Chapter 6: Wolf.e: Chapter 5

“You look hot! Wait—do you have a tan already?” Layla squeals as she looks over my yellow strapless dress I bought for the rehearsal when I knock on her door the following Friday evening.

“I’ve been doing yoga outside.” I shrug, forcing the carefree tone to my voice. And I’ve been wandering the halls of my parents’ barren mansion, getting through orientation at Crimson Homes after they called last Saturday and offered me the job, trying not to text Evan simply out of habit, and trying not to cry myself to sleep every night over my derailed future.

And more than I care to admit, I’ve been trying not to think of the haunting Hounds of Hell president who Layla told me was named Wolfe when we had lunch the other day. True story.

That’s his actual name.

Layla smiles back, she can’t know any of my struggles by my tone. I’m a pro after growing up with my parents.

I force a big happy smile and hug her. I don’t know what I expected when she gave me her address to an older part of town, but it was not this. This little pocket of hundred-year-old homes on sprawling properties has been totally revived. It looks like new families have moved in and everything is up kept and very Hallmark-ish. Layla’s house is no exception. It’s a 1920’s Craftsman style house and has been fully renovated. I’m pleasantly surprised and remind myself this doesn’t look like the home of a criminal. Layla’s house is rustic and girly but somehow still smells like leather even though her fiancé isn’t here. I look over the photos that line the table in the living room. The man Layla is marrying looks like the other club members I’ve seen around town since I’ve been home. The only one I haven’t seen again is their club president. And for some reason, I’ve been looking every time I hear the tell-tale rumble of a Harley on Main. If anything, just to show myself he isn’t as captivating as I remember.

I smile at a photo of Layla and her fiancé where his arms are wrapped around her waist and he’s biting her earlobe. Layla’s man has her name tattooed under his left eye. It’s small but that’s commitment if I’ve ever seen it.

I toss my hair over my shoulder as I kick my heels off so I don’t mark up their shiny hardwood floor.

I’m determined to push down my worries about where I’m going and just try to have some fun this weekend.

I called the contractor Mr. Kennedy gave me this afternoon and he flat out told me I’m looking at thousands to fix the porch.

It’s just the type of problem I’m not prepared to worry about until Monday.

“Okay, we have time for one toast and then we need to go. I have to see what these boys did all day… God, I knew I never should’ve left Sean in charge of décor,” Layla says nervously.

Something else I learned over lunch the other day is that Layla’s fiancé has a real name. Shockingly, he wasn’t born as Ax.

“Shelly will help him and make sure it’s beautiful,” Chantel says.

Layla nods. “Yes, you’re right. Okay, one shot then we’ll go!” she calls out.

I can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks tonight in pale pink silk. Her hair is upswept and she has glittery pins holding it in place. It’s a shame her parents didn’t live long enough to see her wedding day; although, I know they wouldn’t approve of her marrying into the MC anyway, so maybe it’s for the best.

I take my shot and knock it back the way the other girls do as we all take a seat in Layla’s comfortable living room. The shot is surprisingly sweet and sugary. Chantel sets her shot glass down and asks me if I’ve ever been to a clubhouse before.

“No,” I answer honestly. “I was always told to stay away from anyone associated with the club.” I look at Layla. “We both were.”

“That didn’t work out so well,” Amber says with a giggle as she fluffs her hair.

“Brin saw Wolfe and a few of the guys this week, though, and almost pissed her panties,” Layla tells them. The girls laugh as they down another shot.

I groan. “It was… embarrassing, but I froze. I just sat there and stared at him. He looked me over like he was about to demand my personal info,” I comment. “And he seems… terrifying, he stared right at me.”

“He is,” they all say in unison and laugh some more.

“But goddamn, he’s fucking hot. BDE for sure,” Amber snorts out.

“BDE?” I ask, and the girls laugh harder.

“You are innocent, aren’t you, new girl?” Maria chuckles.

“Biker dick energy,” Chantel fills me in.

Oh.

Hot? I’ve never looked at a man like that as hot before. Visions of him pinning me up against his bike overtake me. My body heats and I feel the pink creeping up my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut to force the vision from my mind.

“And trust me, he lives up to the hype,” Chantel says, cutting into my thoughts like she knows firsthand.

I cross my ankles and play with the hem on my dress.

“I can’t even imagine being with a man like that. He’s intimidating, to say the least,” I say, focusing on the hem like it’s the most intriguing thing on earth.

“You can be afraid of him and still want him…” Chantel says. They all laugh, and now I think they all know firsthand.

“Forgive me for asking this but, have you all slept with him?” I ask incredulously.

