashes this brilliant smile. “Oh, Lord, lying in a casket. That sounds like something she would do. So do you know how long you’re here?”
For as long as I want. “No.”
“If you want out, let me know. There’s some awesome field parties. Like real parties, not the crazy-ass things that go on around here.”
“Okay.” At home, I’ve attended a few parties. Nothing raging with heavy drugs or the ones that cops bust. The type where the parents stay upstairs while we watch a movie or play games. Then when it gets late, the lights will turn down and the couples will find dark corners to make out. That would be where I had my first kiss.
Oz lifts the hem of his shirt, exposing his cut abs, and swipes his brow with the material. Oh my with chocolate on top. That was just beautiful.
“A word of advice.” Violet disturbs my gawking and embarrassment rages through me.
“Sure.”
“Chevy, Oz and Razor...they’re trouble. Pretty to look at, but trouble. Getting mixed up with them will hurt you in the end. They’re club boys until their dying breath. Nothing good comes out of it for anyone else. Trust me.”
Rocks crackle under a car tire and, from the passenger side, Olivia examines us as if surprised. I quickly ask, “Do you know what Honeysuckle Ridge is?”
Violet’s head moves so quickly that her hair flies through the air. “Who told you about that?”
She’s spitting daggers at me and I lose my voice. Izzy parks the car near the guys.
Violet leans into me and whispers rapidly, “Honeysuckle Ridge is club business. Very private club business. I’m not even supposed to know. Do not bring it up to anyone else. Do you understand? I like you, Emily, because you’re the first glimpse I’ve had in my entire life that people can leave Snowflake, cut ties with the club and have a normal life. Don’t let them suck you in. Get out of Snowflake as fast as you can.”
When Olivia reaches the porch Violet stops talking. Olivia waves. The two of us act like marionettes as we wave back. Olivia then extends a plastic grocery bag in Violet’s direction. “Nice to see you, Violet. Take this in for me.”
“I’m not staying,” says Violet. “As soon as the car is fixed, we’re leaving.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t take this bag in for me.” Olivia’s glare chills me even though it’s aimed at Violet. A few seconds pass before Violet snatches the bag and props the door open for Olivia.
“Are you coming?” Olivia asks me.
“In a few.”
With Izzy right behind them, they walk in and I try to ingest the crazy pile of information. Dad told me I’m safe. That the reason that everyone overreacts is because they buy into what the club wants them to believe, but how can the concern and fear in Violet’s eyes be part of a pretend game?
“You okay?” Oz’s boots stomp against the porch stairs as he climbs them. He rests a shoulder against one of the huge logs supporting the roof and wipes his forearm across his brow.
Oz is dirty. Grease streaks across his cheek. Dust causes his arms to be browner than normal. He’s in need of a shower—desperately.
Oz wet.
A warm sensation flutters through my chest. I am officially the most impaired person in the world because I melt into a puddle of goo around this guy.
“I’m fine,” I answer. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
My lips squish to the side. I dunno. Maybe because we almost kissed and then tore each other’s heads off and you seem perfectly fine behaving as if none of it happened. Which I guess is for the best, but it’s unsettling how Oz can move on so easily from something so life-altering.
Violet’s words about heartache and Oz replay in my mind. I sigh. I’m already a number on his still-growing list.
“You look freaked out,” Oz says. “It’s why I came over.”
My legs flex and the swing creaks as it rocks. It’s a soothing motion that’s welcome in the chaos. “Have you ever seen this ‘other’ motorcycle club?”