by A. J. Downey
We went up and put our name in with the hostess, little kids staring up at us in unabashed awe and the girls giggling at their expressions. Their giggles ceasing when parents snatched their little darlings away, scolding them for staring around death glares shot in our direction.
Aspen looked a little wilted around the edges and I massaged her shoulders. She was sweet. Sweet as the doughnuts and cakes in the bakery’s glass cases, that we went over and looked at next while we waited to be called for our table.
“I’ve never been here before,” Aspen said, looking over the fresh baked breads on the shelves behind the bakery counter.
“They’ve got good stuff,” Little Bird said. “I like their Crystal Mountain bread.”
“Tell you what,” DT said. “Let’s get some of that, and a few other things, then when we’re done eatin,’ we can wander down the other end to the Smokehouse and get some meats and things. Make some sandwiches and shit for lunch later.”
“Sounds good, my brother.” I nodded, and we put in an order for a few things.
“You got any of that Coal Candy?” I asked and the bakery lady looked dejected.
“No, the guy at the Firehouse that made it retired, and we haven’t been able to source it anywhere else.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “That was some good shit.”
The bakery lady smiled and nodded. “I really miss it, too.”
Aspen asked, “What’s that?”
“Oh, Black Diamond used to be a mining town,” I explained. “Coal.”
“Black Diamond, coal, makes sense,” she said nodding.
“Right, so they used to have this shit called ‘Coal Candy’ here, and it was just black rocks of sugar that tasted like black licorice. Used to love that shit. Before my dad got sent up, he used to bring me up here, and we’d leave suckin’ on that stuff. Mom used to hate it.” I laughed. “Turned our mouths all black and made us look all ghoulish.”
Aspen smiled, and I loved having someone to tell this shit too. My mom fuckin’ hated those trips for a lot of reasons. The coal candy was just one more thing to spread her dislike to. She would go to work on the weekends, and my dad would put both me and my sister on the back of his bike to come up here when we were small enough but old enough to hang on. She thought it was dangerous, and it was, but fuck it. It was a different time, you know?
“Um, Dump Truck? Table of four?” the hostess called and me and my brother grinned at each other at the note of confusion in her voice.
“Yeah, that’s us,” DT grated and limped her way; Little Bird trailing behind him. I put Aspen in front of me and brought up the rear as we threaded through tables towering above the craven citizens around us that shrank in their seats or in some cases, studiously avoided looking in our direction as though if they didn’t acknowledge us, we wouldn’t actually exist.
That shit put a smile on my face, not gonna lie. These idiots didn’t have the first clue about what it meant to really live. They never would, and that was no skin off my testicles.
We took our seats, DT and I both seeing to our women’s comfort before our own, making sure their jackets were hung on the backs of their chairs, their purses accounted for, and that ever-present annoying shoving their chairs into the backs of their knees because it was the right thing to do. I asked Aspen, “You want I should get your chair for you, or you in the future? I always feel bad knocking the shit out the backs of a lady’s knees.”
She laughed and smiled at me, her green eyes luminous. “I actually don’t mind. I even like it,” she said. “Call me old-fashioned that way.”
“Never,” I said with a grin. “It makes you feel good, I’ll keep doing it.”
She blushed at the double entendre which made my smile grow. Little Bird looked back and forth between us at the exchange, her smile infectious and causing DT to smile himself.
We took our time overlooking the menus, ordered our drinks and perused them some more, each of us folding them closed and setting them aside as we made our decisions.
Aspen was the first to break the silence asking, “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
“Gotta get you geared up, little lady,” Dump Truck declared, stretching out his bad leg. “Don’t ever want you to earn your broken wings, but if it should go down that you do? You need to be in all the gear all the time to give you the best chance of getting ‘em and not just getting dead in the process.”
“I’m sorry? Broken wings?” she asked, brow wrinkling in confusion.
He pulled up his cut and pointed at the patch on it with a pair of wings, feathers coming off ‘em, wrapped around a black and orange sign that read broken wings.
“Oh! So, the little patches all mean different things?” she asked, as if it had just occurred to her.
Little Bird laughed lightly and said, “I thought the same thing. It’s like a whole other language like the Egyptians and their cartouches.”
“Fascinating,” Aspen said, staring at our cuts with new eyes.
“So, what do the broken wings mean? That you’ve been in an accident?”
“Yup, and survived,” I answered.
“How I got my road name, too. I got hit by a fucking dump truck.”
“Holy shit, and you survived that?” Aspen’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“Barely,” DT answered, shifting in his seat. “Fucked my ass up but good. Permanent damage to my leg, some permanent hardware in a few places,” he sniffed and cleared his throat, “but I’m here.”
Little Bird reached for his hand that rested on the table and clutched it. He looked over at her like she was his world, and she was. He smiled at her.
“Good thing, too. Could have missed out on the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Aww.” Aspen smiled. “You two are seriously like relationship goals,” she said.
I reached over beneath the table and massaged the top of her thigh through her jeans, intending, if she gave me the chance, to prove that we could meet and smash every goal she ever held in her heart for being one half of a mated pair.
