by A. J. Downey
Armor was a bigger dude, black hair, and dark eyes, he looked like he should be his club’s enforcer or SAA. Not the VP. He also looked like your typical chip off the eastern block dumbass, shit for brains, all brawn and nothing upstairs asshole – but you’d be wrong. The guy threw off all kinds of mixed and just plain glaringly wrong signals. Standing here among the rest of us, he had his arms crossed over his barrel chest and was glowering, but it didn’t mean a goddamn thing. That was literally just the dude’s face.
You’d never guess that he was his high school’s chess and weightlifting and wrestling champion back in the day. Ask me how I know? We’d gone to school together – but we hadn’t been friends. Not even close. We might as well have been worlds a-fuckin’ part back then. Now, he was giving me the chin lift I always got in recognition that we were the same age and came from the same place, if not from wildly different demographics at the time.
His mom and pop were immigrants and ran a little Eastern European deli and convenience store until the day they’d been robbed and both of them shot to death while Armor had been away looking at colleges. The pigs hadn’t even really tried to solve his folks’ murder and he’d spun out in a big way, using his grief like armor against the world’s apathy. Nobody had given a fuck about his immigrant parents, and no one had given a fuck about him, except us which is why he was here.
That shit was still unsolved. Best believe we ever found out who did it, we would have his back, though.
Ain’t no justice like street justice, I thought to myself looking at him. I hoped he’d find some, or at least some peace.
The thought made a turn toward Cadence, and the peace I’d found in her arms. How much I wished this meeting were fuckin’ over already so I could get back to them.
I sighed and looked up at something Hem was saying… speaking of which, last but not least, were Hemlock and his second, Nightmare, out of Idaho.
Hem was a chill, philosophical type and got his name from a comment he’d made after a brother had said something about if he could go back and meet any philosopher, it’d be Socrates and Hem had shot back something or other about going back to be the hemlock or shoving the hemlock down Socrates’ throat. Hell, I don’t remember the story exactly but the guys who had been there swore it was the funniest shit ever and that’s how he’d gotten his name.
I guess you had to have been there.
Hem was a clean-cut guy with wavy, almost tawny, hair. He was an average sort of tall at six feet, and almost skinny as a rail but don’t let that shit fool you. He was wicked fast and packed a hell of a punch. Dude was legit all muscle, not enough fat on him to grease a fuckin’ cake pan.
Nightmare was, well, nightmare fuel. His face was all tatted up like a skull and a line of piercings through the bridge of his nose. He looked like the boogeyman just plain got tired of hiding in the dark and walked among us, no fucks given.
I think every inch of that motherfucker had tattoos, everything we could see did – scalp, face, neck, hands… all of it. All of it like he was decaying, and his skeleton underneath was coming out to the fore. There were even bugs, man. Dude had literal maggots tattooed on his jaw and the side of his neck like they were coming out of his fuckin’ ears.
I couldn’t begin to understand it, so I didn’t try. Whatever made the dude fuckin’ happy.
Rumor had it, even with the fucked-up tats, dude was drowning in pussy, and I guess I could see why. He had that classic, hot, bad boy bone structure, and he was indeed the baddest of bad boys among us.
He had spent time in juvie until he was twenty-one, institutionalized and shit for killing his own daddy when he was twelve.
“To order,” Mav called, and we all straightened up and stopped standing around with our dicks in our hands. “So, what’s up?” Mav asked Gargoyle. “You insisted it was important enough to discuss business out in the open like this, what gives?”
“It’s important, alright,” Gargoyle drawled. “Eulogy heard from one of his contacts up north over the border. Says dude’s got good contact within the Canadian law enforcement departments up that way and well… I think it’s best you hear it from the man himself, considering.”
“So, why didn’t you bring him down here?” Lone Wolf asked, looking amused.
“Didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, Eulogy being just a member and all.”
“Gotcha,” Wolf nodded, sagely.
That was Gargoyle. Methodical. Logical. To a fuckin’ fault.
“Well, get his ass down here and let’s hear it,” Fearless said.
Gargoyle himself wandered off and while I was thinking about it, “Anyone got their phone on them?”
“Oh, shit!”
More than one of them swore.
“Get ‘em gone, gentlemen, and hurry your ass up getting back here,” Mav said dispassionately.
I’d left mine in my jacket pocket back in my trailer with Cadence, so I was all good.
Men hustled off and back, everyone sort of just naturally reconvening when Jack showed up. I switched in my head from Eulogy to Jack the moment I saw him. Didn’t want to slip up and bring up old hurts. I wished his chapter would just fuckin’ change it already but no dice. For some reason, they were sticking to it.
“Jack, what’s going on?” Mav asked, inviting the disgraced doctor to take the proverbial floor.
Turned out his Canadian contacts had gotten in touch and law enforcement was sniffing around harder than we thought. The whole operation was in peril, and we were too fuckin’ obvious. The Smuggler’s Inn may have been burned and Manny was looking at some serious prison time if we didn’t change things up and figure it out.
