The Sins of the Mother

"That time of year again, huh Josie Girl?" asks Big John popping the top of a nice cold beer and sliding it over to the prim brunette.

Josie grimaces back at him and takes a swig of the bitter brew.

This is not a daily occurrence for her. Not in the slightest. But this seedy dive bar used to be her secondary home and that's not something she can forget. After all these years, she now proudly sits with her tailored suit, accounting job and poised posture because that's who she is now. But who she used to be? That she can never forget. And everyday when she looks in that mirror to pull her hair into the crisp chignon bun with light make-up dusting her face, she still sees flashbacks of that grubby child that used to look her down the mirror. The child who'd grew up in this very same small town, having been dragged to a bar as her mother drank herself dead. She'd spent more time in this place than she had in the tiny trailer she'd called home.

"You been to your Mamma's grave yet, Girl?" questions Big John as Josie nods to him.
No surprises there. Being a heavy alcoholic it was only a matter of time that the woman's body finally gave up. As harsh as it sounds, Josie can't say she was too heartbroken. There was hardly any grief there. A few tears shed but she just couldn't find it in herself to feel sad about the whole ordeal. And why should she? Yes, the woman gave birth to her-unwillingly at that. But she'd been neglectful-so badly that Josie would have to steal the leftovers on kids' tray's at lunchtimes, just to satisfy her hungry, rumbling stomach. Her clothes had all been donated items she'd begged for from the thrift stores and for everything else...well...
"You know...in her own way, your Mamma did love you."

Josie raises one carefully plucked eyebrow and snorts. Sure she did. Marianne Lambert only loved three things in her life: herself, alcohol and séx-in that order.
She raises the bottle up to the sky in cheers to the woman who supposedly loved her 'in her own way' before taking another swing.
Call it tradition but after the woman's death, Josie had been coming here on her anniversary and saluting her with her favourite poison-beer. It served as an ironic reminder to her every year to never get like that. To be a better person and to escape the roots she has. The roots she wishes she doesn't have. The small town. The poverty. The neglect.

Never.

Never again will she allow herself to suffer through that.

The quiet murmur of the bar is unsettled suddenly as the door crashes open and a wave of people sweep in. Josie doesn't bother noting the rabble that enters, instead focusing on her cold beverage and her thoughts of anger. High pitched giggles and squeals are injected with loud masculine roars of laughter causing Josie to grimace as she takes another sip of the drink. If she could she'd chug the whole thing now and high-tail it out of there, but then again if she attempted that then she's pretty sure she'd be throwing up. Ironically the very thing her mother loved, she hates. Alcohol is not something she enjoys and thus why she would avoid it in her life except for this one day every year.

"You know, the country club's a little further uptown," sneers some kid from beside her as he takes a swig of his own beer.
Josie blankly takes in the sight of the gangly white boy, barely old enough to drink and yet he has the attitude of one of his (probably) racist forefathers. The kid wears some ridiculous oversized leather jacket with a low dropping vest top and more form fitting leather pants. A red bandanna is tied around skinny bicep and Josie guesses that's not just a fashion accessory.

"Jee thanks. I wonder how I ever mistook this bar as a country club," sarcastically retorts Josie with a roll of her eyes.
From the bright red that travels from his neck to his cheeks, she can tell that he can't take what he dishes out and he certainly hadn't expected her to say anything.
As he's about to snap back, a large hand lands on his skinny shoulders. He swivels to take in the sight of the older man before instantly backing down.
"BG I wasn't-"
"We're not here so you can piss off the locals, initiate. Go talk to some bunnies instead," gruffly reprimands a heavily Southern tainted voice.

As the kid shuffles away with his shoulder's hunched to some scantily clad girls, Josie switches her gaze to the tall, buff man taking the empty seat. One of his arms is heavily tattooed, that much is visible from his short sleeved black t-shirt which moulds so perfectly to his sculpted torso. Faded black jeans wrap around his lower half, as his feet are donned in a pair of heavy black boots. She moves from his feet up to his face and rather than some scary monster...he actually looks quite...cute. He has light brown scruff at his cheeks and there's a black looped earing in the earlobe that faces her but apart from that she's can't tell much else by his profile.

"BG? What the hell kind of name is that?" snorts Josie before she can help herself.
Her very low alcohol tolerance means that although she doesn't get drunk on just one beer, she sure as hell does lose control of her mouth sometimes.
The biker guy turns towards her. His green eyes, ringed with hazel, crinkling as he smiles at her in amusement.
"It's my initials-Bradley Greene," he explains, again that sweet Southern accent making the simplest of words sound like warm apple pie during a cold winter.
"Oh..."
"And what's your name, darlin'?" he asks.
"Josie-Josephine," she replies.
Apart from those people in her old life, no one calls her Josie anymore. Since she moved out, she'd insisted on the use of her full name-it sounded much more authoritative just sweet Southern belle Josie.
"Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance Josie," he grins, holding out a hand.
She takes it hesitantly briefly shaking it before turning away.

