by Lexy Timms
“Aren’t you going to be here for Sunday dinner?” Emily’s mother suddenly came back to life.
“Of course.” He winked. “Wouldn’t miss it.” He kissed his mother-in-law-to-be's cheek and slapped Emily’s father’s shoulder on his way out.
“Good night, son,” said Sam Dougherty warmly. He walked Justin to the door.
Seeing how her father was with Justin made Emily’s heart sink. He apparently thought of Justin as a son—the son he always wanted. She was happy for Justin, but at the same time knew that Luke would never measure up to those standards. He hadn’t back in high school and he never would now, even with a successful business and real life. Luke didn’t stand a chance. Maybe they didn’t stand a chance.
With her father out of the room, Emily carried her half empty plate to the kitchen and told her mother she was going to bed early. She faked being exhausted and headed back upstairs.
Emily woke the next day before her parents were up. She checked her phone, just like she had checked it a hundred times the previous night. There was still no message from Luke. She was worried. It had been days and he hadn’t made any effort to contact her. She wanted to know how Helen was doing but didn’t have Gibs’ number, and Luke hadn’t replied to her texts.
She sighed, frustrated already and not even out of bed yet. Her phone beeped, warning her that the charge was low.
Had Luke been arrested that day? What happened? Emily used what precious battery was left on her phone to do a Google search, trying to find a news report or a follow-up, but there wasn’t much information. She found one article on the shooting.
Gang Violence Hits Westfield
Five unidentified victims lost their lives in a shoot-out on the residential street of Carmel Street Friday evening. Police have given no details, citing this incident as an ongoing investigation. Neighbors identified one victim as Francis Gibson, a long-time resident of Westfield. They called him a quiet man who was friendly with his neighbors.
“We never expected anything like this,” said Olson Cooper of Carmel Street. “And certainly not from Frank. Sure, he drove a motorcycle, but he was a motorcycle mechanic so you’d expect that. I feel for his wife. She’s a lovely woman.”
Neighbors also report seeing motorbike riders wearing gang colors, but couldn’t identify which one.
According to neighbors’ reports, the scene was cleared before midnight after many police officers cordoned off and investigated the scene.
Using Gibs’ full name, Emily did another Internet search and found his obituary, which led to a memorial page put up by the funeral home. Tears ran down her face as she read the poignant remembrances of a man well-loved by those who knew him.
Emily read them all but didn’t find one from Luke. It worried her. If anything, Luke would put up a memorial to his employee and friend, right? Unless he wasn’t able to because he was in jail or been dragged away somewhere. She went to send him another text and her phone battery died just as she started typing.
The visiting hours for Gibs were this evening and Emily resolved to go.
But first she needed to get out of this house.
She heard her mother stirring in the hallway and then the close of the bathroom door. Shortly after, her mother descended the stairs, the creak of the old steps marking her passage.
Emily rose from her bed and began pacing. She needed to go home and change. She had no dress clothes or anything appropriate to wear here at her parents’ house.
The doorbell rang, and Emily flew to the window to see who it was.
Her heart sped when she spotted a motorcycle in the street. Squinting, she realized it wasn’t Luke’s and the crush of disappointment made her want to cry.
Forcing the silly tears away, she hurried down the stairs, realizing it was Saks’ bike. Speak of the devil. “I’ll get it, Mom,” she called out quickly.
Emily was at the door before her mother could travel the length from the kitchen to the living room.
“Saks!” She hugged the big lug tightly, so incredibly happy to see him.
“Hey, Emily!” Saks chuckled and unwrapped her arms from around his neck. “I brought your overnight bag.” He handed it to her.
“You’re a life saver.” The timing couldn’t be more perfect. “Have you—”
“Emily, who is it?”
Emily rolled her eyes at Saks, feeling like she was fifteen all over again. “It’s for me, Mom,” she called to the living room.
Saks' eyebrows went up. “What are you doing here?”
