Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  “Barba-pooing.”

  Buck laughed at the childish speech impediment, heading for the deck. He set Libby down on the boards, but she was pulling on his jeans pestering him to carry her around again. He went with the “ignore little people” tactic for a bit, taking Gertie by her hand and pulling her into his side.

  “Hey, Jayce. Meet Gertie.”

  They had seen each other, but never been introduced. Jayce nodded and put aside the burger-flipper, holding out his hand. “Pleasure, Gertie.”

  Buck watched his girl shake his Prez’s hand, smiling wider. This was a big deal, bringing her here, and he still wasn’t freaking out about it. He was excited.

  “Nice to meet you. Umm … do I call you Jayce?”

  The Prez chuckled, making eye contact with Buck. “Absolutely. None of these fuckers will call me Your Highness anymore no matter how much I ask them to.”

  “Jayce, language,” came an exasperated warning. Trinny McClune was walking through the sliding glass doors with a large empty platter. Buck felt Gertie’s posture straighten. She was honestly worried about meeting Trinny. He supposed that was his fault.

  “Sorry,” Jayce muttered, turning back to the burgers.

  “Um, Trinny. I’d like you to meet Gertie. Gertie, this is Jayce’s wife Trinny.”

  Gertie stuck her hand out first, which Trinny might have found amusing but she didn’t let on. She shook Gertie’s hand with a friendly smile in return. “So nice to meet you, Gertie. We’ve been wondering when David would bring you by.”

  Gertie’s smile came to him. “I don’t think I knew your name was David.”

  That was a surprising statement, and even Trinny sent him a look like he was an idiot. “Really?”

  “Why do they call you Buck?” she asked, honestly confused.

  “Last name is Buckingham,” Buck answered, still surprised she didn’t know his real name. Or, names. “I really never told you this?”

  Gertie shook her head. “Oh my God, I’m a slut. I don’t know your last name. That makes me a slut.”

  Buck barked out a laugh, and so did Trinny and Jayce, until a forgotten voice chimed in. “Mommy, what’s a slut?”

  Gertie’s face went white, which made Buck cut up. Trinny dropped the laugh, patted her daughter’s head and said, all no big deal, “Never mind, Libby.”

  “But what’s a slut?”

  “You guys hungry?” Jayce cut over his daughter, and Buck was trying not to laugh. They’d gone through this the first time Libby dropped an F-bomb. The whole don’t react, don’t act like it’s funny was in effect then, too. And apparently Gertie knew the drill as well.

  “Starving,” Gertie answered, her face going a bit red. She likely thought she was in trouble. “It smells amazing. Libby, you like hamburgers too?”

  “I want a hot dog,” was Libby’s answer, luckily over the whole slut word now.

  “This should be ready in a bit,” Jayce told them. “Go ahead, introduce your girl to the guys. Nice to meet you, Gertie.”

  “Nice to meet you, and you too Trinny.”

  He led her back to the lawn, arm around her waist. “You okay?” he asked her, smiling.

  “I taught that little girl the word slut,” Gertie answered, covering her face. “Oh my God. I’m an idiot. “

  Buck was chuckling, dropping a kiss on her temple. “Don’t worry. Kids around here will pick up all kinds of shit. She was using the F-word the other day.”

  Gertie shook her head. “I just met that woman and I’m teaching her daughter words like that.”

  “It’s no big deal, really. Here, let’s meet the rest of the guys. You’ll realize right away that you’re still on good standing, I promise.”

  Tank and Knuckles were on lawn chairs next to a modest campfire, transferring their beers to their left hands and standing to shake hands with Gertie. Tank recognized her from The Dog’s Breakfast and asked her how her “little blonde friend” was doing. Knuckles she knew, under strange circumstances, but he was a charming prick and soon he had her laughing like he’d never pushed up on her during a Friday night party.

  Asshole.

  Mickey brought Jolene over while they stood there, and while Trinny seemed to accept Gertie just fine Jolene and Gertie might have instantly become best friends. They were wearing the same brand of shoes. Honestly, who else but women noticed the name on the shoes they were buying?

