Abandoned Angel (22 page)

“Don’t fuck with Tiffany,” was all she said before latching the stall door shut so she could use the toilet.

Jules grabbed her stomach as she bowed at the waist – trying to control her need to vomit.

Angelina stared - both shocked and amused by Marge’s action.

When Jules stood, wanting to head out the door, Angelina surprised her, and herself, by punching the skank as hard as she could in the gut.

“
Ummph
,” escaped from the baffled woman’s lips. This time she stayed hunched over as Angelina spoke.

“That was for last night.” She then pushed Jules with as much force that she could muster, and watched as the thin woman floundered to the ground. Angelina kicked her in the shine as she turned to walk away.

“And that is for Tiffany,” she explained before heading out the door.

Marge chuckled from inside the stall. Jules groaned from on the floor.

Angelina headed back out to the bike, exhilarated. She sat on the curb in the warm sun as she waited for Blaze to return. She was shocked that she had actually hit the woman. It felt good. It felt right. Then, it felt like she had stooped to a level that she did not want to be
at
. Angelina passed the time waiting for Blaze’s return feeling first proud and then disappointed with herself.

When Blaze walked up, he handed Angelina a bottle of water along with a hamburger. He was eating one as well.

“Drink something, it will make you feel better,” he stated.

They would not be stopping for a while, and she needed something in her stomach.

 “Thanks,” she smiled up at him and took a couple of swallows of the cold water. He placed the bottle in his bag when she was done with it. She pulled her hamburger out of its wrapper, and quietly began eating her food. She debated about telling Blaze what she had done, but determined that it wasn’t news worthy.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened or not?” he finally asked.

The surprised look on Angelina’s face amused him.

“Word certainly does travel fast around here,” she laughed.

“Yeah, Marge couldn’t wait to tell Doc that you stood up for yourself. Good job.” He was proud of her, but she was not, and it showed in her expression. Blaze sat next to her on the hard cement.

“You know Angel, there are some people in this world who just need a good beating.” He was trying to make light of the situation.

Angelina smiled. “I guess I have just been on the receiving end of it too many times to believe that I have the right to determine who that is.”

Blaze was speechless for a moment, unsure as to what to say. There was a time in his life, when he would have agreed. Now - not so much.

“Sometimes you do have to stand up for yourself is all.”

“I know Blaze, but, I have tried so hard not to be,” she hesitated, “white trash.” She was embarrassed by the term. “I have never had much, and I have always tried not to act like I just did. I don’t want to be that person.”

“White trash?” questioned Blaze. “Standing up for yourself doesn’t make you white trash,” he proceeded, knowing what she meant by the term.

Angelina was unconvinced.

“Neither does the lack of money. Hell, Jules grew up with money, and look at her. SHE is a white trash whore! You, my dear, don’t carry yourself like that, and you certainly don’t talk or act like you are ignorant.”

Angelina grinned, coming around to his charm.

“You are not white trash, or any other bad term you can come up with,” he continued, “you are a mother, doing everything she can to save her son. You are a woman who has had a hard life, and you have survived anyway. Don’t you see, you are one of the good people.”

At the moment, she didn’t feel like one of the good ones, whatever that was. She wasn’t sure what Blaze meant, but she did appreciate him saying it. She felt better, not about what she had done to Jules, just better in general. The confused woman did not know how to respond to his comment. She was not used to being flattered.

“I can’t seem to get myself to wake up today,” Angelina said, searching for something else to talk
about
.

He was not going to convince her that it was ok to hit another person, and she was not going to convince him that it wasn’t. It didn’t matter though; they didn’t have to agree on everything. She understood that as well as he did. Sometimes, you just have to take people for who they are.

“We’ll be staying in a house tonight,” responded Blaze. “You’ll have a bed to sleep on, that will help.”

Blaze was looking forward to sleeping on a cushioned bed with a roof over his head just as much as he imagined she was.

After watching Angelina swallow a couple of bites of her hamburger, he got up, swung his leg over the leather seat of his motorcycle, and turned the engine over. He was ready to leave. The conversation was over. Angelina finished the food with one more bite. She then tossed the wrapper into the trash before following suit. She draped her thin arms around his waist, and pressed her face against his broad shoulders. She was comfortable. Blaze patted her hands softly, as they drove off with the rest of the group, in silence.

In the late afternoon they pulled up to a yellow house on a gravel road, just like he said they would.

The smell of stale beer and
skunky
pot filled Angelina’s nostrils as she crossed the threshold of the house. Tired and sore, she wanted nothing more than a warm shower and a soft bed. It had been a long day. She spent a great deal of the ride wondering about her son. What if she was too late? What if Rusty had tired of him? What if he wasn’t with his grandma after all? What if her baby boy believed his mother abandoned him? He would be heartbroken. The thought had torn at her heart throughout most of the day.

Riding with strangers was taking its toll on Angelina’s body and soul. She did not want to do it anymore. She had often longed for family, and now, she wished she had someone to turn to, more than ever before. The fact that she did not have anyone was hard to accept.

Blaze held tight to her thin wrist as he guided her through the group of people crowded near the stairway. The music was loud, and she wondered how they could even hear each other talk with it pounding throughout the house as it was. Blaze seemed to know how tired and depressed she felt. He did not stop and talk to anyone as he led her through the house. He shrugged and acknowledged them the way men do, but breezed forward, heading up the stairs with Angelina in tow. Angelina had spent a lifetime of being either
pushed around
or dragged around by men, and generally hated how it belittled her. At that moment though, she was glad to have Blazes strong grip wrapped around her arm. She wanted him to lead. She would gladly shadow the man. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the crude men, nor the glaring women, so he led, and she followed as he took her into a small bedroom at the top of the carpeted stairs.

