Daniel reached over his head, grasping the collar and pulling his jersey off roughly, dropping it into his lap where his fingers picked at the seams and folds nervously. “Am I wrong?” He threw the fabric into the locker, bending over to unlace his skates, jerking them off with hard, angry movements.
Jase shook his head. “I dunno, man. Do you think you still want her? Are you still in love with her?”
Daniel froze in place, a startled look on his face as if he hadn’t just been asking the same question. “I am. I feel it. God, I should have told him. I can still tell him. I love her.” Standing, he grabbed his phone from the top shelf of the locker, dialing a number and waiting, sock-covered foot tapping a brisk beat against the mats. “Yeah, is Mason around?” There was a pause, and he said, “Slate, it’s Daniel. Is Mason around?”
Jase frowned. Slate was Mason’s go-to guy. If he was answering the phone, it probably meant Mason was already traveling to get Mica.
Daniel’s face fell, and he responded, “I see. When will they be back?” Yeah, from that exchange, it was clear Mason was probably on his way to Texas.
There was a longer pause, and Daniel closed his eyes. “You sure he’ll want me there, man? I would hate to show up if he’s not expecting me.” A deep sigh, and then he grunted, “Huh. Okay, see you there.” Stabbing the phone with a fingertip, he disconnected the call. “Fuck,” he breathed, “I have a meeting.”
“What’s going on?” Jase asked, not at all sure what he heard on the one-sided phone call, but assuming it didn’t mean good things for his friend.
“Mason and Mica are already on their way back. I guess he bought a bike in Texas, so they’re riding back on that. Slate’s putting together a party tomorrow, a kind of ‘welcome home’ thing for Mica. He wants us all there, all the Mallets. Said Mason left specific instructions for me to ‘show the fuck up’, and Slate intended to call me today. I have a lunch meeting with sponsors tomorrow, so I guess I’ll be heading over to the party after.”
He looked gut-punched, and Jase was sorry for the guy. If his girl was gonna be riding on the back of some other dude’s bike for hundreds of miles, her long legs wrapped around his hips, titties snuggled up to said dude’s back, he thought he might look gut-punched too. “Okay, I’ll call Gary and get the rest of the guys notified. You need anything else, Cap’n?” He didn’t know what he could do to help, but he at least wanted to offer.
“No.” Daniel sighed then said, “Yeah, why don’t we go get something to eat?”
He nodded, turning for the showers.
***
Jase called their friends and teammates Gary Millson and Dierk Hammond, a Mallets defenseman and their rookie goaltender, to meet them at Jackson’s. It was a local bar owned by Mason and, for the most part, ran by the Rebel Wayfarers motorcycle club members. It might seem a masochistic selection on Daniel’s part, but months ago, the Mallets had made it their unofficial bar for the team. Over the past season, the players had become regulars and logged many hours sitting in booths or at the bar debating game calls and plays with the club members.
Now, though, after suffering through his teammates harassment over him missing the workout this morning, he was having second thoughts about inviting them. Especially since he now had to listen to them dissect a couple of nights not long ago, when he met someone he could have liked, but who hadn't been interested in him like that. At all. Ego-killing disinterest on her part.
“I think I was sitting right here when I saw you with that biker chick,” Gary laughed, pointing at Jase. “You threw out all your best moves, man, and she just batted them out of the air. Kinda like our slick-ass goalie here does with pucks. ‘Hey, baby, you come here often?’ BAM. ‘Sweetie, you look good in leather, but you’d look better under me.’ WHAM. ‘Darlin’, you look a lot like my next girlfriend.’ SLAM. ‘Do you have a jersey? Because I need your name and number.’ SMACK. Right outta the air.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Jase leaned over and punched him in the shoulder, hard.
“Oww, fucker,” Gary complained, rubbing his arm. “You know I’m right. She wasn’t having any of even your finest moves. She shut you down, even before puck drop. Close da door.”
Dierk chimed in, “No, Gary, you missed it. You weren’t here the last night she was in town. There were some dirty dancing moves going down out on the floor. Based on the body language, I would wager she was as much into Jase as he was her. I think our man here just failed to seal the deal.”
