Page 26 of Burning Ember
My mother used to tell me that each freckle on my body was a blessing given to me by the angels. I believed her until I was sixteen and learned how full of shit she truly was.
It’s ironic that I look so much like her and nothing like Sunny.
My heart pinches in the next instant as I think of Will.
I miss our songs. Reading her stories at night. Tucking her in like a bug in a rug. Sometimes when she’d have bad dreams, she’d come crawl into my bed, and there’s nothing better in this world than waking up to a warm and cuddly, curly-haired angel.
Tears brim in my eyes and fall over. I let three escape before clenching my eyes shut, stopping that train of thought. I can’t afford to get lost in thoughts of Will. Because I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to function. I’ll save them for another time. Another day. When I’m safe and alone, and free to wallow for more than a minute at a time.
I force myself to get ready, pull a comb through my hair, and use the blow dryer, curling iron, hygiene items, and the make-up Lily brought me.
Stepping out of the bathroom in a towel, I head over to the collection of clothes she left on the bed.
Dozer’s room smells of leather and oil, and his woodsy cologne. It also has the added stench of stale food, sex, and spilled alcohol, judging by the look of the stains on the floor. At least, I hope it’s alcohol and not something else.
I’m tempted to start cleaning up the mess, but the door swings open and Lily walks in. She’s added a leather vest to her kickass outfit, and I notice right away the club insignia marking her as HOC property.
“I stole anything I thought might fit. Don’t worry about givin’ it back. It’s survival of the fittest around here. They’ll probably bitch. But all the girls here steal clothes from each other. So they’ll get over it.”
“I have no idea how to dress. I mean for this place,” I admit.
Lily sits on the edge of the bed. “I know. But no one expects you to. The club colors are pale yellow, orange, and dark red. Or anything along that line. Wear those or brown or black. Gray’s a safe color too, and girly colors like pink, purple.
“Safe colors?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to be caught wearing another clubs or gangs colors. Some guys might let it slide when you’re new, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
She combs her fingers through her hair and flips it to the other side. “When you’re a part of the club, people scrutinize everything you do and say. As an old lady, everything I do, or don’t do for that matter, reflects on the club.
“You’re not a clubpiece and word will get around that you’re”—she uses air quotes with her fingers—“‘a virgin’. So they won’t be expecting you to dress like one or put out like the rest of the girls here. So wear something kinda sexy-cute, but comfortable. You want to be somebody they want to look at, talk to, but not something they want to drag off to their room for the night. Make sure you stick close to me or Dozer, especially the next few nights. At least until word gets around who you are and that you’re not to be touched.”
“Okay.” I pick through the pile of clothes.
“I hope you’re not mad about the virginity thing. And about putting you on the menu for Edge’s party. I just didn’t know what else to do to get Mav to agree. He’s not too keen on redheads, as you know by now.”
I hold up a few strands of my hair. “Right. Should I dye it purple? Think that would help?”
She pulls my hair away. “Don’t you dare. In fact, I’ll bring you some special shampoo tomorrow to strip what’s left of that awful brown color out of it. What did you use anyway?”
“I don’t know. A box from the store.”
She looks horrified at my admission. When she recovers, she says, “Don’t let what Mav said get to you. He may not like redheads but there are plenty of guys here that do. Dozer for one, which is surprising.” She hurries on to add, “Oh, not because you’re not gorgeous”—she winks—“he’s just had a thing for someone for a long time.”
“Let me guess, Bethany?”
“Yep. But she’s not into him. Or well she is, but she’s not doing anything about it. It’s a long story. Short version is her husband was a brother. He died . . . last year . . . motorcycle accident. I guess her and Dozer had something going on years ago before she ever got with her old man, but it didn’t work out. Dozer got sent on a tour of duty and she fell for Hodge while he was gone. I thought maybe now they’d finally . . . you know, hook up and resolve their problems.”
“But they haven’t?”
She shakes her head no.
Holding up each item, I ask myself two things…Will it fit and am I brave enough to wear it?
Lily chuckles, and grabs a shirt and a pair of shorts out of the pile. Both black. She throws them at me. “Here. I didn’t steal any bras or underwear because that’s just . . . yuck. For now, wear yours and I’ll pick you up some new stuff tomorrow.”
I take the items into the bathroom to change. Lily laughs as I go and snickers, “So modest.”
The top is loose and falls off my shoulder. The shorts are shorter than my cut offs and hang on my bony hips, but they’ll do.
