Coyote Lee

by Jessie Cooke

  “Thank you,” he whispered to Dax while they embraced. “Thank you for this. I can’t even tell you what it means to me that you’re here.”

  When they broke apart, Dax locked his eyes into Coyote’s and said, “You know if he was alive, he would have been here. Family is family, like it or not sometimes. Colleen was our family. She was a good woman and deserving of our respect.”

  Coyote wiped at his eyes and looked beyond Dax to where the others were standing. He saw Tank, and Toolie, Handsome, Dax’s VP, and a little boy that had to be Cody. He must be ten, or eleven by now. The two clubs might not have been sharing much the past few years, but the rumor mill was still up and running. Coyote heard a rumor about Badger and his boys a year or so earlier. Cody and Keller had been found beaten and alone at the trailer where they lived with Badger in absolute squalor. Dax’s guys, the ones that found the boys, had taken them to the hospital and called Dax. At least that was how the official story went, and no one…not even the little boys…would ever beg to differ on it. By the time Dax showed up, social services and the police were already there. Dax had cooperated fully, even taking the police out to the dump where Badger and the boys lived. There were no signs of Badger, and other than the signs that he had inflicted this torture on his boys like Keller had told them he did before Dax even got there…there were no signs of foul play. The police issued an APB for Badger and when he was found he would be arrested for child abuse and a whole list of other things based on what they found in the trailer. The boys were taken to foster care when they were released from the hospital, but Coyote heard that it wasn’t long before Dax worked his magic and was able to get them back out onto the ranch. Coyote knew they would thrive there. Dax loved those boys like they were his own blood. He also knew that no one would ever see Badger again, but that was more than okay with him.

  Wolf spoke eloquently at his mother’s graveside services, as did several of the young club girls that had admired her, and Trisha. Coyote had a speech prepared, but he knew there was no way he’d ever get through it. Maybe everyone understood, and fuck ’em if they didn’t. When it was finally over and after he had forced himself to stand in line with Wolf and her parents, he had finally had enough. There wasn’t going to be a wake for him. He had no desire to party with anyone, knowing his beautiful wife was going to be lowered six feet under the earth, and he would never see her again. He sent his poor son on alone, to handle things back at the club…and when the last mourner had pulled away from the cemetery, he sunk to his knees at the edge of the coffin and he began to cry. It wasn’t the soft sobbing that he’d allowed himself for the past two days. This was the kind of cry that came from deep in the gut of a person who was now devoid of all hope. He knew nothing could ever get better now. As long as he had Colleen, he had hope…but now that was all gone. While he sat there on his knees, underneath the canopy that had been put up to block the cool fall wind, it began to rain. The sound of the drops on canvas mingled with his sobs and he sat there, drinking from his flask and talking to his soulmate until security was finally called and he was escorted off the property and told, as kindly as possible, to go home. Coyote got on his bike, put on his helmet, and pointed his bike in the opposite direction of the clubhouse. He didn’t want to go “home.” He was afraid that place would never feel like “home” again, and it would simply be the place where Colleen was cruelly taken from him.

  26

  Talia had just hung up the phone with Sabrina. Her little girl was growing up. She was thirteen now, and at her first slumber party. Sabrina had never been one to want to spend the night away from her mom, so Talia hadn’t been sure she would make it all night. She had called her one last time on the prepaid cell phone she bought her, just to make sure she was okay. Talia had been able to hear the giggles of the other girls in the background and Sabrina sounded okay, like she was having fun. She would rest easier now, knowing that.

  She got up from the couch and started turning lights off and shutting down the house. It was only ten p.m., but she had been up since six that morning and she was ready for bed. The kitchen faced the front of the house, and she realized that she hadn’t shut the blinds. When she went over and took the string in her hand, something outside caught her eye. It was raining, and the rain was like a hazy curtain underneath the yellow streetlight a few houses down from hers. There was a shadow underneath it, sitting as still as a statue, and at first it frightened her. She started to go back to the living room for her phone, not taking her eyes off the shadow as she backed away from the window…and that was when he moved. She watched as the moonlight glinted off the silver flask in his hand when he brought it up to his lips. As he put his head back to take a drink, she could see his face…or at least all of that hair. It was Coyote, sitting on his bike at the end of the street, watching her house. But why?

