by Colbie Kay
Right now, we are driving in circles trying to find the address. I notice there ain’t shit here, not even a bar. I guess somewhere we made a wrong turn, and now we’re fuckin’ lost. Whoever made these instructions should have made them a little fuckin’ clearer. This little town is like a big fuckin’ circle we can’t find our way out of.
“Take a right!”
Tink’s burst of excitement as he sits up straighter makes me jump in my seat for a moment, but I recover swiftly. “’Bout fuckin’ time. Feels like we’ve been goin’ in circles for the last hour.”
“We pretty much have.” Tink looks towards the clock and chuckles. “Alright, it should be down here on the left.” He holds the paper with the address up. “Yep, right there. The grey house with the black shutters.” He points to the white-collar home.
Most of the houses are like that around here, I noticed. It’s quiet, definitely not what I’m used to; it’s like a perfectly polished little town. Families would have the 2.5 kids, the dog, and the white picket fence. The neighbors bring each other cups of sugar and the wives get together every Sunday afternoon. Yeah, I already miss home. I miss the loud, the crazy, and I fuckin’ miss Chatty.
Unlocking the front door, I walk into the large living room. A dark blue wraparound sectional takes up two walls by itself and the flat screen hangs along the opposite side of the room. The light grey walls match the exterior color. The house is plain and not my style at all. But I have to remember that I’ll only be here for a short time. Hopefully.
We check out the kitchen that has apparently been updated with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. Moving on to the bathroom, it looks to be in good shape. The bedrooms are done the same; walk-in closets, grey carpet, white walls, and the queen-size beds made up with dark bedding. I take one and Tink takes the other, then we start pulling our bags out of the Prius.
Once we’re settled and unpacked, we go out and unhook his bike. We bring it down off the trailer, and then unhook the trailer from the Prius. After everything is finished, we grab a beer from the fridge and sit on the couch. I flip through the channels until some horror flick comes on, then I set the remote beside me.
“So, you ready to do this?” I take a long pull from the beer, then turn towards Tink. I want to know where his head is at in all of this. I need to know he’s doing it for the right reasons instead of trying to prove something or being a Billy Badass.
“Yep.” He gives a nod before taking a drink from his bottle. “I’ll be riding out later tonight.” So far, he shows no fear.
“Be safe. All I ask is that if you aren’t going to come back here at night for whatever reason—and I don’t give a shit what the reason might be—call me. I wanna know you’re alright.”
“I can do that.”
“How’d you get the name Tink?” I’m curious; I don’t think anyone has asked him, and since he doesn’t divulge much about himself, it makes me wonder.
“My mom called me stink ever since I was a baby, it stuck, and as I got older, I took off the ‘s’. Gotta pick up chicks, man—who can do that with a name like stink?” He laughs, and I join in.
“You’re probably right about that.”
Tink looks around the room. “This house is nicer than any I ever grew up in.” Maybe he’s warming up to me some.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I was the trailer park trash kid from the wrong side of the tracks.” My brows pull down; kids can be cruel little shits. That’s one thing Hanger and I never had to worry about—everyone was scared of the Satan’s Sinners.
“Is that why you wanted to prospect for the club?”
“Nah, I wanted to do that to feel like I had a family. People to look out for me, to respect me. I wanted to fit in where I never have before.”
“Damn. Well, we make it through this job and you’ll have family for life.” He smiles and nods because he already knows.
After the movie, I head to bed so I can call Chatty and Bear. Tink heads out and I hear his bike rumble to life before he pulls away. I like this kid, so I hope he can get this job done.
Chapter Seven
“What are we doing out here, Bear?” I question as he has me sit on one side of the picnic table and he sits opposite.
Bear nods to where I’m sitting. “Where you’re sittin’ right now is the last place Ripper sat and gave me advice on how to deal with Lil Mama’s crazy ass. It was the last real conversation we had before he died.”
“Bear…”
“He loved you so much, Chatty.” My eyes immediately start to water, and as bad as I want to get up and run, I stay seated and wait for him to continue. “It came out of nowhere, but it was like Ripper knew his own fate.” Bear stares off into the distance as he goes back in time.
“Ripper asked, ‘Can you promise me something?’
“I had no idea what he was about to make me promise, but I didn’t even hesitate. ‘Yeah, whatever you need.’
“‘With all this shit goin’ on with the Gremaldis, none of us are guaranteed to come out. I need you to promise me that if I don’t, Chatty’ll go on and be happy.’ Ripper looked dead serious, Chatty, it was like he already knew.
“I told him, ‘Don’t talk like that, Ripper, we’re all gonna be fine.’ Even though I had no idea if that was true or not, I fuckin’ told him anyway. He was the one brother I never wanted to think about losing.
“Ripper gave me that c’mon look and said, ‘Bear, you know this life. You know a lot of us don’t get long and we’re never promised the next day. I need to know that she’ll be happy if I’m not here. I can’t go into this thinkin’ she would never get over me. Chatty’s young; she’s got so much life ahead of her. Just promise me that you’ll see to it that she’s happy and lives her life.’
