Reprise

by C. D. Breadner

  “That’s good to know,” Gertie mumbled, covering up a yawn. “For when we need a babysitter.”

  Trinny looked shocked. “You haven’t noticed that he’s the baby whisperer yet?”

  “He’s what?”

  “Whenever we’re at something like this, where the kids are tired but overstimulated so they don’t want to leave, we’d hand them over to Tiny. He’d just hold them, they’d pass out, and sleep all the way home.”

  Mal had almost stopped breathing. It had been the same with Angelina, too.

  “I’ll try that tonight with Davie,” Gertie promised. “I gotta see that.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind, too,” Rose said. “Would he do house calls?”

  “You know how much he loves babies. He’ll totally do house calls,” Trinny laughed.

  Mal kept silent. Speaking might give away the fact that she was mere seconds away from sobbing.

  “Pizza’s here!” Knuckles finally shouted, rushing to the door.

  “Pizza!” JJ echoed, chasing after Knuckles.

  “Oh, better get the plates out,” Trinny muttered as she stood. “Or, napkins at least.”

  “Let me help,” Mal offered, following the blonde to a door behind the bar. On the other side was a surprisingly well-appointed kitchen.

  “Disposable stuff’s all in here,” Trinny said, pulling open a closet door off to the right. Sure enough, it was stuffed with paper plates, napkins, cups and plastic cutlery. “If anything ever runs out, there’s a grocery list on the fridge. It’ll be picked up on the next run.”

  Being told this information was oddly comforting, much like sitting with those women just moments ago. The ease with which she’d fallen into Harlon’s—Tiny’s—life wasn’t a surprise. It had been that way before, too, when it was his parents opening their doors to give her shelter.

  She carried out the napkins and brought them to the pool table, still covered in plastic from breakfast. Knuckles and JJ were opening the pizza boxes, announcing the flavor inside. “Pepperoni!” “Hawaiian!” “All Meat!”

  Then Mal went in search of Harlon, who was still holding the little girl while sitting on a high stool at the bar. Libby was playing with his beard. He was oblivious to it while talking to Fritter on one side.

  “Hey,” she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Mal,” Fritter said warmly, giving her elbow a squeeze.

  “Fritter. Where’s Sharon?”

  “Adeel had a rough night. He was okay here while we were out on the ride, but after that he...well, he just wanted to go home.”

  The quiet after that was a bit awkward. Fritter excused himself to go eat, and Mal made a mental note to find out what was up with that little boy.

  -oOo-

  The pizza vanished like it was being ravaged by vultures. As though scripted, after eating next to Harlon she was back with the women in the same spot, a glass of Jack on the rocks in her hand instead of beer. The men had moved on to darts and pool.

  When Davie Junior started to fuss, Gertie shared a knowing giggle with Trinny before hunting down Harlon.

  From a distance Mal watched. If he found the hand over weird he didn’t show it. The infant was settled on his chest comfortably, one hand holding the little body in place, while his other hand held another beer. He and Tank were deep in discussion, but almost immediately Davie stopped squawking. Gertie rejoined them while whispering, “That’s amazing,” as though she might still bother the little guy.

  “Are you guys staying here tonight?” Trinny asked.

  “Nah, we have to head home. I’m doing a Christmas Eve brunch tomorrow with my brother and his family before we come here.”

  “At your place?”

  “Yeah. I’m mostly ready but I’ll be cooking like a fiend tomorrow morning.”

  “Which brother?”

  “Henri.” She said it with a French flair, which seemed so out of place here.

  “I’m glad you’re getting along with your family.”

  “Yeah. It was rough for a while there but Henri is coming around to accepting Buck. And his daughter dotes on Davie. Once there’s kids people move on from their bullshit.”

  “Where are you from?” Mal asked. It made Gertie blink in surprise. “I mean, you all seem so different from each other. But you all ended up here.”

  Now Gertie grinned. “Oh God. Ready for my amazing story? I was an insurance adjustor. Grew up in Bakersfield, had a very comfortable upbringing. Nothing more exciting than that.”

