This was it. His last day in Signal Bend.
Once the sun was truly up and bright, he got up, showered, and dressed. Pulling his kutte over his shoulders, he paused. It was probably the last time he’d ever put this kutte on.
Alone in his dorm room, with no one to see, he sat down on the end of his bed and cried.
When he was able to pull himself together, he washed his face and left his room. He didn’t really have anywhere to go this early. His job at Keyes was over, and there wasn’t much on his agenda for this last day: a final check with Dom to make sure he understood his job as Intelligence Officer, making sure Omen got everything he was shipping to L.A. off intact, and then the party, where he’d say goodbye to his brothers and friends, give up his kutte, and have his ink blacked out.
Some party.
The other thing he was going to do was head to the hospital to say goodbye to Isaac.
It was far too early to do any of that now, though. So Bart went out to the bays to his baby, his ’67 shovelhead, the one Havoc had helped him restore from a couple of boxes of its bones, before Bart had even been old enough to prospect. He was leaving it here, under Havoc’s care. He pulled the cover off with a sweep and let it fall behind him. Damn, this bike was gorgeous. Gleaming black on white, the chrome so bright it almost cast its own light. The Horde tended to ride blacked out bikes—not a rule or anything, just a tendency. Most of the guys rode Softails or Dynas. Bart himself had ridden a Dyna until it had been shot up a couple of years ago. He’d taken some good-natured shit when he’d replaced it with the flashier Night Rod.
But this bike was both flash and substance, the complete package, all rolled up onto two wheels of fucking cool. He hated to leave it, but he didn’t want it anywhere near the Scorpions.
“Saying goodbye?”
At Havoc’s voice, Bart looked over his shoulder. “Thought you’d be at the garage.”
Havoc and Bart had worked together at Keyes Implement and Repair. Once, three Horde had comprised the full staff of mechanics at Keyes: Dan, Bart, and Havoc. Dan had died in the shootout, and Don Keyes hadn’t replaced him. Now, with Bart leaving, Havoc would be training new mechanics. He wanted to get Dom hired on.
Havoc walked over and picked up the cover Bart had discarded. He folded it and set it on a worktable. “Nah. Called Don, told him I needed the day.” He nodded at the shovelhead. “Wanna ride?”
Bart grinned. A ride on a bright fall morning with his best friend. Something good—sad, but good—in this shitty fucking day.
“You know it. I’ll meet you round front.”
Havoc slapped him on the back, went over to unlock and raise the bay door, and ambled out through the clubhouse.
~oOo~
They rode for the rest of the morning, staying on the winding country roads. The trees were in the midst of their seasonal turning, and the sides of the road were on fire with color. The wind was crisp and carried the rich, dry smell of autumn. Except for a few straightaways on which they raced, Bart led, following a trail of familiarity and nostalgia, trying to etch this place into his head forever. Signal Bend wasn’t his hometown, but it was his home.
The morning was aging into noon when they rolled back onto Main Street. As they were heading through town, Havoc goosed his throttle, making the engine of his Softail roar. Bart turned to see him pointing toward Marie’s. He nodded, and they pulled into the diner’s gravel lot.
It wasn’t quite noon, but the diner was full. These were country people—early-to-bed-and-early-to-rise types, for the most part—and they tended to eat their meals earlier, too. When Bart and Havoc came in and headed toward the counter, the only place with seats available, the loud hum of chatter dimmed. Everybody watched them sit.
Bart knew it was him they were looking at. They all knew enough about what had gone down with the Scorpions to know that he was giving up his patch. They knew, too, that he’d done it to save the Horde. People in Signal Bend equated saving the Horde with saving the town. He’d accepted his share of handshakes and hugs over the past couple of weeks, as word spread. With the party tonight, everybody also knew that this was his last day in town.
Marie wasn’t behind the counter to take their order; she was serving a lunch order to the Reverend Mortensen and his niece, Lori. Dave Bakke, Marie’s husband and the diner’s cook, came around from the grill, wiping his hands on his apron. He walked up to Bart. “On the house today, boys. What’ll you have?”
