Chapter Text
It's been five years since she’s been home. Five years since she took the IOWA patch from the bottom of her biker cut and replaced it with NOMAD. Five years since she left her little brother in the capable hands of The Haunted Motorcycle Club, their found family. It's been five years and Jamie never thought she would be returning to attend the funeral of the President of the club. She kicks her bike up a gear and increases speed as she passes the sign that reads ‘Welcome to Cedar Rapids’.
The details surrounding Tommy O'Mara's death are sketchy – all Jamie knows is that he was murdered. At least, that’s all the information Owen could give her over the phone.
It's taken two days to get here, and as she looks around the streets, it doesn’t feel like she ever left. The road still feels the same under her wheels, the air still smells the same, the shop fronts still look the same. Despite returning to town for the worst reason imaginable, a very small part of Jamie is excited to see her brothers again.
She can’t help the way her heart rate speeds up the closer she gets to her destination, the reality of being face to face again with the people she left behind rushing through her like she’s going ninety on the highway. It's excitement and nerves, warmth and pain. It's sudden, dark conflict about leaving in the first place, but it was necessary.
The gates are open when she arrives at the clubhouse and she smiles to herself when she sees the huge mural painted on the side of the wall. A mural matching the patches the club wear whenever they leave home. The top rocker reads ‘THE HAUNTED', underneath is their insignia: a black and white plague doctor from the shoulders up carrying a scythe. The bottom rocker, for everyone apart from Jamie, reads ‘IOWA'.
Jamie pulls her bike up beside the others at the side of the building, pleased when she spots Mikey's Harley, the same black and red serpent livery on the gas tank. She kicks the stand down and kills the engine, then removes her black half-helmet and hangs it over the right handlebar.
“Jamie. Fucking. Taylor.” A voice calls from behind her.
Jamie gets off her bike and turns around. She grins – a genuine smile that she feels all the way up to her eyes when she sees Owen. He's standing in overalls, covered in paint, leaning against a garage door.
“Christ, they got you pulling an honest days work?” Jamie says, looking up at the signage on the front of the building. “Cedar Paint Repairs. You couldn’t come up with something better?” Jamie laughs. “I'd hug ya, but this hoodie is new.” She pulls on the black material laying beneath her leather vest.
“It's fine, I’ll get you later.” Owen leans up off the garage doors and looks around hesitantly. “Come in a minute before we head over.”
Jamie nods and follows Owen through a door and into a small office. It's cluttered; one desk covered with paperwork, boxes piled up along the right wall, a sofa to the left sitting under a window that looks out onto the yard and the clubhouse. Jamie falls back onto the sofa, after hours of riding across the country, she’s happy to finally be sitting on something with a backrest.
“What's going on, Owen? How did Tommy get himself murdered?”
“That’s just it, Jamie. I don’t think he did.” Owen whispers, his brows raised. He unzips his overalls and steps out of them, uncovering his baggy jeans and white tee combination. “I reckon there’s more to it, there has to be. He was ambushed, left with a mark etched into his chest.”
“What mark?” Jamie asks, watches as Owen pulls his black biker vest on slowly, ignoring the question. Jamie sits forward, “What mark, Owen?”
“A diamond.”
“A diamond? As in... The emblem for the—”
“The Red Diamond's, yeah. We're certain of it.”
Jamie stares at the ground, her elbows resting on her knees, and she begins to process the information. The Red Diamond's are a drug gang in Des Moines, known for their own brands of class A drugs and guns and ties to organised crime. But, The Haunted MC plays no part in such activities – they run legit businesses: a bar, a tattoo parlour, and most recently the paint repair shop in the yard. The club have been respected by the townspeople for years, they help with charity events around Iowa and host rallies, there’s no way they would get mixed up with a gang of criminals.
“Why would they...? Tommy wouldn’t...”
“I know. But Jamie, something isn’t right.” Owen slides his hands into his jeans pockets and leans back against the pile of boxes, “The guys are barely hanging on, they need answers.”
“I suppose that’s down to you, eh? Voted yet?” Jamie nods towards the Vice President patch on the left of Owen's chest.
“We were waiting for you. You should be a part of it.”
“You know I've got your back a million percent, Owen. I couldn’t think of a better person to take the President role.” Jamie stands up and stretches out her back.
“Look, I know you chose to go nomad, but there’s only one person I want as my VP.” Owen looks at her, his eyes asking the question for him. Jamie purses her lips slightly, shakes her head. “Just think about it, yeah?”
