“You sound concerned,” Elliot observes.
You have no freaking idea, lady, I think to myself. But out loud I say, “I’ve just...never taken on a project like this before. I wouldn’t know where to begin, getting access to those biker types.” Except directly through my big sister, but Elliot doesn’t need to know about that. I get the feeling she’d pounce on that connection in a heartbeat.
“That’s the thing,” she says, waving my apprehensions aside, “I know exactly how to get you access. Or rather, I know exactly how you might go about getting access. You’d have to make it happen for yourself.”
“Do tell?” I say, trying to keep the dread from my voice.
“Rumor has it that the Circle of Death has been spending some serious time lately at a place called The Club,” Elliot tells me.
“Is that, like, a bar or something...?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Elliot says, “It’s more like...bear with me, here...a resort for the depraved. A remote destination for all things Dionysian. Booze, drugs, sex, you name it. Some genius bought up this secluded island off the coast—there’s a Revolutionary fort out there, used to be some kind of lookout—and turned it into this hotbed of debauchery. Crazy, huh?”
“Insane,” I agree wholeheartedly.
“I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” Elliot rushes on, “Word is, boatloads of young women head out to The Club, looking for the bad boy experience. This place caters exclusively to MC and Mob types these days, so all these chicks jump on a yacht and sail out there to go wild for a night. These girls get to live out their biker boy fantasies, and the bikers get boatloads of pretty young things to play with. It’s like a double-edged escapist Valhalla.”
“Holy crap...” I breathe, my memory jogged by Elliot’s enthusiasm, “Holy crap, I’ve heard people talking about this at my school.”
“I’m not surprised,” Elliot nods, “Most of the girls who head out to The Club are college-aged. Mostly affluent types from the better schools, looking to slum it hard. I bet you even know a few girls who have already been out there.”
A dozen overheard whispers flit through my memory. Snatches of conversation traded between girlfriends in-between classes and in the back rows of lecture halls. I never paid much attention when girls would go on about their wild weekends at The Club. But the more I think about it, the more their stories seem to match up with Elliot’s description of this biker haven.
“If you could get yourself to that island,” Elliot says earnestly, “See for yourself what goes on there, just imagine the kind of story you could write. It would be the first of its kind, and you’re exactly the person to write it.”
“You really want me to take this assignment?” I ask, swallowing hard. “I’m not exactly what you would call...wild, or—”
“But that’s perfect. I wouldn’t want to send in an actual party girl, just someone who can play the role,” Elliot insists. “I want you to infiltrate The Club, and the Circle of Death MC. I want you to introduce our readers to the real outlaw biker culture. But more importantly, I want you to target one man in particular. The president of the Circle of Death: Devlin Vile.”
Devlin Vile. The name blazes through my mind like a lick of flame. A shudder trickles down my spine, vertebra by vertebra, as I imagine what this man must be like. What he must be capable of.
“He’s the youngest club president on record, just shy of thirty,” Elliot goes on, “Came up from absolutely nothing. And the best part is, he’s the sexiest motherfucker you’re likely to ever lay eyes on.”
“That seems like a cruel combination...” I trail off as Elliot pulls up a full-body picture of our proposed target on her computer screen.
I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t hit Elliot’s desk. Holy shit. She was not exaggerating. The man is the picture is tall, built, and utterly gorgeous. His dark, brooding features are just as sharply cut as his every defined muscle. His towering form is perfectly balanced, and every inch of skin from his neck down seems to be inked with intricate tattoos. He’s the epitome of the sexy bad boy. Unlike any man I’ve ever met in my life.
“This is the guy you want me to...investigate, then?” I say slowly.
“That’s right,” Elliot says, “You bring me a story about Devlin Vile’s sexy, illicit, depraved lifestyle, and you’ve got yourself a job. Not to mention a $10K starting bonus.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that correctly,” I start. “Did you say—?”
“Ten thousand dollars, yes,” Elliot confirms, amused by my gobsmacked expression.
I try and fail to wrap my head around the very idea ten thousand dollars. That amount of money would be game changing for me. Life changing. I could clear myself of student loan payments for the next couple years with a single assignment. The prospect of actually being able to make it on my own so soon after graduating is enough to make my mouth water.
But even if there weren’t a small fortune to be had for writing this story, I knew the second Elliot brought up the Circle of Death that I was going to end up taking the assignment. As betrayed and hurt as I still feel by my sister’s desertion, I can’t pass up this opportunity to find her again. The possibility of seeing her again would have given me more than enough reason to take the job. And as my eyes dart back to the picture of Devlin Vile, smoldering on Elliot’s computer screen...Well, it seems all of a sudden that this decision is a no-brainer.
“So what do you say, Logan?” Elliot asks, “Can I count you in?”
“Could I just...have a day to think about it?” I ask nervously, unable to take the plunge just yet. “It’s a pretty big decision for me, you know?”
“Of course,” she smiles, “Sleep on it, think it over, and get back to me as soon as you can. All right?”
She rises from her desk and extends her hand to me. I pull myself to standing and clasp hands with her. I can feel, in this moment, that my whole life is about to change. But the question is, how? And am I really ready for it?
Chapter Four
I can see my mother’s nose wrinkling from across the room the moment I step into the restaurant. There was no time to go home and change before meeting my parents for lunch, and I know my hip, urban duds are sure to make Mom’s skin crawl. She made a reservation for us at a swanky Italian joint nestled in one of Boston’s more upscale neighborhoods, and I couldn’t very well say no. They’re in town for a couple of days to see me receive my supposedly “useless” diploma, which means they’ll be expecting me to spend every spare moment showing them around Boston. I really do love my parents, don’t get me wrong, but shepherding them around the city while my mother nitpicks everything and my dad zones out is not exactly my idea of a good time.