  Tiny was the next one to meet her officially by name, shaking her hand and giving a head nod even though they’d seen each other before. Even Buck noticed the way the prick was checking out her rack. He gave a warning look, making Tiny laugh and back away before he got his nose broken.

  Spaz was well-behaved, but that wasn’t a surprise. Ditto from the prospects. The regular members – Richey, Red and Fritter – were playing catch with Jayce Junior, sort of. The game stopped so Gertie could meet them, too. And Jayce Junior was turning on the charm immediately, telling Gertie her hair was “pretty.”

  Smooth little shit.

  When the food was declared “ready,” his brothers headed for the deck like it was a feeding trough. Buck held Gertie back for a moment, taking both her hands in his. “How you doing?” he asked, quietly. He needed to know where she was at after meeting the club, friendly like this. Like family. It was important to him.

  She nodded, squeezing his hands in return. “I like them.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. They’re a little less scary like this.”

  Buck grinned, turning her towards the food. “Good. Because they like you.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  -NOW-

  It was a red-letter day. Gertie was on her feet and had crossed the room without breaking a sweat or crying from agony. She pulled Buck’s dorm room door open, getting her first gust of fresh air in days. The windows didn’t open in these rooms. The actual outdoors, even if it was just a parking lot, smelled wonderful. She almost slumped in relief then realized her arm wouldn’t appreciate that too much. So she stepped onto the walkway, seeing the plastic patio chair that was set out under the room window.

  She sat with a sigh, breathing deep. Out on the lot she could easily recognize Tank. He was the size of his namesake, almost husky but not quite. He was just a big dude. Six and a half feet tall, the tallest of all the Rebels. His shoulders were as wide as some small European cars. His voice was smooth and low, and he was, as she suspected when she first met him, one of those large teddy bear type guys. She’d never seen him wear anything but cowboy boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt under his kutte no matter what the weather. From time to time he’d also sported a cowboy hat.

  He was working on a bike, a young man helping him. Gertie struggled to remember what his name was. He always wore a black beanie, and she wondered how he wasn’t dying in the heat. Spaz, she recalled. The tech geek. He saved her phone once when the software update went haywire on her. Nice kid, quiet. Likely not as young as he actually looked.

  Gertie’s eyes slid closed and she leaned her head back to rest on the window ledge behind her. It felt better to not be propped up in bed. She liked walking around but the pain of movement made it exhausting. She was stuck up here on the second level, but now she had the strength to get herself this far anyway.

  The last couple days had also given her time to think. She’d come a long way since hitting her absolute worst point, and she climbed back up on her own. She was proud of that. She liked making her own living at a brand new job, her cramped little apartment with its weird mismatch of wall colors. The oddball neighbors. She was on her own, sometimes not sure where the next rent payment was coming from and scrambling to make it work. And her co-workers weren’t assholes, either. That was a wonderful change.

  Shit, her work. Her eyes came open and she sat up faster than she would have chosen if she had a bit more foresight. As she caught her breath and waited for the pain to ebb away, she wondered if anyone had phoned in for her. Would Buck know to call Brady, tell him what was up
with her?

  Well shit, she should find a phone and check in. She’d been missing for over a week. Gertie grit her teeth and braced her good hand on an arm before pushing upward, pulling in her air sharply. Jesus, her ribs were going to kill her.

  She was toddling to the door when a body ascended to the walkway, turning to head towards her. Gertie stopped in place, shame returning.

  Jolene Grainger had become a best friend through her association with the club. The woman was tough, funny, and wonderfully caring all at once. Gertie was terrified Jolene hated her now.

  They both stopped to eyeball each other, about ten feet separating them. Gertie wouldn’t be surprised if Jolene came here just to hit her. As the other woman began walking again Gertie tried not to flinch and run away. Not that her running would be effective at all.

  Jolene stopped three strides away, hands in the pockets of her shorts. She seemed reluctant to look Gertie in the eye and that hurt.

