by Hazel Parker
“You cut your beard.”
“You remembered.”
How could two words be so loaded with emotion? But they were. Of course I remembered. I remembered it all. How else would I remember to stay away? I forgave, but I would never forget.
“Where’s my dad?”
He turned and opened the door widely for me to walk through. I paused in the entry way, taking it all in. The interior hadn’t changed. Red and white were the color palette of choice. The front door opened to a stairwell; behind it was a long hallway. The living room was on the left, the dining room was on the right and full of pictures that chronicled my life: Polaroids, school pictures, and candid shots.
My mother, a brown eyed-beauty with wild hair like me, was in them for most of the first decade. It wasn’t lost on me that there hadn’t been any more pictures since I ran away.
The living room connected to the kitchen in the back. The middle was cut through by a staircase that led to bedrooms. Paulie and I walked up the stairs in silence.
“He’s in his room.”
“Mind telling me what happened?”
“He took a hit.”
I waited for more, but none came. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Yeah. If he wants you to know more, he’ll say,” he said, walking past the guest bedroom, bathroom, and my old bedroom until we were at the master suite. “I gotta warn you, he’s pretty busted up.”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “It’s not the first bloodied body I’ve seen.”
He looked like a shriveled version of himself. He sat in the middle of the bed, propped up with several pillows. The shadows of his beating were on his skin and his scowl made it clear breathing was causing him pain. The bruise that had begun as a purple stain above his eyebrow was now sunk into the socket itself, and so had the appearance of a black eye.
His vest, leather and worn with time, hung on him with a thumb-sized path in the front that said “President,” and beneath that another read “First 8.”
I stared at him, taking it all in as his eyes took me in. “My little girl.”
“Casper.”
I was not used to calling him dad, and in truth, he was more the President of the Skulls to me than he ever was a father.
“Come here. Let me get a good look at you.”
My feet moved me forward until I stood at the edge of his bed, hovering awkwardly. “Sit. Please, sit.”
I tried not to look shocked at his use of “please.”
“You look good,” he said, staring at my face. “Really good. Doesn’t she, Paulie?”
“She’s beautiful,” he said, looking at me instead of Casper. “She grew up to be even lovelier than she was before.”
I shouldn’t have, but I felt my skin heat with a blush. “So what happened to you?” I said, cutting through the fluff.
“It’s nothing. Typical MC business. I’ll be back on my feet in no time,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “I don’t want to talk about me. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I haven’t seen or heard from you since you were sixteen, Molly. Last I heard, you were in college.”
That was true. I left and put myself through the University of Arizona.
“Yeah. I graduated a few years ago with my Master’s in Social Work.”
“Wow. So that’s what you do?”
I nodded, feeling like I was in the twilight zone. He was genuinely interested. He asked it like any father might after his daughter had been away for some time, which would have been fine if we were just any father and daughter.
“Yes. I’m a social worker.”
“So you’re the one who helps children get out of dangerous homes?”
“Yeah, that and much more. I help almost anybody. One day it could be a child suffering neglect or abuse. The next it could be finding housing for someone with special needs.”
“That’s admirable,” he said, patting my hand. I looked down at it in confusion. “I know I haven’t always said it, but I’m really proud of you.”
“You are?” I asked slowly.
“Yeah. I didn’t always approve of your actions, but I like how you took charge of your life.”
“Thanks, dad.” I cleared my throat, shocked at the emotion I was feeling. It was something I didn’t know I needed to hear, but hearing it gave me relief.
“I’m sorry I hadn’t said it sooner.”
I was stunned into momentary silence. Dread curled into my stomach and for a moment I feared that something was very wrong. Casper Karin did not apologize, to anyone or for anything. He was the leader of the Skulls and his word was law, or whatever passed for such when you were dealing with outlaws. He hadn’t apologized when he missed my elementary graduation, or when my cat “ran away”, or even when my mother left. Why was he apologizing now?
“Your mother would be proud, too.”
“Dad, are you okay? What is going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I just… I don’t know. You made it pretty clear when you left here that you didn’t want to have anything to do with us and this life. I thought that I was, you know, respecting that by ignoring you and letting you have space.”
That was true and everyone knew it. I ran away, but I wasn’t hard to find, and the one time Paulie did try to drag me back I made it very clear that if he tried it again I would kill myself.
“So how long are you on bed rest?” I asked, changing the subject. He was doing so well, I didn’t need to think of the one unforgiveable thing he did – cheating on my mother and banishing her when her wrongs had only been a speck compared to the shit he did to her. It was more than a sore topic for both of us.
“For however long I want to be,” he said, crossing his arms.
I laughed out loud before catching myself and tamped it down to a chuckle. “That’s not the way health works, dad. What did the doctor tell you?”
“He told me I should rest for at least three weeks.”
“When did he say that?”
“Two days ago.”
