by Hazel Parker
Brett did the best thing he could have done then. Rather than try to use words to understand something that he couldn’t, he stood, invited me up, and embraced me tightly.
“Whatever challenges we face on the way,” he said, “we face together. I can’t make your body better. But I know that stress can play a part in that. Hopefully, here with me, you’re less stressed.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just a little.”
Brett squeezed tight.
“Only a little?”
I chuckled against his taut muscles.
“Oh, Brett,” I said. “You are the person that makes me the least stressed I’ve ever been. You are the person that makes me laugh, makes me giddy, makes me feel alive. You are the person I always hoped I’d get a second chance with. I can never be thankful enough to have you back.”
Brett kissed me for that and then held my head in his hands.
“And you are the person that soothes me and calms me,” he said. “You are the person that can make me back into that open, happy man. You are the one who can make me believe in love, happiness, and prosperity. You are the one who makes me believe I am more than just someone who knows how to fight. You are the one who makes me believe in love. And now, you are the one who makes me believe in happily ever after.”
“Yeah?” I said.
“One hundred percent,” he said. “You know what? You wanna know something?”
“Hmm,” I said.
I had a feeling about where this was going to go. I hadn’t anticipated it in the slightest; the thought of forever had only crossed my mind in an abstract sense. But there was something about Brett’s vibe, Brett’s energy right now that had me thinking…
“Before you left, I was thinking that I was going to propose to you,” he said. “Obviously, that didn’t work out, but I always said if I got the chance to fix that, I would. I had to make sure when you showed back up that you were the same Cassie as you were, but now, I’ve realized I was wrong. You’re not the same Cassie. You’re better.”
He dropped to one knee. Tears filled my eyes.
“Cassie Erickson, I may not have a ring, but I have something better to give you,” he said. “I have my life, my commitment, my soul, and my promise never to leave you behind. You will always be loved and cherished for as long as you are with me. And yes, you will get a ring within a week. With that in mind… will you marry me?”
“Oh my God, yes!”
Yes! Yes! Yes!
Brett stood up, beaming, lifted me to the sky—almost so high that my head scraped the ceiling—and then brought me down for a kiss.
It had been my biggest regret in my life that I’d run as I had without a word to Brett. I had imagined that that would be a stain on my soul that I would carry with me from now until the end of days.
But life had shown me that even the biggest of regrets, if given the chance, can turn into the biggest of redemptions.
I had once regretted how I left Brett.
But we both felt mighty redeemed at having this relationship not just now, not just tomorrow, but forever.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
“I’m still not used to you leaving so early.”
“Yeah, and I’m not used to you looking so beautiful.”
I walked with Cassie, my now fiancée, to my motorcycle on my apartment’s parking deck. It was only five in the afternoon, but as part of extra security measures, the club had decided that officer meetings would be held at five-thirty and that club-wide meetings would then be had at six-thirty. Poker would still happen at the end of the meeting, while the show started at the same time, but it meant that I got to The Red Door a full hour and a half earlier than Cassie.
Or I did, at least, before she started getting to the point where her body wouldn’t allow her to dance as she once had. But that was of minor consequence and a temporary setback—in fact, in some ways, it was a blessing. Her pregnancy, which had now advanced to the visible stage and was, thank heavens, without any medical complications to that point, meant she had to stay at home and study for the LSAT and prep for her applications. Money was obviously no concern, as at this point, her bank account and mine were one and the same.
“I have no idea how I’m going to survive only having you around for about five hours a day,” she said in mock exasperation. “I mean, such a handsome hunk of a man, leaving me by myself? Oh, the horror!”
“I know, it’s like being left alone for years and years on end!”
There was perhaps no better sign for the health of our relationship than the rise of “dark humor.” There were still the occasional moments when I felt a little triggered—for example, when a grocery store run that was supposed to just be half an hour turned into two hours because she met one of her old dancing colleagues—but on the whole, we both were very good about finding the right balance between making a dark joke of it without crossing the line.
“You be safe though, you hear?” she said when I got to my bike. “Come home safe, give me a kiss when you get in bed, and I’ll have breakfast ready for you when you wake up.”
“I knew I loved you for a reason,” I said, pressing my lips against her. “I promise to do all of that. Love you.”
“Love you too, future hubby.”
The words got said every day. And yet, they always sent the same surge of happiness and excitement through me that they did the first day. It was as if my body woke up, thinking it was going to be alone and abandoned, and was surprised every day when Cassie was either in bed with me or making breakfast.
I revved the engine, peeled out of the lot, and nodded to my fiancée. What a gift she was.
The heat of Las Vegas was still brutal, but with it now being mid-September, we were finally avoiding most of the triple digit days. That made it a little more bearable when I wore pants, although I still dripped with sweat like a fat kid. Probably because I was a little bit bigger and fatter than the rest of the Saints, but meh.
