For the Love of Dixie (11 page)

Echo

We came up with a truce, but I can still feel the discord floating around under the surface. We managed to finish up our business. After the
disappearance
of Blue’s ex—the detective—the way we do things changed. We couldn’t be sure of how much he’d learned, or who he’d been siphoning information to. So far, no one had been coming around, but you could never be too good. Besides, routines get you jacked and killed. Change is always good.

I pull up in front of the clubhouse and curse my circumstances. I should be in my own place with my old lady, but Dixie is resistant. I’m trying to be patient, but at times it pisses me off. I’m wrecking my family, and causing drama with my club, and she’s got one foot in the relationship and one foot out the door.

The thought that she could leave so easily bothers me. I didn’t mean to fall for her. She was the least likely option. A few years younger, and the one woman my father would never approve of, she was on the ‘don’t even think about it’ list, until that day that changed everything.

Past

My phone vibrates.
Shit.
It’s Friday, and I was counting on blowing off some steam in the clubhouse with a few of the girls. Being the low man on the totem pole is endless, backbreaking work. People think they go easier on us prospects who’ve grown up within the club, but I think it is worse. They get a kick out of seeing us tested and tried over and over. I pull my phone out and frown at the name.
Dixie Rose. What the hell is Hoss’s daughter doing calling me of all people?
My father has never hidden how he feels about blacks. Sure she and I are cordial, but we keep our distance to make sure we don’t rock the boat.

“I’m out, fellas,” I say, tossing my cards on the table. I bring the phone to my ear. “Yeah?”

“E-echo?”

“You’re the one who called me, and you’re not sure who’s on the phone?” I ask.

“Yeah, s-sorry.”

There’s loud music in the distance and the sound of voices, but I can still hear the fear in her voice. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I went to this party with some friends at school and it’s just getting out of hand.”

“The party?” I ask, confused. Isn’t that the point of a party in high school? I’ve been out a few years.

“I-I’m at a party and I think…I don’t know. S-some of the boys are drunk and talking shit.”

I hear a voice in the background say, “What? The biker whore is too good to have a little fun with us now?”

The catcalls set me on fire. I know Dixie Rose, she’s not the type to get wasted and screw random civilians at some party. I’ve seen this happen too many times to the women connected with this club. “Fuck that bullshit. These little punks need to learn a lesson. You go lock yourself in a bathroom or a room and wait for me.”

“I-I don’t want to t-take you away from anything.”

“Stop arguing and do it.”

“O-okay,” she replies.

“Stay on the phone with me until you’re safe.”

The catcalls grow distant and I hold my breath. I have no clue where she is or how long it’ll take me to get to her, if something goes down. I hear a door slam. “You do what I told you?”

“Y-yes, I’m in the third bedroom on the top floor, last one on the right.”

“Good, now where are you?”

“Over at the Fleming’s place.”

I whistle. The Flemings are a wealthy family who have a habit of bailing their ill-mannered children out of trouble. “Damn, girl, you seeing how the other side lives, or you have friends in high places?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice shakes and she begins to pant.

“Hey, don’t pass out on me. Listen to my voice. I’m coming for you, girl. Leaving right now. By the time I’m done, no one else will be saying shit to you at school. I promise you that.” I clench the phone tight. “I’ll be there soon.” I hang up the phone and walk out of the clubhouse with murder on my mind. No one gets away with treating our girls like that, especially not Dixie Rose. I have an eternal guilt where she’s concerned after all my old man has pulled. I see a blameless girl, but he’s always seen the embodiment of evil. Like she’s some sort of brown-skinned Reagan from the movie
The Exorcist
. As I leave the clubhouse, I ignore the razzing of fellow prospects. My only focus is on reaching the terrified teen.

I make the thirty minute drive in fifteen, and back my bike up onto the sidewalk. Kids are spilling out onto the lawn, crowded onto the porch, and passed out in chairs and the porch swing.
I guess that’s a plus to living out on so much land. No one’s going to file a noise complaint.
Blue and Dixie Rose are usually attached at the hip, so I’m wondering why she choose this party of all places to get brave and independent. I shake my head. I’ve never been one to understand bitches.

