ALL THE RAGE (writer: T.M. Frazier)(17)

“Who the f*ck are you?” Smoke demanded, closing the gap between us in two strides. His beard long enough to brush against his broad chest, which was naked under his vest. Artful tattoos with bold lines and beautiful shading covered the entire right side of his well developed torso and arm, the colorful designs snaking up to the front of his throat to the side of his neck and behind his ear. His eyes were dark brown, appearing almost black when he glared down at me with a look of confusion and anger.

Motorcycle Clubs weren’t something new to me. Lilly Heights was a cut through to Logan’s Beach and Harper’s Ridge where two of the biggest MC’s in the state had their headquarters. I was used to seeing bikers ride through town on the weekends, but Smoke’s cut was blank, void any patches, whereas Mugs clearly had a large one across the back that read “Beach Bastards” as well as several smaller ones on the front with writing I couldn’t make out in the dark.

My gaze flitted quickly between Jerry, to Mugs, to the gun in Smoke’s hand…which he’d raised and was now pointed at my head.

I smiled, mostly because I couldn’t not smile. I pointed to Smoke’s gun and clapped my hands together, unable to form the exact words I wanted to say. I cleared my throat and tried again, attempting not to sound giddy, but it didn’t work. “Can I? Please?” I asked in a shouty whisper.

“Can you what?” Smoke barked. “What exactly are you asking, girl?” He growled, although his face said ‘anger’ and ‘annoyance’ I also saw a trace of understanding.

“Why the f*ck are you smiling, girl?” Mugs asked, shaking his gun.

I didn’t acknowledge Mugs, sensing that Smoke was the only one who could help me. I looked and him and then pointed to the hole in the ground where Jerry was moaning and holding the side of his head.

Smoke peered down at me through the long dark hair that had fallen into his face and something between us clicked. Something life changing. Not love, or anything so ridiculous, but something important nonetheless. I knew he felt it too when he smiled, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a wicked grin. He scratched his head with the barrel of his gun. “How old are you, girl?”

“Fifteen,” I answered, sounding as eager as a little kid on Santa’s lap, like I was about to tell him what I wanted for Christmas. “No, sixteen. Today’s my birthday.”

“Well happy f*cking birthday, girl. Smoke, what the f*ck are you doing?” Mugs whined. “Let’s take this f*cker out and then take her out. She’s a witness now. We can’t let her just walk.” He started to walk toward us but Smoke held up a hand to stop him, waving him back before he could take another step. “Just hurry the f*ck up, man. And just know that you’re not getting out of helping me dig another f*cking hole.”

I leaned to the side on one foot, stretching my neck to see past the wall of muscle that was Smoke. “I won’t be a witness if…I’m the one who does it,” I offered, standing up straight and bouncing on the balls of my feet.

“You’re not afraid are you?” Smoke asked although I don’t think he was asking to get an answer because he already knew the answer. He crouched down and studied my face, searching my eyes. I knew what he was looking for but I also knew he wasn’t going to find it. Any of it. Fear, hesitation, sympathy, blah-blah-blah.

I bit my lip and linked my hands behind my back, swinging my entire body along with my head as I shook it from side to side.

“You high or something?” Smoke asked, quirking an eyebrow and ignoring another call from Mugs to hurry up and kill me already.

“No,” I whispered, although I was intoxicated. So drunk on excitement that I could practically smell it seeping from my pores.

Smoke raised his gun, again aiming it at my head. He took another step toward me, closing the gap between us and roughly pressing the barrel of the gun against my forehead.

I didn’t budge.

I also didn’t stop smiling. In reality I couldn’t have ripped it off my face if I tried prying it down with my own fingers.

Gun to my head or not, I felt alive.

I felt free.

Smoke’s shoulders shook with a sudden burst of laughter. He holstered his gun and again looked deep into my eyes. The understanding I’d caught a glimpse of earlier flashed across his dark gaze. “I recognize that look,” he said, scratching at his forearm. “Never seen it in a chick before, though. Especially not one so f*cking young. Only ever seen it in guys. Guys like me.”

“Guys like you?” I asked, scrunching my forehead. I was curious as to what category he was including me in.

“Yeah, guys like me. The bad guys.” The muscles in his forearms flexed as he cracked his knuckles.

“Please,” I begged, feeling not just that I wanted to be the one to do this, but I needed to be. “Bad, good…” I shook my head fiercely, slapping the side of my face with my ponytail. “I just have to.”

Smoke didn’t take his eyes off me when he called back to Mugs, “The girl’s right. She ain’t a witness if she does it herself.” He moved to my side and turned back around to Mugs so we were both facing him. Mugs huffed again and checked his watch. He lit a cigarette.

Mugs’ skin was a lot paler than Smoke’s. His hair appeared virtually white under the light of the full moon. “Wow, I knew you like some f*cked up shit, Smoke, but a sixteen-year-old who begs strangers to let her kill motherf*ckers?” Mugs rolled his eyes and flicked the burning ash off the end of his cigarette. “I hope you two deviants will be really f*cking happy together.”