Indulge

by C. D. Breadner

  At room eight Penny stopped and knocked, smiling at Gertie again as they waited. There was no answer, so Penny shrugged. “He might be down the hall in the shower.” Penny opened the door while knocking again, calling out “Brady!” in a sing-song tone that made Gertie grin. Clearly they all knew each other very well.

  The room was devoid of a person, but a personality was certainly in residence. Gertie stepped through the doorway behind Penny, eyes immediately on the walls, enthralled. Three huge heavy-grade sheets of paper were on one wall, a beautiful, vibrant triptych of a cherry tree done in water colors.

  When Penny cleared her throat Gertie turned back to her, knowing her mouth might have been hanging open. “Are you okay?” Penny asked, her smile crooked and quirky.

  “Sorry,” Gertie laughed, rubbing her forehead. “It’s just beautiful.” Her hand flattened itself onto her chest, all on its own. “I paint,” she explained, turning back to it, wanting to weep suddenly. “I like oils. But this is amazing. I never could get the hang of water colors.”

  “Oh yeah, you two are going to get along fine,” Penny was saying, the smile obvious in her voice.

  “Who’s getting along?” a voice asked, and Gertie turned to the door to see a man, taller than Penny by about three inches, which meant he had about five inches on Gertie. His hair was kind of like Knuckles’; an undercut with styled pompadour on top, the flip in the front artfully done but it was apparent it was held in place at the moment because it was still wet.

  If this was Brady, Gertie was reassessing her biases about gay people. Men in particular. He was built big; if it wasn’t for an obviously strict work out and diet routine he’d be husky. His arms pulled his Henley shirt’s sleeves taught. He had colorful and bright flame tattoos licking up his neck, and quarter-sized expanders stretched his ear lobes. His left eyebrow was pierced twice, his lip and nostril once each, and the cartilage of the right ear was sporting a lot of metal hardware as well. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing more full-color ink, and his trousers were trousers, as in the old-man variety. Complete with cuffed legs.

  Penny was making introductions while Gertie sized up her roommate. “Brady, this is Gertie. She’s going to be your roomie. And … she paints, too.”

  Gertie nodded, smiling as Brady came forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she was saying as he took her hand in his large, warm one.

  He was studying her, intently, almost rudely. His gaze ran the top of her head to her feet, but she knew the difference between this look and the look of the Gypsys in their clubhouse. Then he really shocked her. “Honey, we have to do something about this hair and these clothes.”

  His voice was deep, a rich baritone with that unmistakable lilt to it. He wasn’t the kind of gay man that was over the top and obvious, but his concern for her appearance was a giveaway.

  She ran her hand over her hair, startled as Penny chastised him. “Jesus, Brady. Manners.”

  He tsked, and Gertie actually felt a bit shabby for the first time since the fled captivity. But again, she was promising herself to speak up and not hide anything anymore. “I was kidnapped and held captive for a week. I just escaped today. These are clothes they gave me at the hospital. I was held by a biker gang and they weren’t very nice to me during that time. I killed one of them today, possibly two. They gave me these clothes at the hospital because the clothes I had were covered in blood. So … that’s why I’m a mess. I usually don’t look like this.”

  Brady’s face hadn’t flinched or reacted in any way while she’d been talking. After a moment he looked to Penny over one shoulder with a nod. “She’ll do.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  As expected, Buck was held overnight and released the next morning. Tank was there to pick him up, not very talkative, trying to steer him to the cage he had waiting. Buck resisted in the lobby, throwing Tank’s heavy mitt off his shoulder.

  “I gotta check on Gertie,” he mumbled, striding past the intake desk and towards Sheriff Downey’s office. He knocked on the doorjamb, not a total heathen.

  She looked up, currently on a phone call. She nodded to indicate it would just me a moment. “Yeah, I’ll be there to explain who you are and why you’re there. Don’t worry. Just bring about a weeks’ worth of clothes.” She smiled then. “No, they have in-house laundry, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Okay, thanks Maggie.” Then she set the receiver down on its cradle, smile fading slightly. “You’re free to go, Buck.”

  He moved to the chair across from her, taking a seat. It struck him then how long he’d actually known her for, which was a long time. She was local, just like him and Jayce. He knew the relationship between the law and club was uniquely beneficial, and he knew they were lucky to have a local running the sheriff’s department.

  “I know, and thank you for that. But I need to see Gertie.”

  Downey leaned forward on her elbows, clasping her hands on the desk. “Gertie was checked into rehab last night.”

  Buck blinked, then shook his head. “What? No. She should be staying with me.”

  Downey scratched behind her ear, looking to the corner of the room. Then she sighed. “Gertie has some issues, which I’m sure you know. And she won’t get better unless she deals with it.”

  Buck leaned forward, elbows on the chair arms. “She should be with me. I’ll look out for her.”

  Now Downey did stare him down. “She needs professional help. And you know what happened to her in that clubhouse, Buck. The treatment center has trained psychiatrists she can talk to about anything, and that’s going to be the best thing to come out of this. And if it helps her get away from the pills and the alcohol, then good. She has to get better. And only Gertie can fix this.”

