Final Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 9) (9 page)

Cyclone of Confusion

A girls’ day of shopping, something I did with my mother countless times when she was on a “high on life” mania. The downfall was when the overspending left us struggling until Vic gave us more money, which meant Mom would be serving him somehow just to make ends meet. The other thing was Mom crashing when she came off a manic episode. She would fall into a severe depression that typically left me cleaning up her blood from a self-inflicted wound.

It wasn’t pretty, but it was my life.

The red-headed woman named Sass has an hourglass figure, accentuated by her skin-tight jeans and boots. She’s done up, but not overly done. It’s more of a way that screams confidence.

In the car ride to the mall, I learned her name is Savannah, and she’s Tank’s ol’ lady. They have a son everyone calls Red. She goes by Sass because she’s full of attitude. She also has a tight bond with Amy, it seems. From what I gather, the two work together at some automotive shop, and Amy doesn’t like crowds, so when she wants to go shopping, Sass usually comes along and does the driving.

I can’t help being uncomfortable around her to some degree. Her dad is Danza, the other man who was at our house the day my mother died. He gave off a vibe that led me to believe he didn’t think much of my mother or Fury MC. I remind myself I am not defined by who my parents are or were, so I can’t hold Sass to the same.

I wonder if Amy is like my mother. Does Frisco have a thing for the manic to mania and back again lifestyle of someone with a mental illness?

When I was twelve, I couldn’t wait to get out of my mother’s house, even if it landed me on my back at the clubhouse. That’s what Vic always said, that women served the club on their backs. I didn’t know what he meant until I was in high school and one of the girls in my class was given to the club to pay off her parents’ drug debt. Even knowing the hell a young girl could find at the club, there were moments when it seemed better than dealing with Mom’s extreme highs and lows. I never told her this. It’s all there in my journals, though.

How many times did I scribble the words:
I hate her like this. The blood, I’m so tired of cleaning the cuts. She’s selfish
?

Kids aren’t nearly as clueless as parents wish they were. In fact, every single day I was subject to her moods, to whatever high or low, I was impacted.

When I was younger, I wanted to be just like my mom, until the first time I found her passed out in a bathtub full of water tinted a shade of pink. Panic, fear, insecurity—it all hit my tiny mind with the force of a wrecking ball on a crane, slamming into a skyscraper. Demolition. The demolition of my soul.

I was six.

From that day on, I watched, observing her every movement, every expression, and every noise she made. Every breath taken, I wondered if it would be her last.

Self-inflicted wounds cut deeper than the epidermis she was slicing away at. The more she hacked her body up, the more she cut deep into the core of who I am. And every time, every single incident, I promised myself I wouldn’t become like her.

There were so many times I wanted to run away. I wanted to get away from her and her brand of crazy. Only, where would I go? Sure, Vic would take me, but I feared the life he led.

Yet, where have I landed myself, except right in the thick of MC life.

I wish I could say life with my mom was great. I wish I could simply mourn her like any other daughter who lost their mother. But I can’t. I can’t find it in me to feel like anything was ever normal. Sure, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but I didn’t have some picture-perfect childhood.

Every time I think of her, I think of her being shot and her sending me with Frisco. I also think of the relief I felt for a moment. It was fleeting, but it was there. No more blood for me to clean up, no more nights of listening to her cry, even wailing sometimes over her love lost with Frisco. It was agony to know she was so heartbroken over a man who wasn’t my father … or so I thought at the time.

My world feels like a cyclone of confusion. I am twisting, turning, and spinning around and around. My emotions are from one extreme to another. I can’t make heads or tails of what comes next.

“Florida, do you miss it?” Sass asks as we make our way across the parking lot to what they call the mall.

“Haven’t been here long enough to know if there is a difference. I do miss home,” I tell her.

The two women share a look, a look that pisses me off. It’s a look of pity.

Don’t fucking pity me. I am stronger than they think and determined to make this only a small setback in the story of my life.

“I don’t know what your college plans are, but Coastal Carolina Community College is down the street from the mall,” Amy informs me.

I want to roll my eyes.

Don’t show all your cards, Shannon
, I remind myself. I don’t have a plan yet. I have an idea, but I don’t have money and an escape sorted. I need to play nice until I find my opportunity.

“Well, my college plans were in Florida, but now, I’m not sure there are any,” I tell them as we enter the mall’s front door.

I guess this is a mall without being a large upscale place like I’m used to. There is no big-name department stores with escalators. In fact, the entire building is one floor from what I see so far.

“Since you weren’t raised in the clubhouse, I figure you would want options rather than hitting up the local Harley shop for T-shirts and jeans.” Sass gives me a wink while Amy shrugs.

