Page 8 of Reaper's Claim

I looked back at my painting. There was something off and I couldn’t decide what it was, but something was missing from the abstract piece of art. Maybe I just needed a break from it.

I was cleaning the paintbrush in my bathroom sink when I heard Dad’s big boots storm back into my room.

“Abby, I can’t find Kim.”

I looked up at my mirror and saw my dad’s reflection staring behind me.

“Well, I wouldn’t have a clue where she is.” I could guess, though; it was the same place Trigger was. I did like my sister—just a little bit—and I knew that telling Dad that Kim was sleeping with Trigger would bring a whole lot of hell down on her.

“You cut yourself?” Dad stepped closer, looking into the sink filled with red.

“No, just paint.” I showed him the clean brushes. “I’m not that stupid, Dad.”

“Good. Don’t want you doing any of that cutting with razors shit. Too pretty for scars, baby girl.” He ruffled my hair. “I’m heading out for a while. I’ll be back before the party tonight.”

“Um, Dad,” I spun around. “Is the Western Charter still staying?”

“They haven’t ridden out; I expect them to in the next few days though.” He narrowed his eyes, looking down at me with suspicion. “Why?”

“Just wondering how many I will be bartending for.” I hid my real reason behind a smile.

Kade was still here. He hadn’t left, which meant maybe I could redeem myself. I didn’t want him to look at me like I was a little girl.

***

The booming laughter came from the lounge in the clubhouse, which could be heard from my room two floors up.

I closed my bedroom door and walked up the hallway. Kim popped her head out of her room.

Red hair… I couldn’t help the evil grin. Serves her right for not controlling her boyfriend and letting him loose; Trigger knew it wasn’t Kim the night before.

But Kim, in her rage, wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, she ranted about how he would have done me a favor finally popping my cherry. She was disgusting at times, but I knew she said it out of rage: she didn’t mean it.

She was more hurt that Trigger couldn’t tell us apart when we were complete opposites. He could darn well tell us apart now; I made sure of that.

“Are you going out tonight?” Kim asked, walking next to me.

“Yep.” This always happened. We would have a major fight, and then hours later we would pretend it didn’t happen. It was easier than saying sorry.

“Trigger is meant to be breaking away from Dad later. I was hoping you could stay home and make sure we weren’t missed.” She had the guts to ask for a favor. God, she knew how to outdo herself.

“Just give Dad a few beers. He will soon forget about where his gay VP is. He was looking for you this morning.”

We took the stairs two at a time.

“Yeah well, he found me. Stupid school. Honestly, they have it out for me. Please, Abby.” She grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Please do this for me. Come on, my hair is fucking red for god’s sake!”

After a few seconds of tossing the idea around, I sighed. “Fine, but you better warn that boyfriend of yours. If he comes near me again, I’m telling Dad.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand, making light of it.

“Not yeah, yeah, Kim. I mean it.”

We walked up the hallway and into the bar. The lounge and bar were an open space; it was huge and completely filled with bikers.

The girls weren’t wearing much, and the blokes weren’t hiding their lust. Many of them had hands up the shirts of the whores and had them pinned against walls, against the bar, on the couch, on the pool table. It was funny how I was so used to it that I didn’t even look twice.

“I’ll see you later,” Kim whispered in my ear before stalking off, making fuck me eyes at Trigger.

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