  “She’s being coy,” Trinny assured Mal. “She’s had plenty of drama, but it’s not my story to tell.”

  “I don’t need to know,” Mal hurried to explain, hands up. “Sorry, I’m being nosy.”

  “Not at all,” Gertie replied. “I’m not sure it’s that great of a story.”

  “It’s an amazing story,” Trinny corrected.

  “I’m an addict.” Gertie’s statement was so blunt Mal thought she maybe misheard her. “Yeah, I’m an addict and some gangsters in Bakersfield used me to smuggle Oxy into California from Canada.”

  Now Mal had to blink. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m over two years sober now. But I didn’t get a wake-up until I lost my job and was kidnapped.”

  It was difficult to assign this story to the innocuous redhead sitting on an arm in well-worn jeans and a flowy, sleeveless blouse. She looked like a doting mother—albeit a gorgeous one.

  “Unbeknownst to me, my father got into some bad deals with mobsters. He had a million dollar reward on his head. When I lost my job the gangsters decided I could still be useful. They handed me over to some bikers in Hazeldale to draw my father out of hiding. They had me there for a week, and my father didn’t come for me.”

  God, what a horrible story.

  “And these bikers were not like the Red Rebels,” Trinny filled in quietly. Gertie dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap, and Mal’s stomach dropped.

  “That’s what it took to get me straight,” Gertie finally said. “And Buck was there for me through all of it. I just wish I’d trusted him enough to tell him what was going on.”

  “We would have helped,” Trinny agreed, not unkindly. “And, as for me, Mal, I was a stripper before I finally achieved the fairy tale and nabbed myself the president of a motorcycle club.”

  Mal nearly choked on her Jack. “You were?”

  Trinny narrowed her eyes. “You don’t think I could be a stripper?”

  Mal burst out laughing. “God, that’s not what I meant. You’re gorgeous, but...”

  “I’m a Mom,” Trinny finished with a sigh. “I know.”

  “I’m a stripper too,” Rose chimed in. “Or, I was before I got all knocked up. Not that I think Tank would want me stripping even without the baby.”

  “Rose also manages the strip club next door,” Gertie filled in. “The club runs it. They just did a huge renovation. Rose helped with the redesign, too. We keep intending to visit it but...”

  “We’re moms,” Trinny said with a chuckle.

  “Jolene and Mickey ran the garage, although right now Buck is doing the day to day,” Gertie went on. “Jolene hasn’t set foot back inside. That’s where Mickey was killed.”

  “Oh my God!” Mal breathed.

  “It was a robbery. He must have interrupted it.” Gertie’s voice showed her how fresh the incident still was. “It’s a horrible thing. He was so funny.”

  “Yeah. Mickey, Knuckles and Fritter were the goofballs,” Trinny said, sounding so remorseful. “The three stooges.”

  “What about Sharon?”

  They all squirmed a little, but Trinny answered. “She was the sheriff of Markham County.”

  “What?”

  “She and Fritter started up, just a bit of harmless fun. But the elections came up, and she was running against a real asshole.”

  “He totally creeps me out,” Rose admitted.

  “The prick videotaped them fucking,” Trinny continued. “Put it online. She
lost her job.”

  “Jesus, that’s horrible.”

  “And she got knocked up, thanks to that insane sweetbutt you met earlier today.” Gertie shook her head. “Jesus, what a mess.”

  “She lost the baby.” Trinny sounded like she was carefully selecting her words now, perhaps out of concern for Rose in her current state. Rose seemed unaffected, however. “Right now she’s actually setting up a private investigation business. I’m so fucking impressed with her.”

  “And Adeel?” Mal looked around, hoping to seem less rude. “Not to be a jerk, but she didn’t give birth to him.” Mal really wanted that story for some reason.

  The women around her were all exchanging glances, and it was no surprise that Trinny spoke. She seemed to be the head of the group. “She saved him. She found him and a few other kids tied up in a basement.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Not the worst part,” Gertie added softly. “They were all...abused.”

