Bosco

by Geri Glenn

  I climb up and yank the door shut, locking my seatbelt in place. “Thanks for the lift, man.”

  “I almost didn’t,” he admits as he pulls away from the curb. “Anna was worried about you.”

  That surprises me. Since Anna had their daughter, I only run into her on occasion, either at Narcotics Anonymous meetings or at the clubhouse. We don’t talk as much as we used to. “Why?”

  Reaper glances my way and arches his brow. “Well, you call out of the blue, at the crack of fucking dawn, looking for someone to bail you out of a neighborhood that ain’t your own. What do you think she’s thinking?”

  It’s as if the world falls out from under me right then. He knows. I gape over at him, my mouth opened to speak, but I have no words.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Your secret’s safe with me. And don’t be pissed at Anna either.” He smirks over at me. “I have ways of getting information out of her.”

  Great. My traumatic history was once reduced to the prize in one of their weird sex games.

  “She didn’t tell me everything,” he continues when I don’t speak. “Just that she’d seen you at the meetings and that you had an inside understanding of what she was going through when shit was so hard for her.”

  Well, at least she’d kept most of it to herself. “I’m sorry I asked her to keep that from you. I just thought it was better that way.”

  Reaper shrugs. “I get it. I don’t agree with it, but I get it.” He glances over at me again. “Do you understand what being a part of a club like the Kings is all about?”

  I frown. “What? Of course I do.”

  “The Kings is about family. Real family. The kind that doesn’t let petty shit get in the way of things. The kind that lays everything bare on the table and accepts each other for what they are. I get that you don’t have much for family. At least, I don’t think you do. None of us really know your story. The truth is, until you lay your shit bare for the club, you’ll always be fighting to keep secrets buried and never truly understand what it means to belong to the Kings.”

  A painful lump forms in my throat as I mull over his little speech. He has a point. The fact that the point itself is coming from Reaper, the scariest son of a bitch I know, is moot. He’s right. “Point taken.”

  Sarah

  I’m just stuffing my bedsheets into the washing machine when I hear Laynie’s voice carrying down the hall. “Ding dong! Anybody home?”

  “Yaynie!” Millie’s tiny footsteps thump across the floor as he runs to greet her.

  “Be there in a second!” I call out. I add the fabric softener to the machine and close the lid.

  Laynie’s already in the living room, her service dog Dexter laying at her feet, his long pink tongue licking Millie’s cheek as she giggles. “Hey,” I greet, taking a seat beside her. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “I figured we were due for a chat,” she says with a smile. “We haven’t had a chance to just hang out in a long time.”

  My teeth sink into my lip as my fingers curl into tight fists at my sides. “That’s kind of my fault,” I admit.

  “Oh, trust me, I know.” Laynie’s laugh doesn’t hold any of the resentment I’d expected to hear. Instead, she reaches over, her hand searching out my knee. “You’ve really isolated yourself from all of us. At least you’ve tried to.”

  Tears prick at my eyes as I stare into her kind, open face. “I’m sorry.” My apology is but a whisper, but Laynie hears everything.

  “No apologizing,” she says. “That’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to set it right. You can’t get rid of us that easily.”

  Bosco’s angry eyes flash in my memory. “I’m not so sure that’s the case for everyone.”

  “You’re talking about Bosco,” she says, but it’s not a question.

  My heart sinks. “You know, don’t you?”

  “I know nothing,” she chirps, raising one hand in the sign for scout’s honor. “Well, kind of nothing. I know Bosco called Reaper this morning to pick him up not far from here. I know he was pissed off, in a very un-Bosco like way. I also know that your voice is quivering with tears. Just a guess that all those things are related.”

  Puffing my cheeks out, I release a breath. “You want a coffee?”

  “I never say no to coffee,” she declares and stands, her hand out in front of her as she follows me to the kitchen. Attempting to buy myself a little time, I set to work getting the coffee pot ready.

  As the percolator starts dripping, Laynie decides she’s waited long enough. “Talk to me.”