Daniel opened his mouth, but seemed to reconsider his choice of topics when he saw the slant of Jase’s jaw. “Knock it off, guys,” he said instead. “Talk to me about the Fort Wayne team. We’re in their house Friday for game five. Give me your thoughts.”
Hockey dominated the conversation from there forward, and it wasn’t until a couple hours later, as they were leaving the bar, that Daniel reached out and stopped Jase with a hand on his arm. “Jase,” he finally asked his question, “what biker chick were they talking about?”
Jase’s gaze flicked down to the sidewalk. “DeeDee.”
“DeeDee have a last name?” Daniel laughed.
“Yeah, Moser. DeeDee Moser. She’s from Fort Wayne and, God, you should see her—she’s beautiful, Cap’n. Smart and funny…and hot as hell. And she can dance circles around me.” He looked up and knew he had a silly grin on his face, but didn’t care.
“If she’s a biker chick, doesn’t it imply an old man in the club?” Daniel frowned at him, a puzzled look on his face.
Shaking his head, Jase told him, “Not any longer, she’s single. She was up here helping out while Mason was…” His voice trailed off.
“While Mason was in Texas with Mica the first time.” Daniel blew out a breath. “I get the picture.”
“Yeah, anyway, she’s fun to talk to. Handed cheek and sass right back to me as good as she got. Fearless, man. She’s something else.” His grin faded as he remembered how unlikely it was he would ever see her again.
“Okay. I was wondering, ‘cause you hadn’t mentioned meeting anyone. You need a ride home?” Daniel dug in his pocket for his keys, jingling them impatiently once he had them in hand.
“Nah, I can grab a cab. I’m going to head back inside for a minute. I need to ask Slate about something, and then I’ll be heading home.” He gave a wave, turning back towards the door of the bar with a laugh. “See you tomorrow. I got two-a-days to deal with, because I’m a jack and my captain is easy.”
***
“You really think Road Runner’s gonna want to sell his scoot?” Jase used the mug’s handle to twist his beer back and forth in the small puddle of condensation on the bar top. “It’s not the first time you’ve told me you found me a ride, man. Not to question you, just—questioning you.” He laughed, looking up at Slate.
As Mason’s second in command here in Chicago, Slate was in charge of a variety of things, and tonight, one of those things happened to be the bar at Jackson’s. Since Jase met DeeDee a few weeks ago, Slate had been helping him look for a bike. He didn’t want to admit she was the only reason he had become interested in riding, but since she had her own bike, if…when he saw her again, it would give them something in common—if he had one, that was.
“Yeah, I talked to him about it again a couple nights ago. His custom Bobber will be ready within a couple of weeks and he’s looking to turn and burn his old one for the cash. You got what he’s asking?” Slate wiped the bar top down, lifting Jase’s mug and frowning while he cleaned away the puddle.
“Yeah, yeah. Cash on the barrelhead and all that.” He trapped the tip of his tongue between his front teeth and cut his eyes over towards Slate. “Now, I just need to line up a trainer.”
“Trainer?” Slate had turned to straighten the bottles on the back bar, and he looked up into the mirror to catch Jase’s eyes. “You don’t fucking know how to ride a bike? You’re going to spend twenty grand on a ride you can’t ride? Did you fucking think it was a good idea when you woke up thi
s morning? Goddamn shit, man. My daddy had a saying that would fit you: ‘More money than sense’.” The thought had him laughing so hard he had to lean on the countertop, the motion setting the bottles in the liquor well shaking and clinking together.
“Shut the fuck up,” was all Jase had to answer with, because he knew everything Slate said was true. It was stupid to plan to buy a bike without knowing if you would even be able to use it. But with the motorcycle, he knew it would be a built-in topic with DeeDee the next time he saw her. Never let it be said I can’t plan and plot. He smiled, thinking about that.
Slate shouted across the bar, "Birdy, get your ass over here." A big man stood from one of the tables, sauntering over. Jase had seen him before; he was a recent addition to the Rebel club, coming to them from Utah or somewhere like that.
