Crow: Kings of Carnage MC - Prospects

Her eyes widen, her teeth nibbling her nails even faster.

“So, what’s the business?”

2

Crow

Outside the clubhouse, I straddle my Harley and stare at the commotion across the street. A red moving truck with some moving men carrying tables and shit into the building, their shirts matted with sweat. A couple weeks ago I sat outside a driveway in the same trailer park I live while Ruin and Saint talked a woman into running a business across from the clubhouse and from the looks of it, she took the deal. I can’t tell if she decided to run a coffee shop or a bookstore. I’m not sure either of those would profit well all the way out here in Uprising, Georgia.

She walks out of the front door with her head down, her brown hair braided and pulled to the side of her neck down her shoulder and resting on her tit that’s smothered beneath a tight tan tank top. Reaching the end of the sidewalk, she bends over to grab a box from the back of her blue Honda Civic and her green shorts ride up the back of her thighs just enough to torment me. She’s as natural as they come, with no heavy makeup, hair color, or tattoos. I’d be a liar if I said she wasn’t my type. She’s what every woman goes to the store throwing money at the fountain of youth to look like.

Maybelline

“Why are we putting books in here again? I thought we were doing coffee and baked goods, not a library?” Dime asks, holding a book in each hand as she stares up at the white shelves that shape upward into an odd angle with a double love seat sitting right in front of it.

Shaking my head, I grab Dead Until Dark and Fifty Shades of Grey from her and place them on the shelves. “Because, it’s a space for coffee, a small snack, and relaxing. You know, read a book or sit by the window and blog while basking in the sun,” I try to explain to her, but her nose is scrunched up with distaste, her eyes gazing at me like I just turned fifty years old on her overnight. She’s more of a party girl, I get it. Long hair that hangs in ringlets over her tanned shoulders. A camo crop top and short shorts that show more thigh and butt cheeks than a parent would be comfortable with, but I’m her sister and she often reminds me I’m not her mother when I do recommend something a little more revealing. But still, even if we are opposite, surely she’s experienced falling in love with a cup of coffee and reading a book.

“Dime, what’s the last book you read?”

She looks up at the ceiling in thought, her long lashes caked with mascara, nearly touching her eyebrows. “Umm, I think my English teacher had us read The Great Gatsby at the start of the year.”

“Ah, I read that one, it’s good because it stands on its own. It’s an original story.”

“Right, anyway. What kind of shit we baking?”

She couldn’t care less about my interest in reading and plops into the overstuffed chair. Grabbing the end of my braid, I twirl the hair, trying to think about what the easiest and cheapest thing to bake would be. I can make coffee, Frappuccinos, anything when it comes to coffee beans, but baking is not my strong suit, that’s Dime’s. She was the one that always cooked with the Easy Bake Oven when we were kids, I stood by and watched mostly or be the one to sneak into the kitchen to steal different ingredients for her to cook with.

“I was thinking maybe just cookies, I spent a lot with the coffee machine as it is and—”

“I thought Ruin said to let him know if you need more money to start up?” Interrupting, she looks up at me, crossing her legs.

“He did but I really don’t want to get into any more debt with them than we have to, Dime.”

Our eyes lock and an unspoken tragedy passes between us. Our parents constantly bought drugs from the Kings until they died. I can’t blame the Kings anymore than an obese person could blame a McDonald’s for high cholesterol. Ruin went to the same high school as me, and I’ve even seen him show up at our house once when my parents were scoring some drugs from them. Ruin came down the ratted hall, opened up the bedroom door, and saw me and my sister huddling around an Easy Bake Oven before his father yelled for him to leave. We talked here and there in school, but he was much too cool for me. He was popular and always hooking up with girls, I was a trailer mouse that went home and hid in her room with her little sister imagining something better. I can’t help but wonder if Ruin picked me for running this business because he feels like he can really trust me or if he feels bad about what happened to my parents.