“I haven’t,” Layla pipes up sweetly, arm raised. “The only member of HOH I’ve slept with is Sean.” She giggles using the acronym the town does for the Hounds of Hell.

“On the first night you met him.” Maria smirks.

I look at my friend.

“Couldn’t help it, all he had to do was touch me.” Layla smiles wistfully, and I feel a pang of uncontrollable jealousy.

I look at the other three girls as Chantel points between herself and the other two. “As far as not sleeping with Wolfe… we can’t say the same, but that’s ancient history. Like, years ago ancient history.” They laugh and there’s something about it—maybe the fruity shots I just inhaled—that makes me laugh with them.

“You all are a lot braver than I am,” I admit honestly.

“Don’t knock it till you try it. You hang around long enough, it’s just inevitable,” Maria says, spraying perfume down her cleavage.

“Hey, don’t bust my friend’s chops. She’s had two years of mediocre and occasional orgasms.” Layla winks.

I mouth the word “asshole” at her, and she grins. I love that our friendship is the type that picks right up where it left off even when time passes. Right now, I’m thanking my lucky stars I ran into her last week. At least I feel like I have someone. With Layla it’s always easy.

Layla stands up and makes her way to the mirror behind us to primp. I follow her because sitting here makes me antsy.

“So… will he be there tonight?” I ask, hating myself for not being able to hold the question in, I lean in to apply lipstick in the mirror beside Layla. As soon as I do and see Chantel’s smirk over my shoulder, I want to curl into a ball of embarrassment because she’s totally on to me.

“Wolfe? Of course. Nothing happens at the club if he isn’t there,” Layla says. She bites her lip in thought as she pulls gloss out of her purse, using the same mirror I stand in front of to apply it before side eyeing me.

“You know, you could have some fun with him,” Layla says, rubbing her lips together.

I scoff.

“Don’t make that uppity face. If not him, then someone like him, someone different than the boring, bland old vanilla you’re used to,” she adds before turning to me. “Sorry to say, Brin, but what you’re doing hasn’t worked for you. You’ve always dated preppy goody boys. Maybe you need a man.”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t have the first clue about what to do with a man like that.” I turn to the room. “You all didn’t care that he didn’t want to, like, date? Just having sex with him, that didn’t make it weird afterward?” I ask them all. I know how clueless I sound, but I genuinely want to know how this works for all of them.

They all laugh.

“I don’t think Wolfe understands the concept of dating or a relationship,” Maria says

“Or even has feelings,” Amber adds with a giggle. “You know what you’re getting into with him immediately.”

“That man will be single forever. He has everything on his shoulders, and I heard him say once he doesn’t believe in love,” Maria says. “Hell, half the time I don’t even think he believes in like. I went to school with him. Known him for twenty-two years, since we were ten years old. He’s never had a girlfriend but always had a girl, if you know what I mean.”

I register that he’s eight years older than me. I knew he was older.

She laughs. “And to answer you, no, it’s not weird. It is what it is. All the guys have their own demons, Wolfe, especially, but they’re all safe. Wolfe never even kisses women.”

“Why hasn’t he kissed a woman?” I ask in shock, which makes the other girls laugh at my innocence.

“I’m sure he has kissed plenty, but he just doesn’t kiss. I don’t even think he’s been with the same woman twice,” Maria says with a shrug, like that’s normal.

I picture that big, inked body hovering over me again this time on a bed, this time he’s leaning in to kiss me. I blink to push the image from my mind. Too much of this fruity alcohol.

“He’s not my type and I’m sure I’m not his…” I shake my head.

Layla locks arms with me as we prepare to leave and leans in.

“Maybe not your type is just what you need.”

Chantel slips on her spiky black heels. “Come on, new girl, let us introduce you to the fun side of the town.”

Well, shit. I have no idea if I’m ready for that.

Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling down the half mile long driveway to the Hounds of Hell Clubhouse.

“Holy crap… so many people,” I whisper to Layla, taking in the long line of pick-up trucks, SUVs, and of course, Harleys. A lot of them. If I had to guess, I’d say there are at least seventy-five bikes parked along the grass of the drive leading up to the house.

“Almost the whole family is here this weekend.” She proceeds to tell me that members of HOH came all the way from outside Chicago, Boston, and New York to be here this weekend.

The property is huge. It seems to go on forever, with a wide creek running behind it. I can see a bonfire happening at the side of the property on a vast patio, the outdoor kitchen is fit for a king with what has to be a ten-foot peninsula with built in grills and a smoker. The smell of smoke and weed hangs heavy in the June night air and the lightning bugs are out in full force.