From her peripheral vision, she can see him calling Big John to order a drink. And while she expects him to bother her, he does no such thing. Instead he quietly sips at his beer, while she gives him curious glances every so often. With a little more of her alcohol left, she forces herself to take another gulp, cringing at the strange, almost sour taste to it.
A deep rumbling laugh, booms from beside her.
"How 'bout I buy you another drink, darlin'. One you might like a little better?" he offers but Josie's quick to send a scowl to that gorgeous face.
"I can afford my own drinks, thank you very much," she snaps haughtily and much to his credit the grin on his face doesn't slip one inch. Instead it miraculously seems to widen but Josie puts that down to the bubbly alcohol that has her body irregularly relaxed.
She lets out a short sigh knowing her tone and words were far too rude for a stranger, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Thank you but...no thank you."

He simply shrugs those Atlas like shoulders of his, "don't worry 'bout it....So what's your story?"
Her defences go up again at that question. What's her story? Huh. She'd learnt the hard way that no one wants to hear a sob story and if they do-it'll only to be to exploit the protagonist.
"What's it you?"
"Well...I'm just wonderin' why a pretty lady like you is sittin' in a place like this with heartache written all over her beautiful face."
The deep Southern rumble, paired with his complementary words has Josie stumped. Her lips fall slightly apart as she lets a soft exhale exit. Her light hazel, almost golden, eyes search into his pale green orbs only to find sincerity and kindness in there. And that...that only serves to confuse Josie even more. What kind of a MC member even is he?! They aren't this kind and polite. At least not the kind that she's met before. Although 'met' might be too far. She's only seen and heard them when her mom would be...entertaining them. The walls of a trailer aren't exactly known to be soundproof.

"Really now?" she softly snorts, "I bet that's not all your wondering."
Puh-lease. How stupid does he think she is? This is obviously some kind of game for him and the prize-most probably séx. Of course, she's not sure why he doesn't go for one of the many willing girls available tonight but then again, maybe he just wants the challenge.
"No, I'm also wonderin' how I can get you smile," he easily retorts causing Josie to shake her head.
"And what exactly do I have to smile about?" she condescendingly asks.
Sure she has a good job, enough food to eat, and clothes on her back but she worked for those things. And damn hard at that. As grateful as she is for them, she's still not happy. Still has no particular reason to smile. Besides, she has to do enough of that forced smiling bullshít at work, she'd rather not be pasting on one of those fake grins in this seedy bar when she doesn't need to.

Bradley leans towards her, the beer forgotten just as hers is.
"There's always somethin' to smile about, darlin'. And you know what? I know something that'll make you smile."
"Like what?" she pipes, curious.
He hops up off the stool at that. Flipping some money onto the counter and nodding to Big John before addressing her.
"Come on. I'll show you," he says nodding his head towards the door.
Naturally Josie hesitates. She sees no logic in going with a man she's just met (and a biker at that) to an unknown location she knows nothing of. And although he seems sweet enough, it could all be a ploy. Because isn't that what some killers do? Charm and seduce their victims into their cruel hands.
"You can trust me, I promise," he smiles reassuringly and for some unknown reason Josie concedes.

Oh what the hell, it's not like she's got anything incredible to live for anyway.

She senses a rush of adrenaline as she follows him out of the comfort of the bar. He zips up his leather jacket he'd picked up from the booth before leading her to his bike. The machine almost blends into the dark inky night; it's powerful sleek body barely outlined. She can't help but marvel at its craftsmanship; the whole thing oozing masculinity and power just like its owner. It brings about her equal parts caution and intrepidation to ride it-just like its owner.
Lost in the beauty of machine before her, she's brought back by the faint tugging at her low bun.
"What are you doing?" she squeaks spinning around to face him. With the bar light shining from behind him, she can barely make out his features, but his sandy blonde scruff at his cheeks gleam golden.
"Gotta wear a helmet darlin'," he simply explains and Josie just nods.
Of course, a helmet won't go over her head with her hair like this. Slowly, she pulls out the pins in her hair, holding it up in its polished state before gliding off her hair tie and shaking out her chocolate waves. She peeks self-consciously at him only to note his amused smile.
"What?"
"Nothin'," he simply shrugs, handing her the midnight blue head-protection.
Giving him one more suspicious look, she takes it from him and snugly fits it onto her head. He watches as she secures it tight before hopping onto his bike and revving it up.

His pale green eyes gaze at her once more, silently asking if she's willing to take the risk. Never one to lie down at a challenge, Josie swings her lean leg over the roaring machine and firmly plants her hands onto his shoulders.

They drive for a long time, taking winding country roads, which eventually lead to a steep uphill. Josie doesn't notice, too lost in the sensation of the softly rumbling contraception beneath her, the gentle summer breeze and the very presence of Bradley.

She's pretty sure it's stupid for her to feel so comfortable and safe with him, considering she's seen more than her fair share of guys like him. But there's something just so sweet and calm about him, that she can't help it...

Then again, she's sure many victims of serial killers probably said that too.

