by Voss, Deja
“Not quite,” he says. “I got something for ya, though.”
He slides a manila file folder across the coffee table.
“I decided that while I’m laid up like this that I needed to do something productive with my time. Figured it was the least I could do for the club.”
The look in his eyes is maniacal, and I can’t even imagine what’s inside that could be bringing him so much joy.
“What is this?”
“Open it!” he says gleefully. “I’ve been doing a little detective work.”
I am staring her right in the face. She’s frowning, her hair matted down, the gaze behind her eyes completely blank. It’s Sloan’s mugshot photo.
“Where’d you get this?” I growl. “This has to be fake or something.”
“Flip,” he says.
There’s a document with all sorts of legalese that I don’t have the patience for right now.
“I don’t have time for this shit, Goob. Tell me what’s going on.”
“What’s wrong, Mr. Law School? You getting rusty in your old age?”
“No, I’m tired and I’m pissed and I don’t feel like playing childish games. Spill it.”
Everything about what I’m looking at and everything I saw with my own eyes earlier and heard with my own ears is making me sick.
“Basically, your little girlfriend got arrested one day. Then, conveniently, she was sent home the next day. No bail. No nothing. Just sent out in the wild to do as she pleased. That is, until it was time for her to testify in court.”
“She was working with the law?”
“Looks like it. Got Arthur Petroski locked up for a long time. She was dating him at the time.”
“Has Dad seen this?” I ask him. There has to be more to this story. I can’t hardly believe Sloan is some sort of legal mastermind who works with the police to find criminals to seduce so they can build cases against them. I need to buy some time before this spreads through the club. Once it does, it’s gonna be messy.
“Of course he has.” Goob laughs. “You guys don’t take me fucking seriously. Never give me the chance to hold an office or do anything cool. I’m proving myself.”
“Prove that you can stay clean for more than a week. Prove that you can graduate fucking high school without getting expelled for beating up on your teachers. Prove that you can do any job around here without stealing from one of us or running off to get high and crashing your fucking bike. Then you can hold office and do all the cool stuff you want.”
“That’s classic Gavin. Trying to distract everyone with my problems so they don’t realize how badly you fucked up. What’s wrong? Now that I’m an adult you can’t just throw me away or send me off whenever I inconvenience you. Sucks, doesn’t it? And don’t fucking call me Goob anymore. My name is Hank. I’m sick of being treated like a child.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. “Where is Dad?” I need to talk to him and tell him I’m done with her. He knows about her past, thanks to this nosy asshole, but he doesn’t have to know about what’s going on right now. As much as it would be mountain justice, as angry as I am at her right now, I think about the days we shared. I don’t want to see her physically hurt. I just need her to stay far away from us. She’s already seen and heard too much.
“I think he’s heading to the Poconos for the day. Had a couple drops to do. Took Brooks with him.”
Maybe it’s for the better. Let things die down a little bit before we get ourselves all worked up.
“Did you see this shit?” I shout to Esther, waving the envelope.
“I did,” she says softly, pursing her lips.
“What do I do?”
She sighs. “I don’t know. You know how that stuff works. I’m sure the whole story isn’t there. Plenty of reasons for a girl to turn on a guy. Maybe he was hurting her. Maybe he was cheating on her. I don’t know.”
I want to believe what she’s saying. There has to be more to this story, but I know what I heard at her apartment. I know what I saw. What Esther is saying makes sense, but the things that cop was saying leads me to believe otherwise.
I just don’t understand why she hid this from me. I don’t understand why she snuck away. Am I really that bad of a person, that scary of a guy that she would be afraid to open up to me?
Of course I am. And of course she would. Why wouldn’t she be?
I walk behind the bar and grab a jar of moonshine off the shelf.
“Gavin, it’s 9 a.m.,” Esther warns.
“And?”
“Don’t you have shit to do with your life or something?”
“Nope,” I say, pouring myself a glass. “Tried that out, didn’t go so good for me. Looks like I’m back to full-time Misfit. I’m sure you’re fucking thrilled, just like the rest of them.”
She takes the glass away from me and dumps it down the sink.
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I’m not the one who hurt you.”
“It hurts me to look at you,” I say. “You just remind me of how terrible we all are.”
“Get out of here with that bullshit,” she says, waving me off. “You don’t get to tell me what kind of person I am.”
“Sure don’t. But you’re literally a whore and everyone knows it, so I guess you already know what kind of person you are.”
She slams the glass back down on the bar and grabs the bottle, dumping it until it’s full to the brim. “At least I know my place,” she whispers in a hoarse raspy voice. Her hands are trembling. “You, on the other hand, you want to play both sides of the mountain. You want to pretend like you’re not just as fucked as the rest of us whenever it suits you. We all see right through that, Gavin. Maybe that’s why Sloan didn’t want to tell you the truth about herself. She’s not dumb.”
She storms away, her high heels heavy on the hardwood floor.
“And if you were so concerned about my profession, you’ve had every chance to put a stop to it. But then, how would that serve you?”
“Esther,” I bark after her. “Get back here.”