The whispers start and sweep through the crowd like a wave. Heads turn.

I stare them down.
That’s right, Kings are in the house. I dare you to say shit like you did to Dixie Rose.
The crowd parts and I walk up the porch into the house. I spot the Fleming’s eldest and stare him down.

Blood rushes from his face, making his skin even paler. His red hair stands out like a beacon.

I know his type. Entitled asshole, who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I know he had something to do with this. I stop in front of him. “When I come back, you and I are going to have a talk. You run, and I’ll find you. You don’t want me to have to chase you. It pisses me off.”

He gulps, and nods. His blue eyes dart from side to side.

“Please try me, Ralph. See, I’m pissed I had to stop what I was doing to come here and I’d appreciate an outlet for my anger.”

“I-I’ll be here,” he stammers. Just like most cowards, he changes his tune when someone his size confronts him and he folds like a lawn chair.

I turn on my heel and make my way up the staircase. After bulldozing through the line formed from the bathroom I stop in front of the bedroom door and pound on it with my fist. “Open up. It’s Echo.” A second later, the door opens and I step inside, scanning her with my gaze.

The once white dress is stained with some sort of drink, making it damn near see through against her sienna skin. Her nipples strain against the thin fabric. The dressed stops at her upper thighs and high heels accentuate her long legs.

My jaw drops before I can contain my reaction. “Dixie Rose, what the hell are you wearing?” I ask.

Her lower lip trembles, her chest heaves, and she bursts like a damn. Tears pour down her face, smearing her mascara, and tiny whimpers spill from her mouth.

Fuck, I broke her.
I stare at her, unsure what to do. “Shit. I mean it looks good, or it did before the drink was spilled.”

Her sobs increase.

My head begins to ache. “Come here, girl.” I step forward and pull her to my chest. “Just say the word and I’ll hand you someone’s beating heart.”

“It wouldn’t matter. I was so stupid.” She hiccups. “I–I came here thinking I could b-belong. That I could find someplace where I fit in. It’s sure as hell not with the club. Mouth’s made that more than clear. B-but the school really thinks I’m some seedy, skank by night. God. I don’t know why I exist anymore.”

The pain-laced words are a slap in the face. We all write my father’s attitude off as some silly personality quirk, thinking his and a few other’s opinions are lost in the abundance of acceptance we offer up, but this girl is proof that’s not true. She’s literally considering herself not worth living right now, because she has no place to belong. I’d never been blind to my father’s wrongness, but I see now silence can be equally damning. My gut knots.
I need to undo this.
We lost a brother recently to suicide. No one took him seriously and we lost him. Her words are raising red flags. “Hey,” I lean back and cup her face in my hands, “you do belong, with us, with me.”

“No. I can’t. Because if I did …” She trails off shaking her head.

“If you did, what?” I ask.

“Then I wouldn’t feel like this.”

“Babe, it’s called the growing years for a reason. No one feels like they know who they are or where they belong in high school. You got it rougher than most, I’ll give you that. People are always harsher on the women of the club, and you got my dad to contend with. I apologize for that. He’s wrong and no one believes his bullshit. You must know that.”

She purses her lips.

“Listen, I’m going to take care of the school shit tonight, okay?”

She sniffs and nods.

“Go get yourself cleaned up, and we’ll go out there and show those motherfuckers they made a grave mistake.”

She slinks off to the bathroom all long limbs, pausing in the doorway. “You aren’t going to tell my father, are you?”

“Do I need to?”

She shakes her head.

“For now, we’ll keep it between us.”

Her face lights up and she smiles.

The change is astonishing. Her beauty sucker punches me. Underneath those jeans and T-shirts, she’s been growing up nicely. It’s like an angel showed herself in the presence of a demon. I’m drawn to the light she exudes. My days of turning a blind eye to one of the biggest flaws of the club is over. From now on, I’ll be the one watching out for her and letting her know to at least one person, she’s important.