“I promise,” were the last words I said to him before texting Lil Mama.”
Bear’s gaze drifts back to me, and I swipe away the tears leaking onto my cheeks.
“His last words to me were, Live your life, baby. I love you.” Bringing my hands up to cover my face, I cry. I cry hard, ugly, and I don’t hold anything back. I feel Bear’s arms wrap around me and I lean into him, seeking the comfort I need right now. At some point, another hand lays gently on my back and someone sits on the other side of me. Eventually I pull myself together and pull away from Bear, turning to see who joined us—I’m not surprised to see Hanger.
“I’m sorry.” I wipe my cheeks, freeing them of the last tears I shed.
“Don’t be sorry. You needed to get it out.” Hanger smiles and brings me close for a brotherly hug.
“Do you think you’re doing what Ripper would want?” Bear asks in such a tender fashion; it’s unlike him, except for around Lil Mama and his kids.
“I’m living my life.” I purse my lips and shrug a shoulder, but my head hangs.
“But are you happy? Are you trying to move on?”
“Bear, it’s not that easy! I can’t just say, Oh, my husband is dead, time to pick up and forget about him.” Shaking my head, a fresh wave of emotions start to take over.
“No one said you had to forget about Ripper. None of us will ever forget him. You were saved that day for whatever reason, and you shouldn’t take it for granted, Chatty. You have someone who loves you and wants to be with you, but you keep him at a distance. Ripper wanted this for you. I made that promise to him and I intend to see it fulfilled. I let you leave and have your time away to deal with it, but it’s time to let him go.”
Shooting my gaze at Hanger, I ask, “And you? How would you feel if I was to be with Gunner?”
Hanger’s smile is comforting and not completely unexpected. “It’s a tough situation for all of us, I think. But…fact is, Ripper’s gone, Chatty, and he’s never comin’ back. So, do you live your life miserable and alone, or do
you live your life to the fullest and be happy? Not many get a second chance to find a love that I know Ripper had for you—and that Gunner could give you now. I’ve always thought of you like a sister, and Gunner is my best friend—I’ve known him my whole life and I want him happy. I want him to find what I did with Crazy Girl, what Bear did with Lil Mama, and Writer with Ever. All I ask is if that’s not going to be you, then don’t lead him on. Let him go so he might find it with someone else, but think about this: How would you feel if he did find it with someone else while you’re still sittin’ here alone?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Hanger pats me on the back, gets up from the picnic table, and starts walking away.
“Gah, y’all don’t play fair.” Dramatically sighing, I look at Bear with his evil smirk.
“We’re the Satan’s Sinners, babydoll. Whoever said we did?” He trails off behind Hanger.
I’m not sure how long I’ve sat out here, but as the sun starts to set, I get up and head back inside. Bear and Hanger gave me a lot to think about. Yes, I have been living my life, but the only times I’m truly happy now are when I’m with Gunner. I’m not so sure I want to lose that—and would I be able to handle seeing him with someone else? Hell, no! Is my heart big enough to share? Do I even need to share, or would I be able to give all of myself to Gunner? I don’t know the answer to that. I guess all I can do now is wait to see what happens when Gunner returns.
Within a couple hours of being back behind the bar, business has picked up between the Sinners, prospects, hang-arounds, and club girls. I’m grateful it’s been busy so I can focus on my job instead of Gunner, because all I will do is worry until I hear from him, and then my head will be all over the place with what I’m going to do about him. Am I going to give in and take a chance, or will I say forget it and let him be with someone else? Someone that can give him all of themselves instead of holding back.
“Hey, Chatty.”
“Hey, Pretty Boy. What can I get ya?” Giving a forced smile, I wait for his reply.
“Whatever you got on tap’s fine.”
Nodding, I grab a chilled glass mug and begin filling it. In my years of bartending, I have mastered the ability to fill a mug with little to no foam when doing beer on tap. It’s not as easy as it looks, and it’s all in the way you tilt the mug and the flow of the liquid. Setting it down in front of him, I say, “There ya go.”
As I’m walking away he speaks up, “You don’t like me much, do you?”
Stopping in my tracks, I turn back around. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you’re different when I come around.” He laughs, but it’s more in that uncomfortable way.
“I never noticed.” That’s a lie; I know I am, because I hold some resentment towards him.
“I guess I just want to clear the air. I understand why you would hate me.” He looks down at the mug he’s holding, then brings his dark eyes back up to mine. “I’m sorry for what my family did to Ripper.”
“Thank you!” My eyes well up with tears and it feels like a weight has been lifted. “Look, I know it wasn’t your fault and you did the right thing in the end, but it feels good to have an apology from the opposite side.” Even though Pretty Boy has been with the club since before Ripper died, his blood are the ones that took my husband’s life.
He reaches out, touching my hand. “I hope we can move past this, and maybe one day we could be friends.” His smile is adorable. Pretty Boy is a good-looking guy; all tall, dark, and handsome with his Italian features, but not my type. My type is blond, tattooed, blue-eyed roughness.