Jamie sighs, she doesn’t need to think about it, she left in search of a solitary life for her own reasons, unrelated to the club. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” She says, with her mind already made up. “Have you got any theories on why this happened yet?”
Owen shakes his head, “Not as such. Most likely Tommy found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Least likely,” Owen pauses, widens his eyes and scratches his beard with his left hand, “something is going on within our ranks. But I’m certain Tommy had nothing to do with it.”
Jamie nods, “Right then. Funeral is tomorrow?”
“Yeah, you can stay in the clubhouse, the room is made up for you. Stay as long as you like.”
“Cheers mate.” Jamie smiles. She turns to look out of the window when she hears a car door slam.
“That'll be Dani. She’s been organising the funeral.”
Jamie watches as Dani walks across the yard towards the door to the clubhouse; skin tight blue jeans, black shirt unbuttoned with a white tank top beneath, blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail. Even after five years and from twenty feet away, Dani looks as beautiful as Jamie remembers.
“Oh that’s right! You had a little crush on her didn’t you?” Owen teases.
Jamie’s head snaps back around to look at him, “What? No. Fuck off.”
Owen laughs and pulls Jamie in to his big arms, “I’ve missed you, Taylor.”
Jamie returns the hug momentarily and steps back, “Yeah, I’m nowhere near drunk enough for this yet.”
“We can fix that.”
The sun is setting, casting a deep orange hue across the yard, painting the aluminium ‘The Haunted MC' sign the same colour. Jamie takes a deep breath as she follows Owen into the clubhouse, unsure what to expect when she re-enters the lives of those she left behind years ago.
The door opens directly into the room, darkened with black walls and covered in posters and framed photographs. The bar spans almost the full length of the far wall, housing a wide range of spirits shelved against mirrors, and beer on tap. The music is low and angry in the background, drowned out by the voices of people conversing.
“Jamie?” A voice from beside her calls.
She doesn’t get chance to see who it is before she feels the weight of another person pressing against her. It only takes a second for her to realise that it's her little brother, Mikey. She holds him close, gives herself a second to let how much she has missed him sink in.
She pulls away, holds him at arm's length and looks into his face. “Jesus, Mikey. You’ve lost weight, are you eating? Skinny little shite.”
Mikey laughs and runs a hand through his slicked back brown hair. “Oh please, I’ve been taller than you since I was like five, you’re not allowed to call me little.”
Jamie chuckles, “Fair. How you holding up?” Owen appears beside them, holding a bottle of beer out to Jamie. She takes it and nods at him, “Cheers.” As she brings it to her lips, she catches sight of Dani, sitting at the end of the bar looking her way. Jamie lowers the bottle and tips the top in Dani's direction to acknowledge her and curls the left side of her mouth up in to a half smile.
“Things have been rough, since Tommy.” Mikey says, catching Jamie’s attention again. “But I’m good.”
Jamie smiles, pleased to hear Mikey is doing well. She looks around the room again, recognising a lot of the people as the same locals that used to frequent the bar on a regular basis.
“You have to meet Hannah and Rocky.” Mikey says, pointing to the other end of the room. “Hannah has been with us a few years now, she’s the artist at the tattoo parlour. Rocky—or Softie, is the prospect.” As they walk closer to the other end of the bar, Jamie can hear the familiar buzz of a tattoo machine. “Hannah, Jamie is here.”
“Ah,” Hannah grins, her eyes unmoving from the forearm of the man sitting in the seat beside her. “Give me just a moment, I’ll be right with you.”
Hannah is British too, she’s got a large smile and a shaved head and a tattoo creeping up the front of her neck from where it begins somewhere beneath her tank top. The prospect being tattooed is visibly sweating, gripping the chair with his free hand.
Jamie turns to Mikey and whispers, “If he’s given a patch, you may have to physically hold him down when he gets his back tatted.”
Mikey laughs, “Yeah, he’s a wuss. But smart as hell.”
When a person advances from prospect to member, part of the initiation is to have the club emblem tattooed across your back as large as possible – that way, you’re always wearing the cut. You’re always part of the brotherhood. You never forget who your true family are. It’s a reminder of loyalty and love and home.
Hannah pulls the tattoo machine away from Rocky's arm, wipes it down gently with tissue paper, smears a layer of clear balm over the top of it and pats his knee. “All done.”
“What is it?” Jamie asks.
Hannah takes the young man’s arm and holds it out for Jamie to see. “It’s a Mister Whippy.”
