“How much longer till Billy wants me around?”
“A little longer, punkin’.”
“Uncle Crash?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sad?”
“A little bit.”
“Momma said it’s because Shannon went away.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Uncle Crash?”
“What sweet pea?”
“I’ll be your girl.”
“You’re already my best girl, sweet pea.”
“I won’t ever leave.”
“Pinkie swear?” Crash put up his little finger.
She hooked it with hers. “Pinky swear.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Cole watched as Crash stood, studying the pool table, a disinterested look on his face.
“Damn, brother. Enough already. Quit moping around like somebody took your puppy,” Red Dog complained.
“Shut the fuck up and shoot,” Crash snapped.
Red Dog grinned as he leaned down to take the shot.
“Really, man. You want this girl so bad, go fucking get her,” Wolf advised, from where he stood next to Cole, leaning back against the clubhouse bar and watching their game.
Crash’s cell phone was laying on the bar next to his bottle of beer. It vibrated. Cole glanced down at the screen. “Cole, your phone’s going off.” He frowned down at it. “Looks like a Birmingham area code.”
Crash looked up from taking his shot. “No name?”
“Nope. Maybe it’s your sister or grandmother.”
“Could be the Birmingham Chapter calling on a burner. Toss it here,” Crash raised his hand.
Cole threw it to him.
Crash answered it. “Yeah.”
Cole watched as Crash frowned.
“Hey, Ace. Yeah, I remember you. How are you?” Crash’s eyes were following Red Dog’s shot. And then suddenly his body came erect, and his tone sharpened. “Say again?”
Cole focused in on the call, watching Crash’s reaction and wondering who was on the other end.
“This is a joke, I’ll rip your fucking head off!”
Cole frowned, wondering what the hell that was all about.
“How?” Suddenly Crash’s breathing was sawing in and out of his chest, and his face had gone pale. “I don’t understand. When?”
Cole took a step toward him.
“Both of them?” Crash snapped, pain flashing across his face.
Cole watched stunned as Crash’s eyes glazed over, and he lowered the phone, and it clattered to the floor. Then in a move that shocked all the brothers around him, Crash lifted his pool cue and slammed it against the pool table, snapping it in two. He turned, swinging the broken piece at the nearest high-top table, smashing every bottle and glass on it.
“What the fuck, man!” Green yelled, jumping out of the way.
“Crash!” Cole shouted trying to approach him, but staying out of the way of the swinging jagged broken cue. And then as suddenly as the outburst had started, it stopped as Crash walked backward, hitting the wall next to the table and sliding down it to collapse on the floor. He let out a blood-curdling yell.
Cole stared at his brother, in shock. His eyes moved to the cell phone lying on the floor where Crash had dropped it. Cole picked it up. Seeing from the screen that the call was still live, he barked into it, “Who the fuck is this?” He nodded toward Wolf and Red Dog to take care of Crash, and he stalked outside so he could better hear the man on the other end.
Five minutes later, he walked shell-shocked back into the clubhouse and over to Crash, who was still sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. Cole’s eyes lifted to Red Dog, who stood next to Crash, not sure what to do. At the questioning look in Red Dog’s eyes, Cole started to speak, but the blasting music made it hard for them to hear.
Dog twisted and yelled, “Cut the fucking music!”
A moment later, there was silence, except for the crunching of glass under the boots of several of the brothers as they shifted uncomfortably from boot to boot.
Dog looked back at Cole.
Cole looked down at Crash, and then back up to Dog. He cleared his throat. “It’s his sister and grandmother. They’re both dead.”
“What?” Wolf asked in a stunned whisper.
“How?” Red Dog asked.
“House fire. His grandmother’s place.”
“Jesus Christ,” Red Dog murmured, looking down at Crash.
*****
The next day, Crash, Cole, Angel and Mack boarded a plane for Birmingham, Alabama. The brothers had quickly taken up a collection at several chapters and support clubs to get enough money together to buy the four plane tickets so that Crash could go home and bury his sister and grandmother, the only living immediate family he’d had left.
