by ML Nystrom
Stud had become my constant companion, showing up in the morning, staying with me all day, and leaving at night either for band rehearsal or for a gig or for his condo if it was not rented for the week. If he was free from band obligations, he’d spend his time with me, joking, laughing, talking, and debating movie buddies. We argued more over who was the best James Bond and went on a movie marathon where we watched them all, a different one every night. Sometimes we were in the Lair’s main room with other Dragon Runners around, and sometimes we stayed back in his room, our eyes on his TV screen and me snuggled up against his warm body. He still paid close attention to my injuries, bringing me pain pills and helping me move around. I supposed I should’ve been annoyed at his hovering, but I kinda liked it. It was nice to have a big strapping man around at times. Not once did I hear gossip about or see him with another woman.
I’d been at the Lair for over six weeks, nearly seven now, and my life had become routine. I got up and did my shower thing, which was difficult and painful at first, but there was no way I was letting Stud help me with that. Next was food. Stud could cook! This was a great thing as I didn’t have a lot of skill in that area. I could microwave with the best of them, but real cooking was limited in a tiny house, so I never had an opportunity to do much of it. Betsey would come into the kitchen and chat about the day, her grandkids, the wedding, and would rush out to do whatever it was she had to do. Stud and I then would settle in for the morning’s workload. Most often he would be at one of the sitting tables at the Lair, working on his computer, and I’d be working at my sewing machine, stitching up the next project I had started. The silence was broken only by the sounds of my machine or Stud’s key clicks.
One or more of the old ladies came by for lunch, either bringing it or making it there. I felt like I was getting waited on hand and foot. I hated it, but like Stud had pointed out time after time, the faster I recovered, the faster I could back get on my feet.
“I’ve had those days too,” Molly sympathized, nodding in agreement. She’d brought sandwiches from a local deli. “There are times I work my ass off all day, then look at the clock and discover I’ve only been at it a few hours and it ain’t even close to closing time. Sucks monkey butt!”
Kat giggled at Molly’s complaint. “Could be worse. You could have bedpan duty.”
I laughed a bit while snipping some loose threads.
“You’re a fantastic seamstress, Eva,” Kat said. “I was thinking of asking you this, but you can say no if you want. No hard feelings if you don’t want to. Not a problem.”
I looked at the timid woman who had befriended me. “I can’t say yes or no until I know what you want.”
She bit her lower lip, pulling at it between her teeth. “Do you think you can sew me a dress for my wedding? I haven’t found anything I really like at the stores, and the one I tried to buy online didn’t fit at all. I ended up shipping it back. I’ll buy the fabric and stuff and pay you for—”
“I’ll do it!” I interrupted. “No charge, this will be my gift to you.” I was flattered she thought enough of my work to want to wear it. I’d never sewn for anyone else and was really excited about the idea. I supposed I should have been intimidated, but I wasn’t.
“Your lap quilts are beautiful, and I wouldn’t mind a couple pairs of your lounge pants. I bet you could sew up table runners, tablecloths, napkins, and that sort of thing pretty easily. If you ever want to sell anything you make, there’s Psalm Kopolove’s store in town, Soap-n-stuff. She takes a lot of consignment from local artists and craftsmen. They seem to do pretty well. The tourist season here is pretty long with the folks coming in for the train. You should check it out.” Tambre spoke quietly while fingering the finished edge of the quilt I was cleaning up.
Tambre was referring to the Great Smoky Mountain Railway, one of the big attractions for this part of the state and a major source of income for many people in the area. Locals referred to it as “that damn train,” but many had businesses that thrived on the tourists the railway brought in. The thought of selling my work was another one I hadn’t really considered, but it was a good one. I had a small stash of different sized quilts already made during my forced convalescence, and it wouldn’t take too long to make the lounge pants or any of the other linens that Tambre suggested. The idea of getting money for my stuff was definitely appealing.
“How would I go about that? Just talk to Psalm?” I asked, folding the finished quilt.