Jamie laughs hard when she sees the black and grey portrait of a damn ice cream tattooed on the prospects arm. “Amazing.”
Hannah grins and pulls off her gloves, “It's nice to finally meet you, Jamie. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Hannah holds out her hand, which Jamie shakes.
“Nice to meet you too. Remind me to let you loose on me before I leave, if you don’t mind.” Jamie says, admiring the tattoo on Hannah's chest, which she now recognises as a Celtic style cross.
“Any time, dear.” Hannah smiles.
“I’m gonna head out for a smoke, I’ll catch up with you later.” Jamie says, taking a step back.
Mikey pats her on the shoulder, “Good to have you back.” He grins. His attention is caught when someone calls his name from the other end of the bar and he holds up his index finger. “Don’t go anywhere, yeah? We need a proper catch up.”
Jamie nods and watches him walk away. She shakes the feeling of guilt from her mind, remembering the way Mikey begged her to stay years ago. Ultimately, he understood, but she’ll never forget the way a single tear fell down his cheek as she mounted her bike and said goodbye.
The yard is dark and quiet. Jamie lights a cigarette and walks slowly around the side of the building. This place holds many memories, most of them good, some of them too painful to think about too much. Instead, she takes her time inspecting the line of bikes.
Tommy's is there, a huge Harley Touring with dark brown leather saddle bags, worn from years of use. Owen's sits beside it, a Harley Softail in navy blue. Eddie's bike is emerald green, a Harley Low Rider, matching that of Mikey's dark red one. Fitting to his personality, Herb's Low Rider is black with a large ganja leaf painted on the gas tank. The next is a Harley Breakout in deep purple; Hannah's, Jamie assumes. Then there's her own – a Harley Street Bob, all black with a pearl white gas tank, etched with the plague doctor emblem.
“Lilith, right?” Jamie jumps when she hears a voice from beside her, and turns to find Dani holding out a bottle of beer. “That's what she’s called, isn’t it?” Dani nods to Jamie’s bike.
“Yeah, um... Yeah, that’s right.” It takes a second for her mind to stop questioning why Dani remembers the name of her bike. Jamie takes the bottle from Dani and flicks her cigarette across the yard. “Thanks.”
“Thought you could use another, I heard you had a long trip.” Dani shuffles backwards a little and tucks her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans.
“I did,” Jamie says, she sips the beer and begins walking back towards the front of the clubhouse with Dani by her side. “I'm really sorry, Dani... For Tommy. How you doing?”
Dani sighs loudly and shakes her head, “Not great. He practically raised me, you know? After my dad died he...”
Jamie jumps up onto a bench table and sits, patting the space next to her, “Come, sit. Talk.”
Although they were friends years ago, Jamie kept Dani at arms length. For her own good, really – she always thought Dani was pretty, maybe a bit too pretty. Funny too, and kind and considerate. Her smile lit up any room, and her laugh... Fuck, her laugh was... stop.
Jamie sighs, watches as Dani climbs onto the bench beside her. However careful she’s being, Jamie feels like being there for Dani is the right thing to do right now, even if having her sitting next to her with their knees bumping together makes her heart beat a little faster.
Dani is quiet, her head dipped, fingers tracing lines on her jeans. Jamie doesn’t say anything more, just allows Dani to sit silently. Dani's father was a founding member of The Haunted, as was Tommy. After he passed, Tommy looked out for Dani when her mother couldn’t. It's how she met Eddie, her... Fiancé, now, it seems.
“That's quite the ring.” Jamie says, eyeing the diamond on the ring-finger of Dani's left hand.
“Hm? Oh,” Dani moves her left hand to grip the edge of the table by her side, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
Jamie won’t mention how she notices Dani tense at the mention of the engagement, or how she actively hides her hand from view. Dani and Eddie’s relationship is none of Jamie’s business, and she refuses to let herself get invested in details.
“What the hell is going on around here, Dani?” Jamie asks after a few seconds.
“I... Don’t know.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I... I don’t know anything.”
“You don’t just get accidentally ki—”
“I know, Jamie,” Dani interrupts sharply.
“Christ, alright then.” Jamie mutters. She shakes her head and attempts to get down from the bench, but Dani grabs her hand quickly and pulls her back.
“Wait, I... I’m sorry. I just... Fuck, things are so messed up right now.” Dani's eyes well with tears and she squeezes Jamie’s hand harder.
“What is? What happened?” Jamie turns her body to face Dani, resting their hands in her lap, stroking a comforting arc across Dani's knuckles.
