by Jessie Cooke
“Damn, poor kid. What about Blue? You think she'll be okay? She seems pretty attached too.”
“Blue's made of pretty tough stock. It'll hurt her, but I think she'll be okay.”
Rusty nodded. “Okay...I guess I'll go see him. Damn, I fucking hate this.”
“Yeah, me too,” Dax said. Rusty left the clubhouse and headed up for the house, the whole time trying to prepare himself. He was shaking all over and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he wanted a drink. When he parked the bike in front of the house and got off, he fingered the chip in his pocket that he'd been so proud to come out and show Saint. Taking a few deep breaths, he finally went inside. Blue met him at the door.
“Hey kid, how ya doing?”
She looked like she'd been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. “I'm fine,” she said. “I have to go for a while. Kay's here. I'll be back later.”
“Blue...”
“I'm fine,” she said, brushing past Rusty and running out the door. He couldn't help but wonder if she wasn't quite as tough as she wanted everyone to believe she was. Sometimes it was hard to remember that she was just a little girl.
9
Rusty made his way back to the sun porch. Kay, one of the club girls and a good friend of Shelly's, was sitting next to Saint. She stood up when Rusty came in. Saint had his eyes closed and his face was even more yellow than it had been the last time Rusty saw him only a few days before. “He's been sleeping for about an hour,” Kay whispered. “I'm just going to be out on the front porch if you need me...he'd want you to wake him, though. He's been asking for you.”
Rusty nodded at her and kept his eyes on Saint as she left. Every breath he took looked like a struggle and his already sunken face seemed to be practically disappearing in front of Rusty's eyes. His chest physically ached as he looked at his friend. He had a hard time believing he'd only known Saint for a month...he had friends that he'd had for years he didn't feel so close to. He reached down and put his hand on his friend's bony shoulder. Shaking him gently he said, “Saint, hey guy...it's Rusty...”
Saint didn't move or open his eyes. Rusty tried again a few times but when Saint still didn't wake up, he went around the bed and sat down in the chair that Kay had occupied. That was when he heard Saint, in a weak voice say, “Hey.” His eyes were still closed so Rusty wasn't sure if he was awake or not. But just in case he said,
“Hey. How you doing?”
Saint's thin body shook and Rusty was afraid he was seizing at first. It took him a few seconds to realize his friend was laughing. After a coughing spell, Saint pulled his eyes about halfway open and said, “I'm doing just fine. How you doing?”
Rusty tried to keep the tremor out of his voice as he said, “Great. I'm doing great. Look what I got today.” He pulled the chip out of his pocket and Saint smiled when he saw it.
“Good boy. That's something to be proud of.”
“Thanks. I am. But I wouldn't have it if it wasn't for you, so it's your accomplishment too.”
Saint chuckled again. “Well, since it's the only chip I'm gonna get, I'll take it.” He was quiet then, and he closed his eyes again for several minutes. Rusty sat silently, unsure if Saint had fallen back to sleep or not and unwilling to wake him up if he had. When Saint was ready, he opened his eyes back up and said, “I know we haven't been friends long, but I was hoping, since you were the one friend I had that would understand my need for amends...” He had to stop and catch his breath again and while he did that Rusty said,
“Whatever you need, man. I'll do it.”
When Saint recovered again, he smiled. “Thanks man, but you might want to hear what it is I'm asking. See, I love all these guys, but as I've told you, they're all kind of new in my life. They took me in, something I'm not sure my own club would have done. I was a nomad though, and not real close to any of them...except Garrett. I wish you could meet him...maybe at my funeral...”
“Saint...” Rusty shook his head.
“Come on, man. We've been real with each other since day one. Don't pretend that the old skeleton with the sickle isn't breathing down my neck right now.”
Rusty nodded. “I'm sorry.”
“It's cool. This dying shit sucks all the way around. But anyways, Garrett might not get here while I've still got my wits. So, there's something I'd like you to do for me, if you will.” Rusty nodded again and waited. It took Saint a good five minutes to recover that time and catch his breath. When he did he said, “I don't reckon I made amends to half of the people I needed to...but there is one person...Her name is Celia and I was so in love with her...” He stopped talking and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he opened them again and said, “I met her six years ago and as soon as I did, I knew that she was the one...you know?” Rusty wasn't sure that he did. He'd been struggling lately with his own feelings for Shelly, trying to understand them. But, for Saint's sake, he nodded. “She was the girl that set insides on fire and made everything in your body tingle when she walked into the room. I fell head over heels in love with her...but, I never told her that.” He was silent for a few minutes and Rusty said,
“Why?”
