by Trent Jordan
Just two more months here, Jess.
Just two more months working in Ashton and you’ll have enough money to go wherever you want.
Oregon. Washington. Fuck, maybe Canada or Mexico.
Just away from this place. Away from whatever I have left. Away from the madness and insanity.
And hopefully toward something more stable and far less dangerous.
When I pulled up to Tom’s Billiards, there was only one other car there—Tom himself, who sometimes opened the bar for the earlier customers. I had to remind myself frequently that the sound of a motorcycle engine or the sight of a bike parked outside of this particular bar was not a threat.
I got out of my car slowly—another welcome change compared to Brewskis, when I had to hurry to the safety of the other side of the bar—and stepped inside to see Tom watching a baseball game by himself.
“Ah, Jess!” he said. “You earned glowing reviews from your work on Sunday.”
“Why, thank you,” I said. “I didn’t think I did anything special.”
“And that’s precisely why you’re special and a valuable addition,” he said. “You think you’re not doing anything, and you’re still one of the most loved bartenders here. If that’s not the sign of a good hire, I don’t know what is.”
I gushed as I put my purse underneath the bar in a corner where no one could have even seen it, let alone tried to swipe it.
“We expecting anyone tonight?”
Tom shrugged.
“No more than usual,” Tom said. “So maybe a couple people here and there. I spoke to Cole; he said he would send people over whenever. But I don’t think there’s a group or a big party tonight.”
“Good enough...”
My voice trailed off when our first customer for the night entered.
It was Phoenix.
“Hi, Phoenix,” I said with a smile that was a little controlled due to the presence of Tom.
“Phoenix, eh?” Tom said with an old man laugh that indicated he had no idea how out of place he looked in comparison to the young, muscular man. “My name is Tom. But my last name is not Billiards.”
He laughed at his own joke as Phoenix shook his hand.
“Tom, thanks,” Phoenix said.
“I was just heading out of here, but I’m always happy to make conversation with a local.”
I tried my best not to show how annoyed I would have been by that. Fortunately, I must have let something slip, because Phoenix looked at me in a way that suggested he knew how I felt.
“Much as I appreciate that offer, Tom, I am just looking for a quiet place to have a drink and relax,” he said. “I would love to get to know you at some other point, but for tonight, I would just like to be able to have my drink in peace.”
“Fully understood. I suppose that’s better than having a drink in war.”
I don’t think Tom understood why neither of us found that as funny as he did.
“In any case, you two kids enjoy your night. Jess, contact me if you need anything.”
We both silently waited for Tom to leave. We both waited until we heard the sound of his car revving to life. Only then did Phoenix’s expression change from detached silence to bemusement.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with such blatant dad jokes.”
“He must not have had a lot of customers before I got here, he was pretty chatty,” I said.
“No kidding,” Phoenix said.
“What can I get ya?” I asked.
Phoenix recoiled in exaggerated fashion.
“What, no hello? No how are you? Geez, business lady, huh?”
“Haha, OK, fine,” I said in a playful voice. “How. Are. You. Phoenix?”
“See, there you go,” he said, but his voice sunk right after. “I’m good.”
A six-year-old could have seen that him saying it that way was hiding something. I think my stare and my arched eyebrow said as much.
“OK, maybe not so much,” he said. “The club meeting today wasn’t the most enjoyable thing in the world.”
“No?” I said. “You wanna talk about it?”
Phoenix immediately shook his head.
“Well… I’ll just say that there’s some small possibility of my past catching up with me,” he said.
“Oh, that’s always fun.”
“Well, catching up is the wrong word, because it’s not really my past so much as it is just people from my past. But, regardless, let’s not worry about that. I’ll take a Blue Moon and a chance to talk about how happy I am that I don’t spend most of my time in Springsville.”
“Now that’s something I can toast to,” I said as I reached down to the beer fridge for a Blue Moon. “I can’t do it with alcohol; old Tom—”
“Would be mad if you took one, sure,” he said. “But what if I paid for your drink?”
Oh, that was a dangerous game. Bartenders were supposed to be the most sober people in the bar. If Tom came back and saw I’d had a drink, I didn’t think I’d get fired, but this early into working for him, I didn’t think that that was a good impression.
“I think I’d have no choice but to accept you on your offer,” I said with a giggle.
I pulled out another.
“I’m trusting you to stay quiet. Not even your biker buddies can know.”
“Please,” he said. “Half of them don’t even know my real name. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Will I get to know your real name?” I said as I cracked open both beers and handed him his Blue Moon.
Phoenix chuckled.
“It’s gonna take an awful lot for me to share that with you,” he said. “Hell, it’s going to take a lot to share that with Cole. Half the time, I can’t believe he and his brother just use their regular names.”
“Maybe they just are comfortable with who they are.”
I hadn’t meant to sound condescending or mocking of Phoenix, but the twisted grimace suggested that I back off this train of humor.