They both ordered their usual: bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a vanilla Coke for Bart, and double BLT, fries, and Dr. Pepper for Havoc.
While they were waiting for their lunch, people started to come up to Bart. It wasn’t long before there was what amounted to a receiving line from the counter to the door. Bart shook hands with all the men and hugged all the women. There were a few people waiting when Marie brought their lunch plates to the counter, but, seeing that their food had arrived, the others nodded at Bart and went back to their tables to let him eat in peace.
Good people. This town was itself a family.
When Bart turned back to the counter, Marie was setting a wide slice of pumpkin pie, replete with whipped cream sprinkled with nutmeg, next to Bart’s Coke. Bart loved pumpkin pie. He loved Marie’s pumpkin pie best of all.
“Wow, thanks, Marie.”
She grabbed his hand in hers. Her hands—spotted with age, the knuckles swelling with arthritis, but fearsomely strong—always made him think of his grandma. They’d been friends, Marie and his grandma Tess.
“You’re a good boy, Bart Elstad. Always have been. You do your grandma and grandpa proud. Tess, she used to worry that you kids were growing up rootless, what with your dad being Navy and all. But she was wrong. We’re your roots. And don’t you forget it.”
She squeezed his hand hard and didn’t let go. He curled his fist and squeezed back. When her eyes began to swim, Bart had to look down at his plate. No way was he going to cry out in public. No way.
When he dropped his head, she released his hand and gave it a pat. “Gonna miss you, hon. That’s all I want to say. You keep yourself safe, hear?”
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
With a sniff and a nod, she picked up a full coffee pot and went out to the booths.
When they were alone, Havoc, who’d watched that exchange in silence, his BLT in his hands, set his sandwich down and took a drink of his soda.
“I fucking hate this, B-man. Hate it. It’s fucking wrong. We need you here. And they’re gonna chew you up and spit you the fuck out.”
“No choice, Hav. You know it.”
“Well, it fucking sucks!” He shoved his plate away.
“Joseph Mariano, you watch the way you talk in here.” Marie was back behind the counter, glaring at Havoc; she shook a large glass jar, that had once held pickles or something, and coins rattled among a few dollar bills. Taped to the glass was a small hand-lettered label: Cuss Words Cost. When she had his attention, she twisted the lid off the jar.
Not many people got away with using Havoc’s given name. Marie was one of them. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. When he held out a single dollar—every word had its own cost, and ‘fuck’ was a high-ticket item—she tipped the jar away.
“I heard two.”
Havoc scoffed, but he pulled out another dollar and put both in the jar. Marie closed the jar and, with a cocky little nod, went back to serving lunch.
Bart laughed, “You’re getting off easy, brother.”
Havoc went still and somber, staring down at the counter. “‘Brother.’ Yeah. Not for much longer.”
He might as well have punched Bart in the gut. “Don’t, Hav. Come on. Always brothers, right?”
Havoc looked up. “Yeah. Yeah.”
For a few minutes, they ate quietly. Bart wanted to savor what might well be his last Marie’s meal, but he wasn’t tasting much.
As Havoc squeezed a lake of ketchup onto his plate, he asked, “You gonna stay with your girl
when you get out there?”
Bart shrugged. “Haven’t thought about it. Probably the clubhouse, at least to start.”
That was a bald-faced lie. He thought about Riley constantly. He dreamt about her. He missed her so much it was like an actual wound in his chest. He had his phone in his hand five or more times a day, on the verge of calling her. But he had to stay away. At least until he understood just how much his life would change, and just what kind of shit he’d be doing and how far over the line he’d be living, he had to stay away. She wasn’t the kind of girl who belonged anywhere near that world.
The last time he’d spoken to her had been the day Isaac had woken. It should have been a great day. They’d taken him off the drugs that were keeping him under on purpose, but for days longer, he hadn’t woken. And then, as the doctors were beginning to talk to Lilli about the possibility he’d need long term care, he’d opened his eyes. Within a few hours, he was coherent and talking, and the Horde were convening at the hospital, waiting to tell the boss welcome back.
