“This place is growing, slowly but surely. I think the efforts of your club and its fundraisers have a lot to do with it. You can really set the bar high for the rest of the town. Get people to want to compete with you. To open other places.”
“That’s pretty underhanded.”
“I have the good of the area in mind.”
“I mean, I like it. I like underhanded. Cutthroat.” I took a deep breath. Held it. “Cheyenne Knight, would you be my underhanded, cutthroat Horizon MC Bar kitchen liaison?”
“Liaison?” She thought about it. “What would a liaison do?”
“Work with Brody to develop a business plan – a real one. Run test kitchen experiments to see what kinds of dishes would work well here. Make a menu. Chef opportunities, if such duties were warranted, needed, or desired. Staying on, um, indefinitely. To ensure the proper running and maintenance of the kitchen, as well as the satisfaction of the customers and efficiency of the project.”
A slow smile grew on Cheyenne’s face. “Sounds pretty intensive. Long term, even.”
“A big job.” I kissed her. “The kept woman position’s still open, if you want it.”
“Being your kept woman would be easy.” She kissed me back. “I like a challenge. I’ll take kitchen liaison.”
“I was kind of hoping you would.”
A kept woman was a relationship I could screw up. Kitchen liaison was something real, something tangible that would keep Cheyenne here in Rio Seco with me for the foreseeable future.
Chapter 6
Christmas came and went with its usual fanfare. I always threw a huge party at the bar, and this year, we held a toy drive for children around the area. It was so wildly successful that I’d already decided to hold it next year, and had even convinced the rest of the guys to dress up in Santa Claus outfits, hook up trailers to their motorcycles, and deliver the presents all over the county. We’d gotten publicity from as far away as Albuquerque for our efforts.
But even though it was just a week later and still a part of the holiday season, New Year’s Eve always felt a little different. Not as much merriment.
At least, not for me.
I thought it would be different this year. All of us together at the bar, decked out in cheesy cardboard hats and feather boas and glasses shaped like the new year we would all have to get used to writing. Mostly, I thought actually having a date for the New Year’s party at the bar would change things for me.
If anything, though, seeing Cheyenne laugh and drink and joke with everyone made me more maudlin than ever. How long would things last between us before I screwed something up?
“Cheer up, Jack,” Ace begged me, popping a bottle of champagne long before midnight. “The gang’s all here. We’re all happy. You’re the odd man out.”
“I’m fine,” I grumbled.
“Uh-huh. I don’t believe you. You get weird like this every year. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. We wouldn’t have been very good friends if we didn’t.”
My very good friends were in the middle of commandeering a dance floor in the bar by moving all the tables and chairs against the walls. The regulars who always came to the bar – I never had the heart to turn anyone away who wanted to come in during the holidays – seemed amenable to this plan, directed mostly by Chuck. A dance floor was needed because the surface of the bar simply didn’t have enough room to accommodate everyone. Right now, though, Haley, Nadine, and Sloan were all doing an admirable impression of Coyote Ugly dancers, two-stepping precariously on the narrow surface to a country music song blasting over the sound system. Maybe I needed to get Brody to hang a sign: “bar dance at your own risk,” or something that would relieve us from the responsibility of being held liable for stupid, drunken injuries.
“Sloan has some pretty good moves,” Ace observed, following my gaze to the bar. “Think we should contract him as a go-go dancer for the place?” Amy was waving a dollar bill in his direction, hollering something about slipping it into the waistband of his underwear.
“I was actually thinking about upgrading our insurance policy,” I retorted.
Ace slopped some champagne into a plastic flute and gave it to me. “Drink yourself happy.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works.” I was amused, at least, and that was a step up from bitter and worried.
“Special delivery,” Brody said, putting two buckets of bottled beer on ice at the table even if I was the only one sitting in the booth at the moment. “It’s the Horizon holiday brew.”
“Didn’t we have this one on Christmas?” I asked, taking one and examining the label.
“No, no, that was the Horizon yuletide brew,” he said. “Specifically for Christmas. Aromatic, piney. This one is super high alcohol content, so be careful with it.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, taking a cautious sip. It was deceptively light and easy to drink. “What makes it a holiday brew?”