It’s too late to calm her down, but she’ll come around. It’s what we do here. And she’s absolutely right. I do play both sides of the fence. I thought Sloan would bring out the good in me though. Instead, she’s just proven that I can’t hide who I really am. I hang my head and start working on my morning moonshine. If I’m going to be wasting my days up here alone, I might as well be wasted.
Chapter 29
Sloan
I know I should be watching my speed, especially because my last interaction with the police didn’t necessarily end on the best terms, but I’m on a mission. I need to make things right, and I need to do it as quickly as possible. My toe is tapping out of control at every red light, and I barely stop at any stop sign.
I park out behind the Bucktail Saloon. I know they’re not open yet, but Olive’s Jeep is parked out front, and I’m sure she’s there, getting everything clean and ready to go for the day. I yank on the steel doors out back, hoping they’re unlocked.
“Olive!” I scream, pounding on the doors, throwing my body weight into them. “Hello?!”
She doesn’t answer.
I run to my car and lay on the horn until I see her poke her head outside.
“Sloan, what are you doing?” she shouts. “Are you ok?”
“We have to get inside,” I tell her, rushing for the door. “It’s an emergency.”
She locks and deadbolts the steel door behind us and ushers me to a booth.
“Breathe,” she says. “And tell me what’s going on.”
“Arthur’s escaped from prison and he’s coming for me. The cops are trying to use me as bait. They stole my phone. They’re corrupt! They set me up!” I’m hyperventilating, sobbing so hard my words are barely understandable. “He’s gonna come get you too, Olive, I know it. We’re in serious danger.”
She grabs a bottle of whiskey off the bar and slams it down on the table. She slides in the booth next to me and takes a drag from the bottle before
passing it to me.
“Olive!” I scream. “Are you not listening to me?”
“Oh, I hear you loud and clear,” she says. “But what are we gonna do? We’re in the safest place we can possibly be right now. Might as well just ride the storm out.”
“This isn’t a fucking hurricane party! This is serious shit.”
“Sloan, you have nothing to worry about. Don’t you understand? We are protected by the most dangerous biker gang in the state. You think wimpy ass Arthur is going to have a leg to stand on up against these guys? You’re crazy.”
I know she’s right. Or I mean, I guess she WOULD be right, had I played my cards differently.
“Yeah, about that…” I say, trailing off.
“What did you do, Sloan?” she hisses at me.
I explain to her about how Officer Brighton had stopped by the hospital looking for me. How I saw the note on my car and called him back. I explain how I found my duffle bag in front of my apartment door, the very one I left at the camp.
She pulls out her cellphone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling him now. We need to get this shit straightened out.” I breathe a sigh of relief, hoping that’s all it’s going to take to make this right. She looks down at her phone with disappointment.
“He’s not answering.”
“Try again!” I urge.
“I don’t understand why you’d be so deceptive, Sloan. It’s crazy to me. I thought you cared about this guy. I thought you wanted to spend your life with him. Hell, yesterday morning he was telling me you guys were basically moving in together. Why didn’t you just woman up and clear the air? You should’ve told him as soon as you thought something was up.” She leans back in the booth, closing her eyes.
“He’ll get it, won’t he?” I ask. “I was just trying to protect him. I really thought the police were using me to get to him. After everything that’s happened over the past couple days, after everything I saw, I figured maybe they were on to something. I just wanted to know exactly what was going on before I dragged him into this.”
She pulls out her phone, trying to reach him again. “Fucking voicemail,” she groans.
“I mean, for your sake, I hope so Sloan. For my sake, too. I don’t know how deep this shit goes, but this is the best job I’ve ever had in my life. These people have become my family. I don’t want it to all go away because you couldn’t be upfront about your past. I mean, look at them, look at us, we’re all hiding from something. We all have regrets. But we wear ’em proudly. Like that tattoo of yours. That shouldn’t be something you’re ashamed of. That is proof that you’ve lived your life.”
“Move,” I tell her.
“What?”
“I’m going to talk to him. I need to set things straight.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asks. “I mean, what if Arthur is following you?”
“Well you’re right about one thing, Olive. If he follows me up that mountain, he’s gonna be in way over his head. Are you gonna be ok here by yourself?”
“Tank and Red should be back in a little bit. They ran out to get me breakfast.”
“Well isn’t that nice.”
“It is. It’s really nice, actually.”
I give her a warm hug before heading to the door.
“Here goes nothing,” I say with a shrug.
* * *
Gavin
I’ve ignored at least twelve calls from Olive. Tank and Red are down at the bar with her so I’m not really worried that something is happening there that needs my immediate attention.
I’m sure Sloan’s clued her in by now that something is going down, and I don’t feel like having to hear her side of the story. I’m pissed off, I feel betrayed and so confused about what these past few days have meant. Did she ever even really care about me or was she just looking for a way to use me for information? What did she serve to gain from this? It’s not like she lives in a nice house or drives a nice car. Olive told me she’s up to her neck in debt. It can’t be a financial thing.
It just doesn’t make sense. I perused the folder Goob so kindly gave me a few times, and the more I drink, the less I even begin to understand what happened here. The only thing that is going through my head is that she’s a police informant of some sort.