None of them had gone in to see him that day, though. Show had come out and sent them away. Isaac couldn’t move anything but his head. He could feel his arms, but had no control over them. And he was dead from the chest down. He’d called Riley, looking for comfort and focus, but when she’d cried, all he could think of was how much of his life was filled with this kind of pain. How he would fill her life with it, too.
How it had already started. The way Shiv had treated her. She’d come through that okay, but it had only happened because she hadn’t been able to stay away from Bart. Shiv had paid dearly for his offense. By the end of those five minutes in the ring, besides being generally made a bloody mess, he’d lost an eye, but when Len had the chance to kill him, he’d pulled back. That had surprised both Sam and Shiv, and Bart wasn’t sure their impression of the Horde’s restraint had been favorable, even though it meant Shiv’s life. The Scorpions went hard in everything. That’s what Bart would be bringing Riley into.
He should be straight with her and tell her why he’d backed away. It had been two weeks since they’d spoken, and more than a week since she’d even tried to contact him. He knew he was being a complete dick. But he didn’t know how to tell her why, and he wasn’t ready to make a clean break. He wanted her. Fuck, he really did. If he could have her, he wanted her. He had to figure out how. He knew that backing away without a word risked her giving up and moving on, but he couldn’t seem to do anything else.
He’d said nothing to anyone about Riley since she’d left, and everyone had been too preoccupied to ask. It wasn’t like they were guys who sat around talking about their relationships and their feelings. Until now, apparently.
Havoc had stopped in the middle of making his ketchup lake, the bottle still upended in his hand; he gave Bart a sharp look.
“That over already?”
“No. I don’t know. I need to know what I’m getting myself into before I pull her into it, too.”
Nodding, Havoc finished with the ketchup and set the bottle down. “Smart. Chicks complicate everything, anyway.”
Bart felt emptiness rolling up through him. He closed his eyes and pushed it away.
~oOo~
When Bart went into the hospital, he was alone. He and Havoc had parted ways at Marie’s; he wanted to be on his own for this.
Normally, when a brother was down, there would always be Horde at the hospital, usually more than one. But Bart hadn’t seen Isaac since he’d been awake. No one had, except Show. Isaac wanted them away, and they’d stayed away.
Bart didn’t know if he’d have left Signal Bend without seeing him, even if that had been Isaac’s wish. He didn’t think so, even if it meant pissing Isaac off. But Show had told him that Bart was leaving, and he wanted to see Bart before he left.
So he was here, on his own.
The door to Isaac’s room was closed. They’d finally moved him from the ICU a week ago. Bart figured that was a good sign, but he didn’t know enough to be sure. Isaac and Lilli had turned inward, only letting Show very far in. Show’s updates to the Horde were broad-strokes, but his demeanor was always somber when he talked about Isaac. So Bart figured ‘good’ was relative.
He didn’t know whether to knock or just go on, or to wait for somebody to come out, or what. As he stood there undecided, the door opened, and two doctors came out. One of them nodded at Bart as the moved past. They’d left the door open, so Bart stepped to the threshold. He stopped there, though, when he saw Lilli leaning over the bed, brushing her hand over Isaac’s face. Her face was close to his, and she was talking. Bart could hear her voice but not her words, and he didn’t try. After a second, he cleared his throat.
Still leaning over the bed, Lilli looked toward the door. When she saw Bart, she smiled.
“Hey, bud. Come in.”
He came in, and she walked over and hugged him. She looked a lot older than she had a month ago. Or not older, exactly. Just weary beyond measure. “I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes. Don’t go without seeing me, though, okay?”
He nodded, and she turned back to the bed. “I’ll be back in five, love.” Bart saw Isaac’s head move slightly in a nod.
Then Lilli was gone, and Bart stood where he was and took in the state of his President.
