by Trent Jordan
“We can always hang out again a different night,” he said. “Not trying to get rid of you. Just... ”
“No, I get it,” I said.
“I’ll take you back to your car, and we can hang out soon? Like this weekend?”
I smiled and squeezed.
“That would be perfect.”
With that, LeCharles took me back to my car. It was a short but very sweet date, and I felt as comfortable with the idea of reuniting with him as I ever had. This wasn’t a desperate thought or a naively hopeful thought—it was a truthful thought. One step at a time, though.
Like if you’ll kiss him tonight.
But is that really a question?
As soon as LeCharles parked the bike by my car, I hopped off. I turned to hug him.
And before I could even consider the option of kissing him, he had his helmet off, his hand on the back of my neck, and his lips pressed forward. He pulled me in, and for the first time in a decade, in a sober, stoic, happy state of mind, I kissed him.
I kissed him softly, resting my hands on his cheeks. It was a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that said, “I’ve missed you.” And that much was true. I had missed having him around. I hadn’t missed the asshole version that our relationship ended with or that my return to Springsville had started with, but I missed this part of him.
And then he tried to ramp it up just a little too much, and I had to reign him in as his hand cupped my ass.
“Easy, killer,” I said. “There’ll be plenty of time for that.”
“Sorry,” he said with a guilty smile. “Guess I just got a little excited.”
“That, I have no doubt of,” I said. “But in time.”
I went in for one more kiss.
“Have a great night, LeCharles.”
I made it all the way to my car door when he called my name one last time. Wondering if this was some sort of cute game that he was trying to play, I decided to humor him and looked his way.
“Yes?”
“One question before you go,” I said. “That note you wrote for me. Who did you give it to?”
I shrugged.
“Some client of mine named Brian.”
“Brian?”
He looked like he had never heard the name. Given that Brian had had a club jacket on, much like the one LeCharles had on now, I figured maybe it was a brand-new member he hadn’t met yet.
“Huge guy, looks like Gandalf if Gandalf lifted weights and was eight feet tall.”
“Oh.”
LeCharles did not look pleased. Maybe he was thinking of the wrong guy?
“Nice guy, talked a lot, made conversation with me. I thought he was going to go back to your club’s place, but he said he was going to get food east side of town or something. But he was a good guy, so I trusted him.”
LeCharles’ face twitched. He corrected it to a pleasant smile and pushed away, but that disturbed look was one I definitely noticed.
“Thanks, Rose,” he said. “I’ll see you soon enough.”
With that, he finally sped off, leaving me feeling as happy as I had in a long time.
Still, I had to wonder what that stuff about Brian at the end was.
Axle
Wednesday Morning
I couldn’t believe I didn’t even know that Butch’s real name was Brian.
And I couldn’t believe that that was probably the least of my concerns.
I was starting to believe Butch was the rat in our club. If he was going to the east side of town after he had gone to the vet—which was yet another thing none of us knew, that Butch had a pet of some sort—that was Fallen Saints territory. That was not Black Reaper territory.
It was just building upon what I had already suspected. The quietest one was always the one who was the guilty party.
The only other competition for Butch was Red Raven, but let’s face it, Red Raven was also so close to death at his age and barely able to ride a motorcycle that he had nothing to gain by betraying us. What, would he sell us out for a few thousand dollars that would sit in his untouched IRA account once he died?
No, Butch was the one with the most to gain by turning against us. He was the one who had the most benefits coming his way. He was the fucking rat.
As soon as the date had ended, I texted Lane and Patriot, asking if they were at the shop. When neither said no, I decided to table the conversation until the next day. Nothing ever happened on Tuesday nights, and I would have preferred for the two of them to be rested when the news broke. Besides, confronting Butch, if we were right, was going to be a violent endeavor. I didn’t want to end my night, as good as it was, on that note.
But the instant that Patriot walked through the front garage to our shop the next morning, Lane pulled him aside and met me for church.
“Alright, Axle,” Lane said. “You’re the one that wanted this meeting, you got it. Floor’s yours. Am I right in assuming that this is the spy?”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you know Butch’s real name?”
The two young men looked at each other.
“It’s... Butch, right?” Patriot said. “Even if it’s not that—”
“It’s not, it’s Brian,” I said. “Lane, did you know that?”
He shook his head.
“Did you know that Butch has a pet?”
“Axle,” Lane interrupted. “I know that it may seem odd that we don’t know much about Butch, but if you’re finding out that these details were kept secret from us, that’s not the kind of thing that’s going to turn me into a believer. I know for a fact everyone in this club has secrets, and I know for a fact I don’t know what some of those secrets are. If they are secrets that don’t hurt the club, I don’t give a shit. Obviously, if they do, I do.”
“I know,” I grunted. “But this is your sergeant-in-arms. This is the man you trust with the grunt work. And we’ve got a one in three chance of being right.”
