Train Wreck (Rawkfist MC Book 3)

by Bijou Hunter

  “You’re not married,” Justice says immediately.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Journey reaches over and removes a leaf from my hair. “When did this happen?”

  “The leaf or my wedding?”

  “The second one.”

  “At the same time as the leaf actually. Last night, my husband and I went to the river and had our picnic and got married.”

  “You’re hallucinating from the moonshine,” Mom says, shaking her head. “I warned you that his stuff is too powerful.”

  “I’m totally sober now.”

  “But not when you ‘got married,’” Justice says.

  “Don’t you dare air-quote at me.”

  “You’re not married.”

  “Maybe not in the eyes of Big Brother. But in the eyes of nature, we are married. Don’t forget how nature is eternal.”

  “You’re still drunk.”

  “Okay a little, but I’m not hallucinating. I was married in front of frogs and trees and maybe a gator.”

  “There aren’t gators in West Virginia,” Justice mutters. “Wait, are there?”

  “No,” Mom says.

  “Fine, maybe it was a beaver. It was hard to tell. I just want you to be happy for me like I was when you married Court and when you didn’t marry Donovan.”

  “Donovan and I are married,” Journey says.

  “When did that happen?”

  “In the county clerk’s office.”

  “Why wasn’t I there?”

  “You were standing directly next to me as my maid of honor since you claimed Justice couldn’t be trusted with the job.”

  Sitting down, I sigh. “Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that moonshine. I wonder what else I forgot.”

  “Nothing important, no doubt,” Mom says, handing me a cup of coffee. “I’m happy you’re happy with Emmett, but no more moonshine.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve lost critical skills like the ability to drive and remembering to flush when I’m done in the bathroom.”

  “You were never great at either of those skills,” Justice says, snickering at her comment.

  “Do you really not remember me getting married?” Journey asks, kneeling down in front of me.

  “I kinda remember you wearing flowers in your hair and makeup. Was that your wedding?”

  “Yeah, Poppy, that was it,” my sister says, ruffling my hair. “Drink more coffee.”

  A few sips later, I am ready to climb back in bed with Emmett. My mom sits in her chair, reading and thinking of how nuts her kids are. I swear I can feel her judging me.

  Leaning over the back of her chair, I whisper, “He’s my Jared.”

  Mom looks up and smiles. She knows I’m right, which is probably why she’s judging me. Through very little fault of his own, Jared overpowered her for a long time. Mom couldn’t stand up for what she needed, and he was a force of nature. They’ve found a balance now, but she needed to grow up before that could happen.

  In time, Mom will realize I’m already the woman I’ll always be. I’m not her at eighteen, feeling my way through the world. I’ve figured out what I want and who I am. Mostly, I know exactly what I need to be happy, and they’re all in the house with me now.

  42 Train Wrecks - Emmett

  Tumbling Rock ain’t what many people would call scenic, but I can ride the unmapped roads around here for hours. People wave at me, but I also catch a few fingering their weapons. The citizens of this town remain leery of any authority figure, and I’m considered one as a member of the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club. I don’t mind them fearing me. Mostly because I like having people get the hell out of my way. There’s an order to things in this town that make sense in a way shit never did in Charleston.

  Everything is fun and games until an asshole takes a shot at me. I quickly figure out the guy isn’t a local, but that fuckwit Stephen who took a brick to my head weeks ago. I chase him for miles, through the quiet roads of Tumbling Rock and onto the main highway before he loses me in a crowded mall parking lot.

  After searching for him another thirty minutes, I drive to The Rock Tavern where Court, Donovan, and Floyd are playing pool.

  “Why do you look so grim?” Court asks.

  “Stephen took a shot at me when I was riding around.”

  Donovan frowns. “Who?”

  “The guy trying to recreate the Deacon club.”

  “Where is he now?” Donovan asks, taking a shot.

  “I lost him at the mall.”

  “Why didn’t you call us?”

  “Didn’t think of it.”

