Page 1 of Stag

Chapter One

Sometimes I think my days are numbered, like not just with Phoenix MC, but in general. Life so far has pretty much sucked, and I know at twenty-four, many would say I have a lifetime ahead, but I don’t feel it. What I feel is like I’m wrong somehow. Somewhere inside me, something is wrong. That’s why I don’t get on with people. That’s why I wind people up, when I’m just trying to have a laugh. That’s why women slap me, or yell at me, when I’m just trying to make a connection. I know it’s not them. It’s me.

I think my parents have to take some of the blame, I mean they were good people, but just didn’t seem to understand me or try all that hard to at least attempt to. Face value. That’s where my parents live. If something looks good, it is. If someone seems less than they are, then they accept it. Sucks really. We’d have been closer if they’d been able to look beneath the surface, and see that all I wanted was someone to fucking listen and hear me. My head was like a screaming mass of confusion and despair, but on the outside, I guess I looked like I was living my best fucking life.

I hate that expression. Best life? Does anyone do that? And if there’s such a thing, where’s mine?

I was at my day job, which by the way I also hated, and wondering why I bothered. Accounting. It’s boring. It’s not the numbers I hate. Numbers are great. Numbers don’t fuck about. They just are, and if you can’t get your head around that, that’s a you problem. The numbers just fucking are.

No, it’s the people, it’s the place, it’s the fact that nobody made the effort to get to know me, and some of the girls found me ‘creepy’ and ‘predatory’. Fucking hell. All I wanted was to get to know people.

“You’re too pushy.” “You’re always staring at me.” “You followed her home!”

Okay that last one was nothing to do with work, but it was burning me up. To understand what happened there, we’d need to go back a few months.

A few months ago

We were at the club Henley had introduced the club to, a place named Grimm’s. The guy was clearly a biker too, and I liked him, but more than that, I loved this fucking place. There were girls everywhere, all dressed in skimpy little dresses, or fully gothed up with the makeup, and the chunky boots, black talons, and those vampire-esque kinda outfits. I wanted to fuck a goth so bad, but none of them were into me.

I was at the bar, ordering another drink, and that’s when I saw her. She was leaning against the bar, one palm flat on the counter, her eyes closed, and a blissful smile on her face. She was so beautiful. She had dark hair, and intense dark eye makeup, but she wasn’t as goth as the others around her. She was taking such pleasure in the music, or the atmosphere, that I could practically feel it myself, and that’s why I gravitated in her direction.

“Hey,” I said loudly by her ear, expecting her eyes to pop open and for her to at least look at me before she dismissed me, because beautiful women like her always did that. I guess I wasn’t outwardly hot, but I wasn’t unpleasant to look at. Brown hair, brown eyes, a nice smile, in my opinion, and you know, I was pretty built. I worked out to keep fit and strong. What’s not to like?

I tried again. “Hey, cool place, huh?”

Again, no response. She was so into the music, or so intent on ignoring me, that she didn’t even flinch or turn away. How fucking rude was she?

“Oi, I’m talking to you!”

Again nothing. I caught a warning glare from the bartender, some guy with black eyeliner and a shaved head, who flicked a gesture at me telling me to back off. Fuck that. All she had to do was be fucking polite. Was that so much to ask? I was always getting shit for the way I acted around people, but this was why. Rudeness. You don’t want to talk, say no thanks. I’m not a monster. I’ll leave.

“Stop fucking ignoring me!” I yelled at her, so fucking frustrated with her continued ignorance that I downed my vodka and coke and slammed the glass down on the bar right near her hand.

She jumped, her eyes flying open as she backed up a step and looked around her.

Yeah that’s right. Look for someone other than me. I’m right in front of you.

“You stuck up cunt, all you had to do was say go away!”

Someone slammed a fist into my face, knocking me back a pace as I caught my balance by gripping the bar.

The woman glaring at me was gorgeous, with dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail and similar makeup to the… wait… she looked just like the other woman.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Did you touch her? Did you touch my fucking sister?!”

She slammed both hands against my chest and shoved me back another pace, balling up her fist again as I absorbed her words. Sister. She said sister. Fuck me. More than a sister, she was her twin.

“I’ll break your balls, you fucking asshole!”

She lunged at me, and I fell back, catching my foot on a bar stool, and landing on my ass with a bone-jarring thud. Motherfucker!

“Get the boss,” the bartender yelled to someone, while I hurriedly scrambled up from the floor so she didn’t stomp on my nads, since she was definitely pissed enough to, and unlike her sister, she wore the deadly shitkicker boots.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I snapped at her, smoothing down my cut as I straightened up again, and dodged her next attempt to punch me.

“Fuck’s sake!”

The woman I’d tried to talk to was watching from a few feet away, her arms wrapped around her middle, and her eyes focused on my face as I spoke. Oh now she’ll fucking look at me. Too little too fucking late.