Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance (14 page)

Pumping another two rounds, Robert’s gun clicked and he cursed, beads of sweat rolling down the man’s face as he turned on his heel and follow Luke; the two making a mad dash for the front door – passing by the slowly expanding pool of red by the stairs. The door flew open and the men ran with Hermes himself at their feet – stumbling out into the freshly curtained blackness of night, the sound of footfalls and screams behind them.

A bullet whizzed by Luke, “Fuck,” he ducked his head as he sprinted towards his steel steed, fumbling over his own movements and crashing into the hard soil head first.

He heard Robert holler something back at Earl, scrambling over to Luke’s side and grabbing him by the shoulders and lifting. “Come on bro, I got you.”

An ache sank deep into his forehead before he brought himself back up to his feet with the Vice’s help. “Thanks,” he said as Robert darted off to his bike and a bullet kicked up a smattering of dirt at Luke’s feet. The chain which held Able’s ring shifted. With his heart thumping away, Luke hopped on his FX and shot his heel at the kickstand, twisting his key and screaming off into the blackness; his last thought being of how dangerous it was to be a part of the Club, how deadly it was to even be associated with a member.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jasmine

“How’re you feeling?” She asked, driving down Miles avenue, a couple of fat, wet drops hitting the glass screen of her Rav4.

“You can stop asking now,” Augustus barked over the phone, she’d been checking up on him along with Jessica throughout the day – this was the third time that Jasmine had broken her promise to leave him be.

“Last time I swear,” she convinced herself that she meant the words leaving her lips. “It just really scared me,” she confided.

Silence spoke loudly as to how her frentor (friend and mentor) was feeling. “Puh-lease don’t make me say sorry again Hazelnut, because, it, it, it’s just becoming so old hat I could actually just wear it at this point. I seriously could.”

Jasmine laughed before easing into an S turn, approaching Alejandra’s residence. “Come on,” she said, trying to contain her laughter. “This is serious, I’m not going to stop bugging you – now tell me again you’re not gonna use tonight or I’ll come over there myself.” She had insisted that she stay at his place tonight, but his stubbornness was legendary – so she settled for having him call every hour, on the hour.

“I, Augustus Jameson Lark, promise yadda yadda yadda,” he drifted off and a series of fake snores came through the line. “I promise I’m not going to,” he affirmed seriously now, “I’m not going to use tonight or in the morning. That’s it, that’ss it that’ss it that’ss it.”

She smoothly went up to Alejandra’s driveway and parked just outside the garage, a sigh smooth as smoke escaping her. Jasmine felt a finger dig against her heart, “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you would tell m—“

“No. Don’t make me say it again,” Augustus’ voice was hard now, cold as arctic night..

“Alright,” she surrendered, “just . . . call me, if you need me, okay?”

A couple of seconds passed as the man seemed to chew on the thought, finally responding, “Okay.”

The two said their goodbyes and Jasmine produced the white binder of CD’s she had previously burned. It was dark out, but Alejandra’s foster parents had a nice place – just as nice and samey as all the other ticky tacky houses, but nice none the less. With a chain of delicate raps against the pristine white front door, she waited patiently for Alejandra’s parents to answer.

***

Peeking her head inside of Alejandra’s door, Jasmine saw the sun burnished girl drawing on her bed – a pair of earbuds attached to her. Jasmine stepped inside, closing the door behind her and smiling when the young girl finally noticed her.

Practically ripping off her headphones, Alejandra called out her name and let the sketch book fall onto her milk white duvet. “You weren’t here last week!” She exclaimed in a pout, throwing her arms around Jasmine’s thin neck.

“I know, I know,” she replied, “I know that I
say
I’m never too busy,” Jasmine wheedled. “But damn if life doesn’t try it’s hardest,” she bent down ever so slightly, coiling her arms around the lithe young girl; she held onto the end of the white binder. Alejandra was only sixteen but she was a true wildcat, even more than Jasmine was at the girl’s age. Her silky black hair was done into a pony tail.