I knew it wasn’t enough, though. What I was accusing Butch of could not be undone, and just realizing his name was a different B-word and that he had a life outside of the Black Reapers wasn’t nearly enough for a permanent action. Just as I was eager to try and make things work with Rose, I was eager to purge the rat from our group.
“I’m not going to bring an accusation against him, not at this point,” Lane said. “I nearly made the mistake of accusing you, Axle, before I had full evidence, and if not for the work of this cat right here, one of us would be dead.”
Patriot didn’t laugh. He knew there was no joke to what Lane had said.
“However, you do make a good point that it’s going to be one of the three that we haven’t investigated yet, and I suppose this is as good a chance as any for us to start testing this assumption,” Lane said. “I’ll start feeding Butch information for some low-key runs. Maybe we’ll do some cash runs for the Hovas or something.”
“Just nothing to put the club in danger,” I said, but as soon as I said that, I knew it was wishful thinking. By definition, feeding information would compromise someone in the club.
“Well, I make no promises,” Lane said. “We’ll figure something out. Patriot, any thoughts?”
“Nah, man,” he said. “Well, wait.”
He took a second to gather his thoughts.
“I know no one’s said anything, but man, I think people are starting to notice all of these little side sessions. It’s one thing when it’s you and me because we’re close friends, we’re supposed to hang out like we are. When it’s the three of us, though? Or when we get bigger, and it’s more of us, and we exclude one or two people? At some point, the rat’s going to know that we’re getting on his trail, and at that point... ”
Patriot just shook his head. It was the same as mobilizing in plain daylight for the enemy. At some point, your target would have so much time to prepare for your action that what would have been productive would suddenly become counterproductive. Patriot was absolutely right on that count—we were wasting too much time and
not making enough things happen.
“We need to move faster,” Lane said. “Noted. Okay, today’s, what, Wednesday? Let’s do something tomorrow after the meeting. We don’t have to decide now, but if no one comes to me with any suggestions before then, I’m going to just make an executive decision. All good?”
I nodded—all good. Whatever Lane wanted me to do, I would be good with.
“Alright, let’s get back to work.”
I stood up and got to the door.
“Lighter question, Axle,” Lane said. “You seeing anyone?”
That was a hell of a question to ask. That question never got asked in the club. It was like asking someone a question too personal for club business.
“Not really,” I said.
I thought I had my mental headspace in control in regards to Rose. I was a little crazy for her after the weekend, but I figured once I had a great date and could settle my mind down, things would be a lot easier.
Yeah, no, that’s not how it worked at all. Not even close.
Instead, I suddenly found myself lusting after her like the first time I had ever seen her. Instead of her kneeling to me, I was kneeling to her. And it was so damn unlike me.
Maybe it was unlike me because, to be frank, I had never let anyone else affect me like that. In the years since my breakup with Rose, I had seen other girls. I’d even been exclusive with a few here and there. But I had never opened my soul or made myself quite so vulnerable with them as I had with her. The result was that I could play it cool, and I wouldn’t worry if one left me for someone else or to be single, but that wasn’t because I was genuinely secure. It was because I was just playing them off against the idealized version of Rose.
Who just so happened to be the version that was now back in my life, ever-present, with the most erotic kiss and near-foreplay I’d ever experienced.
Fuck, no one was supposed to have this effect on me. If you asked me three months ago how I would react if Rose Wright came back to Springsville, I’d shrug and say nothing, especially if she had kept her distance. If pressed, I suppose I’d say I would wish her well, but I certainly wouldn’t think anything of it.
And now... life had a really fucking funny way of working sometimes.
As the rest of the Wednesday workday went on, and I took care of my fair share of repairs and oil changes, I tried to keep her out of my head. When I got really deep into a vehicle, it worked a little bit. But the instant I had to stop focusing on something, poof, like a magic trick, she was right back there.
I couldn’t help myself. I really should have just let her be, texted her at the end of my shift, and planned for something at the weekend.
And instead, like a teenage boy who was so overly anxious to get laid that he ruined everything for himself, I texted Rose on my lunch break and asked her if she wanted to meet up that night. I cursed myself out as soon as I sent that text, wondering how it had gotten to the point where I was acting like I was twenty years younger than I really was.
If there was any good news in this inanity I had gotten myself into, it was that by the end of my break, Rose had already responded with about as good a message as I could have hoped for.
“You really want to see me, huh ;-) Yes, but I need to be with Shiloh. You can come over around seven for pizza and a movie if you want. Just those things.”
Oh, that was a dangerous game to play. That was like inviting the tiger to an open field and not allowing him to eat the juicy steak right in the middle. I had no idea how I was actually going to be able to behave myself.
But I couldn’t resist seeing Rose. She had completely flipped the tables on me and turned me into the pursuer, not the pursued. I would someday have to sit back and create a masterclass on how to flip that dynamic because it really was kind of ridiculous that she had managed to pull it off on me.
So I agreed to it. I vowed to myself that I would not sleep with her, no matter what. I might kiss her, and I might get aroused, and I might do all sorts of sexual things, but I would not fuck her. The most I would do is grope, nothing more.