  “I slept with Bosco.” I just blurt it out, needing to get that part off my chest before anything else. “I slept with him, and then this morning when I woke up, for just a second, I thought he was Mouse.”

  Sadness washes away the elated grin from Laynie’s face. “Oh, Sarah,” she says softly.

  “When I realized what I’d done, I picked up his clothes and tossed them on the lawn. I just...” I run my fingers through my hair and pace the tiny kitchen. “I just needed him out of here. I felt so guilty, ya know? Like I’d cheated on Mouse.”

  Laynie sits quietly, her mouth turned down with sadness, but she doesn’t interrupt. I keep talking, like the dam has busted and the words just keep coming.

  “I didn’t want Millie to see him here, and definitely not in my bed. I was so mean to him, Laynie. I kicked him out in his underwear! And he was so angry when he left. I just...the thing is...I don’t think I’m ready for another relationship.”

  Laynie leans forward and rests her chin in her hand. “Everyone moves on at their own pace. Don’t ever feel guilty for not being ready, Sarah.”

  Sighing with relief that she understands, I plop down in the seat across from her and drop my face into my folded arms on the table.

  “But I don’t think this is an issue with you not being ready.” Lifting my head, I watch her face as she considers her words carefully. “I think the issue is, you feel guilty that you are ready. Do you think Mouse would have wanted you to be alone? That he wouldn’t want you to be happy?” Her fingers reach out, searching the table top until they come to rest on my arm. “Honey, Mouse wouldn’t be angry with you for living a happy life, even if that means with another man.”

  I think about that for a moment. “Maybe,” I concede. “Maybe you’re right. But either way, that other man can’t be Bosco.”

  “Bosco loves you guys,” she says, not telling me something I don’t know.

  “He does. He’s also a member of a motorcycle club. The same club that my little girl’s father was a part of when he died.” I bite my lip as my heart clenches, the crux of my problem becoming clearer by the second. “I can’t go through that again, Laynie. I won’t survive.”

  Bosco

  “As I sat there in the grass, staring at my dead friend, all I could think about was my brother. About how fucking pissed at me Spencer would be if he could see me now. I thought about the fact that he had died and I had lived, but I was pissing it all away on drugs and living this life that nobody would wish on their worst enemy.

  “It took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, along with the help of a couple very kind social workers, but I got my life back. I’ve been clean for five years, and I don’t plan on ever going back to that life. I joined an MC, and now I have a family. Somewhere I can truly belong. Life is good now. I miss my brother and I miss my parents, but I do not miss the drugs that almost ruined my life.”

  I step down from the podium to the sound of applause, nodding and shaking a few hands as I pass. It seems like this is the millionth time I’ve told this story, right here in the basement of this church, but this is the first time there are actually people here for me, to hear me tell it.

  Ryker, Tease, Jase, Reaper, and Anna take up the third row of seats, one of the chairs empty and meant for me. Taking my place, I look down at the ground. I’d avoided looking at my crew the entire time I spoke. I hadn’t wanted to see the di
sappointment or the anger I’m sure they must be feeling. I’ve been keeping so much from them for so long.

  Anna’s hand reaches out and squeezes mine, giving me the courage I need to look up. She leans over, pressing her shoulder into me as she whispers in my ear, “That was very brave, Bosco.”

  I turn my head and meet her eyes, giving her a tight smile. It’s then I risk a glance at the men beside her. Reaper simply gives me a lift of his chin, Jase a nod. Tease is already watching the next person at the podium. It’s Ryker’s opinion I care about most, though, and he’s watching me, his eyes assessing.

  My heart stops beating as we sit frozen, our eyes locked, his jaw tight. I don’t even know what I’m expecting from him. Approval? Accolades? Acceptance? Regardless of what his thoughts are, it’s not like I’ll be kicked out of the club; it just doesn’t work that way. I haven’t actually done anything wrong. My secret isn’t a danger to any of them, or to the club as a whole.