“I was an idiot. I was afraid. She was so good, and she made me so happy when we were together, but when I wasn't with her I'd tell myself that I should just leave her alone and she was better off without me. I knew I couldn't ever offer her any kind of future. I would try to picture myself married, with kids...I just couldn't do it. When I tried, I got an image of my old man in my head. I was so afraid that I would turn into him and make her and any kids we had miserable. For a while, she seemed okay with what we had. We had fun together and the sex was...fucking amazing. We saw each other for a few months before she told me one night that she was in love with me and she wanted to talk about having a future with me. I knew it was coming, it always did with other women and at that point I would just walk away with no regrets about how I'd made them feel. I have so much to answer for when I go home...but back to Celia, I wanted all the same things that she did. I wanted her and only her. But, I didn't tell her that. Instead, I made her feel like she was rushing things and she ended up apologizing to me. Man, I felt like some serious shit over that...but I still had her at that point, so I just let things go on the way they were again, I kept telling myself that the next time she brought it up, I'd be able to tell her how I felt. I told myself I had all the time in the world. We were young, there was no need to hurry. Then one day about five months into our relationship, I was on a run for the club and I walked into this gas station in Henderson. There was this man standing in line in front of me and I stood there looking at the back of his head thinking there was something familiar about him. I almost shit myself when he turned around and I saw that it was my old man. He looked right at me and then at my kutte and with this look, like I was nothing he said, ‘Well, I guess you amounted to just about as much as I always thought you would.’ Then he walked out of that station, got in his car and drove away. That was all he had to say to me after ten years...It broke something in me I guess, something that wasn't already broken. I got on my bike and I just kept going...the opposite direction of Vegas. I spent that whole next year on the road, doing jobs for the club out of town. I never talked to her again...I sent her a text and told her to move on with her life, I wasn't coming back.” Rusty winced without even thinking about it and Saint said, “I know, right? If a bigger asshole exists, I've never met him. So, I know it won't mean anything to her now...but I still feel like I need her to know.”
“But you can't mail the letter?”
“I don't know where she is. It was almost six years ago. Garrett went by her old place for me not too long ago, but she doesn't live there any longer and the people who do have no idea where she went. Her family lives in Arizona, but I never met them and didn't even know their names. Her last name is Jackson...guess how many of those are in Arizona?”
“A lot, I'd bet.”
“Yeah, and a lot is a conservative estimate.
I was gonna have someone track her down for me, but at this point by the time the letter got there, I'd be dead. I don't imagine that she still has any feelings for me, but I'd still rather she didn't find out I was dead in a letter. So, I guess I was hoping that you might try to find her for me, if you have the time...and tell her I've gone home, and give her the letter...Maybe it's a crazy idea...
The whole time Saint was talking Rusty knew this was going to be where he was going. He also knew he hated the idea of it. He absolutely did not want to be the one to tell that woman Saint was dead. But he knew too, that he wasn't going to tell Saint no. He might be right that it's a crazy idea but if that's the only thing Rusty could do for him to put his mind at ease before he passed away...then he was going to do it. He had plenty of money. He could use some of it to hire a PI to track her down if he had to. He owed Saint that much at least.
“Sure,” he said. “I can do that.”
Saint was still catching his breath after all of that talking. After a lot of gulping air and another coughing fit he said, “Thank you, Rusty. I can't tell you how much this means to me. She might not even read it...or you might not even find her...but I know I'll rest easier, just knowing we tried.” It seemed like it was getting harder for Saint to hold his eyes open, and before he stopped talking, his voice had become raspy. Each word he spoke sounded like he had to put a considerable amount of effort into it and the light he had in his eyes when Rusty first met him was all but gone.
Rusty felt like he was choking on the lump in his own throat as he said, “I'll find her and make sure she gets it...don't worry.” Saint smiled at him and before he let his eyes closed he said,
“Will you take the cross too? After I die? Give it to her for me...please.”
Rusty couldn't speak for the swelling in his throat, but he nodded, and Saint finally let his eyes close. In a few seconds it was apparent by the steady rise and fall of his chest that he had gone back to sleep. Rusty sat there in that chair for hours, sending both Kay and Blue away when they came back in. He wasn't ready to leave his friend and never see him alive again...he wasn't sure he was ever going to be ready.
10
The May sun shone down brilliantly on the white casket. It sat there, ready to be lowered into the ground, filled with the body of a man that Rusty had come to admire, and even love. In a short time, Saint had taught him so much. He'd helped him learn how to love himself again. He'd reminded him that no matter what he'd done in his lifetime, that God still loved him. He'd urged him to make amends with his family, he'd talked to him about life, and love and family...Rusty had grown to love him like a best friend...and now, he was gone. The shell of what was left of him was in a box that was going to be lowered into the ground and it made it hard for Rusty to breathe just thinking about it.
He'd stood there with over a hundred bikers, from two different clubs and he realized as he looked around at them all, that not a single one of them was ashamed to shed a tear for Saint. He'd made an impression on all of them, those that had known him for years and those who were recent friends and acquaintances. He was like some twisted, foul-mouthed angel that had touched down on earth long enough just to make life a bit more bearable for those that needed him. Now the brilliant sun and the iridescent colors of the grass and trees and flowers in the cemetery were conspiring to convince Rusty that life would go on without his new friend and he didn't know whether to be happy about that or pissed.
“You doing okay?” Shelly had left him alone after the funeral was over, so he could have a few minutes to say whatever it was he needed to say to his friend. But, he'd been standing there for close to an hour now...he had no idea what to say. What he wanted was for the sun to stop shining for just a minute. He wanted the world to go dark and the birds to stop singing and life to just not fucking go on...just for a minute, in honor of his friend.