Slate indicated Jase with a jerk of his head. "Dude needs a tutor; he's buying Road's Bobber. You got time if I can line up a burner?"
The man grunted and turned to look at Jase. He frowned and cut his gaze back to Slate. "A waxer? We going into the babysitting business next? What the fuck, man?"
"Shut the fuck up," Slate said tersely. "Dude is a friend of Mica's, friend of mine."
Grunting, Birdy looked at him again before he turned back to Slate. He nodded and said, "Lemme know when." Then he turned and walked away without ever speaking to Jase.
Blowing out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Jase said, "Dude doesn't seem to like me much. What's a 'waxer'?"
Slate barked a laugh. "Someone who doesn't actually ride, just gets his bike out and parks it in the driveway so he can shine it up."
Jase wrinkled his nose. "Slate, dude. That doesn't even compare to what I'm going to do. I got plans, man. I got riding plans. Gonna ride. Ride my ass off, once I learn how." Slate grinned at him and they both laughed.
DeeDee
She focused, but muted noise was all she could hear; sounds came through as soft, wavering tones, and even loud noises were subdued, seeming to echo from far away. Her knees and breasts were cold. Her skin raised in goose bumps, nipples peaked and hard, but it didn’t matter. Having this swaddling insulation against the world was far more important right now. She needed to remain exactly as she was—just like this—in this moment, this instant, for as long as she could. Her chest tightened and hitched, but she forced herself to remain silent and motionless, pushing to a place of peace and calmness. Fifteen slow ticks of the clock later, the demands of her body for breath overcame the longing to remain submerged in the water and she surfaced, gasping for air and wiping her dripping hair back from her forehead with a flattened palm.
Stretching her legs out the length of the bathtub, she wet a washcloth and draped it across her breasts, protecting them from the chill in the room. The water was warm, but Fort Wayne’s late spring had been unseasonably cold and difficult to predict. It wasn’t worth it to heat the big room just for a bath, knowing tomorrow might bring mild temperatures.
With a shiver, she reached out her foot and, using her toes, turned on the hot water faucet. Dropping her head back to the edge of the tub as the warm water swirled around her legs, she slowly relaxed. Thank God for huge hot water tanks, she thought, dipping the cloth back into the water and draping it across her chest again. That was one thing the clubhouse had going for it. Since they were nearly always catering to large groups of residents and visitors, everything in the building that needed to be shared was super-sized.
This bathroom was one of the common areas, and since she had been in here for a while, she expected one of the members to roust her out any minute. There was a party happening tonight in Chicago, and all the men of the club were getting ready to go. She, on the other hand, intended to hole up in her suite with a bottle of wine and a book. Even though she had lived in the Rebel Wayfarers’ clubhouse for the past two years, she stopped attending any club functions that weren’t absolutely required. After her last trip, it would take a serious demand for the club to get her back to Chicago. That town had become dangerous for her, with some temptations difficult to deny.
Thump. Thump. Thump. “DeeDee, honey, you okay in there?” That was Bingo, the club’s Fort Wayne chapter president. She briefly contemplated not responding, but knew it would have him using his master key to open the door. Then he would be flustered, because she was naked, and she didn’t have the patience to deal with that right now.
“Yeah, Bingo. I’ll be out in a minute. You need in here?” She pitched her voice to carry through the door, leaning up to turn off the water and open the drain. Standing and shivering in the chill, she reached for a towel laid across the nearby rack, roughly using it to rub dripping water from her long hair, and then wrapped it around herself.
“I need to talk to you when you come out. Come find me. Okay, honey?” His voice sounded like he had scrunched up his face, which was his telltale that the topic wouldn’t be comfortable. Shit, she thought, what did I do now?
Taking a deep breath, she forced a brightness she didn’t feel into her voice, and responded, “Okie dokie, Bingo. See you in a couple of minutes.”
Standing at the mirror, she stared at her obscured silhouette for a long moment before reaching out to swipe at the surface, leaving it streaked. A woman showed in fragmented images in the mirror, and she regarded the small pieces individually, studying them as if they were foreign to her. The reflection on the glass looked as broken as she felt inside.
