by Bijou Hunter
Squeezing his hand, I get emotional. “I wish you and Mom lived here.”
“Soon,” he whispers. “I wanted to let Shane and River get their footing in Shasta before I moved here. They needed to run stuff without an old guy looking over their shoulders. Now that they’re settled in, your mom and I won’t be able to stay away much longer.”
I nearly squeal with delight at the thought of my parents moving to Shasta even part-time. I miss them so much. We used to spend a few nights a week together. There were trips to the movies, bowling, dinner, miniature golf, shopping, and visiting with friends. I loved my life in Ellsberg, mainly because of the people.
Now two more of those important people will help make Shasta feel more like home.
THE GOLIATH
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed the three-day trip with the Reapers. I forgot how freeing it is to ride a hog on an open highway. Not that I will admit it to anyone, but sliding into my Reapers vest on that last day feels right. I’ve got a sense of pride in being part of this club. These guys feel like my people. The pride might not last once we’re back in Shasta. That town reminds me of how I trusted the Skullz too. For today, though, I’m the man I was before Fuse cut the legs out from under me.
The last part of our ride is down through Ohio. There don’t seem to be much reasoning on where we go. The point is to feel like a unit. That plan works too. The twenty bikes move together like a flock of geese. Whether faster or slower, we remain in sync from the hotel in Pennsylvania to the exit for Elko.
River never mentions the club stopping here. He probably figured a few guys might pitch a fit about us entering enemy territory. I’m not worried. I’ve started to figure out my new president.
And what I know about River Majors is that he ain’t suicidal. If he thought stopping in Elko would lead to violence and possible death, we would have gotten lunch a few exits back. He’s a man with shit to lose. A wife, a kid on the way, a house being built, River’s mind is on the future.
That’s why I signal for a few of the old Skullz to get their bitchy faces into neutral. We ain’t dying today.
River guides us to Bambi’s Bar & Grill. The parking lot is half-filled with Harleys, and I spot right away the Elko president, Bronco, standing with a few blonde women. I don’t know how River timed shit so perfect, but I suspect he must have spies in Elko now.
Without thinking, I climb off my hog and follow River and Shane. The other men are hesitant. Maverick tends to hold back, looking for a spot to use that sniper rifle I often see him with.
I don’t know why I come along. Habit from the old days probably. Or maybe it’s that giant man moving closer to Bronco. Whatever the reason, I follow my president and VP over to where the dark-haired Executioners’ president stands with the women while a few of his men linger nearby.
I see now how two of the blondes are young. I know Bronco has daughters. The older, brassy blondes must be his sisters. I remember Fuse saying one of them was a real bitch whenever he tried contacting the Executioners. The older women wear matching black tank tops, looking ready for a brawl. The men behind them are just as riled up. Bronco only smirks at the sight of River strolling his direction.
“Daddy,” whispers the younger daughter while tugging at the sleeve of his black shirt.
“It’s fine. River Majors just likes to show off,” he says, taking the kid’s hand.
“I heard good things about your restaurant,” River announces and wears a smile for everyone. “Since the boys and I were riding past, we thought we’d grab lunch here.”
Bronco’s dark eyes survey the club, probably counting the men, maybe noticing new faces. I bet he’s got spies in Shasta too. He was always one step ahead of Fuse, but I don't think Bronco knows what the hell to make of River. Or maybe he does since he never loses that half-smile.
“The ribs are good,” Bronco says and gestures for his sisters to take the girls to a nearby SUV. The younger one doesn’t want to leave, clinging to him. I was locked up when the Skullz somehow managed to shoot one of Bronco’s daughters. I heard it was the older one, but I could be wrong. My old job was to focus on the men in the club, not worry over the Executioners’ family situations.
River sizes up Bronco and then smiles again. “I’m having a daughter too, man. Maybe one day, my princess will make vague threats toward your princesses. Gotta carry on that tradition.”
A smiling Bronco rolls his eyes. “I was once young, stupid, and arrogant too,” he says, stepping back. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll grow out of it.”