“She has a standard contract she uses,” Stud’s voice said close enough to my ear. I jumped. I tilted my head back to spot him standing right behind me, arms leaning on the couch cushions and his hand bracketing my shoulders. He looked a bit like a guard dog. I visualized him in a studded collar. He would look really hot.
Damn it! Wrong kind of image!
“There’s another street festival coming up. Always something going on in the summer. Be a good way to see if your stuff would sell. ’Specially them lounging pants. I’m gonna want me some as well!” Molly said, coming up on her knees on the couch. She clapped her hands in excitement. “You should totally do this, girlfriend! Can you get her set up, Stud?”
Stud put a warm hand on my shoulder, and I tilted my head back again. His blue eyes met my green ones.
“You want to try this, Eva?” he asked, his voice so low I felt it rumble through me.
I met his gaze straight on. “Yes, I think I do.”
He nodded. “Talk to Psalm and see if she has space. I’ll print off a blank contract for you. I gave her legal advice and helped her with it. It’s as straightforward as you can get. The bones of it is she takes in approved pieces for consignment for a thirty-day limit, no fees. If the piece sells, she takes 20 percent. If the piece stays past thirty days, she charges a storage and display fee, or the seller has the option of removing it. She also takes pictures and puts the pieces up on her store website. Same thirty-day rules and percentages. She collects and takes care of sales taxes. Shipping, income tax, any other fees, that sort of thing are the seller’s responsibility. She notifies of sales and pays total sales amount at the end of the month. If the seller wants to know daily or weekly sales, it’s up to them to make contact. Make sense?”
Wow! That was a lot of information! Stud just went total lawyer on me, and I liked it. He really did know his stuff, and even though we’d had some ups and downs, I felt I could trust him, at least with this kind of thing.
His phone started ringing and he slipped it from his back pocket only to frown at the number and swipe it closed. He moved away from the couch, saying he’d get the contract and go pick up three or four of my lap quilts from my house. I was to get a few pairs of my lounge pants finished up and call Psalm about setting up an appointment.
“The street festival starts Friday night. If we get your quilts approved today, maybe Psalm can get them set up in the store before then and you’ll both get a chance to see buyers’ reactions,” he said, handing me the paper, still warm from the printer.
Stud had explained the contract, but I read through it anyway. After I talked to Psalm, I would sign my name. I felt a buzz in my gut as I skimmed through the fancy legal language. This was something outside of being a construction worker for my family. This would be something completely mine. Da wouldn’t be happy if I left the crew for something different, and I suppose that’s the one reason I’ve stuck around so many years. I knew Connor would be cool with it. Both of us had talked more than once about our lives, how much of it was invested in the family business, and how much we wanted to break away for something else. It was a bit scary thinking that this could actually happen. I’d been programmed to work as a member of the Pub Builders crew since birth, and this sewing consignment thing would be for just me. I supposed I should have been intimidated that the idea of doing something outside my family business could be real, but I found myself excited about it.
“This is a good thing, Eva. Psalm is a good woman, and her store does really well. Get your st
uff together, and I’ll take care of business and let you know what she says later today.”
Molly shooed him off as only she could do. “Well, go on with ya! We got other things to talk about, like this wedding dress we’re gonna design and make.”
I raised my eyebrows. I knew Molly sewed, but I didn’t know her work, other than pictures of the Catwoman costume she’d made for Kat last Halloween. That sleek design would never be mistaken for a wedding dress!
“What’s this ‘we’ thing, kemosabe?” I asked. “Kat asked me to sew her dress.”
Molly flipped up her hand. “You sew, I design. We’ll make a good team.”
“Jesus.” Stud rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Good luck, Cactus. You too, Kat. Only the good Lord knows what Molly the mischievous will come up with.”