“Yeah,” he said. “I'm sorry.”
She slipped her arm through his and lay her head against his shoulder. “Don't be sorry. I know what he meant to you. If you need more time with him...”
More time was exactly what Rusty needed. But not with this box and the empty shell of his friend inside. He wanted more time with Saint, and he was pissed that he wasn't going to get it. “No, it's okay,” he told her. “I am supposed to meet with Hunter before he takes off this afternoon. We better get back.” They were having a wake at the clubhouse and Rusty was not looking forward to it. He knew the guys would all be shitfaced, because that's how most of them dealt with horrible things they didn't want to face. And the truth was, it pissed him off that they could get shitfaced today and forget their problems and forget about how much it hurt to lose their friend...and he couldn't. It pissed him off that despite everything Saint had done to help him get sober that what he wanted more than anything right then, was a drink.
“Hunter's going to look for the woman?” Shelly asked. That last day Rusty had seen his friend alive, Saint gave him the letter for Celia. Garrett made it back that evening and Rusty had left him alone with Saint. The next morning, he got the call that Saint had passed away during the night. Shelly had been with him and she had been so sweet. She held him while he cried and even rocked him like he was a baby, not saying a word, just letting him get it all out.
They'd gone out to the ranch that day and Rusty got to spend a little time with Garrett. He was a huge, quiet man, but it was easy to see he had loved Saint and Rusty didn't have to know much more about him than that to know he liked him. But during some of their long talks Saint had told Rusty what Garrett had done for him, a lonely, messed-up little boy that had no one else in the world, so he'd already had a lot of respect for him. Rusty also met Hunter, the guy with the funny hat that was sitting with Dax and Handsome that day. Hunter is a bounty hunter who does side work for the club. When he heard about Celia and the letter, he volunteered to help track her down. That had all been exactly a week ago, and this morning before they sent Saint “home” as he had called it, Hunter sent Rusty a text message. He'd found Celia.
“He found her,” he told Shelly. “He has an address for me in Nevada. She lives in Primm and works at a casino out on the state line, in the business office or something.”
“Oh wow, that was fast.” Rusty let go of Shelly's arm and walked over to the coffin. He believed strongly that Saint wasn't still there...but still...he put his hand on it and said,
“I'll see you when it's time for me to go home, buddy. In the meantime, try not to teach all those real saints up there how to use the word fuck in every sentence.” He smiled and took one last deep breath before turning back toward Shelly. “Yeah, it was fast,” he said, taking her arm and leading her toward where he'd left his bike. They'd had quite a procession of them on the way out to the cemetery. Saint would have loved it. “If this is a good lead, I'm going to fly out to Vegas tonight.”
She nodded, and he felt her arm grip him tighter. He felt bad sometimes because he knew she was developing feelings for him. It wasn't that he didn't have any for her, he did. But, things had just been so chaotic since they met, and his sponsor told him repeatedly that he was too newly sober to get into any kind of long-term relationship. He'd been honest with her about that and she'd assured him that casual was okay with her for now. But he could tell that she was hoping for more...he just wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to give it to her.
When they got back to the ranch, the wake...or “party” was in full-swing and most of the guys were already about half-drunk. Rusty saw Hunter near the pool tables in the back and he was about to head over when Shelly said,
“Hey Rusty.” He turned toward her, and she motioned her head toward the kitchen door behind the bar. One of the prospects bringing out the food had left the door propped open, but Rusty didn't understand what Shelly wanted him to look at.
“What?”
“Under the sink.” The kitchen had two big industrial kitchen type sinks that sat side by side next to the big dishwasher. Black curtains hung under both of the
m to cover where the cleaners and soap, things like that went. Sticking out underneath one of them, just barely visible, was the tip of a tennis shoe.
“Blue?”
Shelly nodded. “I think so. That looks like the shoes she was wearing.”
“Shit.” Rusty left Shelly where she was standing and went into the kitchen. He waited until the prospects finished carrying out the rest of the food and he pushed the door closed. As he approached the sink he saw the foot slowly being pulled back underneath the curtain. He reached down and parted them open and there was little Blue, shoved as far back against the wall as she could get. One of her hands was behind her back but she pulled it out when she saw Rusty look toward it. “You okay?”
“I'm fine.”
“You always sit under the sink?”
“You always make everything your business?”
That surprised him. Blue was a lot of things, but even with Isaac and the boys that she called “jerks” she was never snarky or rude. “I thought we were friends. My friends are my business.”
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I just want to be alone, okay? There's no fucking place on this ranch to be alone.”
Rusty started to get onto her about her language, but he caught himself. This wasn't the time. He wished the hell he knew more about kids. He had no idea what to say to her. But, his heart hurt for her and he couldn't just leave her there alone. “How about if I just sit with you? I won't say a word.”
“I'd rather you didn't.”
Rusty bent down slightly so he could see her face. He was actually planning on giving her the space she seemed to need, but his nose picked up the scent of alcohol. He could smell even a drop of whiskey, it was his alcoholic superpower. Instead of walking away, he sat down in the floor, Indian style, facing her.
“Seriously?” she said, rolling her eyes.