But the real party is in the massive pole barn style building in the center that houses the Hounds of Hell welded metal sign along with their insignia. I can hear the music from here—a Metallica song—and a lot of people are singing along.

Layla leads us around the tall building, and we enter through the side door.

The scene unfolding is not the scene I pictured for the clubhouse. Edison lights hang everywhere—so do paper lanterns—and they omit a soft glow over the entire space. It’s smoky and warm, long tables fill the space, and the entire ceiling is exposed beam with greenery woven through. Each table is adorned with centerpieces and candles, and the dessert table on the opposite side has me drooling already.

People are everywhere, laughing, drinking beer, there is a wall of dartboards where it appears a big tournament of sorts is happening. It’s happy—cozy— and feels like a family home. I can’t make sense of it. This looks nothing like the dark underworld I pictured when growing up. Many of the men that wander around wear the leather vest I just learned on the way here is called a cut. The mean looking wolf skull eyes me down from their backs. Above it sits a curved banner patch reading Hounds of Hell, and below it, some of the men have an extra banner that curves upwards. It reads Soldier of Bedlam and I wonder why some have it and some don’t.

Layla gasps and covers her mouth with her hands as she takes in her surroundings.

“I did good, baby? I’ve been working on it with the boy all week.” A tiny little woman approaches. Her voice is loud for her size, just like her stark white hair teased up and her cherry red lips. She wears a black and white cheetah print dress. I instantly feel comfortable with her.

“Shell…” Layla leans in to hug her tightly. “It’s so beautiful, I can’t even believe it, thank you for making sure he did a good job.”

The small woman looks right at me over Layla’s shoulder and smiles.

“Who’s this beauty?” She lets go of Layla and holds out both her hands, taking mine into hers.

“This is my lifelong friend Brinley, my jelly.” She winks. “She just… came back to town, I told her she had to come and be a part of everything this weekend.” Layla smiles, not divulging my shit storm of a life right now.

Bless her.

“Well, we’re glad to have you, sweetie. Make yourself at home. I’m Shelly. Think of me like the hospitality department. Anyone fucks with you at all, see me and I’ll take care of them.”

The look on her face tells me she will. I nod back at her.

“How the fuck do you expect me not to drag you into the hallway looking like this… fuck.” A grizzly voice sounds.

Shelly swats the tall, muscular tattooed man from the photos in Layla’s home. He’s got a buzz cut and a bushy beard as he wraps his arms around Layla from behind and starts kissing a line down her shoulder like there is no one else in the room. I smile as I watch them, and that pang of envy hits me again with the passion he has for her.

“Don’t gross your old mother out,” Shelly scoffs.

That small woman birthed this mammoth?

Her bear of a son wears a club vest that bears the patch Sgt at Arms. I don’t know anything about motorcycle clubs, but I’ve watched enough old movies with my dad to know a Sergeant at Arms is a top ranked man. Any thoughts I had of her future husband just being a low-ranking member of the club are out the window now.

“This is my Sean,” Layla says as she pushes his face off her neck.

Sean looks up. “Hey, new girl.” He grins at me.

“She isn’t new, I’ve known her since I was eight. I told you she was coming.”

Sean looks me over, and I start to worry I’ve done something wrong.

“She’s not a cop,” Layla adds.

Sean shrugs and shakes my hand like a perfect gentleman.

“Old habits. Nice to meet you…”

“Brinley,” I say.

“Sorry, Brin.” Layla rolls her eyes. “Anyone new… they get dramatic.”

“Hope you brought your thirst and your appetite tonight,” Sean says to me on cue as Chantel returns, passing us all shots of dark amber liquid. “Around here, we drink and eat well.”

I take it from her as does everyone else.

“What is this?” I ask

“Don’t ask, new girl, just drink. You’ll like it,” Amber promises.

I smell it first then look up at everyone in our circle.

“I like to know what I’m drinking. What liquors are in it?” I ask simply. They all look at me like I just proposed we sing a church hymn.

I relax my stance, trying to appear casual. It smells like cinnamon.

“It’s liquid cocaine,” Sean says with a smirk and a nod that says he doesn’t think I can handle it. He laughs, my worry probably apparent.

“Jägermeister and Goldschlager,” Layla says, swatting Sean. “No actual cocaine. You’ll like it.”

Sean raises his hand and even Shelly is ready to knock hers back. If this little old woman can take it, so can I, I decide.

“Try to relax,” Layla whispers to me.

