by Penny Dee
Suddenly, Taylor’s eyes flicked open and she sat up.
“Noah!” She looked at her watch. “I have to pick him up from school.”
I reached for my phone in the breast pocket of my cut. “I’ll organize someone to pick him up from school. He can hang out at the clubhouse.”
“No!” she frowned, struggling with the haziness. “I mean…he’ll freak out.”
“Relax. He’ll be okay.”
“I should call our neighbor Pickles.” She wilted against the bed. “I forgot. He has a doctor’s appointment in Humphrey today. He won’t be home until late. And Mindy has cheer practice…”
I frowned. “Why don’t you want Noah at the clubhouse?”
Taylor’s head rolled to the side so she could look at me. Her eyes were still glazed, but she seemed to be coming down from her high. “Because I’m trying to keep my personal life separate from my professional life.”
“You don’t want Noah hanging around us?”
“Not in the way you’re making it sound.”
“Then tell me because I’m trying to work you out.” My tone was tight.
She struggled to sit up. “Remember when I told you about Slick, the stripper, and how mixing work and my personal life got me less shifts at work?” When I nodded, she continued. “I’m afraid if I bring Noah into the clubhouse…” She struggled through her delirium to find the right words. “If he gets close to you, to the club…what happens if this doesn’t work out? I’m a package deal, Bull. I can’t afford for him to have his heart broken.”
Before I could stop myself, I reached for her face and tenderly brushed my fingertips across her cheek. “No one’s heart is going to get broken.”
She smiled, but it was weak and she didn’t look convinced.
But it was a start.
“Let me get him being picked up from school. Let me do this for you.”
She thought for a moment and then gave in, nodding as she reclined back on the bed. I pulled out my phone and she spoke to the school. When she handed the phone back to me, her glazed eyes lingered on me.
“Thank you for today,” she said with a gentle smile.
She reached for my hand and pressed her sweet lips to my fingers.
And that was the moment I knew I was in trouble.
TAYLOR
Bull drove us back to the clubhouse. The drugs had worn off, but I was still feeling foggy in the head, and when I walked into the clubhouse and saw Noah sitting in a booth with Maverick, signing, I thought I was still high.
I turned to Bull. “Maverick knows how to sign?”
He nodded. “His youngest sister was born deaf.”
I watched from the doorway, my heart hitching in my throat as I watched my brother laughing and signing with Maverick.
Quietly bonding over their shared knowledge of a silent language.
He looks so happy.
From what I could see, they were telling each other jokes, and then laughing so hard their palms were pressed flat to their chests and their eyes were squeezed shut. Warmth poured through me. I hadn’t seen Noah laugh that much in years.
And you tried keeping him away from this, a little voice in my head reminded me.
Bull and I walked over to them, and as soon as Noah saw us, his face lit up and he ran over to me, throwing his arms around my waist. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You look like you’re having fun.”
“Mav picked me up from school and we came back here. Red made me some chili and Randy gave me a Coke. This place is cool. Wait till the other kids at school hear about it.”
I hadn’t seen this much excitement from him since…well, ever.
“Vader said his kids are coming here after school tomorrow. Can I come and hang out, too?” he asked, almost pleading.
I glanced around me, swallowing uncomfortably. I was fighting a losing battle.
It was days like today that made it easy to forget why I was here.
But it was moments like these that weakened my resolve and made me give in.
Perhaps having Noah at the clubhouse would be a good thing for him after all.
“Sure,” I said, lighting fire to my resolve and burning it all down. “Why not.”
And that was how my professional life became complicatedly entwined with my private life.
Soon after my shoulder dislocation, Noah visiting the clubhouse became a regular thing. Some days he’d sit at one of the booths and do his homework by himself while he waited for me to finish my shift.
Other days, Vader’s ex-wife, Roberta, would drop Luke and Shelby off, and they would sit in the booth and talk and play. Luke was the same age as Noah, while Shelby was two years younger, and it wasn’t long before the three of them were as thick as thieves.
Roberta was cool. I met her the first day she dropped her kids off. Some nights she worked the late shift at the hospital and had to leave them there until Vader was ready to take them home.
“I think my ex-husband has a crush on you,” she said with kind, twinkling eyes.
“He has a crush on what I know about Star Wars.”
She smiled warmly. “That’ll do it.”
We looked over at Noah teaching Luke and Shelby how to sign.
“Looks like they’re going to be good friends,” I said, feeling relieved. Noah needed more friends. And this was a very good start.
Roberta put a gentle hand on my shoulder as she was leaving. “Anytime you need me to watch him, you just give me a call, okay?”
An uncharacteristic surge of emotion moved through me and I wanted to hug her. Instead, we shared a smile as I thanked her.
While hanging out at the clubhouse after school, Noah also struck up an unusual friendship with Maverick, and they would often have lengthy conversations that involved a lot of laughter and the occasional signing.
“I hope Maverick isn’t teaching him swear words,” I said to Bull one afternoon as we stood in the bar watching them.
