by Hazel Parker
“There’s this little old woman in Mexico that makes them,” he told her. “She says that if you can talk while you eat it, that it’s not strong enough. Good chocolate should clear your mind.”
The problems were still there, of course, but the anxiety behind them had lessened.
“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “That was amazing.” He smiled and took a long drag from the cigarette, then offered it to her.
“Still want some?” he offered, and she couldn’t help but turn her nose up at it. The taste of shitty tobacco would completely ruin the sugar that was still on her tongue.
They sat in silence for a moment longer before she allowed herself another, this time much less panicked, sigh.
“What am I going to do, Vance?’ she asked. “Are those bikers seriously not going to leave me alone until they get what they want from you?” Vance shrugged, never afraid to tell the truth even when it wasn’t pretty.
“It’s a possibility,” he admitted. “Amelia’s persistent, and if she really thinks that she can crack me, then the rest of the Disciples might help her do whatever she has to do to try.”
Nina nodded. “I’m terrified of losing this place,” she said. Nina didn’t look at him and she didn’t know if he was looking at her, though she guessed that he wasn’t. She stared straight ahead at the highway, the same stretch of road and desert backdrop that she’d grown up hating, praying that she could get away from it for good and into a big city. She’d loved what her dad did; hell, she’d even loved the motel. But deep down, she’d always hoped that she could do something bigger, get out of this little desert town and be somebody.
“You’re not gonna lose it,” Vance promised. “Didn’t I tell you that already? I’ll keep you safe. And if something happens to me—”
“—What do you mean?” Nina interrupted harshly, now turning on him with laser focus. “What’s going to happen to you?”
Vance shook his head. “Nothing,” he reassured. “Forget I said anything. I just meant that… you know, if things go bad and I’ve gotta leave or something, that I’m not the only person around that’s gonna keep you safe. Flip would come up here and kick some ass, too, if he needed. You’re a friend, and we treat our friends well.”
That perfunctory explanation did nothing to calm the pit of worry that had planted itself in Nina’s stomach, but she tried her best to ignore it, since Vance didn’t seem to want to talk about it. He was probably just speaking metaphorically, anyway, like he’d said—just talking, not really thinking. She had to let herself believe that, because to admit the alternative, that Vance was in real danger and potentially putting himself even more firmly in harm’s way to protect her: well, that was too much for her to think about.
Because if she let herself believe that he was going above and beyond the call of duty to keep her and her motel safe, she’d have to admit that he was doing more than just being a good friend and that she wanted him to be more than just a friend.
Chapter 20: Vance
As soon as the Disciples were gone and Vance had calmed Nina down, Vance got to work. Normally, threats were passed on from someone like Flip or Aces, who were on the streets dealing with other gangs more often, but this time, he was right in the middle of it. He debated driving straight to the greenhouse, but he thought that might be a bad idea if there was still a chance that the Disciples had left someone to keep a lookout, so instead he just shut the motel door and dialed Flip on his phone.
“Hey, Murphy,” Flip greeted, clearly tentative in how happy he was to hear from Vance. He never called just to talk, after all. “What’s up?”
“Just had a bit of a run-in here,” Vance said. “The Disciples.”
“Shit,” Flip cursed, “at the bar?”
“No, the Oasis.”
Flip was stunned. “You mean the motel you’re staying at? Why would they go there?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but they seem like they’re not gonna leave us alone until they get Agua Dulce.”
A long stream of colorful curses preceded Flip’s next thought. “They’re not getting Agua Dulce,” he snapped, “‘cause it’s not theirs. We’ve been selling there for years; you know that.”
“I know,” Vance agreed, “and I’m not saying we give it to them. Fuck no, we’re not giving it to ‘em. But we’ve gotta do something, ‘cause we can’t let ‘em keep this shit up.”
“What did they say? Did they threaten you?”
“Not me, really,” he replied. “They said they’re coming after Nina.”