Mack had quickly made arrangements with the Birmingham chapter of the club to pick them up at the airport. They were also arranging a car for Angel and some loaner bikes for the men, who were going to lead the processional with the club members at their back.
As they sat on the plane, soaring across the country, Crash couldn’t help but remember the last time he and Cole had been back to their hometown. He looked over at Cole, who sat next to him. “Seems like just yesterday we were back, huh?”
Cole looked over at him, sadness in his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, brother. What was it, three, four months ago?”
Crash nodded. “Bulldog’s funeral.” Mack had told them at church that he’d gotten word that Bulldog had finally succumbed to the lung cancer he’d fought for the better part of the year. Bulldog had been the Birmingham chapter’s VP back when Cole and Crash had first prospected the Birmingham chapter as young punks just out of high school. It wasn’t until they were five years in the club that they’d moved out to join the San Jose chapter. Mack only needed to send one guy to the funeral to represent the chapter, but he knew since both Cole and Crash knew Bulldog, they’d both want to attend.
Crash leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and remembered the last time he’d been home. The last time he’d seen his sister and grandmother.
Four months earlier…
Crash and Cole rolled through downtown Birmingham. It had been years since they’d been back home. They got off on 20th Street and rolled through Five Points South. Stopping at the light, Crash looked around his hometown. The place was the same, but the businesses had all changed. The fountain was still standing center stage on one corner—still attracting the hippie-homeless types. A couple of musicians were set up, playing—a guitar case taking tips. The restaurant on the corner with the outdoor courtyard had now become a microbrewery. The music hall where he’d first found his love of blues was now a pool hall. He wondered if the place around the corner still had those awesome Bloody Marys on Sunday mornings.
They turned left onto a side street, and the two bikes pulled into a parking spot about half a block down. They both climbed off their bikes, stretching. It was a long fucking ride from California to Birmingham. Even broken up, twenty-three hundred miles was a strain.
Crash looked up at the storefront window. Lily Pad was painted across in block letters. The trademark statue of a frog sat center-stage in the window. He moved up onto the sidewalk, and Cole followed him inside.
A bell tinkled over the door as they entered the shop. Crash glanced around. She may have moved locations, but this place suited her. The floors were wood, the walls brick. Pottery, sculptures and assorted art pieces filled the place. Pot lighting from the ceiling spotlighted different pieces haphazardly arranged on upturned wooden crates. Brightly colored scatter rugs lay throughout.
There were several huge metal sculptures. One in particular caught his eye, and he stepped closer studying it. Damn, he’d love to be able to do something like that.
“She does work like that?” Cole asked from behind him.
Crash looked back at him and shrugged. “Not that I know of, but hell, we’ve been gone awhile.”
The smell of incens
e permeated the place. God, he hated that smell. He had to grin though, knowing what it probably was an attempt to cover up.
They strolled toward the back, the floors creaking with their every step. They were half way to the back, when Crash spotted her. Her back was to him, but he’d know the shape of her body anywhere—her thin shoulders and arms sticking out of the faded denim overalls she wore. A tube top, all she had on underneath. Her feet—as usual—were bare.
Her hair—now that was new. Her beautiful long golden brown hair now hung in long dreadlocks to her waist. The top of her head was covered in a blue bandana tied atop her head—the little triangle points falling in the back.
Crash took another step, and she turned at the creaking of the floor. When her beautiful blue eyes landed on him, her face transformed into a beaming smile.
“Ty!” she yelled and launched into a full out run, jumping into his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips. She was the only person that called him by his given name, other than the grandmother who’d raised him.
She hugged him tight, and he hugged her back. She noticed Cole standing back and held her hand out to him, pulling him in for a kiss on his cheek.
“Hey, get your hands off my woman.”
Crash looked over her shoulder to see a big man standing in the doorway to the backroom.
