Losing Traction:Westbeach #1

By: Amo Jones

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself in the mirror.

My boss, Maree, has me booked to go touring around the world with Alyx Munroe. The Alyx Munroe. Singer, princess, socialite, pop queen, whatever you want to call her. I was ecstatic when I found out I was going to be touring with one of Hollywood’s elite for four weeks on wardrobe duties. But that was until I discovered that it was Alyx-fucking-Munroe. The girl is a well-known diva queen. Also well known for throwing tantrums when she doesn’t get her way.

I might actually kill her, who knows?

I walk into my house, which is situated on a huge plot of farmland in Westbeach, California. My job is in Hollywood Hills, but I stay with one of my close friends Carter when I’m there for work. Since our best friend Kalie ran off with Ade, Carter has needed someone to lean on for his emotional needs. That someone has become me.

I hang up my jacket and make my way upstairs while typing out a quick text message to my brother Blake. He’s a member of the Sinful Souls MC, as my father was. The club is my family, always have been and always will be.



Me: Can you bring Shooter over, please. I miss him.

Blake: Gladly, Vicky has been paying him more attention than me.

Me: I miss him so much. See you soon.



Shooter is my three-year-old Cane Corso. He’s pure black and resembles a black panther. He’s a big softie to people he knows, I can’t guarantee that he won’t eat you if you try to break into his house, though.

I walk into my white and peach colored kitchen, swinging open my fridge and pouring myself a glass of wine. I love my house and don’t get to spend nearly enough time here because my work is hectic. Moving out to the living room, I slide open the glass sliding doors that open out to my huge backyard. Walking outside I take my shoes off and sit down on the soft green grass, sipping my cold, crisp glass of Laurent-Perrier, Grand Siècle. I untie my long ash blonde hair, which is a little lighter than it was in my younger days and let it trail down my back.

My younger days, I remember them like they were only yesterday…



Phoebe Rendon, yep that’s me. You probably have an idea about THAT last name. I’m the baby Rendon, as in baby sister to Blake Rendon and only daughter of Pete Rendon—Vice President of the Sinful Souls Motorcycle Club.

To say I’ve lived a sheltered life is probably a slight understatement. No one will come near me. All of the boys at school knew my family, and by family, I mean the entire MC of the Westbeach chapter. They knew my brother and his two psycho best friends and no one crossed them—ever. Therefore, I had no life.

It was Uncle Davey’s birthday, so that meant we were all at the clubhouse having a cook out. Uncle Davey is the President of the Sinful Souls MC and is Zane’s dad. Zane and Aidan are the psycho best friends I mentioned earlier. Both of their fathers are members of the MC and I’ve known them all of my life. I love my dad, he had always done his best at raising Blake and me, because my mom ran out on us when we were babies. Blake said it was because she couldn’t handle being a part of club life anymore. I say she’s weak.

I’m sitting at the bonfire roasting marshmallows with Blake and Aidan sitting to the left, opposite me. Aidan’s hot. No, he’s ridiculously hot. He’s all bad boy wrapped up in a delicious set of massive arms and a face any model would die for, with the perfect cheekbones, jawline, blue eyes, and a wide cheeky grin sitting under a set of dimples. He’s perfect. There’d been more than one time I’d tried to have my way with him, only for him to push me away and laugh. I honestly don’t think he understood that we were meant to be together—he will though.

That’s my sarcasm coming through strong.

I’d been sporting a crush on him since as long as I could remember. He won’t touch me of course. In his eyes, I’m the annoying little sister that no one will touch.

“Speedy, you look deep in thought?” Zane asked from the other side of the bonfire. Speedy is the nickname that I’d been given. I inherited it from when I was a little girl who’d rather ride anything with four wheels than play with Barbie and Ken.

“Because I am, I need to get out of here.”

He shook his head while holding his beer up, stopping short of his mouth.

“Not happening.”

I threw the stick that I was using for my marshmallows down and stormed off into the bar to find my dad. My dad is overprotective, yes, but my brother Blake? Yeah, he’s worse. I think my dad left a lot of that on Blake, Zane, and Aidan to look after me when he was not around.

I scanned the bar until I spot him in the corner with one of the club whores on his lap. I narrowed my eyes at them and stalked over. When he noticed me, he tapped the plastic Barbie on the ass, signaling for her to get off.

“What’s up baby?” he asked, his demeanor changing to that of a loving father and less the vice president of a motorcycle club.

“I need to get out of here. I promise I’ll go straight home,” I lied.

“Get one of the boys to drop you off,” he said, as he picked up his drink.

I placed my hands on my hips like an annoying bratty child. “No, I have my car here. They’ve all been drinking and I’ll drive straight home.”

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