  The way she said it told Mal exactly what she meant, and it wasn’t that the kids had been merely beaten and berated.

  “He was the only one whose family didn’t want him back. So she’s been granted foster parent status, and her and Fritter and working on adopting him.”

  Mal sought out the young man they were discussing. Fritter, Knuckles and Rusty were playing pool. Fritter was telling a story with a wad of cigar shoved in the corner of his mouth. All she’d seen of him indicated he was an overgrown child, like Knuckles, but his story with Sharon made him seem totally different.

  “We’re a family,” Rose said with a smile, noting Mal’s surprised expression. “We take care of each other, first and foremost. And now you’re one of us.”

  Mal didn’t really know how lonely she’d been until that moment. This family was built and chosen. She liked how that felt.

  -oOo-

  That night Harlon made love to her again, unhurried, as though the warm and fuzzy bubble of the holidays affected this aspect of life as well. No schedules. No need to look at the time.

  Afterwards, with the bedside lamp on, Harlon held her to his side and sifted his fingers through her hair, over and over again. It didn’t put her to sleep but she was certainly mellow.

  “You said you sang back-up on a few albums when you were in Nashville,” he eventually said.

  “Yeah. A recording artist heard me sing in a coffee shop this one day. Gave me his card, I gave him mine.”

  “He wanted to fuck you?”

  She laughed and pulled at his chest hair. “Maybe. But when he called he actually asked me to come out and audition. The band was there, they listened to me and then I sang some vocals on two of their songs. I had two more like that, then Dad almost burnt the house down.”

  “Heard about that. How’d you end up with this band? These Mal Contents?”

  “I figured if I was going to be stuck in Cleary, I was still going to have my music. So I put the band together. V and Matt already knew each other. We held an audition and that’s where we found Hal. God, the guy is so talented. But he’s a total jag off.”

  “Did you ever want to make an album?”

  She closed her eyes and took a moment to answer. “That’s been my dream for a long time. I even have songs written for one. But it’s expensive, and the guys aren’t into it. I write all these songs myself, and I can’t even get them to perform them live with me. They just want to play bars and get laid.”

  “Fuck ‘em, Mal.”

  She laughed, and his hand paused in her hair, mid-stroke.

  “I’m serious,” he said forcefully. “Fuck that babysitting bullshit and do what you want.”

  “It’s expensive.”

  “Fuck that. I’ll pay for it.”

  She laughed again, hand flat on the center of his chest. “Harlon, you don’t need to do that. I’m too old to be dreaming anyway.”

  He rolled away so he could go up on one elbow, gazing down on her. “Honey, I’m trying to be gentle with this. But I let you down, and I can’t help but think I really fucked up your chances of doing something great with your life.”

  She touched his cheek, scratched her nails through his beard. “Parts of my life were really good, Harlon. You were gone for a long time, but I had some good years in there. I promise.”

  He captured her hand in his. “Did you stop with the music when we got together? I remember you singing to the baby, but nothing like a band or a choir or anything. Did I stop that, somehow?”

  “No, handsome,” she assured him softly. “We were new. I stopped doing everything, just so I could be with you. I couldn’t get enough of you.”

  “I’d hate to think I’d blocked that somehow.”

  “You didn’t. I promise. I was young, Harlon. There was always going to be time later on for everything and anything. Remember what that was like?”

  He cleared his throat and she didn’t like the shadow that passed behind his eyes. It was gone before she could ask what was wrong, though. “Yeah, I remember that. We never really stop, do we? Putting shit off?”

  “No, we don’t,” she agreed. “Foolishly assuming we’re immortal.”

  “Please. Take some money to make an album. Find out what it costs. Hire the musicians you want. I mean it. I want to do this for you. I need to do this.”

  She frowned. “Harlon, you really don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. You have time to do this. I just have one request.”

  “Well, as my benefactor, how can I refuse you?”

  Now he smiled. “Put that Janis Joplin song on it.”