  Strangely, Buck couldn’t even feel angry with the sheriff. Her tone was reassuring but firm, and everything she said made sense. But he’d lost her once, and now she was out of his reach again. This was going to kill him. “How …” he blinked and looked away, hating that he sounded like such a pussy. “How long will she be there for?”

  “It’s a four-week program.”

  He speared his hands through his hair, leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees, almost curled up. His chest was tight, and he hated this sense that his world was out of his control again. In his entire life he had never felt incomplete, but after having her he was a three-legged table. He needed her around to be level.

  Downey must have sensed his desperation. “They have visitors sessions every Saturday afternoon. You have to book ahead, and she has to approve your visit.” She shifted papers around on her desk, eventually finding a small rectangle of card stock and handing it over. “Here, it’s the front desk. Give them a call, and they’ll let you know if she wants to see you.”

  Buck took it eagerly, running his thumb around the edge as it all sunk in. He’d been worried about her drinking. He’d found her after she’d tried that Sunshine shit and it scared the hell out of him. When he was gone for any length of time he never knew what he was coming home to. It was easy to see that this was a great thing, the best thing for Gertie. But he wanted her with him. He needed her to know he was okay with everything, that he understood what she did.

  “Buck, I understand your worry. And it’s nice to see, because she’s going to need support later on. And we go way back, I know you’re a steady guy. You’ll be what she needs more than you likely know. But only she can make this right.”

  He was nodding, recognizing this from what Knuckles had said all along.

  “It’ll be good for her to have some space,” he admitted.

  “And she’s safe where she is. She’s surrounded by people who know exactly where she’s coming from.” Downey got up. “I have work to do, but if you need to know anything just ask.”

  Buck nodded, getting to his feet and tucking the business card into his kutte. Without a word he headed out, striding past Tank and out of the department. He didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to be alone for a bit.

  -
oOo-

  The next Saturday found him in a sunny, bright courtyard surrounded by flowering plants. Buck was sitting at a concrete patio table, parked on a concrete bench, finding it odd that this felt so much like visiting someone on the inside.

  He’d been ecstatic when she approved his visit. Now that it was here, he was nervous.

  He ran a hand over his hair, a gesture he’d made dozens of times in just five minutes, worried about his appearance for the first time in years. He’d left the kutte at home, riding out here in his standard white T-shirt and jeans. He had worried about the reaction to the ink on his arms, but no one had even blinked. The desk girl just brought him out here, chattering on about what a lovely day it was so all the meetings were taking place outside.

  He almost felt her presence. Suddenly he looked over his shoulder, not sure what moved him to do it. There was Gertie, in a bright blue and white flowered skirt and sleeveless white blouse. Her hair was down and loose, the way he loved it.

  Her hazel eyes locked on his, and he held his breath in anticipation of what her reaction would be. She could be pissed and annoyed. Agreed to see him just to break it all off.

  So when her face broke into that gorgeous grin his relief was instant. He smiled too, got to his feet, and in a rush she was suddenly in his arms.

  Buck’s knees nearly buckled but he held tight to her and found his feet. She fit into him just like always, tucking her face into the side of his neck and winding her arms around his neck. Out of habit he wrapped his arms around her back, his hands on her ribs, wondering if they’d always been this pronounced. He didn’t think so.

  For a long while he just hugged her, eyes closed, his cheek against her hair. Now she smelled like his Gertie, and it made him smile. Maggie had packed her stuff; she must have grabbed Gertie’s shampoo.

  “I missed you,” she whispered, and he squeezed tighter.

  “Christ honey, I missed you,” he replied immediately. He pulled back to peer down into her face. “I missed you so much. How are you? Are you doing okay?”

  Gertie just nodded, stepping out of his hold but grabbing his hand as she sat on the side of the bench he’d been parked on. He sat next to her, so ridiculously happy to have her holding his hand he was probably grinning like an absolute schmuck.

  “I’m okay,” she answered. It sounded like she was being careful. Like she’d sounded when they first met. But he didn’t worry about it. “They’re nice here, they always seem to understand. No one judges. It’s nice.”

  He let go of her hand and put his arm behind her back, along the table. She almost shied away from it, which hurt but he should have thought of that. When he tried to pull it away she put her hand on his thigh.

  “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I shouldn’t have -”

  “No, it’s okay,” she insisted, turning more to face him. “Sometimes I overreact. But I like it when you do that.”

  He smiled, but still kept distance. She leaned into this arm, which was sweet. Shit, he had no idea how to act around her, either.

  “I muled drugs through interoffice mail for those G-Town assholes,” she blurted out. “I did it three times. I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to, but they were going to turn my father over to these Italian gangsters who wanted to kill him, and once I did it they were threatening to tell you about it too and … I couldn’t stop.”

  Buck put his hand over hers where it rested on his leg. “I know.”

  Gertie’s bottom lip was so lush when she bit it, it resembled a folded pillow. “I’m so sorry Buck. I think that was why I … lost control with the Oxy. I mean, I drank before that. But it didn’t take the edge off.” She ran her hand through her hair. “No excuses, though. I was weak. And I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Gertie.”