Now the dreadlocks made sense.
The big muscled man had his own long dark dreads hanging to his waist. They were tied back in some semblance of a ponytail—as thick around as Crash’s forearm. His skin was a smooth mocha brown.
She turned to look over her shoulder at the man. “Relax, Ace. He’s my big brother.”
“Who’s this, Loretta?” Crash asked, his voice low as he set her back on her feet.
“Loretta?” the man asked, dark brows arching.
“That’s my given name, Ace.”
“Please, God, tell me your mama didn’t name you after a country singer.”
“Yep. Loretta Lynn Shaw.”
“And I thought Letty was bad enough.”
“Shut up, Ace, and get over here and shake hands with my brother.”
He strolled over, if a large muscled man could stroll and extended his hand. “Ace Luther.”
Crash studied him. He was bare-chested under his own pair of overalls. His eyes were a golden cat-eyed color. “Crash,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Doesn’t he have the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen, Ty?” his sister asked, starring deeply into the man’s eyes with adoration and possibly love, Crash noted.
“If you say so, sis,” was all Crash would admit to, not about to call another dude’s eyes beautiful.
Ace smiled, revealing even white teeth. “Your sister’s a goof-ball.”
Crash flashed a smile back. “You got that right.”
“Crash? Is that apropos of your riding skill?” Ace asked, nodding toward Crash’s cut.
“No, it’s apropos of my tendency to throw motherfuckers through plate-glass windows.”
Cole made a snorting sound as he tried to stifle his chuckle.
Ace’s eyes moved between them. “Uh huh,” he nodded. “Should I be taking that as a warning?”
“You fuck over my sister, yeah.” Crash stared him down.
“Your sister, I’m finding, can fight her own battles.” Ace touched his chin, turning slightly to reveal a scratch along his jaw. “I’m learning to watch out for her claws and never to tell her I don’t particularly care for one of her pieces of pottery.”
“Next time you tell me you don’t like one of my pieces, I’m going to break it over your head,” Letty warned, her hand landing on her out-thrust hip.
Cole chuckled.
“Chill, woman. Christ, she’s got a temper. That run in the family, too?” Ace looked at Crash.
Letty grinned. “Nope. Ty’s as laid back as they come. Takes a lot to rile him. But once he’s riled—watch out.”
“Point taken.” Ace smiled down at Letty.
“You two have a few things in common,” she told Ace.
“You mean other than you?”
“Yes, other than me. Ty works with metal. He does the most amazing pieces with wrought iron,” she bragged on her brother.
“Really? I work with metal, too. Mostly cast iron pieces.” He nodded toward the sculpture Crash had been admiring. “Sculpture mostly.”
“That so?” Crash turned to take in some of the big pieces. “You made these?”
“Yup.”
“Ace is one of the resident artists out at Sloss,” his sister bragged, linking her arms around one of Ace’s big muscled arms.
“Sloss? Sloss Furnace? The historic old ironworks?” Cole asked.
“That place we went on field trips to as kids?” Crash frowned.
“Yeah. I remember you made a cast iron tile and brought it home, so proud. Gram still has it. She uses it as a trivet,” Letty informed him.
“Yeah. I think that was sixth grade.”
Letty turned to Ace. “You should take him out there. Show him the facilities.”
“Hell, I’d love to see it,” Crash admitted.
Ace nodded. “I could take you out there. How long you gonna be in town?”
“Couple days.”
“I was heading over there in about an hour or so. I could take you then if you want. That give you enough time to go see your gram?”
Crash looked over at Cole who shrugged. “Whatever you want to do, brother. We don’t have to be at the clubhouse for a few hours yet.”
Crash turned back to Ace with a smile. “That’d be great.”
“You two in town for a reason or did you just ride twenty-three hundred miles just to see little ol’ me?” Letty batted her eyes and tossed her head flirtatiously.
“In town for a funeral.” Crash’s eyes moved from Ace to Letty. “You remember Bulldog?”