I got to the club, unlocked the back door with new keys given to us, and stumbled onto a moment I did not expect to see—Pork and Mama talking alone, close to each other. I swore that they were getting close to doing something. While Pork’s interest in Mama had long been known in the club, it was always seen as just a goofy part of Pork’s personality, an unrequited love that he kept up for some strange reason.
But something about what I walked in on in that moment felt just a little bit different, just a bit…
“Barber!” Pork said, popping up. “How’s the wife? Is she more corn or popcorn at this point?”
“What the hell do you mean? Like that she’s showing?”
“Yeah, you know, that.”
I rolled my eyes. Ever the linguistic genius, Pork.
“She’s starting to, yeah. She can still move around and such, but you can tell she’s pregnant.”
“Good on her,” Mama said. “Someone’s gotta be happy making kids here. Sure as hell can’t be me.”
“Yeah, and if it was up to you,” Dom said from behind me as he and Richard walked in. “Cassie wouldn’t be birthing Barber’s kid, because you’d never let any of us hook up with them.”
“And with damn good reason, boy,” she snapped back. “Tell you what, Dom. If a girl that you dated in high school, that was the only girl you truly, really loved—and I don’t mean loved to fuck—came back into your life as a dancer here? I’d give you a pass.”
“I mean, I have a lot of friends who are strippers and dancers elsewhere, do I get an—”
“I gave you an inch, and you’re taking a fucking acre?” Mama said, drawing laughs from everyone. “Don’t push your luck, kiddo.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dom said, wearing his trademark smirk as we all took our seats. Richard cleared his throat, more or less announcing the start of our officers’ meeting.
“I heard from Trace the other day,” he said. “Said BK has made a full recovery. Said thanks to BK’s wounds, it’s now personal on their
side too. They’d like to come and give us a hand to quash these assholes.”
Four months ago, I probably would have protested that until Richard either fired me or just gave up trying to persuade me. My, how much has changed. How much I realize I can’t do it all.
“Barber,” Richard said, turning a coy smile to me. “You’re the one who had the most interest in dealing with this before. What say you now?”
I cleared my throat as if making a dramatic statement before putting my hands up in a shrug.
“I’m ready to see these fucking assholes destroyed,” I said. “Tired of the fucking Sinners causing trouble. The security measures we’ve put in place have gone a long way to helping some, but it’s not going to be enough. To truly kill them, I think we need to get all the help we can.”
“About damn time Barber spoke with some sense,” Mama said.
“It’s like someone had to shave his head to get through his thick skull!” Pork said with a laugh.
I humored him. What could I say? I was in a good mood these days. Even stupid shit could make me laugh.
“It’s going to be a lot more like Vietnam and a lot less like World War II,” Richard warned. “We haven’t been able to consistently pin them to a location, even with our escalated defenses. I say this because we need to know that it’s probably going to get worse before it gets better. But if we’re all on the same page, I think we can eradicate this threat, and we can all live happily ever after.”
“Except Dom, who’s going to drown in stripper pussy,” Mama cracked.
“Hey, watch it; you never know,” Dom said. “Between Richard and Barber, the love bug might be settling into the club, and if that happens, watch out! Hell, even Pork might find love.”
“The fuck does that mean?” Pork said, but we all were laughing too much at that.
“In any case,” Richard said. “Let’s get ready. This shit with the Sinners is going to get ugly, but I’m ready to get ugly. Officially all in for calling all of the Savage Saints in?”
There was no hesitation on my part. I knew better now than to withdraw and avoid. I knew I had to embrace the help.
“Let’s do it.”
Accidental Forever (Sneak Peak)
Chapter 1: Jessica
Jessica had been sitting in the lobby for over half an hour with nearly twenty other girls around her age waiting for the chance to audition for a role that she didn’t even want. She’d already cycled through her normal pre-audition doubts. How will I pay my rent this month if I don’t land this job? What if I’m not a good enough actor to get a better role than this? Why did I pick this outfit when I know peach washes me out? Why did I study for four years in college if I’m still not going to get the jobs I want?
Before she could open up the job site that she frequently looked at but never quite got up the nerve to use to leave show business behind forever, a short man with a clipboard stepped into the lobby from a hallway.
“Jessica?” he called, and she gathered up her portfolio and stood.
“That’s me,” she said, forcing a smile for the man and dropping it as soon as he turned around expressionlessly.
“You know the drill,” he assumed. “The auditioners have your resume and your headshots. Here’s your script,” he said, handing her a short monologue, “and they’ll tell you when to start singing.” Jessica paled.
“Singing?” she echoed incredulously. “I didn’t know this was a singing role. I don’t know how to read music; I don’t sing.”
The short man rolled his eyes, his expression mean and uncaring. “Well,” he shrugged, “that ain’t my problem.” She must’ve looked particularly distraught, because just before he opened the door, he hummed a little tune, so quietly she almost couldn’t hear it. “I’ve heard it like fifteen times today,” he sighed. “Good luck.” Desperately playing it over and over in her head, she thanked him and walked through the open door to stand in front of three other men, all in cheap suits, sitting at a long table. None of them looked up at her when she entered.