“Maybe.” I return a genuine smile and get back to work.
A few hours later, and the place is in full swing; people laughing, drunks stumbling around, dancing, and sexual favors happening all around. Shaking my head and laughing, I look towards the front door when it opens and I think my eyes are deceiving me. I have to blink hard a couple times to make sure she is real and inside the clubhouse. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in here.” My smile is full and bright as I quickly walk around the bar to hug her.
“Yeah, yeah. Been a long time, Chatty.” Her smile matches mine. Breaking apart, her hands stay gripping my shoulders. “It’s really good to see you.” Her eyes move around the bar. “I see some things haven’t changed.”
Laughing, I tell her, “Never. So, what brings you by?” I question because Josie hasn’t stepped foot in this clubhouse since her husband, Ryder, died. And I know Gunner would have gone to see her before he left town. Not much has changed with her; she’s still the tall, beautiful bombshell as before, but instead of the tight jeans and tanks, she’s looking more like a soccer mom these days, it seems.
“You, actually.” Her smile has me wondering if something is going on. “Come outside with me? It’s quieter.”
“Drifter!” I yell out at the prospect sitting at the end of the bar. “Take over for me. I’m heading outside.”
“Sure thing, Chatty.”
I let Josie lead us out and over to one of the picnic tables, but not the same one from earlier. As we sit on opposite sides of the table, I question, “Does your son know you’re here?”
“I told him I was going to come see you, and he told me not to.” Her laugh is contagious.
“So, why’d you want to see me?” My brows furrow in confusion.
“Because Caide has talked to me about what’s going on between you two. Not in detail, thank God, but the gist of it. I thought I might be of some help to you.”
Still confused, I ask, “How so?”
“Because I know how hard it is trying to move on after losing your husband.” Ah, and there it is.
Sighing, I fold my arms on the table, suddenly feeling a little chilly. “What is it with today? Is this heartbreak intervention day for Chatty or something?” I shake my head and try to make a joke of it.
“What?” she questions while laughing.
Waving my hand, I mumble, “Never mind.” I wait for her to start talking.
“My son has some strong feelings for you, and has for quite some time. I never thought I’d see the day he’d want to settle down, but I’m glad it’s come.” She chuckles a little before continuing, “I’m assuming from what he’s told me that you feel the same, but are having a hard time dealing with it, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“When Ryder got killed, I thought I was going to die right along with him. A part of me was gone forever, my soul was shattered, and I was barely functioning.” The light of the moon shines bright, and I see her eyes shining with threatening tears.
“How did you get past it?” I question, because that is exactly how it is for me.
“It took a lot of time, and honestly those feelings are still inside of me, but it gets easier every day. Mark has helped.” Her smile is bright at the mention of Mark, and she wipes a tear off of her cheek.
“Who’s Mark?”
“He’s my boyfriend.” She laughs lightly, but I think my mouth just hit the ground.
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Yeah, we started dating when Caide was in prison, and now he lives with me. He’s such a kind man—and the total opposite of Ryder, as far as this life versus Mark’s.” She laughs, but goes on. “He’s never once tried to take Ryder’s place, he’s been gentle with me in the process, and he understands. I’m slowly starting to move Ryder’s things out to the garage, but Mark never pressures me to do it faster, he just lets me move at my pace.”
“Do you feel guilty?”
“For moving on?” I nod, but stay quiet. “At first, I did. I felt like I was betraying Ryder, but I realized you can’t betray someone that is never coming back. Someone that will never hold you again, kiss you, love you…and when I came to terms with that, I realized I didn’t want to be
alone for the rest of my life—plus, Ryder wouldn’t have wanted that for me. He loved me too much to see me unhappy.”
“Ripper and Ryder were so much alike.” I laugh at remembering the two of them together.
“Yeah, but I think it’s more about the love they had for us.” She smiles brightly.
“So, you think Gunner would be like that with me?” Looking at the moonlight, I wonder if Ripper is looking down on me—and if so, what he would think.
“I do. My son is a patient man.” She laughs.
“I know he is.” Joining in, I tell her, “Thank you for coming by. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“If you need anything or need to talk, I’m here for you, Chatty.” We stand from the picnic table and hug once more.
“Thank you.” Releasing Josie, we say our goodbyes, and I watch her walk to her car.
*****
By the end of the night, I am exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. I don’t think I can handle anymore today and I am ready to hit my bed and sleep. When I get to Tinsley and my room, she’s on her bed crying. “What’s wrong, T?”
“He keeps calling and texting. Maybe I should go home, Lindy.” Her words pang in my gut as she sobs loudly.
“No! Have you talked to him?” I question, worry tugging my heart.
“No.” She hiccups, and her crying starts to die down. “I just let it go to voicemail—and I haven’t checked the messages or texts.”
“Give me your phone.” I hold my hand out, and she grabs it off the bed beside her, then places it in my palm.
It takes me a little while to get through all of the messages and voicemails. They start off nice and get angrier as they go on. I delete all of them, not giving her a chance to see or hear his harsh words.