“So, what do the other patches mean?” she asked.
“That’s a question for later, baby. We can’t be giving away all our secrets now,” I said, and she smiled at me and nodded.
“You know, Mace gets out next week?” Dump Truck said, steering the conversation to safety.
“Yes, he does. We riding out to pick his ass up?” I asked.
“We certainly are,” he said.
“Are the girls invited on this trip?” Little Bird asked.
“You know it. It’s gonna be one hell of a party that night.”
“What day is it?” Aspen asked.
“Gets out on Tuesday,” I answered. “You’ll be working, but I’d love to have you come up to the club for the party once we get in.”
“You’re sure?” she asked smiling.
“More than,” I said.
“Gets pretty wild, fair warning,” Dump Truck said.
“Yeah?” Aspen asked, the misgivings flitting across her fair face.
I gave her leg another squeeze, reassuring like, under the table and told her, “A lot of booze, a lot of laughs, and even a lot of pussy – but just a good time. That’s all, baby.”
She laughed a bit, a mix of incredulous and nervous and I winked at her. That settled her into a smile, and I knew she had questions. She could ask me all the questions she wanted when we were alone and I would do my level best to answer them.
“Can I ask what sent your friend to prison?” she asked softly.
“I like the way you phrased that,” Dump Truck said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Non-judgmental,” Little Bird answered her. “Usually, when someone has spent time in jail or prison it’s automatically assumed, they deserved it.”
“Exactly,” Dump Truck said. “Look like one of us, it’s automatically assumed we’re all criminals, too.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t have a record.”
“Me either,” I declared. Not that I’d never done anything wrong by citizen standards, mind you. I’d just never been fuckin’ caught.
I flashed on holding the de-fleshed skull of one of my sister’s rapists between my hands, slick with blood as I yanked his fuckin’ teeth out with the needle nose pliers, the smell of the gore, like wet copper stuffing my damn nose.
I shook my head a little more forcefully than the denial required to clear the image from my mind and kick it back down the dark hole of memory where it’d crawled out of.
“So, what happened?” Aspen asked. “In your friend’s case.”
“Assault Two,” Dump Truck answered. “Some fuckin’ asshole in a cage nearly ran him off the road. Mace got a little hyped up on his adrenaline, got pissed off – rightfully so – and took off after him. Ripped him out of his car at a stoplight and beat the brakes off of him with a set of brass knuckles.”
“Jesus!” Aspen cried.
“Guy could have killed him,” I said unhappily.
“Nearly did,” Dump Truck said. “Can’t let that type of shit stand.”
“Anyway, Mace plead out, got sent up for three years, has only been locked up for half of it. Would have been out sooner but there was a prison yard fight. Ended up getting caught up in it trying to defend a homeboy of his so they tacked on six months,” I told her.
She nodded carefully and was clearly trying to process it all.
The topic changed again, thanks to Little Bird, and I could kiss my best friend’s girl for saving the day and from distracting Aspen from thinking about the bad things for too long. I’d meant for today to be about showing her the good things and I felt like I was fucking that up.
I mean, reality dictated that at some point, Aspen’s indoctrination into the life would become a bit of a baptism by fire. That was sort of always the way these kinds of things went.
I just needed to make sure she was as prepared as possible for it but seeing was believing and there was really only so much I could do on that front. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Still, only time would fuckin’ tell. All I could do was keep this longship on an even keel and hope that the gods smiled upon me.
Chapter Nineteen
Aspen…
To ride with Fenris was nothing short of amazing. The faster we went around swoops and curves the more I could believe the wind washing over and around us carried the burned broken bits of my soul to a better place. The ashes of my marriage stripped away leaving new growth in their place. Raw still, sure, but new and alive and soaking up the light from the sky leaving me feeling refreshed, and my spirit renewed.
I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten how freeing this was.
I breathed cleanly, the crisp fall day rejuvenating in its own way as we wound our way to the freeways and to the guys’ favorite Harley-Davidson dealership.
Dump Truck and Little Bird went in ahead of us and Fenris stopped me at the door.
“Hey,” he said, tipping my chin lightly with his crooked finger in that way that made my heart beat faster and the butterflies take flight in my stomach.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I don’t want you thinking that I expect you to pay for any of this,” he said.
“I-um, I hadn’t thought about it, actually. I thought we were just here looking?” Shit, I really hadn’t thought about it. My head was so full of information from the breakfast conversation that I was still trying to parse through that I hadn’t put one thought toward what we were doing here.
“No, babe. I want you to ride in safety, so we’re going in there, we’re going to get you the best gear money can buy, and I don’t want to hear shit else about it. I mean it. This is on me.”
I stared up at him, not in disbelief, because I could see he was very much so serious. More, I guess, stunned? Surprised? I mean, we were moving awfully fast, but then again, wasn’t that how they lived? Didn’t they just get through telling me as much?
“Talk to me,” he said in that gentle, hushed way that made me feel so ludicrously safe.