“He’s got a good stock up there hidden. If they search the place and find any of it, we’re all fucked,” he concluded.
“Goddamnit,” I muttered and watched the wheels turn in everyone’s head.
“Say nothing to no one,” Maverick declared. “Take the weekend, relax, let your minds work and we’ll come back to this table with what solutions we come up with before we fuck off back home.”
Slow nods went around and really, in the grand scheme of things, it was all we really could do for now.
“Copy that,” Ryder muttered and ain’t none of us were happy with it, but what else were we going to do.
We broke apart, but none of us could even force a smile. The shit had officially hit the fan in a big way here.
21
Cadence…
“Marc! Go take one of your allergy pills!” I called out after listening to my kid sniff and sneeze for like the millionth time. “Poor kid has the worst sinuses,” I said to the women I was sitting with at a group of picnic tables in the shade. “He doesn’t take one of those allergy pills with the decongestants in it, hello sinus infection and they are just the worst.”
“Better than Mateo and his insulin pump,” Marisol said, worry in her eyes as she watched her little brother and my much older son kick a soccer ball around the big clearing with a couple of the club members from other chapters.
“I can’t even imagine,” I empathized. I mean, there was no competition there.
Marc came jogging up a second later and said, “I forgot them.”
“Shit, Marc! I just bought those! You know I can’t get anymore.”
“Wait, why not?” Little Bird asked.
I was upset. I didn’t want this trip ruined for Marc with sinus problems, I really didn’t, and it was such a pain in the ass getting those pills.
“They’re a federally regulated substance,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You have to get them at the pharmacy counter, and they scan your driver’s license and keep track of how much you buy.”
“Oh, because meth heads,” Aspen said, making a face.
“Exactly.”
“Oooh, is that the shit they used to buy in like bulk to cook their drugs with?” Kestrel asked, the lightbulb going off.
“Yup.”
“I guess you’re just going to have to suffer
,” I said, looking up to Marc just as Jared came walking up.
“Do what now?” he asked.
“I forgot my allergy meds at home,” Marc said, and Jared frowned.
“There’s a pharmacy in town. Let’s go grab some,” he said.
“You have to go to the pharmacy counter, and they track that shit. I can’t buy him anymore this month,” I said unhappily.
“Pfft! I got it, what’s he need?” Jared asked.
I perked up slightly.
“Really?” I asked.
“Fuck yeah. He needs it, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not that big a deal. Mom’s just being a drama queen,” Marc said laughing at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Right up until it’s ‘Mooom, my head hurts! And Moooom, my ears hurt!’ Then let’s see who becomes the drama queen,” I said.
“Okay, fair,” my kid conceded, and Jared laughed at the two of us.
“Come on, we’ll go get what he needs. In the meantime, let the kid go be a kid.”
“Alright,” I agreed. “Go, but be careful with Mateo.”
Marc jogged backwards and said, “You got it.” He gave the scout’s salute which I didn’t get where he’d picked that up from. He’d never been in Scouts.
Jared held down a hand and hauled me to my feet. “See you after a bit,” I said to the girls who all waved and chirped their goodbyes.
“Thought you guys would be at the beach,” he said.
I shook my head. “Everyone wanted to wait for you guys. Everything okay?”
“That’s club business,” he said with a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I stopped on the path outside our trailer and put my hand on his arm.
“Everything’s not okay, is it?” I asked.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, and the look he gave me was one of patience and practically begging me to let it go.
We went in and geared up for the short ride across town to the pharmacy and stayed silent until we reached our destination, all of three minutes later.
“Just tell me what you need,” he said, and I smiled.
“The decongestant allergy pills, twenty-four hours, the pack of fifteen,” I said. “Ask for them at the pharmacy counter and they’ll get them for you.”
“Specific brand?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Tell them the generic is fine if they ask.”
“You got it. Go grab us a couple cold drinks?”
“Divide and conquer,” I said with a smile. “I like that.”
He gave me a swat on the ass as we parted ways, me wandering through what was more giftshop than pharmacy, and around into a different section. I spotted the line of coolers at the back and went and fetched a couple of cold drinks, the sport drink I knew he liked and a bottle of water for me.
“Babe!” I heard him call from the other side and I scurried up to the counter and set down the two bottles. The cashier finished ringing him up and we left.
“Thank you so much,” I said out at the bike, and he shook his head.
“Some of the rules set forth by citizen society are just plain fuckin’ stupid. That would be one of them.”
I both agreed and disagreed, and I said as much. “Is it a pain in the ass? For people like me, absolutely, but I get it. It’s also a major pain in the ass for the people looking to cook this shit into meth and worse.”
Jared snorted like I was being funny.
“Baby, meth cooks gonna cook meth. They just switched to different materials and poisons. This shit? Didn’t slow them down at all.”
I sighed and had to concede. He was probably right.
We took some drinks out of our respective bottles and he twisted the orange cap back on his and slid it onto the bag around my wrist with Marc’s pills in it.
“Ready when you are,” he said with a wink.