She comes out, fresh faced and pulled together. Her hair is tamed into a braid running down her back, and she’s done something to partially dry her dress.

“You want to tell me how this went down?” I ask, leaning against the wall.

“A girl from my school, Stacey, who I thought of as a friend, told me there’d be a party here tonight and invited me out. We’re in the same classes, and we’ve always been friendly, so I figured why not, you know? She picked me up from my house and things were fine until everyone got a little liquor in them.”

“Usually when the truth comes out,” I say.

“Yeah, well it came out in a major way. They started asking me all kinds of questions about the club, and the clubhouse. Assuming I’m some sort of super hooker because my father wears a cut, and I was raised inside the club. I tried to tell them it wasn’t like that, be polite, but they didn’t like that.” Her voice wavers.

“Who’s they?”

She bites her bottom lip.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. One way or another, I’ll find out what I want to know.”

“Ralph.”

“Thought so. Little shit has a history with women. Dude’s going to grow up to be a fucking rapist.”

Her face blanches.

“He spill his drink on you?” I ask.

“No. That was Stacey’s friend, Natalie.” She bows her head. “Ralph just made me feel like a whore. He came on to me, I told him I wasn’t interested. He backed off for a minute, then he kept pressing me, getting others involved in the taunts. God, I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“When we walk out of here, you hold your head up like the fucking queen you are.”

She ducks her head.

I step forward and pinch her chin. “See this shit, you have to stop doing that. You don’t look down for no one, got it?”

She peers up at me from under her long, dark lashes. “Got it.”

I release my hold and wrap my arm around her waist. “Come on, I’ve got fuckers to embarrass in front of their friends.” I guide her out of the room and down the crowded hall.

All eyes are on us.

Her countenance doesn’t change. She’s downright regal with her head held so high, her nose is practically in the air.

Kitten has claws, she just needed a protector to have her back and defend her from predators.
I mean mug every person I make eye contact with, smirking when they glance away. We descend the stairs to find Ralph surrounded by his crew of skinny punks. “I can go through all of you or you can step aside and let me talk to the one prick I need to deal with.” I remove my hand, and Dixie shifts her weight, striking a pose I’ve seen the other old ladies take when they want to seem tough.
Nicely done.
I give her a look I hope conveys my approval.

“What do you want with Ralph?” a lanky blond asks.

“I want him to apologize for his and his friends’ bad behavior. See, I’m not leaving here until I’m sure he’s learned manners.” I step up to the blond and stare him down.

He trembles like a leaf.

“You don’t want none, Richie Rich. Let your boy take the fall for once. I’m sure you get sick of being the whipping boy who’ll never truly fit in with this crowd. See, I know your pops, he’s not in their league.”

His head drops.

I couldn’t miss old Wayne’s son. He looks just like the small time drug dealer, and in a town this small, no one’s business is private.

The boy steps aside, and the rest of the group follows.

The red-haired prick is sweating bullets. His expensive white shirt has pit stains and his face almost matches the strands on the top of his head.

“You trying to avoid me, Ralphie?” I ask, sneering.

“No, man, I can’t control what they do,” he replies, trying to sound hard.

“Funny, I think that’s exactly what you do. See, these punks think you’re some sort of god. Tonight, we’re going to show them how mistaken they are.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Ralph says.

“No?” I grin and move forward until I’m a millimeter away from him. “Then you’re dumber than I thought.” I grab his hair and drag him across the room to stand in front of Dixie Rose. “See, you owe her an apology.” I force him down onto his knees. “I don’t hear you.”

His cheeks puff out.

I tighten my hold. “Mommy and Daddy can’t touch me, boy. Might want to think twice before you cash a check your ass can’t cover.”

“Sorry,” he spits the words out like an expletive.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I pull his head back at an awkward angle and he cries out. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Dixie Rose.”

“Much better. Since you had your cronies join in, I think you should kiss her feet for good measure.”