Death Reapers MC: Angels to Ash

xviii.

Riley
"some people are just born with tragedy in their blood."
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Maybe I overdid it a little. I threw the empty flask of vodka behind me haphazardly. The 'clink' of metal echoed loudly through the Jeep's interior. I took in a few deep, even breaths. The meeting with my probation officer had been rough today. As I slowly started to talk more and more about my childhood and past experiences, the more I wanted to use alcohol and drugs. I had been drinking daily, but stayed away from anything illegal. That was a small victory, right?

Somehow I ended up here after I drained the two flasks I kept stashed in my black oversized purse. At the MC clubhouse, where there's an abundance of free liquor and weed. My inner addict tendencies were nothing but predictable. I always found my way back here, wanted and unwanted.

My phone dinged with an alert. I glanced at Shooter's name on the screen, reading his text of "where the fuck are you?? Rage is in the ICU what do you know about it?"

Jesus christ. I turned off the Jeep, spritzing some perfume on my clothes and fumbling with the keys as I exited. I shoved my dark sunglasses over my eyes and popped a piece of Big Red in my mouth. The less questions the better. I heard my ringtone from inside the Jeep, glad I had decided to leave it. It was never good news. Shooter's face flashed across my mind. I didn't know what happened to Rage, and I don't think I even wanted to. God! I lit a cigarette, stumbling towards the club's entrance. Yeah, I needed a drink.

It was the weekend, so I was expecting the clubhouse to have a little more activity at 7pm. I sauntered inside slowly, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jean shorts so no one could tell that they were shaking. I found Trace, Angel, Kane, Diablo, and random Reaper groupies in the large common room. Girls were setting up for a party and I saw more of the brothers out in the back, grilling. Heavy metal was playing behind the bar.

Angel's eyes met mine from the pool table. I ducked my head down, avoiding any further eye contact and instead striding behind the bar and giving Dallas a small smile. Her and Angel wore the same expression, something between caution and pity, frowns on both their faces. I was too tired to comment or think too much into it. My relationship with anyone associated with the Death Reapers was so strained these days. Even Dallas.

I grabbed a bottle of bourbon and a pint glass, pouring myself a generous amount. I snuffed the lit cigarette out on the ash tray near Kane's arm. He raised an eyebrow, standing directly in front of me across the bar. I winked and puckered my lips, blowing him a kiss. He flushed red.

"I just can't believe how much you look like him. He spoke so highly of you." A young blonde woman at the bar gushed loudly next to Trace. He gave her a tight smile in response. Whoever she was, she was fucking loud. I sipped at my drink, connecting my eyes to his.

Trace's eyes were already following my every motion, weary and tired. I shot him a blank expression, my eyes drifting around the room. Everyone was frozen, focusing closely on my brother. They weren't even playing pool, and these boys loved pool.

"Riley," Trace started. I slammed the rest of the liquor back, bracing for a lecture. Before he could say anything else, I was immediately pouring myself another few fingers worth of bourbon. My head swam uncomfortably. My stomach rolled at his tone of voice. Soothing, strong, apologetic. Warning bells blared in my head.

The blonde girl still spoke to him as if he hadn't said anything. "Is that a picture of Brynn?" The girl pointed to a picture behind the bar, above Dallas' head of loose curls. My eyes lost focus. We don't say that name around here. My glass nearly tipped over in my shaking hands. Kane reached out and steadied it, tilting his head back slightly and gnawing on his bottom lip. Fuck, get it together Riley.