Flip was silent for a moment. “Well, shit,” he finally muttered. “Okay. We’ll figure out something. Just keep me posted, okay? I’ll let Aces know, and we’ll see what he has to say.”
“Right,” Vance agreed. “Thanks, man.”
“Of course, kid,” Flip said as a goodbye before he hung up the phone. Vance knew that they’d handle this, but he didn’t foresee it happening without at least some cooperation from Nina, whom he really didn’t want to bother with more club business. He’d just have to wait to see what Aces wanted to do about it before he told her anything.
Things seemed to return to normal for a while after the Disciples were escorted out of town by Nina’s boyfriend. Vance wasn’t sure if that was because they were scared of the cops or because they were planning something, and though he hoped it was the former, he knew Amelia too well to really believe anything but the latter. She wasn’t the kind of person that could be deterred with the threat of a few nights in jail. Amelia would push until she got what she wanted, press on sensitive spots until they broke someone and say “to hell with the consequences.” At the time, that had been something that he’d really admired and respected about her, but now, he found it to be a much less attractive quality. He much preferred the sort of conscious kindness that Nina displayed, to assume that anyone was a friend until proven otherwise. He still got the feeling that she wasn’t someone that he wanted to double-cross, just as Amelia was, but with Nina, protecting herself wasn’t something that she’d do at any cost. She would show a person the amount of respect and benefit of the doubt that they deserved, then sick the hounds on them if she found out that she needed to.
For a few weeks, things were quiet. Nina and Adam seemed to be comfortable in their routine, which went back to about what it had been when Vance had first arrived—he rarely saw Adam come around the motel and even more rarely saw him spend the night. He seemed to take Nina out once every week or so, but never to anywhere where she had to dress up or where she came home much later than 11:00. They didn’t stay out late and they didn’t get drunk together and they didn’t ever, it appeared, have sex. It wasn’t as if Vance were specifically trying to learn about their sex life, but the question naturally came up every time he watched Adam drop her off with a kiss at the door after a date night or when he watched Nina walk alone to either the motel room she sometimes stayed in or, rarely, all the way home. The first thing that it had seemed like Nina had wanted from Vance once she and Adam had broken up had been to get laid, and he found himself wondering whether or not she and Adam ever had any. Nina was a gorgeous, sexy woman, after all, and clearly had quite an appetite for that sort of thing. Adam would have to be crazy to deny her that.
Still, Vance never asked. It would be inappropriate, after all, since they weren’t really friends—they were ex-lovers. Just as he’d suspected, their one night of passion had driven a wedge between them once she and Adam had, predictably, gotten back together. Even if Adam didn’t know that they’d had sex, and he had a feeling that he didn’t, Nina never really talked to him anymore outside of the occasional polite greeting or pleasant conversation about the weather or the bar. It was always pleasant, but he missed when it was exciting. He wanted to know that she could, at any moment, burst through the doors of his bar and demand that he take her home on his bike, like she’d done when she’d been briefly single. He liked not being able to predict her, and he could tell that she liked being unpredic
table, so it never ceased to confuse him why she’d continue to choose to be with the most predictable guy that he’d ever met.
Still, if Nina was happy, he wouldn’t question it. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about. He’d come to El Paso to work, not to try to sort through his feelings for a motel owner who wasn’t even single, so that’s what he poured his focus into. He went to work each day, he ran the bar, and every two weeks he rode into the desert to pick up the money and bring it back to the bar to launder it. It wasn’t too exciting, but he supposed that sometimes, he could stand a little boredom if it meant that nothing bad was happening. Surely Nina was enjoying the silence, after all, so he tried to think about that more than anything else.
Early in the morning, he’d gotten ready to ride into the desert to pick up the cash. It didn’t take much preparation—all he really had to do was shower and make sure that the guys were still expecting him and had the cash for him to take once he arrived. After confirming his approximate arrival time with Flip, Vance donned his leather jacket and chaps and started up his bike.