Standing alone in the room was a full sized bed and an old beat up, white dresser - nothing else. It was a simple room without personal items cluttering it. Obviously, it
was not used
on a regular basis. There was an aged white quilt seamed with small burgundy flowers, arranged neatly across the bed. The small dresser sat by itself in the corner of the room, a plastic
Walmart
bag sat on the top of it. Angelina was relieved to see the uncluttered bedroom attached to a private bathroom. She was anxious to take a shower, and although it was nothing to brag about, the set up was perfect for her and Blaze.

“Here you go,” stated Blaze as he shut the bedroom door behind them. “Clean up and take some time to yourself before you come downstairs.”

He wished that they could stay in the room for a while, he really needed to rest, but he could not do that quite yet. He had to make his rounds with the club members, and show his appreciation for the room and board.

“Whose house is this?” asked Angelina, a bit apprehensive.

“A friends.
There’s a bag of items over there for you. Take what you need.”

Blaze had not seen Spikes bike out front, and figured he should allow Angelina to spend some time alone before coming downstairs. Although Angelina nodded with gratitude, she did not want to have to join the party at all. It showed on her pretty face.

“I know you’re tired of this, but you have to come down with the rest of the group,” said Blaze, a bit frustrated.

“Can’t I just stay up here tonight?” she pleaded. “I’ll stay out of sight.”

The bruising on her face had changed from red-purple to purple-green throughout the day.

“I’m just so tired Blaze. I won’t make a sound up here.”

Although she did not understand the code the bikers lived by, she knew the answer would be no even before she asked. She would have to accept the fact that she must go downstairs as instructed.

“This house belongs to an old club member, and if you stay, then you play - otherwise it is like you are shunning the members,” Blaze explained. “Plus, I can’t stay up here with you, and there is no way for me to keep an eye on you if you are up here, and I am downstairs.”

Generally, this would not be such a concern for Blaze, but after the display Spike put on the night before, Blaze wasn’t willing to take any chances. Once Spike arrived, he would have to keep Angelina by his side.

Angelina stood for a moment, her tired eyes watching Blazes concerned expression. She liked that he was protecting her – still, but she did not think there was any reason to worry at this point. The house was full of people, and Spike was nowhere in sight. In fact, she had not recalled seeing the man all afternoon.

Blaze read the look on her face and grinned. It was the first time he felt at ease all day. He worried about leaving Angelina upstairs alone, but figured he would make her come down as soon as Spike arrived. He had no choice but to join the bikers downstairs. HE could not shun the other members any more than he already had - not over a woman. He was already crossing the line with her.

“Don't worry,” he stated, “just take some time up here and relax a bit. When you are done, come down and have a drink. Be playful, show the tits a little, and stay next to me,” he smiled.

“Yes biker Blaze,” teased Angelina.

“It’ll be fine. Hell, we might even have some more fun.” Blaze chuckled, thinking about the night before.

Angelina was really starting to like his frisky grin. She smiled back at him, unable to help herself.

------

Blaze headed back down the carpeted stairs to make his appearance. He looked forward to visiting with Jerome, the offbeat, easy going, black man that owned the sizeable house. Blaze had stayed in the old, Victorian style home many times over the last couple of years and had become fond of the man. Jerome, who rode with the club for years,
had been shot
while trying to help a fellow biker out of a rough situation. Jerome ended up in a wheel chair, the man he was trying to help ended up dead. Although Jerome was unable to ride with them anymore, the members of the club were always welcome to crash at his house. He still wore the colors, and this made him feel like he still belonged to the group. In all the times Blaze had stayed there, he had only seen Jerome throw one person out of the house. During a drunken rage, a member pulled a gun on another biker. He had broken the one rule Jerome insist
upon
. His home is weapon free, and out of respect for Jerome, weapons
are not brought
inside. If anyone broke this one rule,
they
would be thrown out of his home, and never welcomed back.

Blaze liked Jerome from the first time they met. Drawn to the man’s gentle nature and quick humor, they often enjoyed a good laugh together. Blaze didn’t know Jerome before his accident, but he liked who he had become after it. He listened, time after time to the stories Jerome told. Although Jerome’s life had been difficult, Blaze respected the fact that he had lived it to the fullest. Jerome had an honest feel to him. He always spoke his mind but was never overbearing or rude about what he had to say. Through the years, the two of them had spent many nights together, talking, drinking and listening to one another’s stories. Like Doc, Jerome was aware of the loss Blaze had endured. Although Blaze had not given him the details of that fateful night, he had given him a quick version of his past, one night, while the three of them sat and visited.

Blaze and Jerome had become friends, and Jerome made sure that “Blazes bedroom” was always available for him, another thing that irked Spike. The sheets were always clean, the bed made, and ready for his use. Blaze attributed this to Jerome’s woman friend, Alisha, whom he equally liked. Her dark wavy hair and bronze skin had always intrigued him. Her eyes lit up whenever she talked with Jerome about the old days, but her actions indicated that she was very happy with where they were in their lives now.

-----

Spike watched as Blaze led the bitch up the stairs. He was still angry that his plan had not worked the night before. He knew Blaze would come running if a gunshot
was fired
. He hadn’t counted on Angelina leaving the bedding while Blaze was gone. Spike had no idea where the whore had gone, but was certain that Blaze had hidden her. He wondered how Blaze knew that he
had been set up
. He could not explain her not being there any other way, and it pissed him off tremendously.