He was flat on his back. The bizarre contraption he’d been bolted into the first, and last, time Bart had seen him here was gone, but now he was in some kind of rigid brace. His legs were enveloped in what looked like thick, vinyl pants. There were still machines everywhere, though not as many as before.
It looked like Lilli had washed and braided his hair; the braid lay across his pillow. His beard was growing back in, and that was good. Bart thought without that beard and braid, Isaac would be unrecognizable. He’d lost forty pounds in the month since he’d been shot. At least.
Bart swallowed back the thickness in his throat and stepped up to the bed.
Isaac looked Bart straight in the eye. Those vivid, intense green eyes that could practically cut a man in half. “Bartholomew.” His naturally deep, gruff voice had lost its strength and gained an even heavier rasp.
Bartholomew was the name on his birth certificate, but no one in his entire life, to his knowledge, had ever called him that, not even the people who’d given him the name, except Isaac. Bart swallowed again and blinked hard.
“Hey, boss.”
Isaac shook his head. “Not anymore.”
Bart couldn’t find his voice. After a long, empty space, he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know what else to do. Sorry if I fucked up.” His own voice was barely a whisper.
Again, Isaac shook his head. “You saved the club. It’s me who’s sorry. I let you down.”
Bart actually gasped in surprise. “What? No!”
“Yeah. I let you down. I let everybody down. Took us straight down this shithole and never could figure a way out.”
“No, boss. No.” He didn’t know what else to say, so he said no more.
Finally, Isaac asked, “You going to the girl? Riley?”
Bart meant to laugh, but it came out a sob, and then he was fighting tears hard. He couldn’t cry in front of Isaac. He did not want to be a pussy in front of Isaac. But the tears came anyway. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I signed on for with the Scorpions. I don’t want her hurt.”
When Bart had blinked away the errant tears, he saw something that astonished him: a tear running from Isaac’s eye down his temple. Just that one. “Men like us need something to balance out the bad, or we just go wrong. Like Vic. Or Howler, or half the Scorps. Loving Lilli changed my life.” He stopped and closed his eyes. When he opened them, something in his eyes had changed. “Right now, without her, I guess I’d be looking for my way out. But I’ll stick around, even in this dead body, because of her and Gia. I’m not so sure that’s a good thing, but it’s a true one.”
He grabbed Isaac’s hand where it lay at his side. “I love you, boss.” The words were out throug
h his clenched throat before he’d even thought about them.
Isaac shocked the hell out of him by grabbing back, and Bart jerked his eyes down to see that big paw clenched on his fist. Last he’d heard, Isaac could feel his hands and arms but not move them.
“I love you, brother. You watch your back. Never say die, right?”
“Never say die.”
~oOo~
When he left Isaac’s room, he had to stop and lean against the hallway wall and get control of himself, his face in his hands. Once he thought he’d found composure, he dropped his hands to see Lilli standing in front of him, smiling a little. Even tired and gaunt as she was—she’d dropped a lot of weight, too, this month—she was beautiful.
“He grabbed my hand.”
Her smile got bigger. “Yeah. That’s new this morning. I woke up to that.”
“That mean—”
She cut him off with a brusque wave of her hand. “It doesn’t mean anything yet, except he’s healing. They thought he’d get movement back in his hands and arms, since he had feeling in them. He still can’t feel anything from his breastbone down. They say it’s still too early to say for sure, but every day he fails their tests, the chance gets fainter.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I killed that fat old fuck way too fast.”
“I’m so sorry, Lilli.”
She shook her head. “I’m glad you came to see him. He’s pretty eaten up about you going.”
Bart nodded, feeling that stupid fucking knot in his throat again. “Me, too.”
She surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “Take care of yourself, bud. We love you.”
~oOo~
When he got back to the clubhouse, he parked the shovelhead in the bay and replaced its cover. Before he did so, he bent down and kissed the gas tank. He’d resisted the urge for a few seconds and then thought, what the hell. He was alone back here.
Alone on Earth Page 22