There was nothing he loved more than riding early in the morning. There was something freeing about being able to ride in the Texas sun without feeling the oppressive heat of the afternoon. Everything was calm, and since he always chose Sundays to make the trip because the traffic was lessened, there were barely any cagers on the road to prevent him from riding as fast as he wanted for long stretches of highway. The sun wasn’t right in his eyes like it usually was when he rode into work in the late morning, and the whole scene was just serene.
It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that he was being followed, but after about twenty minutes of knowing that someone was trailing a good, far distance behind him, Vance suddenly felt a chill run down his spine as he noticed that they weren’t getting closer or farther away, nor were they taking any of the populated exits that would suggest that they were just a 99 percenter riding down the highway on a nice day. He looked in one of his side mirrors and could only barely make out the figure behind him—someone on a red motorcycle with ape-hangers and a loud, roaring engine.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. No doubt it was one of the Disciples, and he felt stupid for not having noticed earlier. At least he hadn’t gotten all the way to the greenhouse, he figured, before figuring it out, though since their place was off the next highway exit, he’d gotten the jackass much closer than he’d have liked to. He passed the exit that he’d normally take and waited to make sure that the person behind him did the same, sighing in relief when he continued following past the exit. That at least meant that they didn’t yet know that he’d figured out that he was being followed, which worked to his advantage.
It also meant that whoever was behind him had only an approximate idea of where their greenhouse was, which was a relief, too. The last thing that he wanted to do was to lead a Devil's Disciple right to their hideout, and though he had confidence in his ability to figure this kind of thing out, it was nice to know that this was likely the first time they'd tried to trail him like this.
Vance decided that the best course of action would be to pull off at the next exit with a gas station and see what the person behind him would do about it. Here in the desert, not every highway exit led to anything more than another long stretch of road, but he luckily didn't have to drive more than another ten minutes before he saw a road sign with pictures of food and petrol on it, so he signaled to make his turn before hopping off at that exit. The person behind him didn't follow, which was promising—that meant that they'd assume that this was the right place and that he'd successfully thrown them off his trail, at least for now. He knew it wouldn't be long before they figured it out, but so long as he had a little time to form a plan, he knew that he wouldn't blow it.
The stop wasn't entirely unnecessary, because he did need gasoline. As he filled up his tank, he took his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled through for Flip's contact information, pressing the "call now" button when he found it. Flip's gruff voice answered on the fourth ring.
"What is it?" he demanded, sounding impatient. "You're late, kid." Vance likely would have heard that speech even if he had gone straight to the greenhouse, honestly, but he continued on as if Flip hadn't spoken.
"I'm not gonna be able to get there today," he admitted. Flip sighed.
"Why the hell not?" he demanded. "We've got a whole bunch of cash that needs to be dealt with. If you're fuckin' around with that girlfriend of yours—"
"She's not—it's not about that," he shut him down. "I was followed." That drastically changed Flip's demeanor.
"What?" he asked. "By who? Where are you?"
"I think it's one of the Disciples," Vance said, "but I'm not totally sure. I passed our exit and pulled into a gas station. I'm three exits away from the greenhouse."
"Shit, kid," Flip cursed, "you should have led them further away; this is gonna cause trouble—"
"—Flip," Vance interjected, cutting off his angry tirade before it could really begin. "We're fine. They don't know where we are, okay? That's all I could do." Flip sighed heavily, contemplating this and eventually accepting it.
"Yeah, you're right," he finally muttered. "We're good, at least for now. You really think it was a Disciple?"
"I can't tell for sure," he admitted, "but I can't imagine anyone else would be tailing me, right?"
Flip scoffed. "There's probably a hundred fuckers out there trying to figure out where our greenhouse is and you know it," he reminded him, "but yeah, you're probably right. Think it was Amelia?"