  She stilled, mouth opening, then closing again. She had nothing to say to that.

  “I always loved it when you sang that one. I loved that our daughter loved it, too. I’m sure it’ll be expensive to get the rights or whatever, but that song should be on it. Then do the rest with your own songs. Okay?”

  All she could do was nod.

  “Okay. Good.” He leaned back to turn off the light, then collapsed to his back and dragged her into his hold again. “Now let’s get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Harlon woke feeling great. Mal was warm and sleeping next to him, and there was no hacking cough to burn through his lungs and bring tears to his eyes. Maybe he’d be granted a few painless days for the holidays.

  He gazed down at the crown of Mal’s head, her copper-colored hair rich and shining. He was glad they’d had that talk last night. A recorded album was something he could give her, something she’d always wanted.

  Hopefully that would prevent her hating him when he had to go.

  When she woke they made love again, not rushing it. It felt like a sleep-in day anyway, the kind that only seem un-lazy during the holidays. All the better to enjoy themselves.

  After a shower they strode hand-in-hand into the clubhouse, the smell of breakfast in the air again. Waffles this time. Knuckles and Rusty were already sitting down with full plates and coffee.

  “Morning,” his woman greeted the men.

  They both nodded hello but their mouths were too full to reply.

  Mal and Tiny helped themselves to a couple of Belgians then sat at a small table to eat. The whole room was quiet until Spaz came shooting out from the hallway.

  “Shit. Oh, shit. Is Jayce up yet? Is he here?”

  “Trinny and the kids are in town,” Tiny reminded him. “He’s at the house. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure, but...I think this is bad.”

  Tiny stood up, tossing down his napkin. “Stay here, honey,” he said. She nodded, wide-eyed but apparently quite aware of the sudden shift in the room temperature.

  Tiny followed Spaz into his office, noting the glare of the computer screen and crackling of a radio in the air.

  “Sheriff’s office communications just went bat shit,” Spaz was saying, taking his seat. “So much chatter. Then I logged into their email server.”

  “I’ll call Jayce,” Tiny promised, reaching for hi
s burner. He selected the Prez on the speed dial list. “Go ahead, Spaz.”

  “Doc Webber is dead.”

  Tiny’s head was ringing instantly. “What?” he asked, just as Jayce picked up.

  “What’s up?”

  “Fuck,” Tiny whispered, ignored by Spaz who was typing away.

  “Tiny?” Jayce said loudly. “What’s going on?”

  “Doc Webber,” he replied, sounding a lot like a robot. “She’s dead.”

  “Definitely a homicide,” Spaz was saying.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jayce sounded small and far away in his ear.

  “Spaz just got a shitload of action on the police band,” Tiny replied, snapping to. “She’s dead. They think it’s a homicide.”

  “Well shit,” Jayce whispered.

  Two days ago—wait, was it three?—he’d fucked that woman and left her in her home. And wanting more, he was pretty sure. Since then he hadn’t given her a second thought.

  Dead.

  What the fuck?

  “Jayce,” Tiny spoke up, turning away from Spaz. “I was...I was just with her. The other day, before I went to go get Mal.”

  Jayce paused for just a moment. “Did anything happen?”

  He closed his eyes. He couldn’t even find the energy to be offended by the question. “Nah. I left her house and came here. That’s when the Montrose Rats called. Literally that very night.”

  “Right,” Jayce replied thoughtfully. “Were you seen?”

  “I was on my bike. People can usually hear them.”

  “Okay. I’m coming in. If anyone says anything, we’ll worry about it then. But if someone does, we’ll have to contend with Turnbull.”

  “Yeah,” Tiny basically whispered. “I know.”

  While they were waiting for Jayce, Tims and Red also showed for breakfast. Tiny took his place next to Mal, only shaking his head when she asked if everything was okay.

  Jayce’s arrival led to the members in attendance walking through the clubhouse to the board room. Tiny kissed Mal’s cheek before following. “I’m sure the old ladies will be along soon,” he told her.