The thick wheels of the motorbike gently purr to a halt in the soft, dry grass. Josie twists her head to the side, her mouth falling open in awe at the sight before her. Stoically she raises herself off the bike and gazes at the view all around her. The inky sky is lit by thousands of bright white lights, ranging in size and intensity. Below a small sleepy town emits an orange-ish glow around it while dark fields surround it.
"Oh my God," she whispers gazing once more at the sky to note the subtle changes in hues of blue and black with the slightest hints of a dark violet blended in. It's absolutely incredible.
"I know right. Makes you feel so small and so big at the same time," he rumbles back.

Josie slips off the helmet handing it back to him, knowing exactly what he means. Below these ancient stars, under such a vast and old galaxy; she does feel like a tiny speck in it all but at the same time, for even a tiny speck, she feels so significant. Like it all matters somehow. Like every life, no matter how small or short-lived really matters. It's peaceful.
And peace is something she hasn't felt in a very long time.
"Wow...Now I feel bad thinking you were taking me up here to murder me," she mutters, cheeks flushing bright red as she realises she's said it louder it than she intended.

Thankfully, Bradley just laughs in delight. That is not a thought many women have when he persuades them to go back with him; although, in all fairness, he's never brought anyone else up here.
"Naw, I ain't got any homicidal tendencies darlin'. Don't worry," he playfully replies leaning against his best friend while crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes take in the sight of her silky, coffee brown waves that tumble down to her narrow waist. She looks so much better with her hair down, more relaxed and youthful. Bradley can't help but imagine her in a pair of jeans with a plaid shirt and how much better that would be on her slender figure than the stuffy pant-suit she wears now. Bureaucrats are his usual type but as soon as he'd walked into the bar, he'd known there was just something about her.

She spins around, eyes flickering to his bunched up biceps before she restrains herself again.

"Thank you," she states sincerely as he gives her a nod in response.

Minutes of silence pass by as Josie seats herself down onto the grass with Bradley beside her.
"So what's your story?" he finally asks again, expecting another defensive response.
It's exactly what Josie was prepared to give, only that's not what slipped out of her mouth. Instead, she finds herself pouring out all her sorrows-everything-to the stranger.

And he in turn, silently listens.

Before she knows it, she's wiping away the few traitorous tears that had slipped while taking in the musky, engine oil scent of him. With his arm wrapped around her shoulders, she gazes up to be met with dilated pale teal eyes. Josie gently gulps, realising that she actually wants this stranger-this man-that she's half an hour blabbing to, to see her at her most vulnerable. She wants to offer him something she's only offered to one other person before.
"Bradley," she whispers.
"Yeah darlin'?" he responds just as hushed.
"Where are you staying tonight?"
His eyes flash with realisation, "the downtown motel. But we could always-"
"No,shhh. That's fine. Let's go."

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This part is continued on my profile on Inkitt (under the same name). For more details look at the 'Foreword' at the start.

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"No,no," she shakes her head.
"Come on, darlin'. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. This is just how it's meant to go isn't it? We meet at a bar, we fúck, we leave and never see each other again."
"Is that what you want?" he asks, "do you wanna see me again, darlin'?"
She stiffens at the question. Does she want to see him again? How would they even work?! They wouldn't...She's and he's...and they just...No, they're too different.
"It doesn't matter. We're too different."
"Are we?" he retorts causing her to angle her head to the side to face him with just a few centimetres between them.
"Yeah," she exhales, "you're in a motorcycle gang, Bradley."
She just can't do that. She can't date someone who's like that because that would mean she's no better than her mother. And she doesn't want to end up like her mom. She wants a good honest life, with a man who'll stick by her.
"I know," he replies, sadness seeping into his voice and at that she's curious, "I..I owe them. It's not something I'm thrilled about."
"How long?" she presses, if he really wants this then she needs to know the facts, "how long are you going to be involved in that life? Because you know...you know I..I can't go back to that kind of environment, Bradley."

He cups her delicate face, fingertips brushing against silk strands of bronze waves as he nods in understanding. After everything she's told him, he gets it. He really does and maybe it's premature and completely stupid but he honest to God, feels like there's something between them. A slow flame, kindling waiting to be ignited and he wants to ignite them. He wants to throw fuel to that fire and see how far they can rise.
"I know baby. It's just for a little while longer. Just until the end of the year," he reassures her, hoping with all his heavy heart that she can wait for him.
"And then what? What are you going to do after?" she asks suspiciously.
She has every right to know, she convinces herself. She wants to know that he has a plan, some sort of ambition that he aims for.

A faint blush tinges his cheeks as he mutters something she doesn't quite catch.

Her eyebrows knit together as she asks him to repeat it.
"Music. I wanna...I wanna sing country," he mumbles louder this time.
Josie's face breaks out into a grin as relief fills her. Okay, okay...that's a dream she can get behind. More than get behind. With his deep melodious voice, he'd be a hit for sure.
With a laugh, she finds herself doing something uncharacteristic to her nature, and falling into his arms.
He catches her with his own rumbling chuckles.

"Steady there darlin'. So does that mean you'll wait for me?" he hopefully asks.

She pecks his lips and gives him a simple nod.

Sure, his Southern charm and bad boy personality is something that very much reminds her of her dark past but that's her fault not his. She's not going to turn out like her mom. She just isn't.

The sins of the mother do not have to be that of the daughter.