I held out my bottle. He clinked with me, and I took a sip. I found a spot behind the bar to put my drink in case anyone else came in.
“I’m serious, by the way,” I said. “No sharing that this happened.”
“Our little secret,” he said with a smirk that suggested he was more than happy to have a secret between us. As am I, honestly. “In any case, this is better than Brewskis. I don’t have to worry about the other side coming in.”
He took a massive gulp of his drink, far beyond just a mere sip.
“I take it that you are happy to be out of Springsville?” he said.
“Oh, yeah.”
Before I let my words get carried away, I decided that it was probably wise not to say anything about moving completely away from Southern California. That was almost certain to happen, but it wasn’t one hundred percent set in stone, and frankly, before I headed out...
Well, I couldn’t quite bring myself to say or even think what it was I wanted from Phoenix, as if acknowledging it would jinx it, or if I even really wanted it. But, certainly, I found the dude handsome and funny. That was, admittedly, ninety percent of the attraction puzzle right there.
“Brewskis was fun, but it was also like working out of the DMZ,” I said.
“So does that make us South or North Korea?”
I laughed.
“Do I really need to answer that?”
“Well, come to think of it,” Phoenix said. “The analogy may be more like if South Korea suddenly got evil. I’m just... I don’t know, Japan? Over here, chilling away from all the stupid bullshit.”
Phoenix was just being ridiculous. I tipped my drink back as if I needed to get drunker, and before I knew it, the two of us were bantering and even mildly flirting.
I kept myself from flirting as much as I could have. I was still a bartender at my job, and I needed to make sure that what I was walking into was something I actually wanted to be a part of. There was no guarantee that going down this road would lead t
o anything happy or fun.
But for now, it was fun. It was a good way to start my night, and it was a fun continuation of what had happened last time we had hung out. Plus, it was good to be talking to him in private instead of with his buddies nearby.
“But yeah,” I said as a conversation about people wanting to be a bartender wound down. “Most people think it would be really fun to own a bar or to be a bartender. Guys think they’ll get girls all the time, and girls think they’ll get all these tips if they show some cleavage. And maybe they will. But when they realize how much work is involved? When they realize how they lose their social lives because the times they have freedom is when everyone else is working? It’s funny how all these people who were gung-ho about it minutes before suddenly fail.”
“I can imagine,” Phoenix said. “Well. Speaking of things that most guys will fail at…”
Uh oh…
“Let me ask you something bold,” he said. “Are you single?”
I knew it!
“You are right, most guys would fail at asking me that,” I said. “And yes, I am single.”
“Well, while I’m on a roll, let me ask you another question that most guys would never have the guts to ask you. Can I ask you out?”
I did… I did not know that was coming.
But…
I drummed my hands on the table and stared down Phoenix, albeit with a smile that probably already gave away my answer. I wanted to believe that this look would make Phoenix sweat a little bit, but honestly, I was so impressed with how direct he was—even by biker standards—that I couldn’t help but smile at him.
“You know, most of the time, even the guys who do ask me that don’t succeed,” I said. “But that’s most of the time.”
I again let silence settle in for a bit, just to see if I could make Phoenix flinch. He wasn’t.
“But that’s because they’re not you.”
I turned around, found some credit card receipt paper, and wrote my number down on it.
“Whatever you want to do with it for yourself,” I said. “Don’t share that with anyone else. I’m not trying to date the Gray Reapers club.”
“Oh, trust me, you don’t have to worry about that,” Phoenix said. “I’d sooner return to the Black Reapers than do that. But anyway, you’ll hear from me.”
He then slammed thirty dollars on the table, standing up as he finished his beer with his other hand.
“I came here to do what I wanted.”
“Which was?”
He walked to the front door and put his hand on it.
“Have something good happen today.”
Before I could so much as say another word, Phoenix disappeared into the night, my number in his hand and any potential future we might have had in his control.
I was curious what all had happened to him that led him to needing something good, but I suppose that was a mystery that was yet to be unraveled. As for myself, I couldn’t believe that had actually happened; I hadn’t given my number to a customer since I was in college.
But hey, I only had two more months here. What was wrong with a little fun first? What was wrong with seeing what happened with a guy I’d had a certain affection for, even back at Brewskis?
As long as I walked near and not into a biker’s life, then I figured I’d stay above the fray and the danger—most especially since I was far, far away from the Fallen Saints.
Only two other people came in for the rest of my shift. They made casual conversation, and one of the older ones tried to make a few jokes to me, but none had the courage or directness that Phoenix had. Maybe they just need to have shitty days too.
When closing time came, I checked my phone. I had one new text.
“It’s me :-) don’t get too distracted trying to work while reading this.”
I laughed.
It was just a shame that no matter what, I wouldn’t be laughing with him two months from now.