“Then get comfortable, because you’re not going to be up and about for some time.” He opened his mouth to protest and I continued. “I will check in on you in a few days. I need to go home, get some changes of clothes and work, but I’ll be back. Okay?”
I could tell I caught him off guard. Twice in one week compared to never in sixteen years.
“Okay,” he said, dazed. I could see he wasn’t as strong as he was pretending to be.
“You look tired, dad. You should go to sleep,” I said, standing.
“I will later.”
You win some, you lose some, and I wasn’t going to argue when I knew his body would shut down when it wanted.
“Fine. I’m sure Paulie will look after you.”
“No. He will look after the MC. He’s the enforcer now. I can look after myself.”
Well that explained Paulie’s new level of muscles and bulk.
“All right. Get better soon, Casper. Bye,” I said, patting his hand.
“See you soon, Molly Pop.”
The name caused me to flinch. No one called me that in so long and hearing it again was too much like before.
“It’s just Molly,” I said, walking out the door before he could add anything else.
Paulie followed me out the door and waited as I threw my small clutch into the car and pulled myself in.
“You look really good, Mols.”
“Thanks. So do you,” I admitted.
“So. Now that you’re back, I was thinking we could hang out sometime. Maybe catch a night cap,” he said, holding the car door open and out of my reach.
I watched him in horror. I was not back. I was home, sure – for the moment. But I was in no ways interested in catching up.
“No. I have to get back.”
“I know that, but the next time you’re here?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s best.”
“But—”<
br />
“But nothing. I’m not back, Paulie. You told me I needed to see my dad and I did. I have a job, friends, and a life away from here. I’m not coming back. This was a cordial checkup. Nothing more.”
“So you just, what – check in and then leave? Like it never happened? Like you can just leave all this,” he said. “Leave us behind?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I did it before,” I said, pulling the door from his hand and starting the car. “I can do it again.”
Chapter 5
Ethan
Some people found the sounds of the ocean or birds calling relaxing. Not me. I was simpler than that. The ticking of a wrench was as relaxing as it got for me. The sounds of something being fixed soothed me. I didn’t need a church when I had the garage. The garage was my temple and my altar of choice. It was my sanity as much as any other place, which was why I didn’t take kindly to anybody bringing mess into my church.
“Hey,” Luke said, leaning against the wall, his brown eyes staring a little too intently at me as I worked. His stance was relaxed, but his hands fidgeted in front of him.
“Just say it,” I said, glancing at him without stopping my work.
“Say what?”
I shook my head. “Whatever it is you came in here to say.”
His eyebrows jumped before he schooled his face again. “How do you know I have anything to say? Maybe I just came in here to check on you.”
“And maybe I’m going to play dumb and let you just stand there,” I said, standing from my crouched position. A dirty hand rag lay across the bike’s handle bars and I snatched it away to wipe my hands. “You’re fidgeting, man,” I said, balling the rag up and throwing it on the ground. “You do that when you’re nervous. You got something to say? Just say it. I ain’t got all day,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest. “You know how I feel about beating around the bush. Say what you came to say.”
Anyone who knew me knew I didn’t like lies. I always said better out than in. Lies were weeds that killed everything.
“Well, I was just wondering when’s the last time you’d been to a meeting?”
“You were wondering or the crew was wondering?”
“Just me. I haven’t seen you slip or act shaky in a while, but I would be a shitty sponsor if I didn’t check up on you every once in a while. I know you hate me asking for no reason but feel like I should. So this is me checking in.”
His thumbs circled each other in his lap. He wasn’t done.
“And?”
“And there’s a meeting later today in Flagstaff. I think you should go.”
“What time?”
“At seven.”
His fingers stilled and he slid them into his pocket.
I hadn’t had any cravings in a while. Granted, I only had them when I was stressed and I knew Luke meant well.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asked. “You’re saying you’ll go?”
“I said okay, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, man. Okay. Cool. I’ll text you the address,” he said, smiling, taking away at least ten years from his face.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Gus said to come inside. We’re having a quick meeting.”
“All right,” I said, picking up tools and throwing them in the box. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
I washed my hands and entered just as Evan came from the office.
“Hey, bro.”
“Sup,” I said, sliding into an open seat.
“You planning to visit mom soon?”
That question put a scowl on my face, and right after I came from my holy place.
“Why?”
“Because you should go see her. Because she’s our mom,” he said, scowling back at me with my identical face. “And because she’s been having good days recently. She’s been asking about you, man.” He stared me down with disappointment, looking too much like our dad.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ll see what you can do? She’s our mom. You better ride your ass out there sometime this week.”
“Or what, Ev? You’re going to find me and make me? Watch yourself, little brother—”
“Now that everyone’s here,” Gus said, immediately quelling any side conversations, “we can get started. We need to discuss the matter of prospects.”
