Page 103 of Savior
Since we’ve managed to bring my iron levels up a bit more over the last few weeks, I’ve noticed my energy level has increased as well. Before Dean inevitably succumbs to his over protective tendencies, and insists I no longer work at all behind the bar at the Twisted Throttle, I decide to take advantage of the time I have left.
I’ve missed working with Cherry, listening to her wild stories about the guys, and her attempts to teach me some of her fancy bottle flipping bartender tricks. Just thinking about how many empty practice bottles I’ve smashed behind this bar, makes me laugh at the memories. Dean and Viking shaking their heads at us, but letting us have our fun, snapping their fingers at prospects to clean up the shattered glass, every time.
It’s a full house at the Twisted Throttle, as usual on a Friday night. Cherry and I are working behind the bar together, while a few eager to please sweetbutts, run drink orders. They’re a lot nicer to me, now that I’m an official Ol’ Lady. Dean Keegan’s, at that.
“So, are you taking Dean’s last name when you marry him?” Cherry asks, bopping to the music in the bar as she pours a bunch of shots for a couple of older bikers. Alice In Chains, Man in the Box, is blaring on the Juke Box. “I know that would mean everything to him.”
“I didn’t think I’d have a choice.” I laugh. Not that I wouldn’t take his name.
“Please, like he wouldn’t cave to anything you wanted. He’d probably take your name if you put your foot down about it.” Cherry laughs. “I swear, I’ve never seen a man so wrapped around a woman’s finger in my life.” She places the bottle of tequila back on the shelf before she looks at me. “It’s sweet.” She smiles, though I can’t help but notice there’s something more behind her eyes… a longing? “He loves you so much.”
“Well, I love him, too.” I say, feeling like Cherry needs reassurance that I do. “And I’m looking forward to becoming Vanna Keegan. I think I’m going to legally change my name to that. Drop the whole Giovanna part. Dean has never called me that. Vanna Keegan, that’s who I am now. Who I want to be. A clean slate, you know?”
Cherry’s smile stretches wider across her face. “I love it.”
“I can’t believe I’ve never asked you until now, but, is Cherry your… Old Lady name?”
She chuckles at me. “Cherry is my legal name.” she reaches into her purse in the low cabinet beneath the back bar, pulling out her license to show me. Sure enough, it is. First name, Cherry. Last name, Bomb!
“Cherry Bomb!” I smile back as I hand her the license. She tucks it into her purse. “You must have some pretty interesting parents.”
“Actually,” Cherry says, coming back to stand before me. “I’m an orphan. Dean’s the one who named me Cherry Bomb.”
A million questions spring to mind upon her unexpected reply, and I can’t seem to grasp a hold of a single one of them to ask.
“Or at least, he was the inspiration. The MC kind of adopted me, in a way.” She shrugs, grabbing a rag and wiping down the lower bar counter. “I wanted a new name, you know, for a new beginning. I was seventeen. Cherry Bomb sounded cool at the time. Plus, it stemmed from my little trademark look.” She laughs, reaching up to touch the ends of her bright red bobbed haircut with her fingertips.
As sweet as Cherry is, I’ve always been able to tell she’s a strong and fiercely loyal woman. Though she’s younger than even I am, she’s an old soul. There’s a maturity about her that has ingrained her into this MC as a practical Den Mother to all of them. I’ve come to learn that those traits, that inner type of strength, comes from survival. Of what, I’m not sure, in Cherry’s case. Though she mentioned being an orphan. I imagine that could be a pretty hard upbringing. I don’t press her for any more details about her past, however. I’m familiar with what that’s like. If she wants to talk about it with me, she will.
“The guys, especially Viking, like to tease me about Axel one day making me ‘Drop the Bomb’.” She laughs, her arms raising to gesture air-quotes with her fingers, making her chain and spiked leather bracelets jangle on her dainty wrists. “When we eventually get married and I take his last name. But I think I’m going to keep it and take his last name also. Cherry Bomb Jacobson.” She smiles, and I watch her green eyes shift to somewhere in the bar behind me.
I follow her line of sight. Of course, she’s smiling at Axel, who’s seated across the room, tapping his motorcycle boot to the beat of AC/DC’s Shook Me All Night Long, keeping an eye on the room. As if he can sense her eyes on him, he glances back towards the bar, a bright smile etching across his handsome face when their eyes meet.
I swear, they are the cutest couple I’ve ever seen. Their love for one another is so undeniable. So pure and heartwarming, it almost brings tears to my eyes. I take a breath, clearing my throat as I will my over activeemotions to chill the hell out, before she turns to look back at me. Whatever love she may have ever felt for Dean, has been eclipsed by the love she clearly has for Axel. I don’t know what I was ever worried about.
“Cherry Bomb and Axel Rose Jacobson… You two sound like Rock N’ Roll royalty with those names.” I smile, grabbing a napkin to quickly wipe beneath my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes I’m fine.” I insist, waving the napkin like a flag as if I can sweep away the silly emotions wreaking havoc inside me. “It’s just hormones.”
Cherry gives me a sympathetic smile before she hugs me, stroking my hair behind my back. “We’ve all really come to love you, Vanna.” She tells me, and that just does it.
“You’re not helping, Cherry!” I half laugh, half sob over her shoulder.
“What’s the matter?” Dean is by my side now, fast as lightening. The concern in his voice making me feel even more embarrassed.
“I’m fine. I promise.” I say as Cherry releases me. Even Viking is staring at me intently from across the bar. Great, so is Axel. “The doctor said this is normal. But sometimes I feel crazy. I’m either crying over the smallest thing or wanting to rip Dean’s clothes off.”
Now Cherry and Dean are both looking at me with those sympathetic expressions.
“Let’s get some air.” Dean says, holding his hand out to me. “I have to talk to you about something, anyway.”
I take his offered hand and tell Cherry I’ll be back in a little bit. Dean leads me through the corridor and down the hallway towards the back patio.
The night air whisps across my flushed face as I step outside. The breeze feels extra cool against my damp cheeks. I instantly feel a little better. Closing my eyes, I take another deep breath, and exhale the crazy.
“What triggered all that inside?” Dean asks.