“To the beautiful woman who will promise to love and obey me forever tomorrow.” Sean chuckles evilly, and Layla swats him before we all tip our shots back.

Damnnnn, it’s like straight cinnamon fire burning down my throat. I make a face to keep from choking. I don’t even have that one back before the next one is placed in my hand.

I take it, yet I question how much these people drink. I rarely drink, but I remind myself this is my weekend to let loose. I can be anyone I want to be here. They don’t know Brinley the girl who watches Friends alone in her fuzzy pajamas on Saturday nights. And this new Brinley wants to feel a little less nervous, so down the hatch the liquid cocaine goes.

I screw my eyes shut as the fire slides down my throat and the guitar intro to Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine” fills the air at a deafening level. Layla gives a whoop as I smile and shake my head.

Before I even open my eyes, I can feel the air around me has shifted. When I do, I’m met with that hollow mercury gaze that pulls me in, and the air shifts again, turning downright electric. My knees weaken as Wolfe leans against the bar not ten feet away, watching me. Perfectly fitted jeans, motorcycle boots and a black and white flannel Carhartt under his cut. Wolfe doesn’t look away when my eyes meet his, he raises the glass in his inked hand up to his mouth. This close, I notice each finger has Roman numerals on them and vines weave through.

He draws a long sip from his glass of what looks like some sort of whiskey. His eyes stay on me over the rim, the same curious way they did the first time I saw him, slow, like he’s taking in every inch of me. I can’t tell whether it’s the intense way he’s staring or the liquid cocaine, but my body feels warm and dizzy under the weight. I place my shot glass on the tray at the bar without looking away from him.

“Wolfe, this is Brinley. I know you two haven’t been formally introduced but she’s my best friend from elementary school,” Layla says.

Wolfe nods at me. His face remains expressionless, but his gaze is like velvet and courses over me in a way I’ve never felt. I nervously fold my hands and let them hang in front of me.

“Uh… You two already know each other?” Shelly asks as Wolfe and I just stare at each other in silence.

“We saw each other once. We don’t know each other,” I answer her nervously, pulling my eyes away from Wolfe’s.

“We saw each other?” Wolfe asks in a deep timbre, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips, and I want to die. Of course, he didn’t notice me the way I noticed him that day. And why would he remember me? I fold my arms across my chest awkwardly. I feel everyone’s eyes remain on me, including his, when I do.

“Well, I saw you because… it’s kind of hard not to notice four tanks rolling down Main Street,” I bite out like I’m proving my point in debate class. “I would’ve been able to hear those bikes from the other side of town.” I tilt my head and looking down my nose at him like I’m judging my opponent.

Sean starts to laugh at my reaction.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious she’s your friend,” he says, kissing Layla on the neck.

I grin at Sean, my eyes flit back to Wolfe’s. They’re still on me, less amused. I fight the feeling that tells me I like his attention, knowing I should not want it with everything in me.

“Let’s eat, ya bunch of fuckin’ hooligans!” someone yells out over a megaphone.

Wolfe stands to his full height. I internally shrink as he walks straight toward me, his eyes never waiver as he approaches. The smell of leather and spice fills my senses; it grows stronger the closer he gets. I stand frozen, waiting with bated breath for him to pass but he doesn’t. To my surprise, Wolfe stops dead in front of me. He towers over me looking down. The feel of his wide knuckles slinking down my forearm sends me into a sort of frenzy. My skin breaks out in goosebumps and my stomach somersaults. I know fear, I should feel fear now, but my body has other ideas. My pulse starts to race and heat creeps up my throat and over my cheeks.

Wolfe just looks down at me. Even in heels, I’m no match for his great height. He could swallow me whole. I suck in a breath, not knowing what to expect. I watch as his wide jaw ticks like he’s annoyed at my simple existence. He angles his head to watch my rapidly beating pulse in my neck, his lips popping open as if he may just swoop in and take a bite out of me.

“Brinley…” His low voice is clear in the noisy room, and the sound of it has me feeling like I’m hearing my own name for the first time. “The good girl with the smart mouth?” he asks low, his knuckles still grazing my arm in a static connection. “If you aren’t careful, little hummingbird, I may have to use that mouth to set you straight.” He leans in closer, and my knees go weak as his lips hover over my ear. “But maybe that’s exactly what you want… maybe you’re sick of being good, yeah?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice another octave altogether as I realize he just threatened me, at least I think he did?

“When you figure it out, come and find me,” he adds as he backs away, giving me one last look and heads into the crowd.

It takes me a full ten seconds to blink and recover.

My stomach drops as I realize his threat doesn’t scare me nearly as much as it excites me.