Chuckling, River gestures for Shane to take the guys inside. I don’t follow them because that giant motherfucker hasn’t backed off yet. He hangs around, waiting for the women to leave and Bronco to follow after them on his Harley. Only then does the big man stop looking as if my president is an ant to be squashed.
“Having fun?” River asks me after the Executioners are gone from the parking lot.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Good. Thanks for having my back,” River says and smiles up at the sky. “As much as I miss Maxine, I can’t wait to do this again. We’ll go south next year.”
Following him into the restaurant, I find myself smiling at that thought. I grab a seat next to Hugh, Utah, and Chase. These are my people, but I still keep an eye on my president.
River owns confidence I never will. He doesn’t mind showing affection, asking for help, thanking people, and seeming happy. That comes from knowing his place in the world. Shane is the same way. They act like fucking idiots sometimes, chasing each other, wrestling, playing like little boys instead of men. They have nothing to prove. Maybe they did when they first got to Shasta. Their fathers are big shits in the Ellsberg chapter, and men want to impress their dads.
I had a different kind of confidence with the Skullz. But I was always aware of how my worth came from what I did for people. My happiness was dependent on how happy I made others. They came first. I realize I let that happen. Just like with Becklyn and Jaymes fucking with me. No one made me a chump. I just never expected more.
As we eat our barbecue and plan to finish our trip, I tell myself to demand more in the future, from people and myself. I hadn’t wanted to go on this ride, but I enjoyed every fucking minute of it. I hadn’t been happy to know Shelby was pregnant. Now I get a funny feeling in my gut when I think about my kid growing inside her.
I didn’t have a strong family like River and Shane. My old club screwed me. The men I trusted are dead. The women I let close used me. That shit held me back. Starting today, I’m gonna see what I can do about changing things up.
THE CHAPTER WHERE THE HEART ACHES
THE WEIRDO
Not long before Shane’s expected arrival, Iggy finally realizes his father isn’t in the house. He wanders around, looking for him before succumbing to his sorrow and losing the energy to stand. He slides dramatically down the wall and begins crying as if his heart is broken. Ramona tries to console him, but then she starts crying too.
“He doesn’t understand,” she whimpers as I sit next to them.
I caress his head and get close to his face to say, “Daddy’s coming home. He’s riding his big bike. We’ll hear it, Iggy, and we can run outside to see him.”
Iggy studies the front door, where the outside is, but he doesn’t trust me. Crawling into his mama’s lap, he looks to her for reassurance. Even teary-eyed, she smiles for Iggy. Ramona cuddles him closer, calmer with him in her arms.
“Daddy’s coming home,” she says and looks thankfully at me. “I don’t know why I forget to make it simple.”
“Because it feels as if Shane’s been gone for too long. He’ll be back soon, though. Elko is less than two hours from here. Then Daddy won’t go away for a long time.”
Iggy isn’t naturally a drama-loving kid. His nature is to smile more than frown. He wants to find his way out of bad feelings. Once he gets the okay from his mom and me, Iggy starts talking about bikes. I’m not sure what he’
s saying, but Ramona nods and says “uh-huh” a bunch of times in response.
I corral them back to the sitting room, where my parents play cards with Raven and Vaughn. Max remains in the kitchen, cooking as if she’s feeding an army. Maude plays outside with Desi and the dogs. I’m on my way to check Ozzy when I get a call from an unknown number. Worried Shane might be forced to use a stranger’s phone or a throwaway one, I answer.
The woman asks for me by name before explaining she writes for the local paper. I nearly hang up, thinking she’s trying to sell me a subscription.
“I’m writing an article about a local urban legend. Thought you might want to make a comment since I heard you’re investigating the Shasta Slasher.”
Ignoring the “urban legend” part of her comment, I ask, “Where did you hear that?”
“Just a source.”
“And what do you want from me?”
“A comment would be nice. Like what exactly are you investigating? Do you have any new leads? What drew you to investigate?”