“You can’t be busy,” she said, “just tell me who the man is in your life already, I’ll clear the misunderstanding,” she cracked her knuckles, making them pop loudly. “You got more music?” She asked. Looking into Alejandra’s dark and stormy eyes reminded Jasmine of her own youth; they were a brown as bark with flecks of blue, like lavish lapis lazuli’s lost in glinting soil.

“There is no man,” Jasmine insisted, rolled her eyes and padded over to the girl’s bed; she threw the binder down and planted her butt on the soft duvet. There wasn’t much left, Jasmine mused, scanning the posters on Alejandra’s wall; The Who, Lacuna Coil, Nightwish and NiN. Perhaps the one and only clue that remained within the confines of the young girl’s ‘prison’ was the beautiful, untouched acoustic tucked away in the corner.

Alejandra clicked her tongue and raised her head defiantly, “Bullshit,” she started walking to Jasmine.

“Watch your tongue,” Jasmine wagged a finger before patting a spot beside her on the bed, leaning over inquisitively, she looked over at what the girl was drawing. She knew that Alejandra would do no such thing as actually taking the time to consider her words, but it was a gut reaction and there was nothing that she could do about that.

The girl shot out a hand trying to stop Jasmine, “Hey!”

Wow, that’s amazing – a warm spark moved through Jasmine, though she didn’t want to admit it, she felt more than just the tender embrace of flattery, she coveted the pure talent.

“It’s not done,” she bleated before cozying up next to Jasmine, a touch of color gracing her smooth cheeks.

Jasmine’s jaw was slack, she then craned her neck so that she could face the girl, “How long have you—“

“Three days,” Alejandra interrupted, the embarrassment thick in her tone. She tucked her chin against her chest, pressing her small little hands against her legs. Jasmine could see the faded bits of red and green along the length of the girl’s fingers. Not good.

“You have such a talent sweetheart,” people would pay good money for portraits even half as good as that.

The corner of Alejandra’s mouth upturned into a shadow of a smile – something she rarely did, it was a crime, Jasmine thought, for such a beauty to be lost to the world. “I can’t get your eyes right,” she confessed.

“They’re fine,” Jasmine countered, “besides what you did with my
hair
. . . I mean I see it every day of my life and I’ve never once seen it look as good as you made it look.”

Alejandra raised her chin in acknowledgement, seemingly accepting the compliment. “Curls like yours,” she relaxed a bit, “makes it easy to draw beautiful.”

“Oh please,” she waved a hand with an expert nonchalance, “did your father give you that silver tongue?” Shit.

Alejandra pressed her lips together and said nothing. After a tense moment she flicked her gaze to the binder now on the edge of her bed, pointing a finger, “Can I see?”

“O-of course sweetheart,” stupid, you know better than that. You can’t see the signs your friend is hurting and now you’re dropping F bombs? It’s no wonder that you froze up. Jasmine crawled over and grabbed the music binder. She opened it, revealing the milk white CD’s with black marker written over them, listing the band name, album and genre.

The two talked and listened to music for a good while, talking about school troubles and making mistakes at the hospital, about first kisses and how stupid boys could be. The text message noise dinged in Jasmine’s slacks.

Alejandra smirked, “I know you’ve got a boyfriend,” she pursued, “you always make that face,” she said excitedly, pointing her black painted fingernail at Jasmine, “yeah! That face, that exact one. You
always
do that when you think it’s from your boyfriend.”

“Oh I do not; you’re just seeing what you want to see.”

Alejandra screwed up her face, furrowing her brows, “You can’t lie to me, you know this. You still try.” Good point . . .

Jasmine let out a sigh, smooth as smoke. “Yes,” she bitterly admitted, “I’m . . . basically with this guy, the guy from before. He makes me feel . . . well, feelings.”

“The
Maricón
that ditched you? He’s beneath you.”
Yeah he was, Jasmine’s ears caught the light drizzle of rain pattering.