The blue of Dani's eyes are bright, even in the dark. They’re bright, but stormy. There’s something there, Jamie can see it, something dark and twisty just begging to be released. But, Dani smiles softly and shakes her head, “It's nothing, it's just Tommy.”
Jamie can tell she’s lying, but doesn’t push. “Alright, well if you need to talk, I’ll be here for... Well I don’t know for how long yet.” She lets go of Dani's hand and takes her cigarette packet out, “Want one?”
“No thanks, Eddie would kill me.”
Jamie laughs quietly, remembering at least two occasions when she and Dani shared a cigarette in this very yard years ago. She lights up and takes a long drag. “How is Eddie?”
“He's... Been drunk since it happened,” Dani puts her head in her hands and groans.
“Can’t say I’m surprised. He'll be alright. Just takes time. Tomorrow will help give him some kind of closure.”
Dani turns her head to look up at Jamie, leaning on her fist. “We've missed you around here, you know?”
Jamie shuffles uncomfortably and clears her throat. Hearing that she’s been missed isn’t easy, especially when she still feels so much guilt for leaving in the first place. Especially when she lets herself admit that she’s missed her family. That she’s missed seeing Dani around daily.
She stubs her cigarette out on the bench seat and jumps down to the floor. “Come on, it's gettin’ cold out here.”
-
“Alright, I’m gonna start by saying welcome back to Jamie. Although the circumstances are...” Owen trails off, looks to his right at the empty chair at the head of the table, “Well, welcome back.” He nods in Jamie’s direction.
Mikey nudges Jamie with his elbow from her right and gives her a reassuring smile. Peter, Herb and Hannah all mumble in agreement. Eddie keeps his head down, staring at the table, swaying slightly in his drunken state.
“We all know why we’re here. Peter?” Owen says, looking at Peter opposite him.
“Yeah, we're faced with the task of appointing a new club President. We vote. Everyone in agreement that Owen take the helm?” Peter says, slowly looking around the table.
“Yes,” Eddie says first, lifting his eyes to Owen momentarily.
“Aye,” Peter adds.
“Hell yeah,” says Herb, grinning at Owen.
“Agreed,” Hannah says.
“Fuck yes,” Mikey chimes in.
The group look at Jamie as she stares across the table at Owen. Slowly, she lets a smile form on her lips, “You’ve got my vote, mate.”
Owen nods and stands up, slowly he approaches the chair at the head of the table and stands with his hands on the back of it, staring down at the space. “I promise to honour Tommy's memory, and to lead this club the same way he always did. With respect, integrity, loyalty, and with a fuck load of beer.”
Herb slams his hand onto the table, cheering loudly and raising his glass of Irish whisky into the air, “To Owen and Tommy.” The others agree, whooping along and simultaneously downing their drinks.
Owen takes his seat and picks up the small wooden gavel. “Thank you. All of you. Your support means the world and I won’t let you down. Now, as the first order of business... Peter, you’ll stay on as Sergeant at Arms,” He looks to Peter and nods, patting a brotherly hand onto his forearm. The other members agree with a quiet ‘mhm' and Eddie nudges Peter supportively with his elbow. Owen waits a moment before adding, “and I think you should all know that I’ve asked Jamie to be my VP.”
The room falls silent and Jamie leans back in her chair. She hasn’t given an answer yet, hasn’t even had chance to think about it properly. She can feel Eddie's eyes boring holes into her skin, but avoids his gaze. She keeps her eyes locked on Owen, silently chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“We'll re-visit in a few days. For now, we need to focus on tomorrow and giving Tommy the best send off possible. We’ll meet back here tomorrow morning.” Owen looks around the room, spins the gavel in his hand and takes a deep breath in. “That’s all. Thanks everyone.”
When Owen bangs the gavel onto the table for the first time, it sends shivers down Jamie’s spine. She can’t help but feel proud of him, he's worked hard and dedicated his life to the club. Not to mention the role he played when Jamie and Mikey first arrived in Iowa; not a penny to their name, just a wrecked bike each and very little in terms of belongings. He saved them, and she couldn’t be more grateful.
-
Since the first official club meeting she’s attended in five years and being called out by Owen to be the new VP, Jamie has settled her nerves by consuming a fuckload of alcohol. Mikey gave up an hour ago, leaving Jamie sitting at the bar with one of the many groupies that follow The Haunted around.
