by Carian Cole
And let's not forget the thought that I should have stayed in the band.
So many regrets.
I wait for her to sit with me at the table before I cut into the omelette, because my mom raised me with manners, and high on that list is you don't start eating until everyone is seated at the table.
"So...you had yourself a little binge last night?" Her eyes dance as she chews and swallows. "What brought that on?"
"Just a bad mood, I guess. It's not going to be a habit."
"A bad mood named Sydni or a bad mood named Lisa?"
"Eat your breakfast. And both."
"Neither one of them are worth drinking over, Uncle Tor. You want to turn into a drunken mess again?"
I glare at her for bringing that up. A few years ago I had what you might call a drinking problem, but I'll never go down that road again.
"Not gonna happen."
"Good. Because I'm older now and I'm armed with a cell camera and Instagram. I'll document all your embarrassing drunk moments."
"I'm sure you would, brat."
She tilts her head at me, chewing her lip, and I know that look all too well. It means she's thinking about asking or telling me something. I brace myself, because Kenzi saves all her deepest and craziest conversations for me. "Chloe thinks I should give up my V-card to Jason." She finally says.
I choke on my coffee.
"Chloe should keep her mouth shut. And her legs." Christ. I'm totally not prepared for this conversation, especially hung over. I was expecting her to want tattoo's or nose piercings, or maybe purple hair to match her socks. But not sex.
"Why? I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen. Maybe she's right."
I wipe my mouth. "She's not."
"How old were you?"
"When?"
"Your first time."
"That's different, I'm a guy."
"Well how old was she, then? The girl you did it with?"
Fuck.
"Kenz, you should only be doing that when the time is right. With the right guy."
"I know...but what if the right guy never comes?"
"He will." As I sit here still single at thirty-two. "You're young, just enjoy your life and don't worry about sleeping with guys. Your father will have a shit fit if he hears you talking like this. You want to give him a heart attack?"
She rolls her eyes. "He still thinks I'm five."
"So do I."
She kicks me under the table. "No, you don't. You're not nearly as bad as him. And my mom had to be about fourteen, obviously, when she started having sex."
"I think you should talk to your grandmother about this. Or your aunt? Maybe Rayne? Someone of the female persuasion?"
Her nose crinkles. "Nah. I'd be too uncomfortable talking to them."
"But not with me?"
She shakes her head. "I like talking to you. You listen to me and you don't judge me."
"I'm flattered. But I'm the last fucking person to be giving relationship or sex advice."
I lean back in the chair and push my empty plate away. I can't think about Kenzi having sex. My brain is way too mangled up with visions of her as a little girl and the glimpse of her half-naked ass I saw a few minutes ago. She's growing up too fast. It seems like just yesterday I was babysitting her. Now she's asking me questions about sex and looking less like a little girl and more like a woman. It's confusing as hell, and I have no idea how Asher is dealing with this shit.
"Most of the girls I know have had sex already, way before they were seventeen. With a few guys, even. Not at the same time, though...at least I don't think so. You know what I'm saying, right?" She pauses and I nod, dumbfounded and at a loss for words. "I don't feel that way about any of the guys I've dated, though. I don't even like kissing them," she plays with her napkin and doesn't look up at me. "Do you think maybe there's something wrong with me? Why don't I feel anything yet?"
I suppress the laugh and relief I feel. "No, Angel. I think you're fine."
"Really?"
"Really. You'll feel it when you're ready and when it's the right guy. You can't force it. It should mean something, ya know? Especially your first time. Don't do it just because fuckin' Chloe says to. Just be you, like you've always been. Don't cave to pressure now. That's never been you."
She nods slowly. "I just hate always being the weird one that isn't doing what everyone else is doing. I want to fit in, for once."
"Trust me, you're not the weird one. You're unique. You've always had your own mind and your own plan. I'd hate to see you change and end up like everyone else out there. That would be a shame."
She fidgets with her fork, pushing a small piece of ham around on her plate. "I'm on the pill." She says softly, still looking at her plate.
I blink at her. "Come again?"
"The pill. Birth control."
"I know what it is, Kenzi. Why?"
"I was having a lot of cramps every month so Rayne took me to her doctor for a checkup. The doctor said it would help, and it has. I didn't tell my Dad, though, and I'm afraid he's going to find them and go ballistic."
"Well, yeah, of course he will."
"Chloe says it’s a good idea anyway, though, because guys don't like to wear condoms."
My jaw clenches so hard I'm afraid I'm going to crack a molar. "Listen to me, Kenzi. There's a lot more to sex than just getting pregnant. There's all sorts of diseases you can get." She stares at me, wide eyed. "When you start having sex, you better make the guy wear a condom until you're damn sure you can trust him. I don't give a fuck if some little douchebag doesn't like the way it feels. You stand your ground and make him, okay?"
"Okay."
"If anyone tries to pull that shit with you, I'll put them in a fucking hole, Kenzi."
I end the conversation by standing and taking our plates over to the sink. "I better get going, I should have been at the shop hours ago. I'll see you tonight? About six?"
"Sounds good." She stares out the window, lost in her thoughts.