She waved her hand. “Long story. How’d you know I was here? Never mind.” She didn’t honestly care, she was just happy to see him. “Have you heard from Luke? I hope he’s okay.”
Saks looked perplexed. “Luke’s fine, Emily.”
“He is?” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. “I hadn’t heard from him at all. I’ve tried to mess…” She knew she sounded lame. “My phone’s dead. I need to recharge it.” She knew she was babbling, but the sudden nervous butterflies in her stomach threw her off.
“Things are a mess since… since Gibs’… you know.” Saks was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “There’s a note from Luke in the bag.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around. “Catholic, ‘eh?” He sighed and blinked suddenly before clearing his throat. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’m sorry, Emily.”
“It’s okay,” she started to say, but Saks spun and stepped quickly out of the house.
“Later, Emily.”
“Sure, Saks. Thanks,” she told his quickly retreating figure. She had a good feeling he hadn’t even heard her. He looked like he was in a rush to get back on his bike.
Saks drove off without even a wave or acknowledgement. Emily hurried back inside and shut the door.
“Who was that, Em?”
Flippin’ eh? Did her mother have to eavesdrop on everything? Wiping a tear she didn’t even know had fallen from her cheek with the back of her hand, she said, “Just a friend returning something.” She pulled the bag she’d packed last Friday over her shoulder.
“All right. I could have sworn I heard a man’s voice.”
You did, Mom. She bit her lip to stop the reply from sneaking out.
“So what do you want for breakfast tomorrow morning? Scrambled? If you want eggs I have to go and get some. Or ask your father.”
Trust her mom to think of food when Emily felt like her whole life was falling apart. “Whatever’s fine. Whatever’s easiest for you.” She turned to head up the stairs.
Her mom came around from the living room and leaned against the frame. She studied Emily as if trying to read her. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” Emily nodded. “I’ll get dressed” She hurried up the stairs, not waiting for her mother to reply. Back in her room she unzipped the bag with shaking hands. She desperately wanted Luke’s note.
She drew out the plain envelope with her name written on it in Luke’s plain block lettering. It took her a moment before she opened it, suddenly unsure if she actually wanted to read what he had to say.
Finally, she broke and unsealed the glued edge with her fingernail. Her stomach grew strangely queasy. Somehow she knew the letter would ruin everything.
She hesitated on the first word Luke had scribbled down. Emily.
Something was wrong. Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want to read the letter. If she put it away and pretended she never saw it, would it allow things to stay the same? A loud sigh slipped from her mouth. Everything had changed.
Emily,
These are tough words because I never meant to hurt you. You saw some awful things about me, things I never meant for you to see. But the fact remains that I’m no good for you. A good woman like you deserves better, much, much better.
I know how you’d like to argue with me, and tell me I’m not the kind of man you saw last Friday, but it wouldn’t be true. It would just be the illusion I wanted you to see, that I’m a good person.
Emily, you deserve more than to be saddled with a criminal, and that’s what I am. Men like me end up dead, like Gibs. I have no illusions about that. You don’t deserve to cry over my grave like Helen is for Gibs.
Don’t try to call me again. I won’t take your call. Don’t try to see me again. I won’t talk to you.
Save yourself from heartache and forget about me. Find yourself a man that’s worthy of you. We shared some great moments together, but that’s all it was.
Goodbye,
Luke
Emily blinked as tears rolled down her cheeks, blurring the words she stared at. The letter was so cold, so deliberately cruel. How could he do this? How could he underestimate their relationship just like her parents did? Did he think she’d turn tail and run when things got unpleasant or a little rough?
Maybe she deserved that. That’s exactly what she did when her parents pressured her in high school. She dropped him and ran off to California. Maybe this was payback. He’d played her all along, stringing her into liking him and everything.
She clenched her jaw. Screw him! No, wait! Fuck him!