  “Why don’t we just finish the fucker?” Floyd asks.

  “Because the cops are looking at us right now. If he goes missing, they’ll use that as a reason to climb further up our asses.”

  “Can’t you fix that?” I ask Donovan. “You were a cop, and you’re our liaison or whatever. Go tell them to look the other way.”

  “You’re kidding with that request, right?”

  “I’m in a shit mood, so no, I’m not kidding.”

  Donovan struggles not to laugh in my face. “Look, they’re not giving me any special favors. I have been thinking, though. While we can’t end Stephen because of the sheriff’s department, maybe we can use them to get rid of him. He’s a con and isn’t supposed to drive around with a weapon, let alone shooting one. I could mention to my guy in the department how Stephen took a shot at you and how trouble might be brewing. Just giving him a heads up, but I know the sheriff’s department. They’ll find a reason to get into Stephen’s place and pull him up on probation violations.”

  Court nods. “Dead or in jail, don’t care which. He’ll be gone.”

  Crossing my arms, I frown at the men. “I care, and I want Stephen dead.”

  “You really are a grumpy little fucker today,” Court says, grabbing an ice cube from his water glass and tossing it at me. “You’re as bad as Poppy on her period.”

  Sitting down, I recall the sound of the gunshot and the feel of it ricocheting near me.

  “Having a fucker take a shot at me makes me mean. You’d understand if you weren’t such a fucking Boy Scout.” Court gives me a dirty look, but he’s too laid-back for me to get into a dick-wagging contest. “You know we’ve been in the club for a couple of years, but never got nicknames. What’s the holdup?”

  “No one likes their names, and no one responds to them. Ever try calling Jared by his nickname Stache? He just keeps on walking.”

  “It would still be nice to have one to ignore.”

  The guys laugh at my tone, but I’m trying to shake the weird feeling I’ve had since Stephen tried to kill me.

  “Fine then,” Court says. “Donovan used to be a cop, so clearly that leads to him being a pig and that makes me think of bacon. We’ll call him Bacon.”

  “I plan to ignore the shit out of that nickname.”

  “For Floyd, well, he gets a weird orange color when he’s in the sun for too long. We’ll call him Cheetos.”

  “And I thought Bacon was bad,” Floyd mutters before downing a beer.

  Like a fucking kid, I ask with way too much enthusiasm, “And me?”

  “Oh, you’re easy, Twinkie.”

  “Why the fuck Twinkie?” I grumble, losing my smile.

  “Because calling you Winkie would be stupid and Poppy’s Bitch is too long.”

  “Not cool, man.”

  “I call them as I see them, Twinkie.”

  Donovan stands up. “I won’t claim I would have come up with better names, but I’d guess picking names is like grocery shopping. You shouldn’t do it hungry.”

  “I could go for a pizza,” Court admits.

  “Doesn’t Justice ever feed you?” I ask.

  “She works, and I can feed myself.”

  “So no.”

  “She cooked last night. The rice came out soggy, so she called dinner gruel. It was pretty good, though.”

  “Doesn’t take much to please Boy Scout.”

 
; “I didn’t marry Justice for her cooking skills, even if she has them.”

  “Poppy makes crazy foods sometimes,” I say, loving to talk about my woman, “but they always taste great. They’re fattening as fucking all, so I might be four hundred pounds in a year.”

  “Best not get too fat and slow if you want to keep dodging bullets.”

  Grunting, I watch Court and Donovan play pool. Nearby, Floyd rests his head back against the wall and dozes. Seeing a chance to get something off my chest to two guys I trust more than any others, I walk to the pool table and lean forward.

  “You guys ever freeze up after getting together with your women?”

  “Like in bed?” Court asks, wanting to laugh.

  “No, asshole, in a fight. Or like today with Stephen. He took the shot, and I went after him, but I didn’t act fast enough. Thinking back, I wonder if maybe I didn’t want to catch him because I was worried I might not win,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “I never cared about that shit before. Whether a fight ended with me alive or dead, I was always ready to go. Now with Poppy, I wonder if I’ve lost my balls.”

