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Miranda hugged her thick black hoody tighter around herself as a fresh wind blew the winter air against her, cutting quickly through her simple black top which clung tightly to the girl, showing off her small B-cup breasts, her slender waist and wide hips, before her hourglass curves disappeared behind the hoody which she zipped up. She then reached up, pulling her pink streaked black hair out from the inside of the hoody, letting it fall behind her. She then reached down into her black pants that hung loose on her hips and pulled out a black scrunchie which she then reached up and set to pulling her hair into a simple ponytail. Shivering, she blew into her hands before rubbing them together as she moved along the side walk. Her soft blue eyes darted around her as she walked, quickly putting her hands back into her hoodie's pockets while she watched, seeming to be scouting for something. In reality, she was looking for danger, as the peace she had earned from her mother's status had faded with the woman's death, and Miranda knew quite a few people who held a grudge.
She had often used her position of power, backed by the local biker club, to do as she pleased. Weather that was stealing people's toys, such as the IPod she fiddled with in her hoodie pocket, or the clean looking Nike shoes on her feet, and more then a few dollars taken from others, she had made a small army of enemies. She knew there would be trouble with her mother's passing, and her sudden break from the club, but she had expected so many so fast. At first she thought that since her mother had been president, the club would still back her but it seemed not. She was never initiated, she was never involved in the club business, she had basically been a free loader, and nobody was willing to take on the responsibility of backing her, which to anyone with common sense made perfect sense. Miranda was a spoiled, angry, and arrogant little shit. Taking her on as a responsibility was certain to be someone's biggest headache, and so she had been abandoned. She thought at first that it was fine, she'd always fought her own battles anyways, made her own cash with her side business selling green, but she had underestimated the influence of the club in her life.
Within the first week, she'd been jumped three times, robbed twice, and more then a few customers were getting bold about not paying her. At first she had loved it, the fighting and violence helped her hide from the pain of her mother's death, but soon it got old, and she found herself jumping at shadows. By the end of the second week, she realized how dangerous her position was in. The school was talking about expelling her, there was a new crew selling on her turf, one she couldn't take out alone, and she had no allies to call upon. She had been utterly abandoned, and in her grief she blamed her mother completely for dying, and abandoning her first, causing all of this! None of it was her fault, it was all her mother's fault for dying! What hurt more though, was being abandoned by those still living, such as her girlfriend. After the first time she was jumped, her girlfriend was with her. Her and her girlfriend had gotten into a fight, and she hadn't seen her since. Now here she was, almost a month later, going towards the only thing she knew could help her. The club.
Scowling as she saw two guys who looked familiar begin crossing the street towards her, she picked up her pace. She would have brought her knife with her if she could, but even the stupid sheriff was out for her. He'd already stopped to do two random searches on her, trying to get a possession and distribution charge as some sort of revenge since her mom wasn't stuffing the pricks pockets anymore. She was under attack on all fronts, but soon she saw her haven. She quickly moved forward towards the bar, knowing that Victoria would likely have taken over her mothers old place on top of the bar. The sight of the biker bar seemed enough to scare off the men who had begun following her, and she let out a sigh of relief.
Feeling better already, she moved forward, walking into the club without bothering to knock. She was counting on being recognized so that maybe they wouldn't stop her. Fortunately that never came up as there wasn't anyone at the bar, letting her sneak behind it to the door leading upstairs. Taking a slow breath to calm herself, she began moving up the stairs, before knocking on the door at the top of the stairs before moving forward, opening it and not waiting for a response. Victoria had always been cool as far as Miranda cared. The woman was an action over talking type, something Miranda always admired about the woman, that her mother hated. As far as Miranda was concerned, what was the point of having all that power if you never used to do whatever you wanted. She was hoping Victoria would appreciate someone with a shared mentality as she stepped in, closing the door behind her. "Victoria? You here? I gotta talk to you!" she called out, before she began moving deeper into the apartment style second floor of the bar, looking for the woman who took her mother's position as president. If anyone could ensure Miranda's protection, it would be that woman. IT was the last chance she had, because she knew if she left today empty handed, she was either dead, in jail, or on the street by the end of the week. She was desperate, there was no other way to say it.
She had often used her position of power, backed by the local biker club, to do as she pleased. Weather that was stealing people's toys, such as the IPod she fiddled with in her hoodie pocket, or the clean looking Nike shoes on her feet, and more then a few dollars taken from others, she had made a small army of enemies. She knew there would be trouble with her mother's passing, and her sudden break from the club, but she had expected so many so fast. At first she thought that since her mother had been president, the club would still back her but it seemed not. She was never initiated, she was never involved in the club business, she had basically been a free loader, and nobody was willing to take on the responsibility of backing her, which to anyone with common sense made perfect sense. Miranda was a spoiled, angry, and arrogant little shit. Taking her on as a responsibility was certain to be someone's biggest headache, and so she had been abandoned. She thought at first that it was fine, she'd always fought her own battles anyways, made her own cash with her side business selling green, but she had underestimated the influence of the club in her life.
Within the first week, she'd been jumped three times, robbed twice, and more then a few customers were getting bold about not paying her. At first she had loved it, the fighting and violence helped her hide from the pain of her mother's death, but soon it got old, and she found herself jumping at shadows. By the end of the second week, she realized how dangerous her position was in. The school was talking about expelling her, there was a new crew selling on her turf, one she couldn't take out alone, and she had no allies to call upon. She had been utterly abandoned, and in her grief she blamed her mother completely for dying, and abandoning her first, causing all of this! None of it was her fault, it was all her mother's fault for dying! What hurt more though, was being abandoned by those still living, such as her girlfriend. After the first time she was jumped, her girlfriend was with her. Her and her girlfriend had gotten into a fight, and she hadn't seen her since. Now here she was, almost a month later, going towards the only thing she knew could help her. The club.
Scowling as she saw two guys who looked familiar begin crossing the street towards her, she picked up her pace. She would have brought her knife with her if she could, but even the stupid sheriff was out for her. He'd already stopped to do two random searches on her, trying to get a possession and distribution charge as some sort of revenge since her mom wasn't stuffing the pricks pockets anymore. She was under attack on all fronts, but soon she saw her haven. She quickly moved forward towards the bar, knowing that Victoria would likely have taken over her mothers old place on top of the bar. The sight of the biker bar seemed enough to scare off the men who had begun following her, and she let out a sigh of relief.
Feeling better already, she moved forward, walking into the club without bothering to knock. She was counting on being recognized so that maybe they wouldn't stop her. Fortunately that never came up as there wasn't anyone at the bar, letting her sneak behind it to the door leading upstairs. Taking a slow breath to calm herself, she began moving up the stairs, before knocking on the door at the top of the stairs before moving forward, opening it and not waiting for a response. Victoria had always been cool as far as Miranda cared. The woman was an action over talking type, something Miranda always admired about the woman, that her mother hated. As far as Miranda was concerned, what was the point of having all that power if you never used to do whatever you wanted. She was hoping Victoria would appreciate someone with a shared mentality as she stepped in, closing the door behind her. "Victoria? You here? I gotta talk to you!" she called out, before she began moving deeper into the apartment style second floor of the bar, looking for the woman who took her mother's position as president. If anyone could ensure Miranda's protection, it would be that woman. IT was the last chance she had, because she knew if she left today empty handed, she was either dead, in jail, or on the street by the end of the week. She was desperate, there was no other way to say it.
