Starla (The Ladies of Karnage Novella Series)

  Starla

  A Lady of Karnage Novella

  Based off the Wild Heart series

  Jennifer Culbreth

  Copyright 2013 © by Jennifer Culbreth

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Formatting and Publishing by Jennifer Culbreth Designs ©

  Graphic Design and Cover Art by Jennifer Culbreth Designs ©

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Dedication

  For all of my Ladies of Karnage.

  Never stop fighting.

  Preface

  There are two types of people in this world; the kind that run and the kind that stay and fight. When the shit gets deep, you find out just who people really are. I don’t have anything against people who run, their minds are set on self-preservation. But since the day I was born, I’ve always been a fighter.

  I was born three months too early and severely underweight. My lungs hadn’t completely formed and I had to stay on a ventilator to keep breathing. The doctor told my parents that I wouldn’t make it longer than a few days, looked my mother right in the eye and told her to start making arrangements for my passing. But he was wrong. I wasn’t giving up that easily.

  There’s a long enough moment of calm when shit hits the fan, for you to make the decision of what kind of person you’re gonna be, and in the world I live in. Only the fighters survive.

  Chapter One

  “I can’t fucking believe we’re going to Ireland. How did you talk your parents into letting you go?” my best friend Joni asked as I finished shoving the last of my clothes into my already tightly packed suitcase.

  “I begged, pleaded, washed the dog for the past year, and I paid for half of my ticket,” I laughed as Joni hopped on the top of my suitcase, closing it enough for me to get the zipper closed the rest of the way.

  Senior year was over and we were heading off to backpack through Ireland. It had taken some convincing on my part, I even went so far as researching the tiny trace of our family’s Irish heritage to get my parents to agree. But after months of tough negotiations, they had finally said yes.

  I’m sure you are wondering why Ireland, right? Of all the places you could go in the world, why would I want to go to the country of sheep and potatoes. The idea had bloomed from a project in my world histories class my junior year of high school. Our teacher had split us up into groups of three and assigned each group a continent. We ended up with Europe and I had been stuck with researching the outlying islands. After a month of research I fell in love with the culture, plus the accents were fucking sexy. And after months of waiting, the time had finally come to leave. We would be flying out of Nashville International in about ten hours and I couldn’t wait to get my ass out of Tennessee.

  The night before the flight Joni and I had spent hours researching where we would go once we got to Dublin, which beers we would drink, which parties we would go to. I wanted to have as much fun as was humanly possible before I left for college in the fall. It was sometime around three in the morning when we finally dozed off, the screen of my ancient computer still illuminating the room with pictures of the Irish countryside. Then sometime around six my mom came in and woke us up. I felt sluggish as I made it through breakfast, but as we approached the airport my blood was once again pumping wildly through my veins.

  We checked our bags at the counter, I hugged my mom and dad goodbye, and we took our tickets, heading for the line of people going through security. Security was a breeze, but then again this was years before they began cracking down on what you could and couldn’t take on an airplane. Joni and I made our way through the line of people, dragging our carry-on bags behind us as my mom yelled out,“You girls have fun! I’ll see you in a few weeks! Love you!” She waved, trying to hide her tears and blew me a kiss goodbye.

  “Love you too, mama! You too, dad! I’ll see you in a few weeks,” I yelled back toward where they stood. I didn’t know it then, but that was the first of many lies I’d end up telling my parents over the next few years.

  We boarded our plane, bouncing off our seats as the flight attendant pointed out the direction of barf bags and air masks. Twenty minutes later we were bolting off into the air and heading toward our exciting destination. Once we got in the air and the exhaustion from the previous night’s lack of sleep set in, I quickly dozed off to the quiet hum of the plane engine. A few hours later I woke to the news that we’d be landing in Dublin in less than an hour. Joni was snoring loudly beside me as I shook her gently in an effort to wake her up.

  “Hey, pssst. Wake up.” I giggled as she closed her mouth and attempted to roll over onto the man next to her. “Joni,” I said a little louder, trying not to disturb anyone around us. Her head bolted straight up from the man’s shoulder and she looked over at me confused. “We’re still on the plane. And you were sleeping on your neighbor,” I explained. She eyed the man in embarrassment and whispered an apology.

  “It’s ok. It’s there if you need it,” the man said as he patted his shoulder, a warm smile spreading across his face before he went back to the book in his hand.

  “What time is it?” Joni asked, looking out the window at the black night sky.

  “Our time or their time?” I chuckled, it would be fun getting used to this time difference.

  “Surprise me,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning.

  “It is a little before one in the morning, Ireland time.” I followed her stare out the window as the twinkling lights of Dublin came into view beneath us.

  The plane descended and shortly after it was bouncing along as it landed on the runway at Dublin International. We unloaded from the plane hand in hand and rushed through the busy corridors until we found the baggage claim. We made it there before the piles of bags had begun to rotate around for pick-up, so we waited patiently until the first of the luggage came out on the rotating belt.