Jenna stands between Jamie’s legs, her hand stroking up Jamie’s forearm as it rests on the bar, fingers tracing the large tattooed flower centred between leaves and skulls and smoke, all part of a larger sleeve that lies beneath her hoodie.
“Did it hurt?” Jenna asks.
Jamie smirks, “If anyone ever tells you that tattoo’s don’t hurt, they’re lyin’.”
Jenna leans forward and into Jamie’s ear, whispering something about her getting to see the rest of the tattoos on Jamie’s body somewhere more private. Jamie is distracted, though, looking over Jenna's shoulder and making direct eye contact with Dani. Jamie offers a crooked smile, which Dani returns, closed-lipped and shy.
Jamie pulls back from Jenna and smiles politely. “Not tonight, maybe some other time, yeah?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just slides off the stool and leaves.
Today has been overwhelming to say the least. Being home, seeing Mikey and Owen, being asked to be the vice – it’s a lot after spending five years on the road alone. She stares at her bike, her helmet in her hands, and she is ready. Ready to put it on and ride off into the night. She'll tell Mikey she tried, she’ll tell Owen she’s sorry. That being home is too much to handle.
“Fuck me,” she whispers to herself. She can’t leave, not right now. Not until she knows what happened to Tommy. If not for herself, then for Owen.
She hangs her helmet back over the handlebar and unhooks the holdall that’s been tied to the passenger seat above the back wheel. She swings it over her shoulder and re-enters the clubhouse, heading straight for the staff door to disappear into the guest bedroom.
It's surprising how much hasn’t changed in this room. The wardrobe in the corner is the same as from years ago, she knows this because there’s a bullet hole in the left door from when Mikey accidentally fired his gun, narrowly missing Owen. There’s still blood stains on the American flag that hangs from the wall; Jamie’s blood, a reminder of when she took a beating after being caught in bed with a man's girlfriend. She learnt a valuable lesson that day: never get involved with someone’s partner.
She showers, changes, sneaks into the staff kitchen for a bottle of water and walks back down the hall slowly. There are framed pictures on the wall – photos that tell the club’s story throughout the years. The founders, the first men, wedding photos, kids photos. There's the evolution of members, there’s Jamie receiving her members cut and Mikey being given his prospect patch, with Owen standing proudly between them.
From somewhere nearby, she hears whispering. She would ignore it if it didn’t sound like heated conversation, so she walks slowly down the hall until she recognises the voices to be Eddie and Peter. She doesn’t turn the corner, just leans against the wall and listens.
“You need to sort it, Peter. We can’t carry on like this, it’s only a matter of time before-"
“I’m sorting it. It's just a bump in the road, nothing I can’t handle.”
Footsteps recede and a door closes. The conversation was enough to peak Jamie’s interest and she thinks back to what Owen said earlier about something not being right. She decides, there and then, that she definitely needs to stick around.
-
Bikers from other Motorcycle clubs across the country that knew Tommy have all travelled out for the funeral. The yard is full and the street outside is lined, but despite the number of people, it's eerily quiet. Jamie lights a cigarette and chooses to sit backwards on the seat of her bike.
The hearse pulls up outside the gates and the members of The Haunted MC start their engines. Owen backs out first, followed by Eddie and Peter, then Mikey and Jamie, then Hannah and Herb. They ride in formation in front of the hearse, leading the way to the graveyard. Funeral cars follow behind, followed by a long trail of other bikers.
At the graveyard, Tommy’s coffin is lowered into the ground, surrounded by family and friends. Jamie watches as her brothers fall apart around her. Watches as Eddie's heart breaks and Dani's composure crumbles. She watches as Owen hands Eddie the shovel, and the first scoop of soil is dropped onto shiny black wood. Judy, Tommy's wife, drops a red rose into the grave. And finally, Owen drops Tommy's biker cut in.
The clubhouse bar is closed to anyone who isn’t family, close friends or a member of another MC. A fire pit has been set up in the yard, along with coolers filled with beers and a table with a range of spirits laid out. People have been drinking all day, the music getting gradually louder as people begin to celebrate Tommy's life rather than mourn his death.
Jamie rolls up the sleeve on her left arm when Hannah pulls out her tattoo machine and snaps on a pair of blue latex gloves. She sits quietly as Hannah inks ‘THMC' into the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist – a small nod to Tommy that the rest of the club will have done too.
“So, have you decided yet?” Hannah asks, her eyes focused and hand steady.
“Decided what?” Jamie responds.