“Oh no,” she started, “not the tattooed one. And I’ll let that slip because it’s true. The biker dude,” Jasmine revved the handles of her invisible steel steed.

Realization spread along the lines of Alejandra’s face, “So you got his number then?”

“Well, not really. I mean I have one of his burners.”

“You need to get it,” she insisted, “you want me to steal him from you?”

Blood rushed immediately to Jasmine’s face, “Alejandra, he—his age is so . . .”

“If he’s as great as you were telling me before, you need to go after him,” she hounded, looking deep into Jasmine’s eyes. “You were so sad,” she said, “and now you are happy again, don’t let that go away.”

Jasmine nodded. Maybe she had a point, love was a two way street – she couldn’t expect Luke to carry all of the weight. “Mimi told me something, you know, before I came inside.”

Alejandra’s eyes lowered and her mood darkened.

“Guess I don’t need to say anything,” Jasmine pointed out. “You still have some paint on your hands; you know running with those boys is a bad idea.”

“Tch,” Alejandra crossed her arms over one another, her dark ponytail whipping to face Jasmine. “I’m sure you don’t have room to talk. Difference is there when you’re with that man.”

The hypocrisy of the situation hadn’t actually occurred to Jasmine until it was pointed out, she couldn’t exactly deny it, so she went with an equally bad line of thought.

Jasmine flicked her tongue across her dry lips. “Well, I’m older than you, Alejandra – I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I have experience with these kind of people,” it was a partial truth, she did mess around with a few bad boys who rode motorcycles – but they were wannabes and not actually a part of anything. They had played their part in her rebellious fantasies.

“Wow,” she scoffed. “So when I turn eighteen I can just go and screw the first
idiota
to flash his cock at me?”

White-hot anger snaked up Jasmine’s spine in an instant and she shot up to her feet, glaring at the young girl and stalking up a couple of inches towards her. “Don’t you
dare
,” venom dripped her from tongue, she could see the fear behind Alejandra’s eyes; she put her hands behind her back and scooted back on the bed several inches. “You know
this much
about life, Alejandra,” Jasmine pinched air between her index and thumb. “If this keeps happening you’ll be lucky if you just end up in Juvy,” she had always tried to take the soft and understanding approach with the girl, letting her foster parents give the whip so to speak.

Alejandra’s eyes gleamed with water and she froze in her place.

Jasmine’s lips clamped tightly together, only just realizing that her hand was wound into a tight ball. “You’re going to piss your whole life away – what little you’re going to have left of it – and I’m not okay with that. If you want to see me again, you call me when you’ve had the time to think things over.” Jasmine shook her head, wanting to stay, but storming off – slamming the door behind her and glancing with the dagger behind her at Alejandra’s foster parents.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jasmine

Just getting home, Jasmine turned the lock on her front door and looked at the recent call that she missed; she had gotten it during her call to St.Augustine. Alejandra, but no voicemail. The hour was nearing eleven now and her feet were terribly sore.

Her heart even more so.

Jasmine wished not to have more days like today. She slipped off her shoes and meticulously placed them in the little shoe cubby by her door; taking off her coat and hanging it on the rack before padding over to the couch, too tired to take off any more of her clothes. Still have to shower. It sounded amazing – but it was so far she questioned if she would be able to make it.

Letting herself fall down onto the couch, a wave of relief filled her body and everything seemed to fade away. The image of Luke’s brown and blue eyes penetrated her mind, a tight knot forming in her chest and a golf sized ball of need made itself known between her legs. She had been made so wet from earlier in the day, Jasmine figured she would have to throw them away. Her senses lit up when she thought back on the hardness of Luke’s cock pressing up against her stomach in the stairwell, the taste of his warm and moist lips against her own – the way he caressed her neck with little affections and bites.

She needed him, she needed
all
of him. It was impossible to deny, her heart wouldn’t let her – her mind would not let go of him and her body burned at the slightest mention of him. Her nipples stiffened into hardened nubs in anticipation of calling him.