  “Jolene,” Gertie began thinly. “I know I did wrong. I am so sorry for that. I can’t imagine what you must think of me -”

  “Shut up,” Jolene said, finally looking her in the eye. Her expression was still unreadable and Gertie’s heart sunk. She’d really been hoping Jolene could forgive her.

  “Sorry,” she repeated as a whisper.

  “You could have gotten everyone killed.” Jolene’s voice was cold, toneless.

  Gertie could only nod.

  “Or thrown in jail.”

  Again, nodding.

  “But you didn’t rat. You were lying, and I know why, and when shit got bad you made shitty choices. I can’t judge you. I don’t know what you were thinking, what was in your head. You’re smart, strong, but sometimes other things fuck all that up.”

  She was right. Gertie fell apart without even having an excuse for it.

  Jolene sighed, looking at her feet again. “But you never actually gave up any information, no matter how bad shit got. I don’t know how bad it was, I don’t want to know unless you want to tell me. But … you’re no rat. So for that, thank you.”

  Gertie was frozen between wanting to believe her and waiting for the reveal that Jolene was kidding and had actually come up here to beat on her.

  Jolene crossed the distance between them, raising her arms and carefully circling Gertie’s shoulders with them. Gertie waited, then wrapped her good arm around Jolene’s back. It was like letting go of a breath you’d been holding for a long time. A relief.

  “I heard what happened. I’m sorry, Gertie. God, I’m so sorry.”

  Gertie shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. They beat the shit out of you.”

  Gertie let her rub her back, eyes closing. “I thought I was going to die.”

  Jolene tightened her squeeze a cautious amount then stepped back. “Well, I brought you something to eat that wasn’t made, cooked and frozen, then tossed in a fryer.”

  Gertie laughed, wiping her eyes. “Sounds like heaven.”

  “Let’s drag that table out here. They told me you were cooped up in this room. We should air you out a little.”

  They did just that. Well, Jolene pulled the table and a dinette chair out. Gertie watched while holding Jolene’s purse and the insulated bag she’d been carrying. They each took a seat on opposite sides of the table and Jolene doled out plastic forks then opened re-sealable containers with beef stew, soda bread, and strawberry shortcake. Gertie’s stomach was rolling, and she was starving even though they’d been feeding her as much shit food as she wanted. She hadn’t wanted it very much, so she didn’t eat a lot.

  One container with stew was pushed towards her and Gertie dug in immediately. Jolene pulled out a beer for herself, and Gertie watched her open it. It had been a while since she’d heard a beer bottle freshly opened.

  She had to get used to people drinking around her. That was a part of life, and she couldn’t expect people to change just because she had a problem. She kept her eyes and thoughts on the stew, which was really good, and barely noticed as Jolene put a bottle on the table in front of her as well. Before Gertie could sort through the ways to say no thanks she looked up, realized it was a bottle of lemonade, and smiled at Jolene in thanks. She’d even opened it.

  Gertie took a sip, made a dramatic sigh of refreshment and set it down. “All I’ve had to drink is water for the past week,” she shared. “It’s nice to have something with some flavor.”

  There was another pause while they ate, then Jolene broke the silence. “I’m glad you’re back, however back you might be.”

  Gertie looked up to study her lunch mate. Jolene was a couple years older, but she didn’t look it. Gertie had always assumed she was only about 26, 28 tops, but Jolene and Mickey had celebrated their fifteenth wedding anniversary before all the bad shit went down. They’d gotten engaged at 18, married at 20. No kids, and Gertie got the impression it wasn’t possible for them to have any, which was too bad. Mickey was amazing with Jayce’s two little ones from what Gertie could tell, and Jolene was the type of woman who liked to be holding one of them when they’d fall asleep at night during evening visits.

  “Are …” Gertie tried to say it the right way. “Are Jayce and Trinny ..?” She couldn’t find a good way to say it, so it trailed off in a weird way.

  Jolene shook her head, knowing what she meant anyway. “No,” was the answer. “It’s not good. It hasn’t been good for a while.”