  Reaper was right, though. I’ve never felt one hundred percent in when it came to the Kings. I’ve always been hiding a part of myself from all of them, but that just ended today when I got up there and bared it all to the entire room.

  All the worry, strife, and fear of their anger disappears when Ryker leans across the other guys and Anna, his fist extended. His lips are tilted up on one side, and his gaze shows nothing but pride. When my fist meets his in a solidifying bump, I realize that all the hiding is behind me.

  I don’t have to hide my shitty past from anyone; it’s part of who I am. Part of what has made me the man I’ve become. My brother, the streets, the drugs—all of it. I was a better person because I came out on top. I didn’t let that shit suck me down and end me. I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and every reason to be proud.

  At the end of the meeting, we don’t stick around and mingle like everyone else. Without a word, we walk outside and around the corner to the parking lot where our motorcycles wait for us, parked in a line at the edge of the property.

  To my surprise, it’s Jase that speaks first. “That took balls, man. Proud of you.” He leans in, bumping his chest to mine and slapping my back.

  Tease just squeezes my shoulder. Reaper stands with his arm around Anna. “Explains a lot,” he says, indicating his wife. “Sucks you had to go through that shit, man, but glad you came out on top.”

  Anna comes forward and wraps her arms around my waist, giving me squeeze. If anybody understands how hard that was for me, it’s her. We’ve attended many meetings here together, at one point, both of us hiding our pasts from these very same people.

  “Mine,” Reaper says, his voice a low growl as he pulls his wife from my arms. He has a smirk on his face, and Anna giggles as I raise my hands in surrender.

  Ryker is the next to step forward, dropping a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Now you’re a King. No more holdin’ shit back, yeah?”

  A King. I already was a King from the second I got patched in, but I think part of me always felt like I was never all-in. Now I am, and looking around at these men in front of me, I remember what it was like to have a brother. I haven’t really felt that since Spencer died.

  “All right,” Reaper says, moving to his ride and starting it up, the engine roaring to life. “Put your tits away ladies and let’s move on with this fucking day.”

  Sarah

  I gape at the doctor, trying to wrap my head around what she’d just said. “I don’t understand.”

  Dr. Chisolm comes around her desk and sits on the edge, directly in front of me. “The easiest way for me to explain it is, Millie’s leukemia did not respond well to the initial treatment. Her cancer cells are still present and increasing.”

  My stomach rolls. I don’t know that I ever really considered what I’d do if Millie’s treatment wasn’t successful. When I’d first found out about her cancer, I’d kind of checked out. In my shock, I’d missed half of what the doctor had said. Thankfully, Bosco had listened closely and was able to explain everything once I’d calmed myself.

  This time, though, there’s no Bosco. There’s only me, and Millie is counting on me to deal with this. Taking a deep breath, I straighten in my seat. “What do we do?”

  “At this point, Millie is in need of a bone marrow rescue. You might have heard of it called a transplant. We need to find a donor with a matching HLA, or human leukocyte antigen tissue type. Typically, this comes from a relative, most commonly a sibling. We will, of course, test your HLA type and search the donor registry, but if you know anyone that can donate, we need to get them tested as soon as possible. This isn’t something that can wait.”

  “It’s just me,” I say softly, my heart sinking to the floor. “I’m her only family.”

  Her hand comes down and covers mine. “No need to panic. There’s still a strong possibility we’ll find a match from the registry. My interns are already searching. In the meantime, we’re going to get Millie admitted and keep an eye on her levels. I’ll send a technician up to take a cheek swab from you, okay?”

  All I can do is nod and stand, following the doctor out into the waiting room where Millie is playing with a hospital volunteer and two other little girls, one of whom has a perfectly rounded bald head.

  “We’ll get a room ready for her and send for you in a few minutes,” she says, and then she’s out of sight. For several minutes, I just sit and watch Millie as she plays with the two girls, her piercing giggle ringing around the room. All three of them are smiling and happy, not fully realizing what the word cancer means to their mortality. They’re children. They live in the moment, not letting the ‘what ifs’ affect their happiness.