“Honey, you can’t be in here,” I hear Trixie say as the door to the clubhouse swings shut. “It’s not a good idea.”
“I don’t care. I need to talk to him.”
I hear the two of them murmuring back and forth quietly and the door swings open again.
“I sent her outside,” Trixie says to me. “Figured it’s best to keep her out of everyone’s crosshairs today.”
The hair on my arms stand up. She really shouldn’t be up here, especially with what I know now, with what the club knows now. She’s got a set of balls on her if she thinks she can just storm through the door and act like nothing has happened.
“What should I do?” I ask her. I really don’t know how I’m supposed to handle this situation, and I trust Trixie’s judgement.
“I don’t know, Gav.” She shrugs. “You want answers?”
“I don’t know.” I really don’t know. It’s like she’s played me enough already. How can I trust anything that comes out of her mouth? What if she’s just here digging around for more information?
“You think she’s wearing a wire?” Trixie asks. “Or some sort of secret camera?”
“I don’t know. I guess I should probably just go see what she wants so I can get her out of here.”
I stand up from the barstool and make my way outside. Sloan is pacing the gravel driveway, her hair wild and eyes red and puffy.
Esther and Trixie follow hot on my heels, hovering at the doorway, staring her down.
“Gavin,” she says, running towards me, throwing herself at me, wrapping her arms around me.
“Stop,” I say, pulling away.
“Please,” she begs. “You need to hear me out. I’m in a lot of trouble. I need your help.”
“Well why don’t you just go running to your good old cop friends, then? Rumor has it you’re a top informant. I’m sure they’ll know how to help you out.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, gritting her teeth. “You need to listen to me.”
“Are you wearing a wire?”
She looks at me like I’m crazy.
“All this time I thought you were here because of me. Because you cared about me and wanted to be with me. To find out you’re just doing all this to try and hurt my family and my club is really low, Sloan. You know how we deal with narks up here on the mountain?”
“I didn’t want to have to do this with you,” she sighs. “If anything, I was trying to protect you, but I’m not sure I can make you understand. I’m going to go. Don’t take this out on Ollie, it has nothing to do with her. She told me to be honest with you about my past, but everything was just moving so quickly between us and it felt so fucking good to not think about that part of my life when I was with you.”
“Just tell me what happened. Tell me what happened last night.” Nothing is adding up here. I didn’t think I wanted answers. I thought maybe by not knowing what was going on I could keep her safe from the anger I’m feeling, keep her safe from how us Mountain Misfits react to being handed over to the cops, but now I want to know, no matter what. I’m not going to let her walk away without telling me what is actually going on.
“Last night, the police were following me. A long time before I met you I dated a man who ended up being a drug trafficker. He’s been in prison for a while now, but apparently he escaped yesterday and they have reason to believe that he was coming for me.”
“Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on? You know I would do whatever it took to keep you safe.”
“I didn’t realize that’s why they were trying to get me to talk to them. I thought maybe it was something else. They t
old me I wasn’t safe and I needed to go home and talk to them.”
“So you thought that I was going to hurt you? You thought they were protecting you from ME?” I’m offended and I’m enraged.
“I don’t know,” she says softly, avoiding my eye contact.
“You thought I was going to hurt you? What have I ever done to you, Sloan?”
“Nothing.”
This is the part where I realize that people like her and people like me don’t go together for a reason. Even worse than the thought that she might be working with the police is the thought that she doesn’t trust me or thinks that I would ever consider hurting her. I shake my head and turn to walk away. She reaches out her hand and grabs my shoulder.
“Listen to me,” she pleads. “It’s not like that. These guys saved my life when I was actually in a bad situation. I had no reason to doubt them, but I also had no reason to ever doubt you either. No reason, Gavin.”
“I just don’t get it, Sloan. Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the beginning? Why did it have to come to this point? Don’t you think if you were even kind of serious about this you’d give me total honesty from day one?”
Sloan
My world is crashing down around me. It’s the worst-case scenario I could imagine. Not only does he think I’m a petty nark, but he thinks I don’t trust him, that I think he could hurt me. Even though I know who he is, I know what he does, I would’ve never expected him to put his hands on me, never expected him to put me through anything like Arthur did.
Still, my defenses are up high, and my only coping mechanism right now is rage. The only way I can get my point across is to lay it all down for him and show him exactly where I’m coming from. I take a deep breath, looking right into those dark eyes. Those dark eyes that look completely empty, completely void of any compassion for what I’m about to say.
I’m going to say it anyway.
“Why didn’t I give you total honesty from day one? Let’s see. Do you want to hear about how I spent my twenties with a man who I basically sold my soul to? He took away everything that I had, but gave me all sorts of nice things. He even paid for me to go to school. In serving as his whore, I was regularly subjected to all sorts of physical and verbal abuse, but I didn’t care because I was too afraid that if I tried to leave him, he’d kill someone, like my sixty-year-old boss at the nursing home who ‘looked at me like we were fucking.’ Maybe even Olive, who was a ‘bad influence’ on me. I didn’t care if he killed me because I was already dead inside.”
