I’m not sure why. My throat feels tighter and I claw at it, my blunt nails scraping the skin around my neck.
“No.” Zero’s deep volcanic voice coming from across the room silences my head enough to see a frail older man walking toward us.
I inhale and tell myself I’m okay, the monster is gone.
And although my mind is fighting to go to its dark place, I’m able to hold it back by that simple command.
Another girl’s face would’ve turned Crimson and blushed, maybe even felt embarrassed by her actions and left.
I’m not like that, those emotions were raped from me, mind, body and spirit. I can’t feel them.
Sometimes I ask myself if I put a bullet in my leg would I even cry. It’s like I’m dead inside.
Except for last night on the back of Zero’s bike, I felt something breathe life in me.
I have no idea what it is but it’s scary. I don’t trust scary.
The only scary I’ve known came in a 6 foot three package that promised only goodness in a fancy car.
I unwrapped it like the hard-up eager naive teenager I was. And it turned out to be a big fucking Monster that didn’t just give me bad dreams but live fucking nightmares that still haunts me years after, wherever I go, reminding me that demons always come in the most appealing of packages.
“If you gotta choose a name what will it be?” Killer asks, unaffected by the audience and my obvious inner battle I have going on inside me.
My eyes snap off the older man walking closer to us and Killer’s blue all-knowing gaze.
I clear my throat,
“Why do I need a name?”
He shrugs, with a tilt of his head like he can see deep within me,
“What will we call you if you don’t have one?”
I glance across the table and everyone’s eyes are on me, apart from one, Zero and it bothers me.
Why the fuck does it bother me? I should be relieved but I’m not. The older man who must be the President stands behind his chair and gives me an encouraging nod.
I turn my head to Storm giving me his undivided attention.
“Ah,” I swallow, my throat is dry, eyes back on Killer,
“How about?”
Killer arches his left brow as patient as ever, fucker,
“Yes?”
My palms get sweaty, I think fuck it.
They are either going to accept me or not.
This is who I am, this is me.
Taking one last breath, I look straight into Killers eyes and say
“Beggar.”
I say it loud enough that they can all hear me.
Killer is quiet and my confidence increases knowing that I managed to shut the devil up.
“Fuck, I didn’t see that one coming,” He cringes and my lip tugs.
“You sure.” I turn my head to Storm’s question.
“Yeah, Beggar,” I say, my tone firm.
Storm’s lips thin showing his displeasure but he doesn’t say anything else and I’m glad. He proceeds to lift my plate and starts dishing me steak and sausage. My mouth salivates as my vision feasts on the yummy meat I’m about to eat.
“Choose something else.” I miss the low voice, but my eyes immediately shoot to the owner, Zero, who won’t look at me but his grip around the fork and hard line of his lips inform me that it’s a good thing he doesn’t.
“No.” I give him his word back.
Knight sighs, “Zero’s right, it doesn’t feel right calling you that, girly-girl.”
I hear the other males grunt and mumble, but the women are quiet.
My plate lands in front of me and I pick the steak up and bite into it.
It’s so fucking good, my mouth tingles as I chew. The flavor is indescribable, I have nothing to compare it to.
I never had a hot meal, well now I have.
I take another bite and block the group out, knowing the whole crew is watching me.
When someone’s throat clears, I face the Italian, who calls himself Knight.
“It’s my name, the only one.” My words are terse and to the point.
I don’t want them complaining about it while I’m enjoying my first hot meal. The muttered curse from one of the girls doesn’t phase me.
“Well, Beggar.” I turn my head to the sound of the voice, Rounder. “Welcome to The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club.”
Rounder’s painful eyes crease into a weak smile and the balding head bends in acknowledgement.
I’m grateful and am familiar with the drill. Once the boss talks, they’re all screwed because he accepted it, he accepted my name.
I nod back, “Thank you, Prez.”
“Thank you, Beggar.” The grimace when he says my name doesn’t go unnoticed.
Storm coughs and Venus bursts out laughing.
The air around us is still intense, many of the guys aren’t happy. But fuck them, it’s my name. I wasn’t lying when I told them that’s my name, at least the one I gave myself four years ago.
I blow it off and grab a roll just as the others start filling their plates. I take my sausage and place it in the center of the roll and shove it in my mouth.
Zero’s eyes are on me, I can feel it, and it takes everything in me not to duck under the table just to get away from his cold stare.
He should be focusing on Falon not looking at me. He’s an idiot, an arrogant, bossy idiot.
“You want another piece?” My eyes shoot up from my plate to Storm, who’s holding steak mid-air with a fork,
“God yes.”
He dumps it on my plate and licks his fingers.
Killer starts up a conversation with Texas about football and puts another roll on my plate without taking his eyes off his brother.
Ten minutes later I’m done. My stomach is full.
Killer turns his attention off Texas to me,
“You doing okay there, new girl?”
I smile and shake my head, “Best fucking meal ever.”
My words must have had importance to him because he rubs his jaw and nods like I just answered an important question.
Fuck, If I care, I didn’t even finish school.