Roma leaned against a tree, crossing her arms. College kids weren't grownups. They had safety nets. Parents who showed up. Houses with rules and dinners at six. Encouragement taped to fridge doors. If they made a mistake, someone would pick up the slack.
She was nothing like them.
Her family consisted of a group of men. Outsiders. Outlaws. Her family was loyal, but they all had scars they hid from everyone else. Her family was the Royalla Motorcycle Club. She wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Not for four years of lectures and dorm rooms and pretending to care about the future everyone else expected her to chase.
College wasn't for her. Sitting still in a classroom felt suffocating. She needed to move, to hear engines rumble, to worry about those she cared about, to make sure Kodiak was okay. Sighing the tension out of her, she knew exactly where she stood and who stood beside her.
She wouldn't find happiness or a future in a classroom or with some silly boy throwing a football around.
And just like that, the perfect idea came to her. Kodiak told her to go to college or get a job.
The club owned a garage and provided a lucrative business for the members. She could be helpful there. Around the others, she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She could make herself useful, stay close, and keep an eye on things. If she worked in the office of the garage, she'd always know what was going on. She'd be close to Kodiak.
The thought stuck with her while she scheduled an Uber to pick her up. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. She should have considered working for Royalla sooner. It made total sense.
By the time she arrived back at the compound, she'd worked up a plan. She headed straight for the garage behind the clubhouse. As she stepped into the first bay, her stomach fluttered. The oil, steel, and scent of rubber baking in the sun were as familiar to her as living in the clubhouse.
Kodiak was at the back counter, sorting through a box of parts with grease-stained fingers. She swallowed hard. Her whole future relied on him, agreeing to her plan.
He glanced up when he saw her approach, one brow raised. "What's up?"
"I want to work in the office," she said flatly, hiding her excitement.
He blinked. Then his face shifted, somewhere between disbelief and irritation. "No. Fuck, no."
Roma scoffed in surprise. "Why not?"
"Because it's not happening." Kodiak wiped his hands on a rag and tossed it aside. "This isn't a hangout for you. It's a garage. It's a business."
"Exactly. I don't want to go to college. I want a job." She moved to the other side of him. "All my elective classes in high school centered around accounting. I've grown up watching how you run things. It wouldn't be that hard to teach me what I need to know. I'm a quick learner. I have no problems talking to others or serving coffee." She tilted her head. "You know that."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he turned back to the box as if she hadn't said a word.
But Roma wasn't going to let him deny her a future at the clubhouse. She'd planted the idea. She'd wait. Ideas had a way of sticking, especially when they were good ones. And this one felt right.
Instead of leaving, she sat on a rust-stained stool near the back wall, hands tucked under her butt, staring holes into the side of Kodiak's head as he worked. Every so often, he'd glance at her, expression unreadable, then go back to tightening bolts or labeling parts like she wasn't there.
She could outlast him. Kodiak tended to think things over before acting. It's probably what made him a good president, but it was frustrating for her. She wanted an instant answer. Instant attention. Instant pleasure.
One day, he would see what she could offer him.
The lights came on in the garage as dusk set. Baker strolled in through the side door, a toothpick between his lips and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He paused when he saw her.
"Roma." He nodded her way, then turned to Kodiak. "Why's your shadow here?"
Kodiak grunted, straightening up. "Said she wants to work in the office."
Baker gave Roma a sideways glance. "You serious, sweetheart?"
Using her feet, she propelled herself closer on the rolling stool. "I know who works in the garage, what most parts are called, and I have mad phone skills. I already live here, so I might as well be useful."
Baker scratched his chin. "She has a point, Prez."
"Exactly," she said before Kodiak could cut in. "Besides, the guys don't have to change the way they talk or act around me. If you bring some other chick in, you'll have to watch yourself."
"She's not wrong," Baker said, turning to Kodiak. "She's in the club. Knows the ins and outs. Better than hiring someone and having to work around their schedule. It also frees us up from pulling double duty. None of the guys like handling paperwork or calling insurance companies."
Kodiak exhaled sharply through his nose. "She should be outthere, living her life."
