Madeline Sheehan - Unbeautifully

Even worse, I didn’t care.

“Danny?”

Finally . I’d called the club over an hour ago asking for a ride.

I glanced back over my shoulder and found Ripper, as usual, in head-to-toe leather. Leather pants, leather boots, a tight Metallica T-shirt, and his leather Horsemen cut. His long blond hair was pulled back in a man bun, he had a toothpick between his teeth, and a pair of aviator sunglasses hid his missing eye.

“What the fuck are you doin’ out here instead of in there with all your…” He trailed off as he surveyed the gym. “…with all those stupid-looking fucks,” he finished, making a disgusted face. “Never mind. I know exactly why you don’t wanna be here.”

“You didn’t go to your prom?” I asked.

“Naw. Split Cali at seventeen. Didn’t even finish high school.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I sighed, turning my back on what was supposed to be my last happy memory of high school. “Let’s go.”

“Danny girl,” Ripper said quietly, not having moved an inch. “Girl’s gotta dance at her prom. And you lookin’ the way you’re lookin’, at least one dance, baby.” He held out his hand. “End of an era, ya know.”

I looked up at his beautiful, ruined face, wondering how he did it. How he managed to keep going after what Frankie had done to him. Frankie hadn’t done anything to me, not outright anyway. I’d gotten the backlash of Frankie; his actions had caused a domino effect in which I’d been the last to fall down, with everyone else piled on top of me. I wasn’t so sure I’d gotten back up yet.

I wasn’t so sure any of us had.

“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “But I don’t really see the point.”

Ripper walked me out on the dance floor during the beginning of Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You.”

“Terrible fuckin’ music,” he muttered, pulling me up against his chest and holding tight to my waist. My four-inch heels allowed me enough extra height to put my arms around his neck and rest my cheek against his worn leather cut.

From across the room, I could see both Anabeth and Ellie gaping at me.

Whatever. I closed my eyes. I didn’t care what they thought. I didn’t care what anyone thought anymore.

And…this really wasn’t so bad. We weren’t actually dancing, just swaying slightly. Ripper felt tense and I got the feeling he had never danced before, but it was nice and I felt myself start to relax for the first time since everything had fallen apart.

God, how long had it been since someone had held me? Touched me? I couldn’t even remember the last time someone hugged me. It felt so good, so comforting to be in Ripper’s arms, holding tight to his neck, pressed up against his broad, muscular chest. I gripped him tighter, seeking a connection I didn’t realize I was looking for until I felt his hands squeeze around my waist. The tension in his body began to ease and, instead of holding my waist, his hands slid up my back. I let out a shuddering breath and sank even deeper against him.

“Danny,” Ripper whispered in my ear. “Three songs gone by and there’s some old fuckin’ bitch makin’ statutory rape faces at me.”

I jerked my head up and found my principal glaring at Ripper. Sighing, I pulled away from him and was nearly trampled by my friends.

“Hi, Ripper,” Anabeth cooed, smiling sweetly at him. Beside her, Ellie folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes. The two of them couldn’t be any more different. Ellie was a blue-eyed, raven-haired, curvaceous beauty with mixed Caucasian/African-American heritage, who was more concerned about grades than anything else and forever had her nose in a book, whereas Anabeth was concerned with boys, clothes, and parties. I was somewhere in between the two of them, not exactly sure what category I fit into.

“Yo,” Ripper said, lifting his chin at Anabeth.

“You can dance with me too,” she continued.

“Slut,” Ellie muttered.

“Prude,” Anabeth shot back.

“Good-bye,” I told both of them, grabbing Ripper’s arm. “Call you tomorrow.”

“Wanna go for a ride ’fore we head home?” he asked, holding the door open for me. “I gotta make a drop-off.”

“I don’t actually want to go home,” I said, glancing up at the stars. The thought of spending my prom night at home, in all probability all alone, was more than depressing. It was unacceptable.

Ripper straddled his bike and tossed me his helmet. “The club?”

I shook my head. Tonight was Saturday, and Saturdays at the club were a booze and woman free-for-all. The boys would be sloshed, neck-deep in cleavage, and in all likelihood, Freebird would be dancing on a pool table. Naked. Not my idea of a good time.

Ripper shook a cigarette out of his pack and pulled it out with his teeth. He lit it and took a long drag. “Throw me a bone, yeah?” he said as smoke poured from his nostrils. “I ain’t a mind reader.”

Hitching my dress up, I climbed on behind him and tucked the extra material between my legs before wrapping my arms around his waist. “Surprise me,” I said. “I’m up for anything.”

He laughed. “Anything? You got it.”

• • •

The drop-off was a straight shooter. The biannual fifty G’s to the Miles City chief of police to keep the local law off their backs, and he was good to go.

Surprise her, huh? What the fuck was he supposed to surprise her with? Miles City was a whole lot of nothing. Perfect place to run a motorcycle club that was involved in a whole lot of illegal shit; not so perfect place if you were a teenage girl looking to have a good time.

Flipping through his options, Ripper decided on Riverside Park; one, because Yellowstone River ran through it, and two, because it was always deserted after dark.

He pulled off near a cluster of trees and they walked side by side toward the river. Danny, who’d already kicked off her shoes, found a decent-sized rock to sit on, allowing her to run her feet through the rushing water. He pulled up on a patch of grass beside her and leaned back on his elbows. Now what?

He glanced at Danny. Hunched over, she stared sadly at the water below her. He felt for her; he knew shit wasn’t good at home because shit wasn’t good at the club either. Deuce was lately either a raging psychopath who preferred punching over talking, or he was brooding silently with a bottle. And everyone knew why.

Eva motherfucking Fox.

He hated Eva. He straight up hated her. Not just because she’d been married to the asshole who’d sliced up his face and body, and every time he looked at her all he could see was Frankie. Not just because when they’d finally found Frankie, it was because of Eva that they couldn’t kill him. Not just because Frankie had killed a whole shitload of people trying to get to Eva, putting the entire club and everyone in it in danger.

No, he hated Eva for all of it. As far as he was concerned, Eva getting raped and kidnapped, being forced to kill Frankie, it had been what she’d deserved for being such a fucking moron. But he kept his feelings to himself. Had for years.

Both Deuce and Cox had fallen hard for those two New York bitches, and while they were both smoking hot, he just didn’t understand the concept of being head-over-heels crazy for a woman. Not when you could just replace one bitch with another when she pissed you the fuck off, and be done with all the drama and bullshit. And Eva Fox had come with a whole lot of bullshit. Bullshit and baggage, and a fucking sick and twisted serial killer for a husband.

Everything bad in all their lives came back to that bitch. Why Deuce hadn’t dumped her a long time ago, he’d never understand. So they had a kid together. Who fucking cared? The guy had two kids with that cunt Christine and he’d tossed her to the curb. Hopefully he’d be doing the same with Eva. As it was they weren’t speaking, weren’t spending any time together. Eva rarely came to the club anymore and Deuce was always there.