Solomon gave me a reassuring smile and handed me a helmet. I placed it on my head, and Solomon’s deft fingers tightened the chin strap. He looked me in the eyes, like he was mining them for my secrets as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of my neck. I swallowed hard, and he must have felt it because the corner of his mouth twitched. His thumb came up and brushed lightly along my jaw. It was the whisper of a caress, and then he was turning away, throwing a leg over his own bike and I wondered if it had even happened.
One look at the way Cain narrowed his eyes on the other man told me that it had. He hopped on his own bike, huge booted feet resting on either side, holding it steady.
I walked over and glared at the bike. “Are you sure there’s going to be enough room on there for all of me?” I waved a hand at my belly. He nodded, turning around to slap his hand on a little square of leather that I assume was supposed to be a seat for anyone crazy enough to hop on.
Apparently, I was that anyone. I slid onto the back of the bike, and wrapped my arms around Cain’s waist. It wasn’t my first time on a bike, I’d lived a heck of a long time, but it was definitely different.
The bike roared to life, and I involuntarily squeezed Cain harder as the rumble of the engine vibrated through my body. Solomon looked over at me and grinned, his eyes covered with sunglasses and he pulled up a face mask with a smiling skull to cover most of his face. Cain looked over his shoulder. “We’re going just down the road, so you should be fine, but don’t talk or bugs will fly in your mouth,” he yelled over the bike and then he revved the engine and pulled out of the lot beside Solomon.
We rode for a couple of miles, and the wind picked up my hair and streamed it behind me. I held my face to the wind and enjoyed the way it bit my cheeks, even if it was making them a little pink from the cold. I was never going to take fresh air and the sun on my face for granted ever again.
Too soon, we were pulling into a diner, the parking lot full of potholes, cracked pavement and breeder buses. It was a small, box-like beige building, the kind of diners that popped up in the seventies and still had all the original ripped vinyl booths.
When we walked through the squeaky front door, all conversation muffled and every eye swung in our direction. The weight of judgement fell heavily onto my shoulders, though not from the waitress of the little diner. She smiled at Cain and Solomon like they were there to raise the sun in the sky.
She waved them to a spare booth at the back near the kitchen doors, with a clear view of all entries and exits. A criminal's table. There were hushed whispers as we walked over, Cain leading the way, tattooed and menacing with a swagger that promised violence, and Solomon too close to my back, his hand hovering over my spine.
I could feel the silent judgement, some of the looks people were casting in our direction bordered on disgust, but more than one woman looked at both Solomon and Cain with raw lust.
The waitress fell into the latter category, as she placed two cups of coffee in front of them and smiled from beneath her lashes.
“Hi Cain. Hi Sol. The usual?” Her eyes passed right over me like I didn’t exist, like she couldn't see me right there beside Solomon.
Cain nodded. “Thanks Becky. And a menu for Sera here. Want milk or juice or something?” he asked, completely oblivious to the sharp looks Becky was throwing my way. I wondered if Becky would spit in it.
“Uh, just bottled water please.” I smiled at the girl pleasantly. Given the way she was smiling at Cain, it was obvious she had a huge crush on the man, something Solomon confirmed when he leaned close to my ear.
“One of Cain’s old rescues. Found her turning tricks on the corner near the shop. Got her a job here, and she got herself a job over at Apocalypse. The strip joint,” he clarified. “Anyway, now she's more than a little in love with the big guy. They always end up in love with him, the broken dolls. Never given any kindness, then Cain comes in, swoops them up from shitty situations and boom, he’s their saviour and sexual conquest all in one.”
I frowned. “He sleeps with them?” That seemed wrong. But Solomon was shaking his head. “Never. He never gets attached. He just doesn't like to see women in danger. It's a trigger or some shit for him. He finds them somewhere safe, and sends them on their way. Some of the guys he’ll let patch in, and they tend to hang around the Clubhouse as prospects or apprentice mechanics or whatever. But never the girls. The Clubhouse is no place for a single woman.”
I frowned. Why was I different? “What about me?”
Solomon grinned, a full, wide smile that made Becky stop and stare during her conversation with Cain.
“Dippy, you are shaping up to be the exception to every fucking rule we’ve ever had over at Damnation,” he laughed. Cain quirked an eyebrow in my direction, but Solomon ordered before he could ask what we’d been talking about.
“I’ll have eggs and bacon, and Dippy here will probably have a giant stack of pancakes. What do you say?”
I wanted to say that I wanted scrambled eggs or something, just to make a point, but the fact was I really did want fucking pancakes. Even the idea of eggs made me want to vomit right across the table.
I narrowed my eyes at Solomon. “Pancakes would be great.”
Becky bustled away, though I was fairly sure if she could take her break and wrap herself around Cain like a cat in heat, she would have. She’d probably hiss in my direction too.
Cain pulled a small spiral bound notebook from his pocket, flicking past numbers and rough sketches of bikes and tattoos to a blank page.
“What are you going to need for the baby, Sera? I know Sweetie offered you some of her stuff, but honestly, Shot’s kids are like thirty now and I’m not convinced it isn’t all coated in lead paint and BPA.”
“What even is BPA?” Solomon asked, making a little gaspy noise after sipping his coffee. Sweet caffeine. God I missed it.
Cain shrugged. “Fucked if I know, but everything seems to be free of it these days, so better safe than sorry.”
Honestly, I had no idea what babies needed. In all my long, long years wandering the face of the Earth, I’d never been able to conceive. Closest I’d ever come to rearing anything more complex than a kitten was in the thirteenth century when I adopted an orphan just after the fall of Constantinople. It was so long ago now, I barely remembered his face, or his name. My mind protected itself by forgetting, allowing me to adjust, renew myself for each Age of Man. But I remembered the happiness I felt in caring for someone else. I hoped that was how this would feel now, when this tiny, helpless thing burst forth from my body like an alien.
I was saved from admitting my ignorance by loud voices at the other end of the diner. Cain shifted his eyes over my shoulder, and I turned to see who was yelling.
Two boys, well they were probably in their early twenties, so not quite boys but not quite men yet either, were harassing their waitress. Not Becky, but a middle aged woman whose uniform strained across her love handles and her hair stuck up in a frizzy halo around her head. The waitress was trying to appease the situation, but apparently failing miserably.
One guy pushed his coffee cup off the formica table and it shattered on the floor, splashing up onto the waitress’ legs and leaving an angry red mark.
I was standing before I realized I was doing it, only noticing that Cain and Solomon had stood too when Solomon placed a hand on my shoulder.