“VP,” Hannah says, but when Jamie doesn’t answer, she stops tattooing and looks up. “Look, I don’t know you, Jamie, but I know Owen. He wouldn’t ask you to do it if he didn’t think you could handle it.” She smiles warmly, then continues with the ink.
“It's a lot to think about.” Jamie says. Hannah doesn’t say anything more on the topic, just wipes the finished tattoo down and wraps a clear film around Jamie’s wrist.
“All done. Come see me if you want anything else.”
“I will. Cheers, Han. It's great.” Jamie looks down at her arm, smiles and stands up. “See you later? We'll grab a drink.”
“Jamie!” Eddie yells from the other end of the bar. Jamie turns to find him standing beside Dani with a half-drunk bottle of tequila in his left hand, swaying. She approaches him and glances at Dani, who mouths ‘sorry’ and looks down at the ground.
“Eddie. Think you’ve had enough, mate,” Jamie says, reaching for the bottle.
Eddie pulls his arm away quickly, “Don’t tell me I’ve had enough. Who do you think you are?” His voice is raised, his face scrunched into a grimace. “You’ve been gone for five years... You think you can just come back here and act like nothing has changed? Everything has changed.”
Jamie steps back and folds her arms, “What’s this about, Eddie?”
“What’s this ab—this is about you coming back and being handed the VP patch.” Eddie points to the left of her chest.
“Eddie! Stop,” Dani says, stepping between Jamie and Eddie, looking up at him.
“Stay out of it. This is club business,” Eddie answers, glaring over Dani's shoulder at Jamie.
“Don’t,” Dani says quietly, but sternly.
“I'll do what I damn well please.” Eddie shoves Dani out of the way, stepping around her so he's now in Jamie’s personal space. Dani mutters something and walks away, leaving the two of them standing there.
Jamie watches Dani leave the bar and looks back to Eddie. Calmly, she says, “Come on, mate, this really isn’t the time.”
“This is a perfect time. My dad is dead, which sh-"
“Eddie.” Owen cuts in, his hand pressed firmly against the back of Eddie’s neck. “Let’s go.” Owen pulls Eddie back, adding pressure behind his fingers and forcing him to walk.
Jamie takes a breath and watches Eddie stumble through the staff entrance with Owen. She shakes her head, furious that Eddie confronted her in public, livid about the way he treated Dani. She leaves the bar, the least she can do is check to see if her old friend is okay. She weaves her way through fellow bikers and finds Dani sitting against the side wall of the paint repair garage.
“You alright?” Jamie asks, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
Dani looks up at her, wipes a tear from under her left eye and smiles. “Fine, yeah.”
“Don’t look fine,” Jamie says, sitting down beside Dani. She takes her cigarettes out, lights one and hands it to Dani. “Wanna talk about it?”
Dani takes the smoke and takes a long drag, before handing it back to Jamie, “I’m trying to give him time, but he’s just so... Aggressive.”
“What? Dani, has he hurt you?”
“Oh god, no. He just isn’t himself. You know Eddie, he is kind and polite, but lately...” Dani trails off.
“It's to be expected though, isn’t it? I mean his dad has just died.”
“He's been like this for a while now, Jamie.” Dani looks at her for a long few seconds, her face almost expressionless, but her eyes... Her eyes are stormy again – troubled and full of emotion that Jamie suspects she has no idea what to do with.
“I need you to be honest with me about something,” Jamie says, tearing her eyes away from Dani's face to look down at her boots, “I heard Eddie and Peter talking last night. Is there something going on that Owen doesn’t know about?” She looks back at Dani in time to see her face drop.
“I... It's... I don’t know any—No, I don’t think so,” Dani stutters and turns her face away.
Jamie can tell Dani is lying, not only from the stuttering, but in the way the colour drains from her skin and she stands up, eager to get away from the situation. Jamie follows her, grabs her hand and pulls her back, “Dani. You have to tell me.”
“I don’t know anything, Jamie,” Dani says, her eyes fixed on her hand in Jamie’s.
“You’re lying. I can see it all over your face,” Jamie whispers, conscious that there are people around.
Dani pulls her hand away from Jamie’s forcefully and frowns, “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”
Jamie steps back, flicks her cigarette against the wall and sucks her tongue against her front teeth, “Right. I suppose not.” She nods slowly and turns around, leaving Dani to stand alone in the dark. Whatever she knows, Jamie will get to the bottom of it, and she will do it as part of the club. As Owen's second.
“Owen,” Jamie says, pulling him from the conversation he’s having with Hannah, “I’m in. I’ll do it.”
-