  Talia had never been afraid of Coyote, but as she slipped on her rain jacket and boots, she had to admit to herself that she didn’t really know him all that well. She had been with him that one night, and then she’d seen him again when he brought her the money that he wouldn’t let her pay back. Since then, she had kept her promise to him and she called and checked in from time to time, just to let him know how Sabrina was doing. He almost always seemed distracted and he never sounded happy…but she didn’t question it. Coyote didn’t talk about his life and since she wasn’t really a part of it, she had never questioned that. For all she really knew, he could be a vicious murderer, a rapist, a mean, ugly, terrible person. But strangely, her heart had always felt like it knew him, right from that very first night, and it told her that he was a good man, even if he kept it hidden down deep inside. Something was definitely not right, or he wouldn’t be sitting out there in the rain. She told herself, as she went out the door to go to him, that she was only worried that one of the neighbors would call the cops…or worse yet, he’d still be sitting there when Sabrina came home in the morning. Those two things were both true. But she also couldn’t deny the flutter of wings in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

  She opened her umbrella and, dressed now in her slicker and rubber boots, she sloshed down the driveway to the street. She stopped there and looked in his direction. When he made no move, she started toward him, only taking a few steps before the sound of his Harley starting up stopped her. She stood in the gutter and waited. If he left, she’d just go back inside, lock the doors, and call it a night. She was more afraid of what she might do if he stayed. Coyote didn’t take off right away and she wondered if he was debating the same thing that she was. She had felt the chemistry still strong between them the day he had brought her the money three years earlier, and even from twelve feet away, in the dark and the rain, she felt it now. Talia had dated more than a handful of men since Coyote, and she was far from celibate. She had been discreet, because of her daughter, and she had yet to meet any man that made her feel the way that Coyote had. But the one big thing she could be proud of was that since Coyote, she went out of her way to make sure the man was single before she slept with him. Coyote loved his wife, despite the chemistry he and Talia had between them, so maybe he would just leave and not test either one of them tonight.

  She heard him pop the clutch and the bike came toward her in a straight path. He wasn’t going to turn around, so she was going to have to hope that if her good sense wasn’t intact tonight, his was. She turned and walked back up to the house while he parked the bike in her driveway. She closed the umbrella and stood underneath the awning and watched him climb off and come toward her.

  “Hey,” he said, as if he’d just stopped by for a visit in the middle of the day.

  “Hey. You’re soaking wet.”

  He looked down at himself like he hadn’t noticed and said, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  She reached behind her and opened the door. “Come in. Let me get you some towels. You’re going to catch a cold.” Coyote hesitated. She could see his face now in the porch light and there was something in his e
yes…something sad, almost heartbreaking. That was when she knew for sure this wasn’t just a random visit, and he wasn’t there for the booty call she had shamelessly already been imagining in her head.

  “Is the kid here?”

  She wasn’t sure why, but he never said Sabrina’s name. He called her “the kid” always. Maybe it made it less real for him. “No. She’s at a sleepover.”

  He nodded and moved slowly past her and inside the door. Talia stepped in behind him as he looked down and said, “I’m sorry. I’m making a puddle on your floor.”

  “It’s okay. Take off those clothes. I’ll get you some towels and throw those in the dryer for you.” Almost like a zombie, he began to do what she told him to. She went down the hall to the linen closet and pulled out three big towels and then, as an afterthought, she went into the bathroom and turned the hot water on in the shower. When she got back to him, he was standing there in nothing but his underwear. His wet clothes were in a heap at his feet, and he was shivering. She almost felt like a leech as she took in the lines of his chest and the rise of his biceps. Her palms even itched to touch him. Ashamed of herself, she held out one of the towels and said, “Wrap this around you and take off your shorts. I turned the shower on for you. Go warm up while your clothes are drying.” Again, he took the towel and did what she said. He had a glazed look in his eyes and she wondered if he was just drunk.

  As soon as he had gone into the bathroom and shut the door, she pulled off her coat and boots, set them aside, wiped up the floor, and then bent down to pick up his clothes. When she lifted the jeans, a silver flask fell out of the pocket, practically confirming her drunk theory. As she carried them through the kitchen to the dryer in the garage, she stuck her hand down in the pockets to make sure nothing else was there. She pulled out his wallet, and a pocketknife and laid them on the counter, setting the flask down with them. Then she slipped her hand into the other pocket and pulled out a folded paper piece of paper and a cell phone. The phone was off, and she laid it on the counter as well. She hadn’t meant to snoop, but it was wet, and she only unfolded it to let it dry out. Her heart was suddenly down in her stomach and her chest ached. The paper was a funeral brochure and on the front of it was a picture of a beautiful, smiling, dark-haired woman. It said Colleen Marie Lee December 8, 1983-October 2, 2008. His wife had died, only two days before. No wonder he looked so devastated. Talia almost hated herself for the thoughts that she’d been having. She busied herself with taking off his belt and putting his jeans, t-shirt, and shorts in the dryer. She didn’t know what to do with the vest, so she just smoothed it out and left it on top to dry.

  She could hear the shower still running when she went back inside, so she put on a pot of water for tea and made a pot of coffee. Whether or not he would drink either was another reminder to her that she didn’t really know him. She wondered if he had eaten then and just because she had too much nervous energy inside of her to stay still, she took out the bread and condiments and started making him a sandwich. She was making a second one when the shower was turned off, and a third by the time she heard him come into the room behind her. When she turned and looked at him, that damned feeling coiled in her core once more. He had the towel around his waist and he was still naked otherwise, of course. It dawned on her only then that she should have found him a robe or something.