Phoenix
Three Days Later
As much as Cole’s words after our Tuesday meeting had put me into a tailspin, seeing Jess and getting her number had taken me out of that and shot me into a straight-up trajectory.
We’d regularly talked through text messaging and even once on the phone since I had gotten her number, with a date set up for the following Sunday. As the work of a biker and the work of a bartender actually had a decent amount of overlap, scheduling a time to hang out wasn’t difficult. We just picked Sunday because we figured it was the least likely to get interrupted.
I was on cloud nine with it all.
And I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before that cloud dissipated and that rocket to the stars turned into an uncontrolled free-fall.
Jess was a wonderful girl, but I was in a difficult state, looking for intimacy in spots that couldn’t give it. It was never like my father and I had an especially emotional and close relationship, but I could still feel his absence every day. I needed to only think about how I’d see him for hours a day, literally almost all day, at Carter’s Auto Repair in Springsville to know that a presence like that wasn’t just easily forgotten.
And that drive for closeness... it was doubled by the fact that there just weren’t many women in Ashton. Supposedly, Owen and Cole had arranged a club party tonight that would bring over a lot more girls, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many of those women were just recycled from the Black Reapers. So it was like not only was I desperate for... something, there was really only one person who could provide it.
I just reminded myself I was a fucking Phoenix, not a Pink Raven or any other condescending bullshit; I was a biker, not a pussy hipster or hopeless romantic; I was a man, not a little boy. I didn’t need to spend all this time thinking about what it meant because I would figure it out as we moved forward, and however it turned out, I would be fine.
How ridiculous these thoughts were. I laughed to myself as I sat in the clubhouse, just hours before the club party.
You laugh because you’re afraid of what will happen if nothing happens.
I ignored the thought as I heard the front door to the clubhouse open.
“Hello?” I shouted, trying to see who had entered.
“Do not be alarmed.”
I stood up as soon as I heard that voice, shocked that not only had that person come, they had done so without apparently telling me or anyone else in the nearby vicinity. It was bold, almost stupid. Even seeing them didn’t erase the surprise.
“Father Marcellus?” I said. “What are you doing here? Are you defecting?”
“No,” he said.
He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the night before. That wasn’t the norm for Father Marcellus; even though he was not exactly free of vice, he was by no means the heaviest partier or the most shameless person I knew.
“I came here, Austin, because I need to talk to you as a man.”
That’s not good. He only uses real names when something serious has happened.
“OK,” I said. “Follow me.”
I led him outside and behind the clubhouse, where a small hiking trail sprawled out. It was a trail I had never seen any of the other Gray Reapers ever use—in fact, I wasn’t even sure that it actually led anywhere. But it served its purpose of giving us privacy.
“Last night, the Black Reapers were attacked by the Fallen Saints. It was a vicious attack, and if you saw our building now, you would stare in shock at just how ugly the destruction was.”
My immediate thought was, “So?” But out of respect for the good chaplain, I just nodded without saying a word.
“We expected their attack, especially once they figured out that our numbers had depleted. Because of this, we were able to repel the assault without casualties. However, our strategy of being on guard and being hyper-alert like this is unsustainable, Austin. We cannot repel—”
“Father.”
I knew exactly where this was going, and as much as I respected Father Marcellus, I wa
sn’t going to let him have a field day guilt tripping me to try to return.
“You are welcome to come here to the Gray Reapers if it is safety you seek,” I said. “But the rest of the Black Reapers can rot for all I care. After all, they’re letting my father rot six feet beneath the surface.”
Father Marcellus paused dead in his tracks, let out a long sigh, and bowed his head.
“Austin,” he said.
His voice was shaky, emotional even. Even at my father’s funeral, I had not seen him speak this way.
“I have tried my hardest to keep an open mind about everything,” he said. “I have seen many so-called betrayals in the past explained by a person who needed money, security, or the protection against blackmail. So often in this world, we are in a rush to accuse the other of betrayal, when in actuality, to not betray their tribe would be the worst thing they could do for their own safety. When I heard that Butch had killed your father, I believed that your father had merely had no choice but to betray the club.”
“But now you don’t.”
Why else would he be saying these things? It wasn’t like he was going to throw a shocker in there and say he actually thought my father was innocent.
“I need to take a risk here with the awareness of the consequences my words may bring,” he said. “But I have examined all of the evidence they presented with as much care and neutrality as I can muster. I think... I think they were right, Austin.”
It literally felt like someone had stabbed me in the gut with a sharpened knife. If Lane accused my father of something, fine. If Butch said something, whatever.
But Father Marcellus?
This was the man who was like a second father to me. Though he never approached my father’s presence, he was a man I could talk to about things that I didn’t feel comfortable talking to my father about. And here he was, telling me that my father was a guilty man.
“Why?” I said, but I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer. “Why? Why you, now? Don’t tell me you’re with them, Marc. Don’t do this to me.”