“I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but I think he already knows them,” he replied with a wink.
But as much as he loved Maverick, it was Bull who Noah took to the most. I could see it in the way he looked at him. The way his face lit up whenever Bull walked into the room. How his eyes shone with admiration. Bull was someone he could look up to. A positive male influence. Noah talked to him about motorcycles and cars, and, I suspect, girls. Once a week Bull took him through self-defense training, and sometimes Maverick and Caleb would join in. And when Noah put Tommy Albright on his ass for picking on a fourth grader, despite my reprimands, I’m pretty sure Bull and Noah shared a secretive high five.
They got close. And it was as terrifying as it was heart-warming.
One day I was stopped in my tracks when I walked in and found them sitting in the booth together, both concentrating as Noah taught him how to sign. I was struck by what a contradiction Bull was. There was a dangerousness to him. A darkness. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t the big, growly alpha dog everyone made him out to be.
If I was a betting girl, I’d bet my life there was something gentle shimmering just beneath the tough exterior of tattoos and hard muscle.
And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t drawn to it.
I knew I was getting slightly carried away by letting my private life blend with my work life.
It was dangerous.
People would get hurt if we had to skip town.
But the risk was worth it just to see Noah this happy.
BULL
The morning of Maverick’s bachelor party, I was surprised to see Ronnie waiting in the clubhouse bar for me. “Listen, can you do me a favor? Can you drop in to see Sybil? She’s checked into the hospital, but needs something dropped off to her.”
“Is she okay? Which hospital is she in?”
“Greenwood Psychiatric.”
I looked at my sister, surprised. “Sybil finally lose her marbles?”
Ronnie shook her head, he
r mass of dark curls falling around her face and tumbling down her back.
“Are you kidding? While we’re all losing our minds, she’ll still be as sharp as a tack. No, she had hip surgery, and when she couldn’t get a private suite at the other two hospitals, she somehow managed to talk Greenwood into giving her one. Probably the best place for the crazy old coot.”
My sister and her mother-in-law had always butted heads. Theirs was a love-hate relationship. But I had a feeling that if it came down to it, both would give their life for the other. Thirty years of trying to outdo each other had created a weird, but volatile, bond between them.
“Sure, what do you need me to drop off?”
Ronnie handed me a joint. “This.”
“And Caleb couldn’t do it?”
“He’s the one who gave it to me. You know he’s busy with the crop harvest.”
“And you don’t want to go because…”
“Because she asked for my little brother to drop it off,” she said with a wink, walking away.
Great. I had been summoned by the mighty Sybil Calley.
“You happen to get two of these?” I asked, holding up the joint. “Because I think I’m going to need one afterward.”
My sister smiled wickedly. “What? You afraid of a little old lady?”
“Just this one.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Just as anyone in their right mind should be.”
Greenwood Psychiatric Hospital had once been known in town as an asylum. But now it was an exclusive medical facility renowned for its drug and alcohol rehabilitation programs, as well as its treatment and care for dementia patients.
Sybil was in an exclusive wing where rich celebrities often came to dry out.
Propped up in bed, the original Kings of Mayhem first lady was just as glamorous as always. Bright red hair brushed and set perfectly. Red lipstick. Painted eyes. A glittering caftan of turquoise blue. A vision of color among too many pillows, reading a copy of the Kama Sutra.
Of course.
When she heard me, she looked up from the book and her face lit up.
“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” She gasped, as if she hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing.
She put down her book and held out her arms. As she wriggled her fingers, rings of gold and precious gems glimmered in the artificial light.
I leaned down to give her a hug, and was immediately engulfed in her signature perfume. Chanel No.5. She made sure we all knew the name of it. Every single one of the Kings of Mayhem. Because the way she saw it, if everyone knew what she liked, then they’d buy it for her on her birthday, or Christmas, and she’d never have to fork out for a bottle ever again.
Sybil was cunning.
Mischievous.
And as sharp as the pointy end of a fucking knife.
She took one look at me and started in straight away. “Well, don’t you look happy. Got anything to do with a pretty young thing working at the clubhouse?”
I gave her a wry look. “Boy, the MC grapevine must be working overtime.”
She looked proud. “I have my spies.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
She patted the side of her bed. “It’s time you and I had a talk.”
“I can’t stay long. Just bringing you this.” I held up the joint and Sybil’s eyes lit up.
“Well, don’t just be standing there, son, light her up.”
I lit the joint with the Zippo I kept in my cut. When I handed it to her, Sybil took a big toke, then lay back, satisfied. “Sweet mother of God, that is good.”
I wondered how long it would be before the staff caught a whiff of the sweet scent of weed.
Not that Sybil would care.
She was the original rule breaker.
The wild rebel who walked to the beat of her own drum.
Only now, she could bat her fake eyelashes and blame it on her age.
Sybil rarely saw problems, only opportunities.
“So, tell me about the new girl. She must be special if she’s got you looking as goofy-eyed as a teenage boy on his first date,” she said, taking another toke on the sweet-smelling joint.
