“Look at me,” she demands. “Tell her. Tell Julianna what we did last night, Ryder.” She tries to move in front of me. Tears stream down her face, but she holds the phone as if it’s a gun. Like that footage could actually bring me down.
“You tell her.” My voice is calm. “And don’t leave anything out.” I nod at her stunned face, turning to open her bedroom door.
“Ryder. Wait.” Her voice cracks, but I keep walking. “Wait. I was joking. I’m tired, that’s all.”
“Send it, Cindy,” I call over my shoulder.
“But… I love you,” she pleads.
That stops me. She can’t really think this is love, can she?
After a pause, I turn to her. “You have no idea what love is.” I let the words hang in the air as she stands, clutching her phone to her chest. “Because it sure as shit isn’t this.”
I don’t wait to hear her screams. Her threats bounce off me. I’ve heard them all before.
A dog barks as I make my way toward the parking lot, the morning sun shining her warmth on me. Straddling my bike, I take a breath and exhale. I don’t believe in chance. I do believe in Karma and destiny. I came here to cut us loose. I used the booze as an excuse, but I came here knowing it’s time.
Leaning forward, I start up my bike and twist the throttle. Exhaust fills the air. The pavement vibrates to life.
I know who I am. Nothing can bring me down.
Nothing.
JULIANNA
Past
Disciples’ clubhouse
Burbank, CA
Biting my lower lip, I try not to chicken out. I can’t. I need to pick up Gia. “What a freakin’ mess,” I mumble, rubbing my forehead as my navigation system tells me to go right, and that the destination is straight ahead.
I take a deep breath, the new-car smell aggravating me. I know people love it, but I’m nervous right now, so it’s making me feel like I can’t breathe. I’m driving my Christmas present from my dad. To say I was shocked is an understatement.
A BMW.
He bought me a freaking BMW; I almost burst into tears. It’s just so… my dad. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I hate driving cars like this. It makes me uncomfortable, like I’m a snob or something. Not to mention, I loved my Prius. But apparently that wasn’t safe enough. And what my dad says goes. No one crosses him. We all learned that at a very young age.
Glancing down at the white leather seats, I roll my eyes. This is the type of car my older brothers or sister would drive if they didn’t already have a driveway full of more expensive ones. It’s embarrassing and I hate it, but it’s not like we can choose our family.
I’m the baby of mine. Also, my dad’s only child with my mom, who happened to be his secretary and broke up his marriage of twenty-plus years with his first wife.
So yeah, my mom is twenty-six years younger than my dad. You can imagine how close I am with my siblings.
My dad doesn’t care though. I love him, but the comments he makes, the snide remarks here and there, are too much. I swear, if my mom wasn’t such a perfect trophy wife, he would easily, and I quote, “trade her in for a newer model.”
Which is disgusting and completely degrading. But it doesn’t seem to bother my mom at all. Either she doesn’t care and is staying with him for the money, or she’s been told it so many times she’s immune to it. Since my mom looks thirty, I have to think she’s in it for the money. She can’t honestly think she loves him… gross.
At seventy-two, my dad rules his massive empire along with all seven of his children as if we were put on this planet to serve him. As if none of us should actually want to have our own lives. But now that I’m considering it, why would he think otherwise? Nobody says no to him, certainly not my brothers and sister. It’s pretty clear that it’s his way or the highway. That’s kind of mean, and he’s not that bad. He’s just… my dad.
I need to make sure my mom is still giving sizable donations to our charities. She tends to slack if I’m not there to remind her. Also, I should volunteer at the homeless shelter this weekend. That will make me feel better. That is, if we make it back by then.
What am I thinking? Of course, we’ll be back by the weekend. I’m picking up Gia and going straight to the dorm.
Glancing around, I blow out some air, which sounds like a small hiss. I have to calm down. But thinking about my dad and what he would do if he had any clue I was pulling into a motorcycle club instead of on my way back to Berkeley makes my head pound and heart race.