“I’m Jessica Owens,” she began, pausing for a greeting that didn’t come. “I’m twenty-three, graduated from University of—”
“We’ve got your resume, sweetheart,” one of the men said in a tone dripping with condescension. “You can just go ahead and begin whenever you’d like.”
Jessica flushed bright pink, hoping that her embarrassment wouldn’t be too obvious, and began to read the paper she’d been handed at the door with put-on, chipper enthusiasm.
“Juniper brand frozen fish sticks are the only kind that this choosy mom buys for her hungry teenagers. With real, GMO-free ingredients, Juniper is—”
“That’s good,” the second man cut her off. She looked up and smiled, which he didn’t return, and nodded. “Now for the singing.” Jessica took a deep breath and sang the jingle, barely managing to keep the grimace of embarrassment out of her voice as she trilled quickly through the song.
“Fine,” the third man said when she’d finished, “great. You did well. We’ve got your number, and we’ll be in touch.”
Despite feeling like she hadn’t even really been any throughout the audition, Jessica forced a polite, “thank you for your time!” before she exited out the back door, not wanting to risk running into the man from the lobby again, especially if he’d been able to hear her sing. In the sunlight of the early afternoon, she felt a little lighter, almost like she hadn’t just wasted another day fighting for a job that she didn’t even want. She opened her phone to a text from her best friend, Marissa, and the first genuine smile of the morning crept over her face.
“Lunch, 12:00, Little Mama’s Bistro,” she read aloud to herself. It was an invitation that, in true Marissa fashion, hadn’t even offered the option to decline, so she flagged down a taxi and headed into town to meet her.
By the time Jessica arrived at the restaurant, Marissa was already situated in their usual corner booth and had already ordered two glasses of their favorite wines. One was sitting in front of her, half-drank, and the other was at the unoccupied seat, surprisingly untouched. She smiled when she spotted Jessica and waved her over to the table.
"Jessica," she greeted cheerfully, moving her purse out of Jessica’s seat. "How did your audition go?"
Without answering, she picked up the glass of wine, emptying half in a few seconds. Marissa quirked one eyebrow at her in amusement.
"That bad?" she asked.
"Worse," Jessica replied. "I had to sing, and I know there's going to be some kind of skimpy costume involved." she shuddered at the thought. "I don't even want this job, but I can't find anything else locally, and I need the money."
Marissa, who had been a paralegal at a major law firm for over three years now, rolled her eyes. "You know that I can help you out if you need cash," she offered, not for the first time. It was an offer that Jessica appreciated, of course, but one that never became any less awkward.
“No,” she declined, as she always did, “I can make it. I’ve got a little savings, anyway—I just really don’t want to dip into it.” She sighed, swirling the wine around and watching the glass tint purple. “Why does it feel like everyone else our age is buying houses and getting married?”
Marissa laughed, clearly already a little tipsy but not letting that stop her from sipping more of her wine. “I’m not married,” she contradicted, showing her naked left hand as evidence, “and I’m not even looking to be. I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”
Jessica shrugged. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But even if you’re not married, you’re working in your dream career. You’ve got so much going for you.”
“Hey,” Marissa said, her tone sobering, “you’ve got things going for you, too.”
“I’ve got fish sticks, if I’m lucky,” she deadpanned, unable to keep her face straight as Marissa giggled. Before she could change the subject to something a little less self-deprecating, her phone began to buzz in her purse. “Speak of the devil,” J
essica said when her agent’s number popped up on the screen. She slid her finger across the screen to answer.
“You got it,” Jessica’s agent, Kim, began, not wasting any time with pleasantries. “The Juniper ad. They just called and said they wanted you.”
“Yay,” Jessica said unenthusiastically. “When’s the shoot?”
“This weekend,” Kim replied. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll email you all you need to know.”
She hung up without another word, and once Jessica had put her phone away, Marissa was leaning forward expectantly.
“I got the job,” she near-whined.
“Wow,” Marissa laughed, “don’t get too excited.”
Jessica sat back in her seat, running a hand through her hair. “Sometimes I think I should just give up on the acting thing in general,” she confessed.
Marissa frowned. “Jessica,” she reasoned, “come on. You’re just stressed because you’re not getting the roles you want. This has been your dream since we were kids.”
Jessica groaned. She was right about that much—Jessica had been dreaming of becoming an actor since before she’d even met Marissa in second grade. In every school production, Jessica had played the lead, one of the only students that didn’t dread the holiday concerts, excellent at giving presentations. All her teachers had told her parents that she was destined for the spotlight, and Jessica had thrived on that attention. She’d gone to a highly competitive college with a world-famous conservatory.
None of it, now, seemed like it had been worth it.
“To hell with wine,” Marissa declared, flagging down a young waiter, “you need chocolate. Can we get a slice of devil’s food cake? With extra ice cream?”
It was rare that Jessica broke her strict diet to eat something so filled with sugar and fat, but when Marissa was right, she was right. Chocolate would make her feel better right about now.