“It’s a hobby,” I say, suddenly awkward. “I like researching true crime.”
“Will you be investigating the killings that happened earlier this year?”
Realizing she means the Skullz offed by the Reapers, I feel my temper boiling. No way is this bitch unaware of the rumors of who did what to who back then.
“Yes. My good friend’s restaurant was destroyed, and she was targeted by the assholes. I hope to locate the people behind those attacks and alert the police.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why doesn’t your paper investigate the Shasta Slasher killings? Are dead hookers not worth taking up space from the articles about antique dressers and how to plant tulips?”
“You are aware there is no Shasta Slasher.”
“Yes, I’m totally aware it’s a big old fantasy, which is why I spend my free time looking into it. Just a fun lark like Big Foot and Slenderman. I can’t wait to read your article about the funny legend people blame for torturing and murdering women. I bet it’ll be a hoot. I’m hanging up now.”
I doubt hormones are why I’m so rattled by the call. Most likely, I feel betrayed by a fapsock ratting out my private investigation to that bitch at the paper. Who would even do that? My interest in the Shasta Slasher isn’t a secret. I’ve mentioned it a few times at the Saloon. Which one of those disloyal twats went to the shitty local paper?
Before I can rage to the heavens, I find Ozzy awake in his crib. He’s very interested in his mobile. Seeing me, he smiles and wiggles. Like his big brother, he’s an easygoing kid. Will my kid be so chill? If it’s anything like Goliath and me, the answer is no.
I carry the baby downstairs to where Taylor and Kelsi have joined the group. I find Ramona sitting between my mom and dad with Iggy on her lap. Without thinking, I whip out my phone and take a photo. These are my people. Well, most of them, and they look beautiful together. I add Ozzy to the mix and get another, more posed picture for when my brother arrives.
Taylor enters the room and gently knocks me into a chair. “We don’t have long to prove our dick lengths. I will shove you to the ground and urinate on you as a sign of dominance and friendship.”
“Well, I’ll pee up at you to prove I have dick control or something.”
Dad laughs at our attempts to be men. I guess we’re doing something wrong. Maybe we ought to grab our balls more and fart with extra vigor.
Taylor and I never get a chance to hone our man skills before I hear the heavenly roar of motorcycles pulling up the drive. I would normally shove everyone aside to run outside and jump into my brother’s arms. That feels like the right move. Except I see Ramona’s expression as she breathlessly tells Iggy that Daddy’s home. They need him more than I do.
Mom holds Ozzy while Ramona hurries outside with her son. Max waddles excitedly behind them. Shane bolts off his bike and toward his family. River doesn’t even pretend to be cool. He’s all over Max as if he might need to fuck her against a tree soon.
I stand on the porch, watching everyone hug and share tales about missing each other. Kelsi runs out to Hugh, who must be talking about his balls based on his hand gestures. Taylor joins me. She doesn’t say a word before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. It’s then I realize I’m crying.
Because I’ll never have this kind of reunion with the guy I want. Goliath didn’t race back to me. He wasn’t missing me over the last few days. I’m not in his arms, soaking in his scent and clinging to him.
Whether from hormones or disappointment, I stand on the porch, both relieved to see my family reunited and depressed over how I can’t enjoy my own version of what they share.
THE GOLIATH
The trailer feels like a letdown after three days on the road. I hadn’t talked much with the guys, but I was around people I understood. Yet here I am back home, thinking about a woman I can’t wrap my head around.
No way should I feel lonely. I got sick of having people around in prison. No privacy. Someone always talking somewhere nearby. Nothing was ever mine. The trailer is, and it’s quiet. I oughta enjoy being here, but I feel restless all night.
I consider going to the Saloon, but it’ll be dead. The guys have families to go home to. The ones that don’t will just be fucking the sweet butts. I don’t want to watch that shit when I can’t get off too.
Maybe I oughta fuck one of them. That’d get back to Shelby, and she’d be pissed enough to cut me loose. Then I could be how I was when she was just an idea and not a soft, hot woman in my bed.