Well, she was done running. Maybe it took a while for it to sink into her thick Irish head, but she loved Luke and she knew to her deepest core that he loved her. And if Luke Wade thought she was that easy to get rid of, he had another thing coming.
CHAPTER FIVE
Calling Hours (Luke)
Luke stepped out of his SUV dressed in a new suit he bought for Gibs’ funeral. He’d never owned a suit before and thought it was an incredibly bad omen that the first one he bought was for one of the saddest events in his life. Would he be wearing it again, for his own funeral?
In the movies, it rains on funerals, the dark atmosphere complementing the sadness of the scene. But on this day, it was a bright and sunny spring day, neither too hot nor too cold. A New England rarity. Days like this happened maybe seven days out of the entire year.
The sky seemed to be mocking Luke’s sadness.
He came early because Helen asked him to.
Saks and Pepper would be close behind. He made sure they checked the shop and headed over. One of the funeral staff opened the double doors to let him in, and he saw the placard with Gibs’ name on a table to the left, just before a wide entrance to the viewing room.
He was assaulted by the smell of flowers. The sweet, spicy, peppery scent of carnations dueled with the stronger, almost sickly sweet smell of lilies. He sucked in a long breath and held it as he stepped inside the room. He walked past the photo board, not sure he could take looking at it. What was ahead was worse. Gibs laid out in his coffin in the repose of death, the many flowers sent by family and friends framing the coffin.
Luke walked straight to Helen and her sister and gave them each a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Helen pressed her hand against his. “Thank you for coming,” she said, totally ignoring his admission of guilt. He had told her he was sorry before, but she refused to accept that Luke was the cause of her husband’s death.
“Frank thought the world of you, you know. If we had a son, he’d want him to be like you.”
Luke patted her back, struggling to hold back the riot of emotions that threatened to break him. In the back of his mind, he had thought of Gibs as the father he never really had. Their employer-employee relationship stifled most of that, but out of all the other men who worked for Luke, it was Gibs who he relied on. Always.
Helen took Luke’s hand and walked with him to the casket. She knelt, and touched Gibs’ arm, stroking it.
Luke swallowed hard. It burned his throat and heart to watch the loving touches of this woman for her deceased husband. It was as if she was trying to comfort him even in death.
He stood rigidly behind her, holding his hands in front and then he helped Helen stand when they heard the first people walk into the room.
“Thank you, Luke.” She walked back to the row of Queen Anne chairs set up for the family.
Luke drifted off to the far corner of the room near the front of the funeral home. He leaned against the wall as he watched people come in. Helen greeted some people, and a few sat down in the chairs. Luke didn’t know any of them.
Helen looked around the room and found him, waving Luke over to the group. She made introductions, all from her side of the family. Helen explained that Gibs had one brother, but they had a falling out years ago, so she didn’t expect to see him.
Her story nearly drove him to tears. Over the years, he had wished for a family to call his own, and if he had a brother, he’d never let any argument get between them.
Friends and neighbors of the couple arrived and offered their condolences to Helen and her family. Finally Saks, then Pepper, came. Saks, like Luke, wore a suit, but Pepper just wore a button down and some jeans. They said a few words to Helen and offered condolences to the family. Luke walked over to the photo board and they followed, all gazing at the pictures of Gibs' life.
There were pictures from all parts of his life, from when he was a boy with his parents and brother to current ones at the shop and on rides. Saks pointed to the image of Gibs at a barbecue at his house, and to some photos of Gibs on his bike amid a crowd of other club members. “I remember that,” he said quietly.
As they gazed at the photos Ace, Wolf and Dagger in tow, came through the funeral home. Some other men Luke didn’t recognize, wearing club jackets, came through as well.
“Hey, Spade,” said Kinney, looking up and down at Luke’s suit.
“Ace.” He nodded to Wolf and Dagger.
“These are some brothers from Tucson. Cord, Mex, Joker and Rocker.”