We went back to the trailer park motel, and I got my baby taken care of. Truth be told, it was nice to have a few extra of these on hand.
Why did it have to be so complicated for the people who hadn’t done anything wrong?
The rest of the day was spent on the beach until the sun began to get low on the horizon. I spent most of it with the girls form the Western Washington and other chapters.
There was Kestrel, Aspen, Marisol, Dahlia, and Raven from the Western Washington chapter. Then there were several females from the rest of the chapters that I was told I would likely never meet again. Club Girls, they were called, and they were looked down on with disdain. I didn’t completely understand why until Dahlia took me aside and let me know. She was, apparently, a club girl but different in that while she enjoyed sex, she said, she had morals and wouldn’t fuck anyone that was officially attached.
I blanched at that and looked out over the sand where Jared was kicking the ball around with Maverick, Mateo, Marc, and several other guys and teens from other chapters.
Dahlia was smiling when I turned back and said, “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Glass, honey. We’ve never seen him so serious about a woman before. I think you’re ‘the one.’”
“What?” I asked, taken aback, not sure if it was good or bad that she had put ‘the one’ in air bunnies with her fingers.
“Pretty sure Glass would castrate himself if he even thought about cheating on you,” Kestrel declared.
I looked back, and he caught my eye. his grin was something… I don’t know… transcendent as he gave me a chin lift and one of the guys from the other chapters kicked the soccer ball into his face.
“Oh!” we all shouted in unison and cringed.
“Yo, what the fuck, man!?” Marc shouted at the other brother ,and I felt three things all at once – proud, a little scared, and annoyed that my kid was so casually dropping the f-bomb in public. I would have a chat with him about that later. I had a rule… he could say whatever he wanted after he was eighteen.
I would rather have that in his head as being his big eighteenth year milestone rather than what mine and so many of my generations was… it being legal for him to smoke. I had to give up on making it the ability to buy nudie magazines or porn for himself. I’d tried that one only to have him roll his eyes at me and tell me, “The internet is for porn,” before he dropped the knowledge on me that he’d been jerking off to internet porn since he was thirteen.
Thirteen!
I relayed this to the women around me to gales of laughter and a slightly glazed look on Marisol’s face.
“Oh, the things you have to look forward to,” I said with a gusty sigh.
“Being a boy mom isn’t for the faint of heart,” Aspen said kindly.
“Speaking of which…” Kestrel murmured and we all sort of turned to her.
“What?” Dahlia asked, brow furrowing with concern.
“I’m not sure how to tell D.T., but I think I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, honey! Congratulations!” I cried and the other girls made similar noises of delight too, but Kestrel? Kes just crumbled and started to sob.
“Oh, honey! Oh, honey, no, don’t cry!” Aspen went over to her and hugged her tight.
“What’s going on?” A shadow loomed over the group of us and we all sort of just froze.
“I think I’m pregnant!” Kestrel wailed and Dump Truck froze.
“For real?” he asked, and she nodded and just broke down harder.
Raven sort of grimaced and said, “I think you’re pregnant too.”
Dump Truck threw his cane to the side and got down on the ground with us and pulled her tight into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“Holy fuck,” he said grinning. “What are you crying for, baby? This is great!”
“Yeah?” she sobbed.
“Uh, yeah! But only if you want it to be great.”
“I was so afraid you’d be unhappy!” she cried, and he shook his head and pressed his mouth to hers.
“No fuckin’ way,” he said.
“Can I tell ‘em?” he asked, and she nodded and just sort of clung to him in the sh
elter of his arms.
“Guys! Hey guys!” he boomed and everyone in the vicinity turned. “I might be a daddy!”
I heard someone say, “What?” and it took nearly a full heartbeat before the whooping and hollering started up.
That night, after the kids and teens were squared away, the adults headed into town to a bar called the Captain’s Quarters. When Dump Truck came through the door with Little Bird tucked under his arm and into his side, I kid you not – he held up a pregnancy stick and shouted out, “It’s official!”
Wow.
The noise was deafening, and I grinned and applauded and gave Kestrel, who looked equal parts happy and scared, the best supportive look that I could manage.
“Aw, what’s that look for?” Jared asked when my face fell when she was no longer looking.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, waving it off.
“Seriously, spill,” he said.
“I just remember how scared I was when I first found out I was pregnant with Marc,” I said. “I didn’t know how people were going to judge me, or how much it was going to hurt. I didn’t know if Ben was going to stay with me, or if I was going to end up a teenaged, unwed, single mother.” I sighed.
“You think Kestrel is afraid of the same things?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, no.” I smiled and shook my head. “Some of them, sure… but not being teenaged, or… I don’t know is she unwed? Are she and Dump Truck…?”
“No, they’re not married, and she doesn’t have a fucking thing to worry about when it comes to D.T. being there. He was raised by a single mom, and I think he resents the fuck out of his sperm donor for leaving her that way. He grew up poor, and it was hard on his mom.”
“I see,” I murmured, and then said, “Still, it’s a scary prospect growing an entire human being in your body.”