Dark red hair, made darker than usual from the water. Deep blue eyes, almost violet, they were nearly black when she became emotional. Freckles scattered across her cheeks, demonstrating a foreshadowing of her penchant for burning instead of tanning. She had always been fine-featured, but she knew her face now looked gaunt more than anything else. She reached out one hand and dragged her fingers slowly across the reflection of cheekbone and chin, filled with memories of touching a face that looked remarkably like her own.
Smiling sadly, she drew a heart in the condensation on the mirror with a fingertip, tracing the letters MM on one side and DM on the other. Careful not to cross lines, she drew LM in the center of the heart. The smile slowly fled her face as she stared at the drawn figures for a minute, and then lowered her head, going about the business of drying off and getting dressed. When finished, she cleaned up after herself by wiping down the bathtub and hanging up her towel.
Giving the mirror a final glance, she opened the door and walked out, leaving the heart and its captured initials on the glass. They stood for Martin Moser, her husband and old man; Lockee Moser, her daughter and heart’s love; and DeeDee Moser, widow and grieving mother.
***
Presenting herself at Bingo’s open office door, she knocked softly on the doorframe, waiting for acknowledgment before entering. He stared solemnly at her for a minute, then sighed heavily and glanced down at his hands, fingers laced together in his lap. “Got a favor to ask, DeeDee,” he said, frowning. “You know how you still ride Winger’s bike?”
Puzzled, she nodded. “Yeah, I start it every week and take it out for a turn at least once a month to keep everything working. You know…so I can check it out periodically.” Winger had been Martin’s road name, the only name he answered to after joining his first club and being awarded the moniker. He had risen through the ranks of that original small club to president, the top officer’s position. Eventually, he opted to fold that club into the Rebels in order to provide solidarity and stability for the members, the men he called his brothers.
“Okay, here’s the thing. I need you to come to Chicago, ride up with the boys. You know about the party for Mica. Mason specifically asked you attend and ride Winger’s bike, if you wouldn’t mind.” He looked up at her and waited, apparently expecting an argument.
She shook her head. “Bingo, I just spent several weeks in Chicago helping out at the bars. I’m ready to stay home for a while, if that’s okay.” Shit, shit, shit, she thought. She did not want to go back up there anytime soon.
“It’s actuall
y not a request, hon. You’re gonna need to go.” He tipped his chin down then looked up, pinning her with his gaze. “I know it’ll be hard to see everyone, but it’s been going on three years now, DeeDee. You’ve got to put things behind you and move forward.”
“It’s only been two years,” she whispered, feeling herself beginning to tremble all over, eyes welling with tears.
They stared at each other for a long time, her husband’s best friend and his best friend’s widow, silently acknowledging the loss each still felt. “I loved them too, Dee. He was my brother.” Bingo’s voice broke, and she dropped her eyes, cutting the connection between them.
“Okay.” She clenched her jaw, viciously digging her fingernails into her palms, slowly managing to regain control. “Will we be staying at the clubhouse?”
“Not you, hon. I wouldn’t ask that of you. Winger would’ve had my balls.” He smiled sadly. “Road Runner got the club some rooms at the hotel where he works, and Myron will have the info when we get there. The party is at Mason’s house, not the clubhouse, so you’ll have to find Myron after we roll in.”
“All right. I’ll head over to the storage and get the bike, take it to the garage, and change the oil. What time is everyone heading out?” She had already begun to run through a list of things in her head she would need to handle now, since she would be away for several days. “I’ll let Melanie know. She’ll be okay staying in the suite here, right? Like before?”
She and Winger had always wanted a big family, and after trying for years with heartbreaking results, they finally had been blessed with Lockee, their daughter. Melanie Davidson had met Lockee in kindergarten, and the two girls had fallen quickly into friendship. Over the years, the girl had spent so much time at their house she had practically grown up in the Moser household. Her home life hadn’t been easy, but she managed to turn out a gentle soul and had found a special place in both Winger and DeeDee’s hearts. Melanie might not be her daughter by birth, but it was only a technicality as far as she was concerned. Having the girl around made life better, and after coming through their tragedy together, that was truer today than ever before.
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