Page 4 of Rider Daddies
Don’t they love to destroy?
When the battery dies, I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and restart the engine, swerving back onto the road.
I shouldn’t act too surprised. Tristan sticking his tongue down my best friend’s throat, lapping up her spit like a dog, just proves my point.
Men are trash.
They’re all the same. Just when you think they’re not, they throw in a curveball and betray you in the most soul-destroying way. It’s in their nature to be disloyal. Lust always gets the better of them.
Was I not enough for him? We were having sex a few times a week, every time he wanted to.
He didn’t need to do what he did.
But he fucking did it anyway.
I follow the bendy road, the environment starting to become more barren. The desert stretches for miles all around me, as far as I can see.
One long road continues up ahead. I don’t know exactly how I feel about this drive, considering that I only have a quarter tank and I’m heading away from civilization. But people in Nevada must do these drives all the time.
There will be something, somewhere.
In the meantime, I switch to cruise control and sit back, admiring the view. I’m not in California anymore, so there’s no reason for me to think about Tristan.
He wasn’t thinking about me when he was tangling tongues with Willow.
All I need to be concerned about now, is me. I’ll fill up on gas when I find a station, and drive into the night until I feel like I’m tired.
I don’t know what the next few days hold, but I guess that’s life, right? One minute you’re mapping out the rest of our life with a person, the next you find out your fiancé is cheating on you with the best friend you never knew was a whore.
But it’s like the Americans say—sometimes you have to roll with the punches.
2
ASH
Tonight isthe monthly party at the Venom Vultures clubhouse. As bar manager here, I really should be restraining myself, but the goal is to get absolutely shit-faced. It’s the bikers’ version of going on a wellness retreat. Drinking is how we take care of our mental health.
“This place is fucking off the charts tonight.”
“I know,” I say, taking a sip of beer. “You can thank Saint for that. He has a good ear.”
Every month, he develops a new mix. This one is a combination of Bon Jovi, Motorhead, Judas Priest and Guns N’ Roses. Music that really penetrates deep into the soul.
I get back on the job, pouring beer and hard rum. I have Ryder helping me tonight. He works at security, manning the door in case we encounter any surprise visitors. Tonight, everything seems to be quiet.
The Venom Vultures clubhouse is my pride and joy, home to all kinds of men. To Ryder, Saint and me, it’s a business, eversince Grizzly hired me and my brothers to take care of the club’s entertainment.
It wasn’t really the life I wanted for myself at first. My plan was to join the military. I was in the process of joining at seventeen years old, signing paperwork and whatnot, when life did a three-sixty. The world decided to take our parents from us. It was ironic, because our mom and dad used to tell us that things always happen for a reason. It was a bit of a mindfuck when we found out that they’d both died in the car accident—what was the reason for their death?
Now, I think that it was to bring the three of us closer. Saint used to be a fucking pain in my ass, playing music all night and singing. Ryder was just as much of an asshole. He used to be considered “popular” in his grade, so he took that label everywhere with him.
Looking back, I feel bad for my parents. They were breaking up fights all the time, physical or verbal. There was always something going on, so I wonder now if they watch us from the afterlife and smile when they see that we live in harmony now—most of the time.
“You know what I want?” Ryder says between taking orders.
“What?”
“I want a girl?—”