  Donovan starts to take a shot and then changes his mind and gives me a frown. “You still chased the guy. Besides, man, you should hesitate. You have more to lose now. Only an idiot would throw away his life and leave behind his family.”

  “What if hesitating gets me killed?”

  “Anything can get you killed,” Court says.

  “So you never felt this way?”

  “Oh, I did. I had it bad after Felix was born. I was always thinking of him growing up without a dad. His bitch mom said if I got killed, she would tell Felix I ran off. That threat really got under my skin.”

  “So how did you get past it?”

  “One day, some asshole was beating on me, and I could only think to protect myself. Hitting him back just didn’t occur to me until the fucker nailed me in the ribcage. Man, did that fucking hurt. The pain overrode everything else, and I wailed on the asshole. When it was all over, I realized I still had the killer in me. Hesitating isn’t the worst thing, but giving into the fear is. You didn’t, though. You still went after Stephen. I’d say don’t worry about that shit.”

  Sighing, I run my hands through my hair until I’m sure the damn thing is sticking straight up.

  “Poppy deserves for me to live to be an old man.”

  Court and Donovan nod because they want the same thing for themselves and their women. If Floyd weren’t snoring in the corner, he’d agree too. In the eyes of a lot of people, we’re thugs without much to offer to society. For our families, though, we’re everything.

  43 Train Wrecks - Poppy

  As soon as high school ended, the dweebs and I became solely online friends. Weeks after last seeing them, I bully the guys into joining me at the crappy mall in Rock Top Falls. Most of the stores are empty, but people still come around for the food court. That’s where we meet. Arriving first, I order my cheap Chinese food and find a table.

  Cowlick shows up soon afterward, looking twitchy like he’s worried about getting mugged. When he catches sight of me, he loosens up a little. I watch him grab cheap Korean BBQ and head to the table. Four-Eyes arrives with Chubs a few minutes later.

  “We hit traffic,” Four-Eyes says, sitting down with his burrito covered in hot sauce.

  “Traffic around here?”

  “They’re building a new subdivision between Rockwell and Rock Top Falls. I hear they plan to build a whole bunch of junk out that way.”

  “Huh, maybe these towns won’t die out after all.”

  The three of us glance at where Chubs stands in a long line at Subway.

  “I don’t get why people eat sandwiches at restaurants when they can make that stuff at home,” I mutter.

  Cowlick shrugs. “Chubs thinks it’s healthier than what we’re eating.”

  “It probably is, but it’s also a frigging sandwich.”

  “He thinks it’s cheaper too,” Four-Eyes points out.

  “My last statement stands.”

  Cowlick grins while his gaze focuses on Chubs who is finally at the front of the line. We poke at our food, waiting for him to join us. Finally, he heads our direction.

  “You and that sandwich need to get a room, Tubby,” I hear as Chubs passes by a table.

  I glance toward the voice to find a standard thick-necked loser turn with eyes too small and a mouth twice the size his face can handle.

  “Pot. Kettle. Black,” I say to the guys and glance at the turd.

  They smile at my comment until noticing the turd overheard me.

  “What’s that mean?” he demands, standing up.

  Chubs sits down and focuses hard on his food. The other dweebs also avoid eye contact. Me, well, I make super-intense eye contact with the turd.

  “You were calling him fat, and I just thought that was funny because you’re quite the chunker yourself.”

  “I’m not fat, bitch.”

  “Hey, don’t get emotional on me. I’m not saying you’re obese, per se, but your overweight ass would definitely break a few scales.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Don’t cry, baby. Lots of chicks are chubby chasers. I bet one of them will swoon over your fat folds.”

  “You better shut up,” he threatens, stepping closer.

  Standing up, I stare into his beady eyes. “Or you’ll what?”

  He glares at me, and I sit back down. “You need to take your insecure bullshit somewhere else like a therapist’s office.”