  “When’s it gonna come out?” Joni said to herself aloud as she waited anxiously to pounce on the bright pink luggage she’d bought specially for this trip.

  The area around us became busy and chaotic as passengers chased their luggage around. I let a green suitcase pass me by, then realized when it got to the other side of the belt that it was mine. I ran through the crowd of people in an effort to snatch it before it passed back through the wall to rotate back around. I made it just in time and pulled it off the belt and then looked around for Joni. She had been right there beside me and now she was gone. I let out a deep frustrated breath and marched back toward the main waiting area when she came rotating around the corner, riding her luggage like it was a damn horse.

  “I found it,” she beamed from where she sat on top of her suitcase. I couldn’t help but let out a loud chuckle as the patrons around us all smiled and giggled.

  “Come on. We gotta get a cab and get to the hotel.” I helped her down and together we made our way out into the cool night air.

  We
rode to the hotel quietly, looking out the windows of the cab at the large stone buildings that ran along each side of the road. Some were a bright white stone, reflecting their lights out into the black sky, and some were dark and dingy, with steeple like roofs. We made it into the main part of Dublin and the streets became smaller and more quaint; shops and boutiques sleeping soundly as we passed by them. Our cab pulled up next to what looked like a pub with middle aged men milling about outside as they blew the smoke from their cigarettes up into the air.

  “Alright, lassies, this is your stop,” the cabbie belted from the front seat.

  “This is our hotel?” Joni leaned across my lap and stared out at the building we were stopped in front of.

  “It’s upstairs, my dear. I’ll help you get your things.” He opened his door, waving over to a group of men who were chatting outside of the bar.

  I looked over at Joni with a devilish smile, “How did we get lucky enough to be staying next to a pub?” Both of us were of legal age to drink in Ireland, and we were going to take advantage of that as much as we could. No more having to sneak beer from my dad’s fridge in the work shed.

  We spilled out of the cab and met the driver at the trunk, thanking him for his help and collecting our bags. I paid the driver and together we made our way toward the door that would lead us to our room.

  “Aye, you need some help with those?” the balder of the men asked.

  “No thank you. I think we got it,” I said, smiling over to him.

  We wheeled our suitcases to the door to the hotel and were met with a steep set of stairs. “Aw shit,” Joni said as she looked up at the stairs in intimidation.

  I wrestled my bags up the first few stairs when the door came open behind us and in came two of the men that had been standing outside, smiles on their faces to hide their laughter. “You still thinkin’ you’re gonna get those bags up by yourself?” His heavy Irish accent floated through the air.

  “Well, I guess I could use a hand,” I smiled down at him as he and his friend grabbed our bags and carried them up the stairs.

  We followed up behind them, turning a corner and meeting a shorter round lady behind a desk, a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Around us was a small pantry, shelves covered each wall and all packed with various toiletries and snacks. The man who had been carrying my bags set them down in front of the desk, “Aye, Ana, looks like you have company. And from the weight of those bags, they must be stayin’ a while.” He turned back to me and winked jokingly.

  “Oh, you must be the two I’ve been waiting on.” Her voice was filled with excitement as she stood from her chair and smiled. “Come on over, let’s see if we can get you situated.”

  “Thank you for helping us up, guys,” I said to the two men who had come up with us.

  “Welcome, las. If you’d like to come down and get a drink, well, you know where we’ll be.” He patted his partner on the back and headed toward the stairs.

  It was then that I noticed the leather cuts, or vests, that they were wearing. Across the back at the top was insignia to a motorcycle club, the Kings of Karnage, in the middle the angel of death, and the bottom had a patch of their territory, Dublin chapter. Ana, who we found out owned, operated, and lived at the hotel, helped get us checked in and then showed us down a long hallway to our room. We were at the end, on the side facing the main street below. There was a small bed on each wall, two small dressers, and one closet in the room. At the corner of the room was a small bathroom, and a fan by the window.

  “I know you are probably used to havin’ something to keep you cool, but we don’t have air conditioning,” she apologized. “It doesn’t get real hot, but if it gets warm up here, just open the window and the fan will cool you down.”

  “Ok, thank you, Ana,” I said to her as she fluffed our pillows one last time. She was a sweet woman, her chocolate brown hair peppered slightly with gray, and beautiful eyes that made you feel at home when you looked into them. I figured she was used to being here by herself most of the time, and was probably glad to have company. The rest of the doors to the other rooms were all open, showing their vacancy.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” she asked me from the doorway.

  “No, ma’am, I think we are going to go down and grab a bite to eat and then get some sleep. Do we need to lock the door or anything?”

  “Oh no, dear. And please, call me Ana,” she smiled warmly, “I’ll just be down the hall if you need me.” With that she turned and vanished down the hallway to her room.

