After taking a few months off to recover, we began to play local gigs again, occasionally traveling to visit the family of the other guys. But with Macie in Head Start, my family couldn’t always travel with us. Luckily, my mom was always eager to babysit Macie whenever she got the chance.
Now that I had a family to take care of, I had to decide whether or not I wanted music to be my career or get a full-time job with a reliable paycheck. I decided we could do both. Ryder Bentley was now the proud owner of Get Bent, the hottest new club in Orlando. We play there live every week as well as a few other up-and-coming local bands. There was even a story about my club and the changing of the music industry in Rolling Stone.
I was better at controlling my anger now, but Ella was still able to bring out my darker side, enjoying that monster she fell in love with.
“Get on the f**king bike, El. I’m not going to let you get hurt.” I tried to hide my frustration, but my patience was running thin. She didn’t trust me.
“I’m scared.” Her voice wavered as she broke eye contact, looking over my black motorcycle.
“Of me or the bike?” I cocked my head to the side, and her eyes narrowed. I could see her stubbornness begin to surface. She had too much pride. I was going to win this battle.
“Fine.” She snatched the helmet from my hand. “Go slow,” she ordered as she slid it over her head and strapped it in place. I rolled my eyes as I threw my leg over the bike and waited for her to join me.
She gripped on to my shirt as she climbed on behind me. I grabbed her arms and pulled them around my waist, her chest pushed against my back.
“You’re going to go slow, right?” She spoke into my ear as I started the bike.
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Then I’m getting off!” she yelled as she pulled back, but I grabbed her wrist and held it against my stomach.
“You want to get off, Ella, I can get you off.” I pulled out before she could respond, causing her to tighten her hold on me.
I couldn’t stop smiling, knowing that the rush of fear would turn her on and later we’d fight and f**k, and I would get to hold her and love her. Fucked-up people take pleasure in f**ked-up things. Ella was used to being afraid. She was used to having to fight. She loved challenging my need to control, and she knew she no longer had anything to fear, because the meanest f**king monster was hers. She’d tamed the beast and given me a reason to live. We weren’t anywhere near perfect, but we fit perfectly together.
The End