We had three. Ace, Dead Shot, and Phil. Ace had been with us the longest, a little over a year, and was one of those guys that would never fit in. He was too clean-cut and looked like he belonged in a suit, even when he wasn’t wearing one. He looked every bit the criminal defense lawyer he was, but he was loyal, didn’t mind blurring legal lines, and was our ace in the hole should anything ever go wrong.
“We need to take a vote. I want to bring in at least two of them. After all this shit with the Skulls, we’re bound to take a few more hits. We need numbers now more than ever.”
Dead Shot was a retired Navy Seal and something of a trained assassin. He could shoot any gun, thus the name, and wasn’t big on rules. He was big on loyalty and that was a big deal around MCs. Only thing was his military background made him look and move a lot like Harrison, who had died almost a year ago now. Taking him in poked a lot of our sore spots, though several of us wouldn’t admit it.
“I think Ace is ready. He’s retired and he’s got his bike, though he still needs to practice riding it,” he said, laughing along with some of the guys.
Ace was skinny and, in his attempt to show us he was ready, he bought one of the biggest and loudest Harley’s ever. Needless to say, whenever he tried to ride, it was pretty entertaining.
“I’m stuck between Phil and Dead Shot,” he said, rubbing his beard.
Phil was our most recent prospect, and in my opinion, a little shifty. He wasn’t getting it without a unanimous vote and I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one who would say nay. Maybe it was his beady, little eyes or the way he had a tendency to be sneaking around corners and pretending not to eavesdrop. I couldn’t prove anything, of course, but something in my gut didn’t trust him. Plus, he was consistently under the required mileage. We’re bikers – we ride and our prospects were expected to put in time riding too.
“Nobody wants to say it, but Dead Shot rubs a bit of salt in our wounds while Phil needs a little more time. Do we need to take a vote?”
“Nope.”
“Nah.”
“You got it.”
“Then it’s settled. Ace and Dead Shot will be welcomed into the club,” he said nodding, “I’ll go get the prospects their new leather and by the end of next week, they’ll be our new brothers.”
The meeting ended and I went to the room I frequented in the club. Most of us had houses or apartments but the few who worked closely in the club like Evan and I, had rooms on the second floor. I hung my jacket in the small closet before stripping as I made my way to the shower. I was going to a meeting; it was best to remain anonymous. Once clean of the grease from the garage and the dirt from the day, I dressed as nondescript as possible. All black, with no tattoos showing and combed hair. Arizona was cool at night and riding on a bike made its air seem even cooler. With a plain, leather jacket on and my boots, I started my bike, prepared for the hour drive. At night, the drive wasn’t as long as it could be. There wasn’t any traffic, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The shadows on each side of unlit houses and trees passed by in a blur. It was monotonous, and not distracting enough to halt my pondering. Evan wanted me to visit mom. I hadn’t visited her in a while. Did that make me a bad son? Possibly. I wasn’t afraid to go. I just didn’t want to taint the good memories I had. I wasn’t afraid; I was selfish. My mother was a gem. She was my dad’s old lady and a proper MC wife. She was the prototype and the original. When my dad was president, she did everything from hosting parties to showing patch whores that my dad was not available.
Patch whores were women who got off sleeping their way to the top and crossing off patches as they went.
From prospects all the way to president, if they could manage it. My mom was never like that. She was classy, but fiery. She was very protective and would do anything if it meant her family was safe. I do mean anything. She was bigger than life and the one person I thought would never change. So no, I wasn’t in a rush to see her as anything but herself.
The last time I saw her, she wasn’t herself. She was dazed, with a look of confusion. She couldn’t remember who I was. I didn’t want to live in a world where my mom couldn’t recognize her own kids, but since I had to, I tried hard to not remind myself that that was my reality.
I was so lost in my thoughts I almost didn’t notice the extra wobbling of my bike. Almost. I pulled off the road under a street light and dismounted. All bikes had a minimum vibration, but excessive vibration was a sign that several things could be wrong. I hadn’t worked on my bike in some time, but the last time it had an issue, the chain had popped. I walked around the bike looking for any obvious problems. When I didn’t see any, I slid my key in the middle to see if I was leaking any oils. Just the right amount of oil and gas. I didn’t have any tools with me so anything in depth would require me getting a tow.
I stood, thinking with my hands on my hips as a red Honda civic pulled up behind me.
“Hey, you need some help?” a soft voice asked through her open window.
She was driving a car. She wouldn’t know how to help me.
“Nope. I’m good,” I said as she climbed out from the car. I didn’t bother looking at her as she stood to my side.
“Nice bike,” she said with appreciation.
“Thanks.”
Sure. I could have struck up a conversation, but I didn’t need to be talking. I needed to be fixing. I glanced at my watch and saw I had a little under thirty minutes to make it to the meeting. Maybe this was a sign I shouldn’t go.
“What year is it?”
“Harley, 95.”
“What’s the problem?”