But I think of that tent she picked for me. All the guys got one, but I can imagine her putting extra thought into mine. I’m the guy she wants. I’m the one who put a baby in her. Yomp, she took her time picking mine.
I can’t remember anyone putting that much effort into what I might want. Becklyn never got me anything that wasn’t a gift meant to guilt me into getting her something. Jaymes bought me shit she liked for me to wear, not anything I’d want. Neither of them ever seemed to think I was a real person. I get that now. I was just this big, tatted man, who made them feel a certain way. I was never real to them.
Like a fucking idiot, I end up sleeping in the tent despite the chill and light rain. Something got fucked up in me on that trip. Nomp, it’s pretty simple why I’m restless.
My head is full of big ideas now—being respected in the Reapers, having Shelby as my woman, raising my kid. But those are things I figured I’d have back in the day. Becklyn with her many fake pregnancies. Jaymes, though, was never going to give me a kid. She talked about how I’d be a bad father since I was a criminal.
“Quit, and then we can make a family,” she’d say whenever I mentioned some guy in the club was expecting a kid.
I wasn’t quitting the Skullz for her. Come to think of it now, she wouldn’t have made a good mother anyway. She nagged too much. Nothing was good enough. She was always upset by how I failed something or another. I wouldn’t want my kid listening to her bullshit all day and night. The fucked-up thing is she ended up having a kid with some guy in the town over. Poor little shit is gonna grow up miserable.
My kid won’t. I might be a terrible father, but Shelby will do a good job. She’s got experience, and I hear she takes good care of her ugly dogs.
Resting in the tent, I imagine Shelby holding our kid. In my head, our baby looks weird. I can’t picture a kid that looks like me. I remember seeing Shane’s son and decide to imagine my kid looking like that. Shane and Shelby share a lot of features. If my kid’s lucky, it’ll look like its mom.
Now I can picture Shelby with my kid, but there’s no way to force me into that fantasy. I know too well what I am and where I belong. I’m not daddy or husband material. That’s why I’m nearly forty with no wife or kids. I always knew I shouldn’t do the family thing. Just like my mother shouldn’t have. Some people ain’t meant for it. She forced herself to keep me. That’s why she was miserable and made me miserable. I’m not gonna do that to an innocent kid.
My fantasy dies as soon as it starts, but I stay in that tent all night as a way to keep a tiny part of the lie alive.
THE WEIRDO
Goliath opens the door of his trailer as I walk toward it. He wears a frown as if annoyed to see me. I scowl right back, irritated by the thought that he doesn’t want me here. I imagine the next few minutes going one of two ways—we fuck, or he’s such an asshole that I bolt.
“What?” he says, leaning out of the door and showing off his bare chest.
“I’m here for my booty call.”
“What makes you think I'm in the mood?”
I stop in my tracks, zip open my jacket, yank up my shirt, and flash my coconuts. “These are leaving if I don’t get a compliment.”
“You have great tits. Now get inside on the bed,” he says, disappearing inside.
Pushing down my shirt, I walk the rest of the way to where the door stands open. “A girl needs a little fucking romance, you fapsock.”
“You’re such drama,” he says, having somehow stripped naked in the thirty seconds it took me to walk inside his trailer. I’m almost shocked into silence by so much bare, muscled flesh. “I better find a way to keep your mouth busy.”
“Well, damn, I forgot how big your dick is. I might want a rain check.”
Gray eyes narrowing, he hisses, “Don’t make me tackle you, Campbell.”
“That wouldn’t be good for the baby,” I say, kicking off my tennis shoes and yanking down my pants. “It might be tiny, but the fucking thing has feelings.”
Goliath frowns at my wording, but then his gaze warms when I lift my shirt and show off my stomach. “Kiss your baby,” I instruct as I sit on the bed.
Offering me a little smile, he kneels down and plants a wet kiss on my belly button. His tongue takes over, making this affection completely inappropriate for a kid. However, I very much approve of his hands on my hips and his gentle bites along my waist.