  “Bitch,” he says, storming off.

  The dweebs suddenly stop staring hypnotized by their food and glance at the fleeing turd. When they sigh in unison, I laugh at their reactions.

  “I hope he becomes bulimic,” I say, digging into my rice. “You guys had my back if that turned violent, right?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Four-Eyes says.

  I smile at their bullshit nods. “I’m gonna miss this when you guys go to college.”

  “We’ll still play online.”

  “Yeah, but who will I hang out with once you’re gone?”

  “Your sisters,” Cowlick says.

  Four-Eyes nods. “Or your boyfriend, Emmett.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re right. Huh, why was I sad about you leaving anyway?”

  They smile once they realize I’m kidding. I swear even after three years, these dweebs assume I’ll turn mean girl on them and go hang out with other blonde bitches.

  “Emmett’s never played video games,” I say, changing the subject.

  “Why?”

  “He’s got a life,” Four-Eyes answers before I can.

  Chubs frowns. “We have lives. Playing games is part of life. It’s not a substitute, but what makes it fun.”

  Cowlick shakes his head. “Wait until you get to college before you claim what we have is a real life.”

  “Guys, don’t fight. Can’t you both be right?”

  “No, not really.”

  “You’re winners who like loser shit. You have lives, but still choose to waste them playing games. See, how I found a middle ground?”

  “You play games too.”

  “Yes, and I’m amazing, so there you go.”

  Cowlick takes a deep breath, and I prepare for him to ask something stupid.

  “What’s sex like?”

  “Umm… like being repeatedly impaled. Of course, you guys will be the ones doing the impaling, so I’m sure it won’t be as painful.”

  “Is he really that big?” Four-Eyes asks.

  “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t whip out a ruler to measure it, but it looks and feels massive. If you want, we can search porn dicks to compare.”

  “No,” Chubs and Cowlick say in unison.

  Four-Eyes shrugs. “I’ve always been curious if big guys like that are packing big dicks. They always say they are, but the few jocks that wagged them around the shower room weren’t impressive.”

  “I forget sometimes you’re a dick connoisseur,”
I say, fighting not to laugh.

  “I believe in research.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I remember the day I first sat with you guys,” I say while staring at my food. “I’d quickly realized our school was full of losers and I didn’t want to know any of them. Not up close and personal anyway, but I needed somewhere to sit at lunch. I walked around the lunchroom and listened to a bunch of conversations. One loser group after another got checked off my list of possibilities. Then I heard Cowlick talking about his Call of Duty kill score from the night before.”

  Looking up, I smile at Cowlick and then the other guys.

  “When I sat down, I swear I thought you guys would piss yourselves. You all looked around like it was a prank. Then I asked about your preferred weapons in Black Ops compared to Advanced Warfare. I still remember how your faces changed. Soon, we were talking about games, and I knew I’d picked the right table.”

  “You were pretty intimidating that day,” Chubs says.

  “Yeah, but soon we forgot about how I was the hot girl, and you were the dweebs. All that surface stuff disappeared and we were just four awesome people who loved first-person shooter games. I hope when you go to college that people will see the real you in the way most people around here never could. I hope you find chicks who think video games are sexy. And a guy for you, Four-Eyes. I want you to leave here and show everyone what I’ve seen for years.”

  Cowlick leans closer. “Are you going to cry?”

  “No. But if I do, look away quickly and keep your mouths shut.”

  Four-Eyes sighs, sounding ready to cry himself. “We’ll come back to visit.”

  “In the beginning, but then you’ll love your new lives so much that you won’t want to come back here.”

  The guys get a little emotional while we all pretend we’re too fucking tough for tears. Four-Eyes ruins the mood by asking a question I’m sick of hearing.

  “When do you think you’ll go to college?”

  “Never.”

  “You don’t want to stay in this town and work for your mom forever.”

  “When I moved here, I thought Tumbling Rock was a dump. Now it’s my home and everyone I care about lives here.”