Page 61 of Gunner
“Don’t say it, man,” Scribe mumbled. “It’s a trap.”
“What’s a trap?” Jessica asked, entering the garage, looking at everyone.
“King was about to explain why Sarah can’t work in the garage,” Bailey sweetly informed.
“Really?” Jessica questioned, looking from Bailey to King. I watched as she narrowed her eyes at the President of the club and said, “I know you’re not about to say something really stupid, King.”
“He is,” Bailey challenged.
“She found my mistake, King,” Priest spoke up. “I was going to replace Clinton’s fan belt, but that wasn’t the problem. Sarah took one look at his vehicle and diagnosed the real problem.”
“Hell, man,” Scribe added. “She was in here five minutes and told us what was wrong with each of the vehicles. I say give her some overalls and put her ass to work. But first, I want to know why you don’t have any ink, Bailey?”
Bailey rolled her eyes, getting to her feet.
Flipping Scribe the one finger bird, she walked over to King.
Hands on her hips, she tilted her head up and sweetly asked, “Well, asshole? Got anything more to say?”
Looking at the larger-than-life man, I said, “I know I don’t look like much, King, but I really want to do this.”
King sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and muttered, “Your dad is going to kick my ass.”
Gunner stiffened.
“What does Mike have to do with this?”
“He asked me to keep an eye on her.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Gunner roared. “He doesn’t trust me to care for her.”
“Can you blame him, Gunner? You’ve not been the most responsible person lately.”
“Fuck him and fuck you!” Gunner growled, before clearly stating. “I’m formally claiming Sarah. She’s mine. I dare any of you fuckers to challenge me.”
Before I could utter a single word, Gunner grabbed my hand and marched us out of the garage. Looking over my shoulder, I saw everyone standing with shocked expressions on their faces.
Why, I didn’t know.
Walking into the clubhouse, I barely had a chance to look around the place before Gunner had me walking up the stairs and into a room. The second he shut the door, he quickly turned and punched the wall. Taking a step back, I whispered. “Gunner, what’s wrong?”
Leaning his head against the wall, he took a deep breath and sighed.
“Are you mad at what King said?”
He turned to look at me. “You’re not?”
“Why would I be? He just said what everyone believes.”
“It’s not right Sarah. How can you stand there and feel nothing? I get I’ve fucked up in my past, but to have my own brother rub my damn nose in it? It stings.”
Taking a seat on the bed, I looked around the room.
I understood what Gunner was feeling.
My whole life, I heard the snickers, the comments, the words used to describe me. After a while, I accepted it. I couldn’t change their minds. If they wanted to believe I was a stupid fuck-up, a brainless idiot who was too stupid to understand, who was I to change their minds? They didn’t know me. They didn’t know who I really was, nor did they care to find out. “Gunner, people are going to think what they want. You can show them differently all you want, but in the end, they are not going to change their minds. I’m always going to be known as the ditzy girl who’s all about her social status that can’t add two and two, and you will always be the man whore of Rosewood.”
“But that’s not who we are!”