Biker's Bride (Demons MC)

“Hey there, blondie,” one guy called out. I ignored him and kept walking closer. He was chubby, and wore a tattered short leather jacket and a black T-shirt underneath. His jeans were loose and chains hung around his hips. His arms were covered in tattoos, and one half of his head was shaved, the other half slicked back with oil. I found him completely repulsive, but I just had to get passed him, and then I was golden.

“Blondie, got a name?” he said again as I got closer. His friends laughed and grinned. I gave him a ‘fuck off’ look, and he chuckled softly.

“No name, that’s cool.” I grabbed the handle of the door. It was grimy and slick. “Coming inside, blondie? This your usual crowd?”

I looked at him again and felt myself speaking before I had a chance to reconsider what I was about to say.

“You’re definitely not my usual crowd, I know that much.” I couldn’t believe I had said that. Was I trying to provoke the creepy guy? I felt myself tense up in anticipation of his response.

The three guys were silent for a few seconds. I could feel the tension build, and I braced myself for what was coming next. Suddenly, they all busted out laughing. The two other guys hooted and slapped the chubby one on the back as I slipped passed them and into the bar. Crisis averted, for the time being at least.

Inside, the space was dark, and a thin cloud of smoke hung over everything. There was a long bar on the right side of the room, with a few scattered tables and booths, plus pool tables and a dartboard toward the back. The walls were covered in beer ads and pictures of motorcycles.

Not sure what to do, I made my way over to the bar and found a seat at the end closest to the door. I sat down and looked at the crowd. It was surprisingly full for a Wednesday night. There was a mix of young and old, and most of the guys looked like the same type as the dudes smoking out front. There were a lot of leather jackets, black shirts, facial hair, and tattoos. I felt like I stood out, but nobody was looking my way. Eventually, the bartender, a gruff old guy with a beer gut, asked me what I wanted, and I said a whiskey and coke. When he brought my drink, I sipped it slowly. The warmth spread out into my stomach and gave me a jolt of confidence.

I had no clue what to do next. On my first look around the room, I couldn’t find Rex, although there were plenty of uglier versions of him playing pool and drinking. The place felt like a cliché working-class Irish dive, and I guessed that’s probably what it really was. Nobody bothered me, and I didn’t bother anyone else.

I looked at my phone and sipped my drink as the minutes dragged by. For what felt like a really crazy and dangerous plan was actually turning out to be really boring. I didn’t see Rex anywhere, and nobody was bothering me, which meant plenty of time to look at Facebook and pout.

The door opened and closed again, and I looked up. In walked the three guys from earlier, grinning like idiots. The chubby one caught my eye and smiled, and I quickly looked away. I inwardly kicked myself for making eye contact as he sidled on over to me. I could smell his sweat and stinky breath as he leaned in to talk over the low music coming from the jukebox.

“Need a drink, blondie?” His teeth were revolting.

“No thanks, I’m good.” I would love it if you went away, though, I thought.

He smiled and sat down next to me, still leaning in too close. “What’s your name?”

None of your fucking business, I wanted to say. “Darcy.”

“Darcy. I’m Tadd.” He caught the eye of the bartender and ordered a beer.

“I’m meeting someone here, Tadd.” I hoped that lie would make him rethink his current plan of attack, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Meeting your girlfriends here? Getting a little drunk for a Wednesday?”

“No, I’m meeting my boyfriend, so could you leave me alone?”

Tadd stared at me for a few seconds, but didn’t start laughing. This time, he leaned closer, and there was a menacing look in his eye.

“You shouldn’t be rude, Darcy,” he said. I felt the fear spike in my stomach again.

“You shouldn’t get so close to me,” I said, ready to get up and run. He leaned in even closer, his face inches away from mine. I heard the door open then shut, and could feel a few people staring at us. My entire body was pulsing with adrenaline and fear.

“What’s your problem, stuck up bitch?” he said, spit flying from his lips.