“There’s nothing to tell.” I raised an eyebrow. “And just for the record, I’m not fucking goofy-eyed. You’re just stoned.”
“Don’t lie to me, son. I might be one step closer to the bucket, but I haven’t kicked it yet. I see what’s going on.”
“Nothing is going on.”
“Then there’s something terribly wrong if a strapping young man like you isn’t getting any tail.”
“I do okay.”
“Come on, Bull, even I’m getting more than you, and I’m almost eighty years old.”
You never knew what was going to come out of Sybil’s mouth. Ever.
Despite myself, I chuckled. “Thanks, Sybil.”
“Well, it’s true.” Again, she patted the bed next to her. But I opted for the arm of the visitor’s chair. “It’s been a while since you and I have talked.”
Shortly after Wendy’s death, Sybil and I had gotten close. I was a grieving young man, and she was a tough-as-nails first lady. She took me under her wing. Lent me an ear. Gave me a shoulder. Helped me put one foot in front of the other until getting through the day wasn’t agony, and I could sort of start to live again.
She was intimidating as fuck. Then and now.
But she was also capable of great compassion and empathy.
“You know, I’ve watched you struggle with this for years. Now, I’ve never said anything because it wasn’t my place. But now…well, I’m old, and I don’t care much for what I should or shouldn’t do. I could check out for good tomorrow, and as far as I see it, that gives me a free pass to say whatever I damn well want.”
“Okay, let’s hear it, then,” I said, humoring her.
“You have to get over it, Bull. It wasn’t your fault.”
When she didn’t say anything else, I gave her a wry look. “That’s it?”
“That’s the short version, yes.”
“Okay,” I said, bracing myself for the longer version.
“I know what it’s like to lose a great love. But life is for the living, Bull.”
Just then, a familiar song floated down from the speaker in the ceiling, catching my attention. “Blue Bayou.” Wendy’s favorite song. But I pushed the sting away, which was easier to do these days. The moment the cold trickle of guilt or grief entered my veins, a flood of warmth was close behind it, surging forward to overpower it.
Things were changing.
I was changing.
Even if I didn’t want to admit it.
“My point is, life is a gift. And a life with someone special is a precious gift. Don’t waste any more time living it alone.”
I appreciated what she was saying.
But it was pre-emptive. Nothing was happening. And nothing was going to happen.
I had my rules, and they were non-negotiable.
If anything happened with Taylor, then it would be purely physical.
“Duly noted,” I said, leaning forward and pressing a goodbye kiss to her forehead.
After I left Sybil’s room, I noticed an elderly lady sitting on a chair farther down the hall.
She was humming “Blue Bayou.”
Obviously remnants from what had been playing on the overhead speakers still in her mind.
I gave her a polite nod, but as I walked past her, she reached out and grabbed my hands with her bony fingers. “It’s a lovely song, don’t you think? She sings it all the time, you know.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Who?”
The old lady’s watery eyes grew very round. “The lady in the floppy yellow hat.”
I pulled my hands away as if she had burned me. “What did you say?”
“She’s got a message for you.”
I started to back away from her.
“She said that it’s okay.”
I kept walking backward until my ass hit the door. �
��I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She smiled dreamily, lost in whatever delirium she was having. “She said that it’s about time.” She giggled. “She’s laughing, you know, saying she doesn’t know why it took you so long.”
Frowning, I pushed through the doors and crashed into the afternoon sunlight, feeling uncharacteristically shaken.
By an old lady.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
It was the mention of the floppy yellow hat that did it. Wendy was damn obsessed with her sunhat and wore it whenever she had the chance. I could still see her gripping onto the edges of it as she twirled around in the sunshine, laughing and smiling like she never had a care in the world.
Oddly, the memory didn’t bring the searing pain it would have a few weeks ago.
I frowned as I walked to my bike, trying to work out what that meant. Come to think of it, I hadn’t felt the agonizing pain of loss for some time.
For weeks now, things had been changing.
I didn’t wake up aching.
I didn’t feel that hollowness in my chest.
Somewhere inside me, buried deep beneath years of grieving, a light had begun to shine, and the heaviness had started to lift.
I climbed onto my bike but took a moment, feeling fucking rattled.
She said it’s okay.
That it’s about time.
Is that really what the old lady had said?
And had she really been humming “Blue Bayou,” or was I one more sleepless night away from losing my goddamn mind?
Deciding my lack of sleep was fucking with me, I pushed the incident to the back of my mind where I buried all the other shit I couldn’t afford to think about. And during the ride back to the clubhouse, I refocused. When I pulled into the compound, I was surprised to see Taylor’s car wasn’t in its usual parking space.
I found Randy at the bar. “Where’s Taylor?”
“She called in sick. Said some old dude died, and they had to wait for the medical examiner.”
“Died?” She must mean her neighbor. The one Noah was close to. Fuck.
I was out the door and on my bike within a minute. When I pulled up to Taylor’s apartment complex, the medical examiner was removing a body from the apartment across from hers.