Vance shrugged. "They never got close enough for me to tell," he said. "I didn't recognize the bike, but I don't think she's stupid enough to follow me on her own. If it was her, she'd definitely use a hog I'd never seen before."
"Well, you were right to keep going," Flip said. "We'll give it some time. If we have to figure a new routine, we will. Might be a good idea to change it up every once in a while, anyway, so this kind of shit don't happen. You think you're good to ride back to the bar, or do I need to send somebody to get you?"
At that, Vance actually laughed. "I think I can handle myself," he said. "But thanks."
"Yeah. You be safe, dumbass. You get into any more trouble, you call me, got that?"
"Sir, yes sir," Vance agreed with a mock salute that he didn't care that Flip couldn't see. "I'll text when I'm back at the bar to let you know nobody offed me."
Without a goodbye, Flip hung up the phone, just as he always did. Vance rolled his eyes fondly and tucked his phone back into his pocket. Flip was so good at somehow being both the most caring, fatherly influence that had ever been in his life, and a total asshole, all at once. That's what he loved about the guy, though, and why he looked up to him so much. He could trust him completely, but he knew that if he stepped out of bounds or did something to betray the Kings, that he'd be called out on it.
Vance went inside the gas station to grab a candy bar, since he wouldn't be having lunch at the greenhouse with the guys and he was starving, before taking the fuel pump out of his bike and getting back on the highway headed toward the bar. The drive had been long, and he usually liked to at least have an hour or so to stretch his legs before he had to get back to riding, but it definitely wasn’t the longest that he’d ever had to ride before, so he couldn’t really complain. He’d be back at the bar before sundown, at this rate, and having some time to rest would make up for the long hours on his bike. Focusing his thoughts on the idea that soon he’d be able to get back to the Oasis and sleep off the busy day in his surprisingly comfortable motel bed, he shoved his helmet back on his head and turned back onto the highway toward El Paso.
Chapter 21: Nina
It always put Nina on edge just a little when she woke up and Vance was already gone, as she knew that he was bound to run into trouble one of these days. A person could only play with fire so many times before they got burned, and Vance had centralized his whole life around one life giving fl
ame. She didn’t like to admit to herself that she often felt that all she did on days like these was watch the clock and wait for him to come back, but she couldn’t really deny it. Ironically, she found that when she was the most distracted by worrying about Vance, that was when she was at her most productive, relying on busy work to pass the time faster.
Today, she’d already gone to the laundromat with as many bed sheets as she could transport and had washed them and put them in the driers, deep-cleaned the bathrooms, and power-washed the sidewalk outside the motel so that it looked brand new. While she was at it, she’d hosed down the walls, too, washing away the black dirt and grime that had built up over the season. It was one of those things that she hadn’t realized needed to be done until she saw the final result and was happy with it. Sometimes, she thought, it was hard to know that something needed a change until that change happened.
Late in the afternoon, several hours before she expected Vance to return to the motel, her phone alarm went off, alerting her that it was time to go get her now-dry sheets from the laundromat. Adam always warned her about leaving them there unattended, but she’d never had a problem with theft before, so she ignored his concerns in favor of not having to spend one entire day every week and a half sitting in front of washers and dryers just watching them spin. She loaded the clean sheets into her baskets and her baskets into her car, then stopped into a diner for a quick lunch because she realized she’d forgotten to eat before heading back to the motel. All in all, she’d been gone just over an hour and fifteen minutes, but apparently, that had been enough time to change everything so drastically that she couldn’t believe her eyes when she pulled back into the parking lot.
The first thing that she noticed as she drove toward her motel with the windows of her car down was the smell of smoke. In the middle of the desert, with no neighbors to speak of and no harmless brush nearby to burn, that in itself was startling and sent chills of uncertainty down her spine, but she forced herself to stay calm and keep driving. There was no way that something was on fire, she thought. It was probably just something in the laundry; perhaps her clothes had been dried in a dryer that had recently held burned fabric and now her sheets all stank of it.