Of course, there probably wasn’t a man alive who said those things and had the self-control to stop himself when he got to that point. So I guess we just had to see if I was setting myself up to dive headfirst into something special or if I was rushing something that could not be rushed, ruining it along the way.
I gave some thought to going home, showering, and taking an Uber over so that I didn’t smell like gasoline, but at the risk of being a little too self-ridiculing, I was not going to make myself that whipped. She’d already kissed me many times when I smelled of motorcycle, including ten years ago, when we were madly in love. I wasn’t going to completely change myself for her. I may have gotten caught up in the moment, but I wasn’t going to permanently set myself in the moment.
I did shower, but otherwise, I hurried over on my motorcycle, treating the night just like any other night. I walked up to her front door, knocked, listened as Shiloh barked and she shooed him away, and stepped inside once she opened the door. She looked magnificent, even though she was in black gym shorts and a white tank top when I entered, and when I kissed her, her lips tasted just as sweet as they had the day before—maybe even a little bit better.
“How are you?” I said.
“Oh, it’s one of those days,” she said as she went back to the kitchen, putting her laptop on the table and typing on it as she spoke to me. “I’ve been looking to get a second job so I can make ends meet and save some cash because this vet tech job just isn’t paying what I thought it would—stupid California taxes—and I usually do that on my lunch break, but we had some wild animals today, so I had to cut my break short. It sucks, but it’s what I had to do.”
“What kind of animals?”
But Rose didn’t even respond immediately, typing something in before she looked at me.
“Sorry, what?”
I knew my annoyance showed, but I hoped that I kept in check enough.
“Just wanted to know what sort of crazy animals you had to deal with.”
“Oh, yeah, just some aggressive dogs. One tried to bite me.”
“Damn!”
“Yeah.”
I waited for her to say more, but instead, she was just typing on her computer, as if I wasn’t even there. I could take the fact she was looking for a second job, even though it meant we’d get to hang out less and less. As if I’m entitled to that at this point. I could handle the fact she was a little distracted.
But to not even pay a little attention to me?
“Sorry, sorry, I just have to get this done.”
“I can come on Friday or Saturday,” I offered, but Rose took my hand and squeezed it. For the moment, that made me feel a little better.
“Just let me get this done, two minutes, okay? And then we’ll order pizza.”
I did that, playing with Shiloh as Rose took ten, not two, minutes to finish her application. To her credit, though, when she did, she came over, kissed me, hugged me tightly, and sat on my lap.
“Sorry.”
“No worries,” I said, although that wasn’t entirely true. It was mildly annoying to have been put to the side. “Pizza and a movie?”
“Yes, though I should warn you, not everything is set up here still, so we’ll have to watch it on my laptop. We can eat at the table, watch, and then go to my bedroom?”
I swear, is this like the Garden of Eden where I’m going to be tempted beyond my own self-control?
“Sure, why not?”
We ended up choosing some Marvel movie that I hadn’t seen, nor did I care to see. Apparently, it was a big fascinating interest to Rose. I want to say the title was like Dr. Stranger or something, but honestly, I was mostly just paying attention to the pizza and her.
And the one thing that I could not help but notice was that she was acting a little distant from me.
It wasn’t like she was giving me the cold shoulder or not making eye contact, but the fire and p
assion that had defined our last date were definitely not noticeable. Whether it was because she felt stressed from work, a little overburdened by me, or something else that was a little difficult to define, I couldn’t say.
But about halfway through the film, I tried to make a move, tired of this little distance we had. I didn’t know if it would do anything, and I kept telling myself that I would not have sex with her. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have some fun along the way.
I kissed her neck.
And she pulled away.
“What’s going on?” I said.
It was not a question of concern. It was a question of demand, trying to make sense of why someone I had nearly slept with Friday night and had a passionate kiss with the night before would suddenly become so cold.
“What do you mean?”
This is how your last relationship started to dissolve. You didn’t communicate directly, so when you got into fights, you just went in circles. Tell her what you mean.
“I came here because I wanted to see you,” I said slowly, making sure I explained everything in clear detail both for her and for me. “I had a feeling that when I asked, it was a little too soon. But, hey, last night went great, we know each other from before, so what’s the harm, right? That was sort of my thinking. But now that I’m here, I feel like an accessory. You know? Like I’m here, but your focus is more on the job and the movie.”
Rose took a second, paused the movie, and sat up on the bed. I did the same so it didn’t feel like she was talking down to me.
“So, I need to be painfully honest here.”
Those are never words you want to hear at the start of a conversation like this.
“When you took me back Friday, it was the lowest moment of my life. I don’t know how I didn’t sleep with you, because I was in such a fucked-up spot in the head. But when I woke up on Saturday, even though you left early, I felt like I had found the strength to better myself. Maybe it was just realizing I had survived my lowest point, I don’t know. But I do know that right now, LeCharles? If I may be frank, my focus isn’t on you. It’s on me.”