His phone rang again, and he looked at it with a harsh scowl before swiping it off a second time. I’d seen Stud happy and smiling, playing music with his band. I’d seen Stud laughing and relaxed, joking around about movies during our Netflix times. I’d seen Stud serious and professional in his dealings with the bar construction and his other accounting work. We’d had deeper conversations about politics, religion, and a bunch of other subjects. The man was brilliant! I’d not seen him with any club women since my accident, and he spent his daily free time being with me in some fashion. I’d even seen him angry and annoyed, but this was different. This phone call was putting him on edge like I’d never seen, and he was tense enough to turn coal into diamonds. Something was wrong, and it was making me worry about him.
“I need to run,” he said, bending over and kissing the top of my head. “Get those pants ready, babe.” He left the room with the contract in his hand.
Tambre clicked her tongue. “Poor man,” she said softly as she shuffled through the stack of quilts I had piled up on the coffee table.
“His parents?” Kat asked. Even Molly got quiet and thoughtful.
“They’re at it again,” Tambre started. “He told Betsey his grandmother is turning ninety next weekend and there’s a big party planned for it. He’s torn up, wanting to see her but not wanting to see his other family. Still a lot of bad feelings for whatever went down.”
I remembered the ladies talking about this a bit at the pool party, but they hadn’t given up a lot of detail. “Must have been really bad for him to have turned his back on them,” I said casually. “My brothers drive me up the freakin’ wall most of the time and I’m mad as hell two of them put me on this couch, but I can’t imagine life without them.”
Tambre examined several folded pieces of cloth for me to see. “I like these the best for your lounge pants for Psalm. The colors are bright, and the patterns are cute.”
I thought she was changing the subject, but I was hoping my lead-in statement would get her to share more. She did.
“Stud has a mom and dad, brother and sister-in-law, back in Raleigh. They had a bad falling out before he showed up here. To my knowledge, he hasn’t spoken to his parents or brother since. He still keeps in touch with his grandma, but that’s it. He was messed up for a long time when he was prospecting with the Runners, and I think that’s why he took to the club so quick. This brotherhood is more family to him than his own blood. Stud is a strong man, a smart man, but deep down, he’s still a hurting man.”
She reached for a white-red-and-gold-patterned lap quilt and unfolded it.
“Not my place to get into a brother’s business, but if he goes to his grandma’s party, and I think he will, he’ll need someone at his back. Not right to take a brother in this situation. He best be takin’ a sister.” She looked at me, making her point abundantly clear. “I like this one the best,” she said, making eye contact with the other two women.
I heard Stud’s boots echoing down the hallway and all of us started chattering away about wedding colors and dress patterns. As much as these women liked to gossip about the club members, the townsfolk, and whatever else hit their heads, they were fierce as wildcats in the protection of their men. Not just their old men, but all of them. I realized that in all the conversations I’d had with Stud, he never once mentioned his family in the eastern part of the state.
Yup, I’d talk to Stud, and yup, I’d have his back if he wanted it.
Thirteen
I was at the Lair just over eight weeks, nearly nine. Eight weeks of being pampered and waited on. Paradise, right? Nope, not even a little. I was the worst patient ever, probably because Stud had appointed himself my nurse. I’d always hated being sick, and since it was never tolerated in my family, the confinement was hard.
I supposed it could have been worse. At night, I had Stud’s company or that of the other club members in the main room when Stud was busy with band practice or had a gig. Most of the time I had with Stud, we spent it watching movies, playing cards or video games, teasing back and forth, and talking about whatever was on our minds. We’d grown a lot closer over the last two months, and I’d grown very comfortable with him. He’d touch me often, putting his arm around me to play with my hair while we were curled up in front of the TV. He was free with his attentions in front of the brothers too. Once in a while, he would kiss my cheek or my forehead. Quick, dry affectionate pecks that were more brotherly or friendly. I didn’t really want to feel the brother-from-another-mother thing going on with him, but I still liked it.
Things took a turn about a week ago.