“I like to be comfortable,” Amy defends herself.

I may have misread Amy in the beginning. Yes, she can be timid at times, but she doesn’t back down or let anyone run over her.

“Bullshit. I call bullshit,” Sass jokes with her friend, showing a definite comfort between the two women. “You want to blend in”—she covers her eyes dramatically—“never to been seen or heard. A fly on the wall.”

Amy shakes her head at the woman, and then smiles sweetly at me. “Don’t listen to her. While the wild one here wants to challenge everyone, I prefer the subtler life of not being known.”

“You’re shy?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’m a mess,” Amy huffs out, looking toward the ceiling.

“Why?” I press as we enter the beauty supply store. I would much rather keep the conversation on anyone but me and my plans.

“I have a history that is far from the sparkling Christmas lights and happy sounds of jingling bells.”

I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me at Amy’s sense of humor. Slowly, I find the more time I spend with her, the more I like her. Maybe I have misunderstood Amy. I’m still on the fence with the Hellions, but I find I like her.

“The fluff is overrated, anyway,” I reply, aiming for comradery.

“Good thing you feel that way. We don’t overdo it at Christmas at the house,” she says with the pleasant smile she has that leaves me wondering if it’s genuine.

“Oh, girl, we will make sure the elves vomit tinsel all over this year,” Sass playfully teases.

“Bitch,” Amy gives back.

I almost gasp in shock that the woman stood up for herself. I saw a glimpse of it, but to actually come right back with it outright, I almost want to give her a high-five.

Once again, I am filled with confusion. Just when I think I have Amy pegged as being just like my mother, she does or says something that is unlike the woman who gave birth to me. I hate the confusion, but I respect a woman who sticks up for herself.

We spend the next few hours going from shop to shop and stopping at a New York style pizzeria for lunch. The foldable slices are as nice as the men working behind the counter.

Vic never allowed me to have a job. He wanted my mother and I to be completely dependent on him. I wonder if Frisco would have an issue with me getting a job.

“I see the wheels turning in that adorable head of yours,” Sass says before sipping her soda. “What’s on your mind?”

Amy immediately comes to attention to hear my response.

Well, a teacher once told me,
“The best way to get answers is to ask questions.”
What’s the harm in asking? The worst they can tell me is no, right?

“You think I could get a job?” I ask, my stomach twisting in knots, causing me to lay my pizza back on the grease-filled plate.

“I’m sure there is something the Hellions can hire you to do … if you want to work, that is.” Amy is the one to reply, surprising me.

“Not in the club,” I manage just above a whisper.

“Independent! I love it!” Sass grins excitedly at me.

Amy raises an eyebrow, and then softly says, “I know the Hellions’ life is new to you. Just know, Shannon, they are family. You are family. Roundman and every patched brother will ensure your safety and help you in any way they can.”

My appetite now completely gone, I wipe my fingers on a napkin and toss it on top of my plate. “I don’t owe the Hellions anything right now, and I’m not about to start.” Fury was never loyal to me, so how can I feel like the Hellions would be? No, the only person who will have my back is me. I can only trust myself right now, and maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Amy gasps in shock, and Sass smirks.

“I get this is a lot to take in, but I gotta keep it straight with you, honey,” Sass says. “The Hellions don’t roll like that. You are family. You got Hellions Originals’ blood pumping through that heart of yours.” She points to herself. “Just like me. You don’t owe anyone a damn thing. Never will.”

How can I believe anything she says? Fury said and did a lot of things, most of which weren’t good. No, I refuse to let myself get comfortable here.

I watch as Sass pulls a phone from her pocket and clicks away. Putting it to her ear, I then listen as Amy, too, loses her appetite and tosses down her napkin.

“Doll, time to ride in for a sister.”

“I’m not a sister,” I correct, but Sass simply ignores me.

“Princess to princess. Frisco’s daughter needs to meet you, my friend. You can lay shit out better than me.” She then laughs into the phone.

Amy sees the confusion on my face and explains, “Doll is Roundman’s daughter. She’s now married to Tripp, the Catawba Hellions’ president. She’s the true club princess. But, Shannon, you should know … so are you. Frisco is an original, along with Sass’s dad Danza. You have a home here in the club. You are safe.”

How can she say that with such confidence? This is one of the most insecure women I have ever met, yet she’s completely sure I am safe with the Hellions. Is she not so insecure after all?

I don’t buy it. After all, it was Fury MC who took out my mother, even with me being a club princess and all, like they say. How can the Hellions be different? How can any of it be any different?

I was born into Fury, raised by Fury, and inside me lies a fury no one can understand.