  “Thanks,” he said with almost a smile. “I feel better.” She grabbed a mug off the counter and filled it with coffee. Setting it on the table next to the sugar and cream pitchers she said:

  “Sit. I’ll go find you a robe or something.”

  He didn’t sit right away. He went over to the counter and picked up the flask. His eyes lingered on the picture of his wife for a few seconds and then as he turned back toward the table, he unscrewed the top from the flask. Talia left him there and went to her room in the hopes of finding something that might fit him. She dug through her closet, finally finding an old gray robe that she had kept since she was sixteen years old. It belonged to her grandfather and it was really the only thing of his she had left. She carried it back into the kitchen, finding Coyote at the table, taking a sip of the coffee that she was sure he’d laced with whatever was in the flask. “This should work, until your clothes are dry,” she told him, holding out the robe.

  “Thanks,” he said, again. He put down the mug and stood. The towel slipped and Talia turned away quickly. She didn’t want to be responsible for what her face might look like if she saw him without it. “I’m decent,” he said after a minute or two, in that deep, sexy voice that often had her hot and bothered after five minutes on the phone with him. She glanced at him and went over to fix herself a cup of coffee and turn the heat off on the stove. He was sitting again, sipping out of his mug when she sat down. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a long time and then Coyote finally broke the silence. “Colleen died.” His eyes instantly filled with tears when he said it and Talia’s heart hurt for him.

  “I’m so sorry. I saw the announcement. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop…” Coyote waved a hand at her.

  “I bust in on you in the middle of the night and drip all over your floor and again, you say you’re sorry. When are you going to believe that I’m the asshole that owes you a million apologies?”

  She smiled, sadly. Seeing how sad he was made her feel the regret of what they did almost fourteen years ago, all over again. But he was right about one thing…he was the one that owed the apologies for that one. He hadn’t told her he was married. Talia often wondered if he had, if she might have still done what they did. The pull she felt toward him that night had been so strong. “I’m sorry about your wife, anyway. How is your son doing?”

  Coyote had told Talia about Wolf only after they spoke about a dozen times on the phone. He didn’t say much about him, only that he was very close to his mother and that he would probably never forgive Coyote if he found out that he had cheated on her. “He’s doing as well as anyone can at a time like this, I guess. I was the asshole that took off today and left him to deal with all the visitors and mourners. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of people standing around eating and drinking and laughing…while Colleen was being put in the ground.” Talia reached over and put her hand on his. She knew it was another mistake as soon as she did it, but her heart ached for him and she wanted to do something to ease his pain.

  “I’m sure he understands. You two were married a long time. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling.”

  “I just took off and started riding. I rode up into the hills, all the way to Yosemite, and back down. I stopped at that bar…the one we met at that night…and I just sat there in the parking lot for hours. Finally, I found myself turning onto your street, but I stopped because I was afraid the kid was here, and I didn’t want to upset her or put you in a bad spot.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you call our daughter by her name?”

  He flinched at that and took another drink of his coffee…a long one. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. I guess it feels less real if I don’t. Me, just being an asshole again. I’m sorry.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever want to meet her?”

  Coyote never asked Talia who Sabrina thought her father was. They had never really talked much about it at all. She had actually been surprised that Coyote didn’t deny the girl was his after only one night together. That was how she had imagined it going when she first found out she was pregnant, and that was why she hadn’t told him back then. She knew for sure the baby was his. She hadn’t been with anyone else without using protection. But she hadn’t wanted to look into his eyes while he accused her otherwise. Now she had to wonder if he ever would have. He just seemed to accept that Sabrina was his from the day he read her letter. “What does she know, about me?”

  Talia shook her head. “Nothing. I told her that her father was a man I was only with once…and that he doesn’t
even know about her and I don’t know how to reach him.”

  “Won’t she be mad at you, for not telling her the truth?”

  Talia nodded. “Probably. But she’ll get over it and I’d be okay with her being angry with me for a little while, if it meant she might be able to get to know her father.”

  She watched as he bit the inside of his cheek and then in more words, or at least more sincere words, than he’d ever spoken to her he said, “I felt like a huge piece of me was gone the second that Colleen died. I had to keep reminding myself that even though my son is an adult, and one hell of a good man, I had to stay on this earth for him. Then, I started watching him at that funeral and I knew deep down that if I was gone too, he would still be okay. Talia, I am a mixed-up, selfish old bastard. I came here tonight, looking for a lifeline. I’m too much of a coward to drive the bike off a cliff like I had thought about when I drove up to the mountains. But that voice in my head kept telling me that I had nothing left…no reason to still be here. That’s when I thought about you and the…Sabrina. So, what I’m trying to tell you, I guess, is that I still don’t deserve to know her. I don’t even deserve to be sitting here at your table. I’m here, for me, as usual.”