"And wash my sweatshirt!" I yell over my shoulder on my way out the door.
As I drive to the bike shop, my mind keeps wandering back to the conversation I just had with Kenzi. Maybe I should have said more. Or nothing at all. I've always tried to be there for her, but I sure as hell don't know how to give sex advice to a teenage girl who's on the verge of giving up her virginity. The mere thought of it makes me feel sick. I can't even get my own shit together when it comes to dating.
She always comes to me when she needs to talk, though. Or when she's scared. Or has something exciting to share.
It really should come as no surprise since my name was the first word she ever said.
Now it's like we're verbally bonded.
The motorcycle shop is already open and blaring with the racket of heavy metal music and air tools when I get there. My brother Tanner usually opens up the shop and I close, because he's a morning person and I'm usually up late at night, saving lost pets and stalking bad guys. You think I'm kidding? I'm not.
The shop belonged to my father, Thomas Grace, who lived, breathed, and ate bikes, and he passed that passion down to his boys. The only thing he loved more than riding was my mom. And his kids, of course. But mom came first, and that's the way it should be.
That changed twelve years ago when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack. Bam. Gone.
Being the oldest, I had no choice but to step up and take care of the family business, my mom, my four younger brothers and my little sister. Six sets of eyes all looking at me to put us back together again. This went down just two months before the band’s big break, first major tour, and a record deal. I had to bail out of the band that me, Asher, and Ember started years before and watch from the sidelines as they became rich famous rock stars. Meanwhile, my guitar ended up in a closet collecting dust and my dreams slowly faded away. But hey, I get a royalty check since I wrote some of the songs on the first album. Yay, me.
In the blink of an eye, I went from being a wild musicia
n living on the road out of an old suitcase, partying hard without a care in the world, to having to be the responsible one.
Life is funny like that.
I enter through the back door of the shop, where my brothers Tanner, Taran, and Tristan are busy working in their areas. Tanner and Taran mostly do engine rebuilds, and Tristan does all our custom airbrushing and pin striping. We have another mechanic, Sled, who works part-time. I mostly work on the older, vintage bike restorations. Dad's strict rule was we only sell and work on cruisers - no racing bikes. To this day, I've made sure we held up that rule. No race bikes. No rice rockets. No scooters. Ever.
And yeah, my mom had a thing about the letter T and giving us unique names when she named all of us.
Every day starts the same for me at the shop, and it's the part I hate the most because I have to hole up in my office and go through the mail, sort out the bills and purchase orders, and set the schedule for upcoming work. I fucking despise paperwork, but my Dad did this all himself so I figure I should, too.
After I finish the paperwork bullshit, I switch gears and focus on my role as the head of Devils’ Wolves MC and pet rescue - run by myself, my brothers and a few other bikers. Devils’ Wolves was my brainchild about five years ago, fueled by my deep respect for two things that my parents instilled in us: the love of pets and motorcycles. That and a bout of insomnia is how I came up with the perfect plan to actually do something with my life that made me feel like I had some purpose again.
My mother runs Wolfy's Place, a pet shelter and sanctuary here in town that operates twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And while taking in strays, getting them medical attention and adopting them out is great, I wanted to find the ones that were too lost to be seen, save the ones that were being abused, and basically fuck up the people that were hurting them. Like the assholes that run underground dog fighting rings. Or the old ladies that go out of their minds and horde two hundred cats in their dilapidated houses. Okay, so I don't fuck up old ladies, but I do go in there and use my charm to get those cats out before they start eating each other.
We use the club to run charity events and rides to raise money to support our rescue equipment, and we donate a portion of the funds to Wolfy's Place. So, it's a win-win.
It also coaxes Tyler to come out of his house hidden in the woods. Just like the lost, scared, and abused dogs, he'll only come out in the dark when no one can see him. Or hear him. My brother Ty is a legit psychopath. He has a special gift for being able to creep around the woods unheard and unseen. Stalking, hunting, and capturing are his specialty, second to his ability to get in and out of houses without making a sound or getting caught. And that's how my brother has saved over fifty dogs - and also how he's put several animal offenders in the hospital nearly beaten to death. To say he likes to inflict pain and suffering would be an understatement.
I haven't seen Ty in the daylight in years, and he's said less than ten words in that time. We communicate solely through text messages and meet in the parking lot of the shelter late at night when he has a captured dog or cat to drop off.
Every month I deposit money into his bank account. Partly because he deserves profits from the family business, and partly from my own guilt over what happened to him.
I shove that thought down into my chest with the rest of my mistakes and regrets.
Last night’s recorded video feeds from my night vision cameras on the trails didn't catch anything and neither did my feeding traps. A few weeks ago a limping dog was seen several times roaming that area by the river. I've caught him on the feeds a few times, sniffing at the cage, wanting to go in and grab that food, but he's leery and won't go in. Sometimes they'd rather starve than give in and get caught, and that's a position I can respect. Freedom to do what we want, even for a short time, can be worth the pain and suffering we have to endure to have it.
Just as I'm about to go out to the shop to start doing some real work, my cell phone rings.
Lisa.