Her voice got soft as she dropped the flirtatious pose. “Oh, no, it’s not Bulldog’s funeral, is it?”
Crash nodded. “Cancer sticks finally got him. He’s been battling lung cancer the past year.”
“I’m so sorry. I always liked him. He was kind of like the uncle we never had.”
“Yeah. He was a good soul. Saved me and Cole when we were stupid punks who thought we knew it all and were determined to fuck our own lives up.”
“He’s the one that got you in the club, isn’t he?” Letty asked.
“Yeah. Found me and your brother down in Southside. Back then it was a drugee’s paradise, and we’d fallen in with the wrong crowd,” Cole explained.
“When’s the funeral?”
“Tomorrow. The clubhouse is having a party tonight. Kind of our version of a wake. You should come,” Cole invited.
Letty smiled. “I haven’t seen any of those guys since you both moved out to California. It would be fun to catch up.”
“Yeah. I remember you and Skylar used to love coming to the Dead parties.” Cole smiled.
“When my big brother would let us.” Letty stuck her tongue out at Crash, teasingly.
“How is Skylar? You two were always like two peas in a pod,” Crash asked.
“Funny you should ask. She just got back in town. She took off not long after you two left for Cali.”
“Took off? Where to?”
Letty shrugged. “I lost touch with her for a while. But, it’s good to have her back. We were supposed to go out for a drink tonight. Catch up.”
“Hell, invite her along. It’ll be good to see her. She was always like the kid sister I never had,” Cole said tugging on one of Letty’s dreads with a teasing grin.
“You don’t know how lucky you were, Cole. Kid sisters can be a pain in the ass,” Crash advised him with a wink at Letty.
“You love me, and you know it.”
“Yeah, but you were still a pain in the ass. Always wanting to tag-a-long. Shit, I remember being scared to death you’d end up some brother’s ol’ lady.”
Letty’s hands landed on
her hips again. “Would that have been so horrible?”
“Uh-oh. She’s getting the pissed off ‘I-am-woman, hear-me-roar’ look in her eyes, Crash.” Cole grinned.
The corner of Crash’s mouth pulled up. “Don’t tell me that surprises you, Cole?”
Letty slugged Crash in the arm. “Still the smartass, I see!”
“Ow, woman!”
Ace chuckled. “Glad to see I’m not the only one she slugs.”
Crash rubbed his bicep. “Yeah, and I’ll have the bruises later to prove it.”
Ace grinned. “I’ll give y’all some time alone to catch up, and I’ll get back to work.” He pulled Letty close with one arm and kissed her forehead. “Later, baby girl.”
Crash turned to watch him walk out the backdoor, and then looked back at his sister. “He your man?”
She nodded. “I love him, Ty. He’s the most sensitive soul I’ve ever met. And his big muscled body gets me hot.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.
Crash held up his hand. “Don’t need the dirty details, Letty.”
She laughed and grabbed his hand and nipped at his fingertips. “This is a nice surprise. Seeing you. You been by to see Gram yet?”
“Nope. This was our first stop.”
She linked arms with him, turning him toward the door and said over her shoulder, “Come on, Cole. She’ll love to see you both. I hope you’re both hungry, you know she won’t let you out of the door without feeding you.”
“Damn, I hope she’s got some cornbread. I haven’t had any of that in years. And some sweet tea,” Cole replied.
“I guess they don’t have that on the west coast, huh?”
“Nope. Closest thing you can do is order iced tea and dump some sugar in it, but it ain’t southern sweet tea. Not by a long shot.”
“Or there’s that Chai tea shit,” Crash put in.
“Fuck, don’t get me started on that crap. Angel loves that shit.”
“So, you can close up the shop, just like that?” Crash asked his little sister.
She grinned up at him. “Being a business owner has its perks.”
“Like smoking pot in the back room?”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I never could slide anything past my big brother.”
CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) Page 46