  “Did you see the size of that bathroom?” Joni came out, her mouth hanging open in shock, “It’s tiny. I don’t even know if I’ll fit on the toilet.”

  “Don’t fuss. We’re in Ireland, and we’ll make the best of it while we’re here,” I scolded. I was tired, and not in the mood to hear her whining.

  Joni was my best friend, and I had found ways to tolerate her, but she came from a wealthy family and wanted for nothing. When I had to get a job to save up and help pay for my ticket, her parents just threw her the cash. I was worried about how she would cope being somewhere that didn’t have the luxuries she was used to, I could only hope that she’d eventually look past that part and focus on the reason we came, which was to have fun.

  “You wanna go get some food? I’m starving. That plane food was awful,” she snickered and I chose to ignore the tone in her voice.

  “Sure. I just wanna get cleaned up and then we can head downstairs,” I answered as I escaped into the ‘tiny’ bathroom.

  I made my way to the sink and pushed the door closed with my foot. In the quiet bathroom I could hear the faint sounds of the laughter and partying of the people downstairs. I looked up in the mirror, dotting concealer over the dark bags under my eyes and wiped a bit of cool water along my chest. I spritzed on some perfume I’d found on the counter, a vanilla musky scented perfume that made me sneeze, and then reemerged to follow Joni down to get some food.

  We left out of the door to the hotel and turned to our left, looking in the windows of the red painted pub. A dozen or so men, all dressed in the same leather cuts as the two that had helped us up the stairs, sat around a large round wooden table. Each man had a tall mug of beer in his hand, and they chattered loudly between each other.

  “Aye, you decided to join us,” the balding man from earlier shouted over to us as we came in the door to the dimly lit pub.

  “Yeah, we needed to get some food.” I smiled, thankful that the light was low enough to hide my blush. For an older man he was pretty attractive, the hair that was left on his head was gray and cut short and his eyes were a wonderful shade of blue with just a hint of green. They reminded me of the ocean, as he stared at me, looking me up and down and smiling.

  I made my way over to their table, stopping a few feet short as Joni pulled on the back of my arm. “Are you going to sit with them?” she asked, her voice was low and hesitant as she eyed over to the rough looking group of bikers.

  “Sure, I don’t think they’ll mind,” I turned back to her, grabbing her hand in reassurance, “It’ll be ok. I think if they were going to kidnap us they would have done it already. Besides, Ana seemed to know them.”

  My words seemed to find her comfort as she released her grip on my arm and followed me over to the large table. I took a seat next to baldy and Joni took residence in the chair just next to me, thanking the large man who had vacated it so that she could sit down. I looked at her, gauging her reaction to the men surrounding us. Joni was the kind of girl who could talk the talk, but not walk the walk. Back home she would constantly gush about the guys that she had hooked up with, how much she liked to party, and how rebellious she was; but that was all for show. Sitting here now with a rough and tough group of biker men, she didn’t know what to do or say.

  I on the other hand found it very easy to strike up conversations with perfect strangers. I truly thought that most people in the world were good, nice people; and those that wer
en’t, well they didn’t open themselves up for conversation often. So I felt right at home, even if they made me feel tiny sitting next to their large stature.

  “Bailey, bring these two some cheeseburgers and Bulmers,” Baldy yelled over to the older gentleman standing behind the bar who was staring up into a small TV that had a soccer game playing. “I assume you two are old enough to drink?” He looked down at me in question.

  “Yeah, we’re old enough. What’s Bulmers?” I asked, trying not to sound too ignorant. I’d heard of Guinness, but that was about it for Irish beer.

  “It’s a cider. You’ll like it.” He looked down at me, “Guess I should introduce this bunch of gobshites.” He turned back to the group of men around the table. “I’m McGee, this here is Thumper,” he began to his left and went around the table, “Paddy, Seamus, Sag, Duffy, Mulligan, and the little guy there,” he pointed to a younger man with dark hair and beautiful golden eyes, “Is Butcher, he’s up from our Cork chapter.”

  “Hi guys,” I waved around the table, “I’m Starla and this is Joni,” I said as I motioned to Joni, elbowing her when she just sat there like a scared puppy.

  “Why do they call you Sag?” Joni asked the large redheaded man, surprising me at her boldness.

  “That’s ‘cause I’m old and my balls sag,” he said as he let out a loud laugh and Joni stared up at him with her mouth wide open.

  “So who give you your names? Or does it just happen?” I asked, trying to lighten the conversation to save Joni from her embarrassment.

  “Eh, sometimes you earn it by doing somethin’ for the club, sometimes it’s as simple as your last name, and sometimes, like Ol’ Sag there, you get it because you got pissed one night and decided to try and teabag some hag.”

  “What were you mad about?” Joni once again popped up in the conversation.

  “Pissed, drunk. Not pissed off,” McGee chuckled as he took a long pull from his mug, “Better get an Irish dictionary and start learnin’ up.”