Page 9 of Creed

“What is the deal with the lake? Mom, you said it’s off limits now?” I couldn’t help being curious.

“Nothing.” My uncle answered. “They prefer their privacy, and they build bikes. Not just for private buyers, but also for movies and music videos. They make a good living off what they build. They’re a group of old buddies of Josh Magnus from his time in the military.”

“You’re saying they’re upstanding citizens that happen to run in a motorcycle gang?” I’d believe it if I saw it.

They all three laughed but dad answered. “I wouldn’t say upstanding citizens, but they do some good in our community. You won’t find them at Mass on Sunday, but they do no harm. They travel a lot, and they do like their privacy.”

“I’m not sure. In LA, a motorcycle gang isn’t exactly made up of law abiding citizens.” I answered.

My dad set his fork down. “You need to learn to be more open minded. I won’t say they are definitely law abiding, but they don’t bring any harm to this town. You truly are judgmental, and we did not raise you this way. I think all those movie scripts are screwing with your head.”

I shrugged. “I call it as I see it.”

“That’s exactly your problem.” He was glaring at me as my sister took a seat next to me.

“You call it as you see what?” She asked.

Mom cooed. “They’re talking about Creed.”

I looked at my sister and she smiled off into space like she was daydreaming. “He’s beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stay away from gangs.” I warned her.

She laughed. “Gangs? Morgan, they’re all gorgeous veterans. I’d feel safer with Creed and his MC than anyone else.”

“MC?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, they’re not a gang but a motorcycle club.”

“A motorcycle club that happens to live in a compound that’s off limits to people in the town? Do women even live there with them?” Not a gang, my ass.

I heard my dad and uncle snicker, but my sister spoke up. “Valerie lives with them and she’s really nice. She teaches yoga in town.”

“Also, at the nursing home for our healthier residents on the assisted living side.” Mom added.

“Yes, Valerie Bolton. She’s…damn she’s…well she’s gorgeous.” My single and ready to mingle uncle said. He was younger than my dad at just forty one years old.

By the end of dinner, my uncle refused twelve times to take me with him to find Addie. I was left at home to once again sit and wait. Callie never let more than a few days go by without calling me. If she would have just called me and told me she was okay I would have laid off, but she wouldn’t even do that for me. Learning she might not have just been in danger because of Shane’s drunken outbursts but the entire motorcycle gang thing didn’t help at all. As I laid in my bed that night I allowed my fears to take me to dark places. I imagined Callie being tied up and raped by men wearing cuts, while Addie watched and screamed as she cried for her mommy. I also wondered where on earth Shane got a motorcycle. If he earned it while running drugs from Mexico, then why didn’t Callie take that time to leave him? There was no way in hell Callie would have been on board with the ideaof raising Addie in a gang. I couldn’t shake the guilt I was feeling over not returning home sooner, or tried harder to get her to come to California. If she was afraid of Shane, she knew I had the money to hire people that could have protected her.

Growing up, Callie was my protector. At times I was teased by the mean girls in school. Not because I was a nerd or because I got too good of grades. Those girls were jealous, and their boyfriends would have dropped them like a hot potato if I took them up on their multiple offers for a date. It was nothing but jealousy, and it got worse when I started dating Tristan. He was adorable and all the girls swooned over him. He wasn’t a hockey player like our most popular boys, he was smart and was in the AV club. His nerdiness was overlooked because of his beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous body. He was popular by default and one of the best guys I ever knew. I’d go to school and there would be posters of me with the most horrible things written on them. I was accused of being a slut, a narc, and even started rumors that I was a lesbian and had the clap. Kids could be so cruel, but Callie always stood up for me. I was popular with the boys, but not so much with the cheerleaders and most popular girls. I had a group of girlfriends, but I was never as close with them as I was with Callie. There were even a few locker room incidents my freshman year during gym class. The worst culprit was a girl named Deanna that was three years older than me. She dated Josh Magnus who was four years older than me. Not long after he graduated, she accused him of rape. I couldn’t remember all the details, but I knew in the end he was not convicted. I didn’t even think it went to trial.

Deanna was a terrible person, but then she graduated and left town. Unfortunately, there was another mean girl ready to step up to the plate, and her name was Bethany. She was almost as bad as Deanna, and she wanted Tristan.

Tristan and I were very close. In fact, we were each others first for just about everything. He was my first guy friend, my first date, my first real kiss off set, and we lost our virginity to each other after junior prom. It was a year later and the night of senior prom when the paparazzi decided to make a trip to Cold Springs. They were following us as Tristan drove the curvy country roads. It didn’t take long before they were trying to drive beside us for a photo and Tristan ran off the road and crashed his car. Tristan already had one foot out the door because of all the attention other boys tried to show me, but the crash was what helped him make his final decision and he broke up with me that night in the emergency room. The next day, the tabloids hit and one of the headlines said I was the victim of date rape and Tristan’s photo was right there with mine. I was heartbroken for Tristan and over the breakup, but I also didn’t blame him. Callie was at my side to try and help mend my broken heart. The crash wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and it took my dad years to finally let me leave the house without him when I was home for visits.

The next day, I did the drive of shame into Melissa’s driveway. I felt so guilty and ashamed of myself. When she answered the door I was not greeted with a smile. It was more like the look of someone putting the puzzle pieces together and realizing I was probably the one who called social services. Melissa was always very pretty, and lit up a room when she flashed that million dollar smile, but I wasn’t that lucky when seeing her for the first time in over a decade. It probably wasn’t hard for her to figure out who called social services on her by the guilt written all over my face.

“Melissa, I am so sorry.”

She crossed her arms as she looked up at me. “What for, exactly?” She wanted me to actually say it?

“I didn’t see you when I drove by yesterday. I should have stopped and made sure the kids were cared for before I made the call to CPS.”

She sighed. “Fine, actually I’m not all that mad. At least someone cares enough to make sure kids are being cared for. Would you like to come inside?”

I was so relieved. “I’d like that, thank you.”

She stepped aside and I walked in far enough for her to shut the door.

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