Taken by Bikers(6)

By: Meg Jackson

“Ow! Stop, that hurts!” I cried out. Everything happened in a flash after that: all of a sudden, Brian was on the ground, holding his head and yelling, and Cash was standing in front of me with his arms on his hips.

“Get the fuck out of my bar,” he said through gritted teeth. Brian scrambled to his feet, still holding his hand over one of his eyes. When he pulled his hand away, I could see his eye was already beginning to swell.

“You crazy fuck! You crazy fucking biker trash! You can’t do this! I’ll sue the hell out of you! Sara, get in the damn car! We’re going to the fucking cops and having this whole fucking place shut down!” I started crying, from shock and nerves.

“You wanna kill yourself driving your drunk ass home, go ahead, but you ain’t putting anyone else’s life in danger. And you wanna go to the cops? And explain just how you got there after 6 drinks? Go ahead. See what they got to say ‘bout that.” I realized, as Cash spoke, that many of the men from the bar had filed out onto the porch and were standing around, arms crossed, staring at Brian staggering around the parking lot. There was a moment of silence as Brian swayed and stared at the crowd.

“Fuck it. Sara, you wanna fucking find your own way home, fine. I’m not dealing with this shit over some goddam virgin prude,” Brian said, digging his keys out of his pocket and heading to the car. He threw the door open and stared at me around the group of men.

“I’m not going to the cops, you stupid bitch, you know where I’m going? You wanna fucking know where I’m going? I’m going to get some fucking ass. You know your little friend Monica? She’s always up for a fuck, I’m going to get some pussy ‘cause YOU never give me ANY. I been fucking all your friends, Sara, so how does that fucking feel, huh? You should just given it up, you stupid bitch,” he yelled. I was shaking and sobbing at this point, and the new realization only made it worse. I bawled like a baby.

“Fuck out of here, rich boy,” yelled one of the men.

“We’ll do you worse than a shiner if you ever come back,” yelled another.

“I’m gonna find you and kick you ass, and your father’s ass, and your mother’s ass,” yelled another.

“Get fucked!” yelled another. Brian hit the top of the car, slammed the door, and sped away from the parking lot, swerving all across the road. Even despite everything that had happened, my first concern was his safety. Worrying only made me cry harder. Suddenly, I felt a warm grip on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw Cash looking down at me, hand on my shoulder, massaging it gently.

“Tux,” he said. One of the men approached. He was a shorter, younger guy, kind of thin but still strong-looking. His long, dirty blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail. Cash turned to look at him.

“Follow that little shit. Just make sure he doesn’t end up in a ditch. We don’t need that kinda problem. Get his address too, just in case. He’s just a mouth, he won’t do anything, but we should know where he’s at anyway.”

“Sure, boss. I only had two beers anyway,” said the younger man. He looked down at me with a sympathetic look on his face. “You don’t deserve none of that. Kid’s a dick.” I sniffled and nodded. The younger man walked away and I heard a bike rev up, then saw his taillights as he disappeared down the road.

“Tux’s right, teacup. You don’t need no one treat you like that. Come inside, we’ll get you something nice to drink and call you a cab,” Cash said, still massaging my shoulder. Despite all my raging emotions, it felt good to have his hand on me. It felt…safe. I stood up, adjusting my clothes again, and followed Cash into the bar. The horde of men followed us, then dispersed in the bar, returning to their original positions milling around the bar and tables.

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