  Loneliness washes over me as I wrap my arms across my chest, hugging myself to keep the ache of fear inside. For a split second, I have a mental debate about calling Bosco and telling him the news, but after what had happened with us the other night, I know that I can’t do that. I can’t tell him to go one minute, and then call him to come running the second things go wrong. That’s not fair to him.

  Needing more than anything, just to hear a friendly voice, I call the one person I know that will listen. The phone only rings once before Laynie picks it up. “Hey, girl!”

  Her happiness at hearing my name through her call display is sweet, but I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying. “Laynie? I...uh...I’m at the hospital with Millie.”

  “Talk to me,” she says, giving me her full attention.

  My eyes fall back to my daughter as she passes a Play-Doh cookie to another little girl. “It’s not good. Her chemo didn’t do what they thought it would, so before they do another round, it looks like Millie is gonna need a bone marrow transplant.”

  Laynie lets out a long, slow breath. “Okay. So, what do we do?”

  God bless her. “We need to find a donor.”

  “On it,” she says firmly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t panic, babe. There’s a donor out there somewhere and we’re going to find them.”

  Bosco

  Thwomp! The heavy sand bag bounces on the chain it’s hanging from as I slam my taped fist into it. Thwomp! Thwomp!

  It’s been three days since Sarah unceremoniously kicked me out of her house, and I haven’t spoken to, nor heard from her since. I’m worried about Millie, and dying to know how she’s doing now that she’s home. I know that today was the day she was supposed to go back to the hospital to have her levels checked. When they’d released her the other day, I assumed I’d be going to that appointment too.

  Thwomp!

  I told Sarah I’d give her time, but I don’t know how much more time I have in me to give. Thwomp! I’ve been so fucking patient about starting shit with her. I’ve bought her groceries. Thwomp! Paid her bills. Thwomp!

  And it’s not like I even want anything for any of that shit. I’d done it because I wanted to. Thwomp! But to just cut me out like this, when Millie’s so sick? Thwomp! That shit is just not okay. Thwomp!

  “Dude, you’re bleedin’ all over the bag.
”

  I whip around to see Jase walking into the gym, but he’s not wearing his workout gear. Looking down, I flex my fingers and see that he’s right. My taping job didn’t even bother holding up against my vicious attack on the sand bag. Blood is smeared across my knuckles and onto the white of the binding I’d used. The bag itself has bright red blood mashed into the weave of the fabric from my last several hits.

  “You cool?” he asks, his trademark smirk nowhere to be seen.

  “I’m fine. I’ll get this shit cleaned up.”

  Jase watches me for a moment. “You get Ryker’s text?”

  I look over to my bag, where my phone rests on top of my clothes. Stalking toward it, I scoop it up and touch the home button. Sure enough, there’s an incoming text from Ryker.

  Ryker: 911. Meet at the children’s hospital asap.

  All thoughts of my now stinging knuckles disappear as I feel the blood drain from my face. Snapping my head back to Jase, I grab up my things, ready to run from the room.

  Jase raises both hands and steps in front of the door. “Relax. She’s okay.”

  “Get outta my way, man,” I breathe, ready to knock his ass out if that’s what it takes to get him away from the door.

  “You need to calm down, Bos. She’s okay. You can’t go walkin’ into a hospital for kids lookin’ like you just went ten rounds in a goddamn cage match. You’ll scare the shit outta poor Millie.”

  I look down at myself and realize he has a point. I’m drenched in sweat, blood covers my hands and is splattered across my shirt. There’s no mirror around, but I can only imagine what my face looks like right now. It likely reflects the fear I’m feeling for Millie at any rate.

  “Shower,” Jase orders. “Clean your shit up and we’ll ride over together. Ryk says we all need to take some sort of test or somethin’, to see if we’re a match for the kid.”

  “What kinda match?”

  Jase lifts his shoulders in a relaxed shrug, clearly trying to ease my mind. “No clue. Just go clean up and we’ll find out together.”