It was during the day and I was bored out of my mind, pacing up and down the hallways trying to find something to do. I was out of usable fabric. I had already finished my laundry (and Stud’s just so I could keep my hands occupied). The club was moving stuff in, getting set up for the big grand opening for the new River’s Edge, and the majority of club members were involved in the work. I was by myself, feeling fine and healing very well, and about to go a bit stir-crazy from the confinement. Fuck my life!
“Babe, you really need to settle,” I heard as I wandered back down the long hallway to the main room. Stud was setting up his laptop at his usual spot. He’d been in and out all morning between the Lair and the bar, feeding me limited information. I was not used to being this out of touch and really wanted to see the finished building.
“I can’t!” I snapped, flopping down on the couch. “I’ve been sitting on my ass for weeks now and I’m done with this shit! Everyone is down there helping out and I’m stuck here doing laundry. Laundry of all things!” I huffed and crossed my arms, ignoring the slight pull of my ribs.
He looked at me a moment and then unplugged his computer to stow it back in its case. “All right then, go suit up.”
“Huh?”
“Go get some different clothes on, Cactus. You’ve been lounging long enough. Let’s go for a ride.” He gave me that half smile of his I liked so much.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked.
“Nope. Get your lazy ass moving, babe. Unless you don’t want to go?”
I nearly broke my ribs again scrambling off the couch. Ten minutes later, we were out at his bike and he was handing me a helmet.
He checked the straps under my chin. “There’s a radio. All you have to do is speak normally and I’ll hear you. If you start hurting, let me know. Okay?”
“I got it, big guy, let’s go already!” I was super stoked to be riding on a bike again.
We made the short ride to the River’s Edge bar in no time. It kinda sucked, as I was ready for more, but seeing the completed project took the sting away.
It was beautiful, one of our best. Rustic cabin exterior, stone chimney set that would look great in the winter with smoke curling from its top, and plenty of paved parking met my eyes. Inside was bustling as pictures and the neon bar sign were being hung, tables, chairs, and benches were being moved and set in place by the men. The Runners had even commissioned new chainsaw-art bar stools that looked fantastic lined up against the bar I had designed. Betsey was directing the whole show.
“Lord have mercy, child! What are you doing here an
d why in the Sam Hill did you ride that bike? You sure you’re ready for that?” she barked, hugging me and scolding me at the same time.
“I’m not used to being still for so long, Betsey. Couldn’t take it anymore. Don’t get mad at Stud. I made him bring me down.”
She rolled her eyes and made her irritated pshht sound. “Well as long as you’re here, what do you think? The inspector was right pleased at the level of the work. Y’all did a great job!”
Yeah, we did. I thought proudly.
We chatted for a bit while Stud checked in with Brick and some of the other club men. I saw him reach for his phone at one point and frown deeply at the number, but instead of swiping it closed, he answered it and walked off to be by himself. Betsey saw it as well.
“Oh Lord, here it comes,” she said in a resigned tone. “If you have a praying bone in your body, please send up all you can to the man upstairs. Stud needs all the help he can get if he goes back to that viper den.”
I didn’t get a chance to answer as I watched Stud ram the phone into his back pocket and stride toward us.
“You feeling okay?” he asked me, his mouth in a thin line. “Wanna ride a bit longer? Maybe the Tail for a short run?”
“Yup! I’m feeling so good I expect I’ll get taxed on it!” I grinned at him, hopefully to offset whatever made him lose his good mood. It didn’t work.
He handed me my helmet and strapped his back on. I waved at Betsey as we pulled out, taking in her concerned face and giving her a thumbs-up. I hoped she was reassured at least a little for both my condition and Stud’s.
A little while later, we passed the marker noting the start of the Tail of the Dragon.
Stud had been steering carefully and I felt the growling machine under me bulge with power, wanting to open up and fly. When we came onto the Tail, I heard Stud talk to me through the tinny-sounding radio.
“Are you still good? No pain in the leg or ribs? I’d like to open up a bit but not if you’re hurting.”