Luke looked over at the men. He didn’t like what he saw. Under their open jackets, they wore their leather cuts, one percent and number thirteen diamonds and various colors of wings flashing as they moved. They were unshaven and grungy. You didn’t come to a funeral underdressed and dirty. You represented the club. Always.
“Helen’s over there,” Luke pointed, keeping his voice in check.
“Yeah, I see. Boys, let’s go pay respects to Gibs’ old lady.”
Luke cringed. Though the term ‘old lady’ was used in many gangs for the wife or permanent girlfriend of a club member. Hades’ Spawn members weren’t that militant. But what he saw when they walked toward her nearly caused him to rush over and start a fight. He looked away for a moment, not sure what to do, and to calm his anger.
“Luke, you see that?” asked Saks incredulously, elbowing Luke.
“He isn’t wasting any time, is he?” Pepper cast an appraising law enforcement eye on the spectacle.
It wasn’t about Ace hitting on Helen. Though Luke wouldn’t have put it past the asshole, it was worse. The men wore their colors on the back of their leather jackets. While the center colors were the same as Luke’s jacket, an elaborate skull sitting on top of a pair of wings, they sported the club name in a top rocker, a patch in the shape of an arch over the picture, and a bottom rocker with the territory of the club scribed inside.
Luke shook his head. He should have been expecting this. Okie had warned him in his letter about the Tucson club. However, it wasn’t just the Tucson club. What made him stare was Aces’ jacket. It wasn’t the one piece patch of their local chapter. Theirs had the name above the colors typical of a social motorbike club with no territory listed. No, Aces’ patch sported a top rocker like the Tucson crew. Adding insult to injury, he had a bottom rocker with the declaration “Connecticut”.
Like most everything else in club life, patches or “colors” were strictly codified. A social club like the Spawn local would have one or sometimes a two-piece patch. Only outlaw gangs like the Rojos wore the three-piece patch.
“Fuck,” muttered Luke under his breath. This would only piss off the Rojos. It was, in effect, a declaration of war by claiming Rojos territory for Hades’ Spawn.
“He really wants to get us killed, doesn’t he?” said Luke, only loud enough for Sak
s and Pepper to hear.
Saks muttered and shook his head. “This shit needs to stop, or I’m out of the club. This is insane.”
Luke agreed in his heart, but as Pepper studied his reaction, he knew he had to play the role he signed on for. “I’m not leadership.” He shrugged.
“Well, maybe you should be. Look, I’m outta here. I’ll be at the Red Bull. Later.”
Luke remembered that Saks had mentioned he was cousins with the owner, Rocco, and his brother John of the Red Bull. Saks probably wanted to warn them of the impending trouble.
He couldn’t blame Saks.
Other members of the club entered, most with their wives or girlfriends. Nearly every one of them wore suits or regular street clothes. The men stared incredulously at Aces and the Tucson crew.
“What’s going on, Spade?” said Spider, otherwise known as Henry Spinner.
“Aces has visitors.”
Spider’s eyes narrowed watching the knot of unkempt men now standing in front of the photo board.
“Those jackets.”
“Yeah,” said Luke.
“Okie should have told us.”
Again, Luke didn’t disagree, but with Pepper watching him, he couldn’t express that sentiment.
“I like the look of those jackets,” said Pepper.
Spider’s face fell before he shot the back of Aces’ jacket a look of disgust. “Yeah,” he said, his lips curling up. “Because being a criminal is so damn cool.”
“Oh, Luke,” a familiar soft voice cried behind him.
Luke closed his eyes briefly before he turned. He did not need this.
Deirdre, his girlfriend from earlier in the year, stood dressed in a black sheath, and for once, black stilettos. She looked beautiful, as always, which is what drew him to her in the first place. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
“Hello, Deirdre. Sweet of you to come.” Even he heard the chill in his voice. The last thing he needed was his ex-girlfriend’s theatrics in the funeral home.