  Gertie’s heart sunk a bit further. She’d liked Trinny a lot too. The three of them had really felt like long-time friends. But that was all fucked up too, and Gertie had a larger share of the blame for it.

  They continued with their stew, stopping to exchange a bit of small talk back and forth, and it was almost like it used to be.

  Almost.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  -NINE MONTHS AGO-

  The processing of pot was easy to understand. Even without knowing the finer points of hydroponics the basic idea wasn’t difficult. But Oxy was a whole different ballpark, of course. It was all man-made and derived. Spaz explained to the club how the Thebaine in Oxy was synthesized, but it was like meth to Buck. Actually, Spaz had a point when he suggested that whoever is supplying Thebaine to the orange-Oxy makers had probably started with ice. It was technical, required advanced chemistry knowledge and an assload of laboratory equipment.

  On the street the orange Oxy was becoming known as Sunshine. Sheriff Downey had just been called to the high school the day before because someone had been caught with it during a locker search. The local Sheriff’s department was investigating, but with her local knowledge Sheriff Downey had reached out to Jayce as well.

  Because none of the Rebels had any advanced chemistry knowledge, not even Spaz, they would have no idea what they were looking for as far as hunting down the source. So they needed former club-rat Jessica, the one with the crush on Jayce.

  Jayce had no place calling foul on the attention she gave him, either. Before Trinny he was hitting that regular so he’d earned Jessica’s attentions. That was before though. Because right now Jessica was no hot-to-trot blonde bombshell.

  She was horribly easy to lure into their van once they found her in Bakersfield, too. Buck knew they weren’t going to hurt her, wouldn’t have gone along if they were. But it still turned his stomach that all Tank had to do was roll down his window, call her name, and tell her that Jayce really wanted to see her.

  She came without question, crawling into the back of a dark-windowed van without knowing who else was in the van with Buck and Tank. It was just the two of them but ... Jesus.

  They gave her a joint for the ride, since that was all they had. But the first thing Jessica had asked them for was Sunshine. What Buck really wanted to give her was a glass of milk and a fucking sandwich. She was rail-thin; her plunging neckline showed off her ribcage. She was gaunt like her face was trying to digest her skin, starting around her mouth. She was happy and chatty for the drive back to Ma
rkham, and when they pulled up to the clubhouse she jumped out, happy as all get-out, fluffing at her sad, stringy hair, ready to see Jayce.

  Tank showed her to the warehouse, and that’s when she started freaking out.

  She’d been around the Rebels just long enough to know that the warehouse wasn’t where guests were shown to. To reduce the chance of her hurting herself and making enough noise for the neighbors to take note, Tank picked her up, swung her onto his shoulder and carried her inside.

  Jayce wasn’t there for the interview, he refused to be. Couldn’t stand seeing Jessica. There was a weird story there, some shit that went down after he was with Trinny for a while, and Jessica let her crazy out on his woman which was just not accepted. So it would be Tank, Knuckles and Buck talking to her. Knuckles would have to be the one to mellow her out, he was the best with women. On some level maybe she’d remember him from her sweetbutt days.

  “Come on, baby,” he said, exhaling a toke from his joint then handing her the rest. “Don’t get wild, you might hurt yourself. We just wanna talk, Jessica.”

  Her eyes were on that joint, but she was breathing hard and she couldn’t stop her gaze from also darting around as though looking for an escape.

  “Hey,” he cooed again, hand out for her to take. “Come on, beautiful. You think I want to hurt you? Never, cross my heart.”

  Jessica chewed her chapped lip, eyes going from him to the joint. Eventually she took it and finished off his joint as well.

  Tank pulled out a chair for her, and like a sullen teenager she sulked towards it and sat at the metal table that was not usually here when the club had someone they needed information from. Tank stood on the other side, arms crossed. Jessica looked at the tabletop, not any of them.

  “So, Jessica. You’re acquainted with Sunshine, are you?”

  She shrugged one shoulder.

  “You know who’s making it?”

  She flicked ash on the ground, but Buck noticed how her hand was trembling. She knew, and now she was nervous to say anything.