“I guess I’m just overwhelmed,” I whispered. “You’ve been so generous and I… I just don’t know what to think. There’s some real cognitive dissonance and—”
Little Bird came to the door and reached out, capturing my hand with both of hers and dramatically tugged on me with an exaggerated, “Ugh! Come on!” effectively cutting me off from what I was trying to convey.
I laughed, and Fenris nodded at her. He met my eyes with his and that one look conveyed that we would definitely talk later, but also said with his smile and those beautiful blue eyes of his – right now, life was supposed to be fun.
“Anything she likes, whatever she needs,” he called to Little Bird who smiled at him serenely and called back, “Roger that!”
“Are they always this intense?” I asked quietly, and she grinned at me.
“Yes, and I know it’s a lot to wrap your mind around – the casual violence and all of that, but I promise you there’s nothing ‘casual’ about it to them. Their perceptions vary wildly from the citizen norm.”
“I just don’t get that,” I murmured. “The ‘us vs. them’ mentality.”
Little Bird sighed and took us over to the shoe section, sitting down with me on the bench there.
“I didn’t either, at first,” she said. “Then I realized that it all boiled down to they’re heartily sick of the bullshit, and it’s all bullshit.”
“I still don’t get it,” I said with a little laugh and she smiled at me, her deep brown eyes warm and her general demeanor sweet. She was effervescent, and a breath of fresh air. A delightful personality from what I had seen so far.
She heaved a sigh and blew out her cheeks.
“Sometimes it’s tough to put into words,” she said. “Let’s put it this way, you remember what we were talking about when it came to Mace?”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “We were only just talking about it.”
“Right, so this man intentionally tried to run Mace off the road, right?”
“Right, I remember,” I said.
“Now imagine Mace did everything you’re supposed to do in a scenario like that. Imagine, he pulled over, called the police, and gave him all this guy’s information. What do you think would have happened?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose it would be naïve of me that anything would.”
“Kind of, yeah,” she said with a bit of a wince. “It’s okay, though. I was there once, too.”
“It’s a good question, though. What would the police do?” I wondered aloud.
“Taken a report and filed it under ‘who gives a shit,’” an acerbic woman’s voice declared. Little Bird looked up sharply past me and her eyes lit up.
“Dahlia! What are you doing here?”
“Meh, went out for hangover food with Tic-Tac,” the woman said, putting her sunglasses up on top of her head and dropped down on the bench on my other side. “We ended up here at the toy store.” She rolled her eyes. “I should make him buy me something.”
Little Bird laughed and made introductions, “Dahlia, this is Aspen. Aspen, this is Dahlia.”
Dahlia was pretty in that pinup girl style sort of way, her black hair up in a red bandana Rosie the Riveter style. She held out a hand with long red nails and I took it. She gave it a sharp shake and asked, “This the one Fen’s been skulking around about?”
“Dahlia!” Little Bird said aghast.
“I can see why; I can also see why you’re here.” She looked me up and down critically and said, “You look like a citizen.”
I laughed nervously and blushed furiously with my discomfort.
“I, um, guess I kind of am one. I’m trying to understand. I don’t really know how it all works, really…”
“Honey, it’s okay,” she said, giving me a pointed look. “First thing’s first. We gotta get you looking the part.” She looked over at Little Bird and asked, “What have you picked out so far?
”
Little Bird laughed and said, “We haven’t even gotten started.”
“Oooo! Perfect! Allow me to offer my services, then.”
What ensued can only be described as an absolute whirlwind of activity.
Dahlia asked me to find something I liked in the boots but told me to make damn sure that whatever I picked was waterproof now that the seasons were changing. Thankfully, the waterproofing qualifier narrowed things down considerably but still, there wasn’t a single option for a pair of boots that wasn’t one hundred and fifty dollars or more! For just one pair of boots!
I stuttered and stammered my resistance to the idea until Dahlia rolled her eyes, stuck her thumb and her ring fingertips in her mouth and let out the most earsplitting whistle imaginable. I stood there, face flaming, as Fenris stalked over and asked, “What’s the problem?”
“Your girlfriend’s balking at the price tag,” Dahlia said and Fen frowned.
“Which pair do you like?” he asked me and I pointed, mutely.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” He turned to Dahlia and said, “Get that pair.”
Dahlia wrinkled her nose impishly with an exaggerated smile and gave a nod.
“Seriously, if you like it, say so. If you don’t – say so. She can make this so much worse,” Little Bird said with a conspiratorial little smile, her lovely brown eyes almost apologetic. I had to think that she’d had a turn at this a time or two before.
“Okay, boots are decided,” Dahlia said looking me up and down. “You’re definitely not a leather pants kind of girl so let’s go look at chaps. You’re definitely a chap over jeans girl.”
“I-I-I’m sorry? Did you just say chaps?” I asked. She closed her eyes, smiled at me, opened them and just turned and walked away.
I looked at Little Bird who was laughing, confused, and she said to me, “Don’t worry about it. Dahlia takes some getting used to.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this,” I muttered and Little Bird’s smile grew.