  “I do actually,” she said with a slight laugh. “Part of recovery. I have to apologize to everyone I wronged, and you’re at the top of that list.”

  Buck shook his head, looking at their hands. “Nah, really. I understand, Gertie.”

  “You have to tell me how it affected you.”

  Buck frowned, meeting her hopeful gaze. “What?”

  “How my actions affected you. The drugs, the drinking. What it was like for you.”

  He didn’t want to do that. He wanted to keep this happy, he was just so fucking glad to have her here again. He didn’t want to risk pissing her off. “Gertie -”

  “It’s important,” she insisted, not smiling anymore. “I’m not the center of the universe. And if my actions have consequences I need to know them.”

  With his free hand he scrubbed his face, sighing.

  “Please, Buck.”

  Shit. “Okay,” he began, haltingly. “I was always worried when I was away. And not just because no one was there to look out for you. I never knew what I was coming back to. Happy Gertie. Hungover Gertie. High Gertie. Depressed Gertie.” He sighed again, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t want to do this, Gertie. I missed you so much.”

  “I have to know what this cost you.”

  He brought his hand from behind her to the side of her neck, that hair like silk between his fingers. “I was terrified I was going to lose you,” he whispered. “That I’d find you dead.”

  Gertie’s eyes watered, and she nodded.

  “This shit made you do dangerous things that weren’t you.”

  “I know.”

  Buck swallowed. “You could have gotten me killed, too.”

  Now she looked startled. “What?”

  “The muling, honey. The club found out, told me. I’m responsible for what my woman does. It was betrayal.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They were within their rights to kill me, but since I was just as blind-sighted they just took my patch. I’m not the Sergeant-At-Arms anymore.”

  Gertie appeared stricken. “Buck, I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head, sighing. “Nah, don’t worry. I’m just glad they didn’t kick me out of the club. That would have killed me.” He swallowed, meeting her gaze again, stone-cold serious. “But nothing hurt more than knowing those animals had you.”

  When her face crumpled Buck tightened his arm around her shoulders and she slid closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Buck.”

  He kissed the top of her head, running his hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Gertie’s head was spinning as she returned to her room, thoughts locked on Buck as she absently made her way down the hallway. She was twisting a lock of hair around her finger, chewing her lip and trying to sort her thoughts and feelings out.

  She almost cost him everything. Her stupidity and fear could have gotten him killed.

  And he forgave her. Sure it took Gertie nearly dying, but he did forgive her. He’d nodded when she explained about needing time, that it was important for her to be alone for a while. To start to build herself up again, be strong on her own. He’d understood. He even kissed her goodbye. Not as intensely and passionately as he would have a month ago but that was likely because of her reaction to him putting his arm around her. She wished she could get over the flinching but wherever someone touched her unexpectedly her hearth clenched and her body went rigid, expecting the worst. She hoped she would get past that, but for the time being she was just trying to make it day by day.

  It sounded lame, but when you measured life and what you needed to get done and concern yourself with, one day sounded completely manageable as opposed to wondering what she was going to do for money when she got out of here, where she was going to live, how she was going to move, whether or not her landlord had been told what was going on with her. Cleaning out her mailbox. All that.

  Nope, today she had to get through today. And seeing Buck was the part she looked forward to the most but also dreaded.

  By the time she got to her door she was smiling, just a bit. That was the Buck effec
t, probably. When she pushed her door open Brady got up from his bed, hands wringing each other. She had to let her smile widen. He’d been worried about her, too.

  If someone told her in one week she’d have found a best friend and spirit animal she would have dismissed them as a loony-juice junky. But she had. Brady was the perfect person to be with her when she was starting this new branch of her life.

  “Well?” he asked, eyebrows high. “How was hottie biker?”

  Gertie shook her head. “Perfect, of course.”

  Brady’s smile looked as relieved as she felt. “Oh sweetie, I’m so glad.”

  Gertie let him hug her. It was funny that he was so bloody cuddly. She told him it was a shame he was gay; there was a shortage of handsome men as cuddly as he was. He told her she was stupid and not paying attention.

  “He’s not mad. He doesn’t hate me. He misses me.”

  Brady squeezed her. “Of course he does. You’re fucking delightful.”

  Gertie shook her head, giggling. Then she fell serious. “I could have gotten him killed.”

  Now Brady’s hands froze on her arms. “What?”

  She pulled away and sat on the edge of her bed. He did the same on his, all of a foot between their knees. The rooms were not large. “You know I told you about the drug mule thing?”

  “Yes,” he said on a sigh. “Still can’t believe you were that dumb.”

  “Shut up,” she snapped, kicking out at his knee.

  “You just flashed me!”

  “I did that for a group that his group doesn’t get along with,” she explained carefully, ignoring him. “They see it as betrayal to the club, even if I’m not in the club. He had to pay the price for my betrayal. They didn’t kill him, but they did … demote him. I guess that’s the best way to say it.”