I swipe the screen and hold the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"
"I figured if I didn't call you, you'd never call me." She's right about that. I don't chase. If you choose to walk out that door, you can keep fuckin' going.
"As you pointed out, I don't have much to say. Remember?"
"Tor, I'm trying. I heard you were with Sydni last night. Are you back together?"
"I wasn't with Sydni. We were at Asher's house with about twenty other people. I didn't go with her or leave with her. We talked for a few minutes and that was it. Tell your gossip hounds not to quit their day job. They suck."
She sighs a mixture of relief and annoyance. "Maybe we could try again? What are you doing tonight?"
"After work I'm going to refill my feeding traps. You can come with me, if you want. It's right by the river. We could sit there and talk." If she wants to talk, I'll try to talk. The truth is, I like Lisa. She's attractive with long dark hair, almond-shaped bambi eyes, and a nice body. She works at the bank, has no kids, and doesn't party. In theory, she's the perfect kind of woman to settle down with. She's the kind of woman I could bring home to my mother and not be embarrassed of, or have to worry about her flirting it up with my brothers.
"Trekking out into the woods with a pile of meat really isn't my idea of a date. Can't you skip it tonight? Let's go out to dinner to a real restaurant. I want to see you out of jeans for once. If things go well, we can come back to my place..." She trails off, her intention clear.
My eyes close for a long moment. I was hoping she would agree, and that for once a woman would walk through the door I was holding open and step into my world to get to know me. I want her to care enough about me to get involved just a little in what's important to me. I thought maybe Lisa would be that woman, especially after her speech a few nights ago about me being cold, uncaring, disconnected, and all that other shit. Here I am asking her to help me do something that's a huge part of my life, something I built out of nothing and is evidence of the care and giving she claims I don't have in me, and now she doesn't want it.
"I can't do that, Lisa. Not tonight. Ty watches the live video feeds at night, or sits out in the woods, especially on the weekends, so if he sees one of the dogs he can get an idea of the shape they're in, or go pick them up if they go in the cage. I have to set out the food to lure them."
"Can't he do that?"
"No. He doesn't like to handle the food, and he only goes out at night. The food has to be set out before it’s dark."
"That's stupid," she says flippantly. "I'm sure he can do it if you told him you have plans."
The urge to end the call wafts up in me, but she doesn't know Ty or his story and why he is the way he is. Her use of the word stupid has pissed me right the fuck off, though.
"He can't. I gotta go. I have work to do."
"As usual." Disappointment is heavy in her voice and I'm sure it matches mine. "Maybe when you're done playing in the woods you can stop by. I'd still like to see you. Just take a shower first so you don't smell like grease and chicken, okay?"
"Yeah. I'll do that."
I hit end on my phone and shove it in my back pocket with zero intention of showing up at her house tonight for a late night sexfest. No thanks. I have this thing called self-respect. I'm disappointed in Lisa, though. I thought she may have been the one to see that underneath the muscles, ink, and grease, beyond the loud bike, past the long hair and dirty fingers, is a man who wants the whole fucking package. Not just the fucking. Been there, done that.
She's waiting for me at the end of the driveway, her earbuds in, shaking her head back and forth to the music. I pull my truck up to the curb and lean across the front seat to open the door for her.
"You're twelve minutes late." She slams the door shut and pulls the seatbelt across her, fastening it before giving me an accusing look.
I give her a sideways glance as I shift the truck. "Twelve? Really?"
"Yup. You know how I feel about punctuality. Lateness is a trait o
f disrespect and it gives the person waiting for you time to think about your other shortcomings."
"Is that right?" Kenzi has a thing for quotes lately.
"Yes."
"I'm fairly confident I don't have any shortcomings, Kenz."
"Except lateness."
"I can live with that. There's a lot worse things a person can be."
She nods. "Yeah, like a bad kisser."
I let out a laugh. "Now that would suck."
She takes out her earbuds and shoves them into her pocket. "You have no idea."
Poor Jason. That kid doesn't have a chance with her. Kenzi's going to be a hard girl for a guy to snag, and I kinda like that. She deserves to have someone work to get her love and respect.
Kenzi has been helping me set up the cameras and the feeding traps for as long as I can remember. When she was younger she used to beg to go. After about a hundred tantrums, Ember agreed to let her come with me. I never minded having her come along because she's always fun to have around and she soaks up everything like a sponge. I've never met a kid as smart as her, or one who was so content hanging around with her parents and their third wheel. A.k.a me.
She sighs and looks out the window as we drive. "This dog is getting on my last nerve. What's it been...a month we've been offering food to him? What's his deal? There are people starving out in the world and he's turning away fresh chicken and raw beef."
"He's not ready yet. That's all."
"Maybe we should start feeding homeless people. At least they'll be grateful. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, and I want to help him but damn. Right?"
"We're not doing this just to feed him, Kenz. We're trying to save him, get him out of the woods and hopefully into a good home before he becomes completely feral or dies out there."
She blows her hair out of her face. "I know. I'm just frustrated with him. I want him to just get in that cage already. He's wasting a lot of good food. Isn't he hungry? He must be. What's he eating out there?"
I shrug, but I'm intrigued by her intense interest. "Maybe squirrels and other rodents."