“‘Let all acquaintance be forgot’ – if you drink enough of it.” Brody roared with laughter at his own joke, and Ace shook his head.
“If we knew you were going to be this corny, we never would’ve let you brew your own beer and besmirch the Horizon brand with your puns and sorry sense of humor,” he remarked.
“Don’t be a grinch,” Brody advised. “Speaking of grinches, though, why are you sitting over here by yourself?”
“I was going to go over some of Cheyenne’s proposed recipes,” I lied. I just didn’t want to be in the middle of the action. Could I get drunk enough to not be a downer on New Year’s Eve? Maybe with this special holiday brew.
“Oh, come on,” Brody complained, laughing. “That’s my job.”
“You might be the brewmaster, but I’m king of the kitchen.”
“Excuse me?”
Ace and Brody cracked up at me as Cheyenne tapped me on the shoulder, her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline.
“Were you standing there this entire time?” I asked her.
“Long enough to hear you dub yourself king of the kitchen,” she said. “You should know, though. There’s only room for one crown in the kitchen, and it belongs to the queen.”
“I was just looking over the recipes,” I said. “That’s all.”
“Save that,” she urged, sliding in to the booth with me, forcing me to scoot over a little. “All your friends are here. It’s New Year’s Eve. Celebrate. This is something you can do later.”
“Okay, maybe,” I acknowledged. “But I need to start sorting out the Valentine’s Day fundraiser. That money is important. It’s going to the animal shelter on the outskirts of town to help make it a no-kill facility.”
“That’s impressive,” Cheyenne told me, “but again, a month-and-a-half away. You have time to get things together for that.”
“It’ll be here before any of us realizes it.”
“And so will midnight, if you’re not careful.” A fleeting kiss on the cheek. “You’re going to miss it. It’s only once a year. You used to love New Year’s Eve. A chance to restart everything.”
It was the wrong thing to say, but I didn’t know how to tell Cheyenne that without hurting her feelings, or picking a fight. I wasn’t interested in the things I used to like because I certainly didn’t like this holiday now. How could I have ever been so vapid to appreciate a holiday that promoted a blank slate? Blank slates weren’t the be-all and end-all that people thought they were. I would know.
“Oh, is this what we’re doing now?” Katie flung herself gleefully into the booth, yanking Ace in behind her.
“Hell, no,” I said, indignant as she beamed at me, her red hair piled on top of her head in an up-do that was swiftly transforming into a wild mess. “This isn’t happening.”
“Hey, if Cheyenne’s in here, it’s fair game.” Katie smirked. “Unless you’ve had a vote to induct her into Horizon.”
“If you think I can’t arrange a vote right now to do just that, you underestimate me,” I said. “Chuck! Sloan!”
/> “You are so ridiculous,” Brody said, shaking his head. “You know damn well Sloan’s not coming down from that bar unless there’s a fist fight.”
“Doesn’t count if I’m not actually sitting on the physical booth seat,” Cheyenne announced.
“What do you mean?” Katie asked, cocking her head.
Cheyenne scooted closer and closer to me until she was sitting directly on my lap. Her legs were probably completely squished beneath the table, but she wriggled with triumph.
“My ass is not touching the booth seat. That means I’m not actually sitting here – or violating club booth rules.”
“This is something I can get behind,” Ace said, managing to keep a straight face as Katie clambered onto his lap.
“I like this new rule,” Katie agreed. “Look. I’m sitting on Ace. Not the booth. I win. We all win.”
“I don’t even know what to do with you all,” I said, shaking my head even as I wove an arm around Cheyenne’s lap. “Ridiculous, is what you are.”
“What is the deal with the booth rules?” she asked me, leaning back against my torso, relaxing in my embrace.
“This is the official booth of Horizon MC,” I said. “Only for club members.”
“Club members and the women who love them?”
“That would be too many butts in the booth,” Brody told her sadly. “So many women love us. So, so many.”
“Also, it’s the most comfortable seat in the bar,” Ace put in. “We had it padded and reupholstered. Everybody would sit here, if they could.”
“Here or the VIP seat,” Katie said, nodding, and Ace blanched.
“No such thing,” he said quickly.
“I’ve been hearing more and more about this alleged VIP seat,” I said. “I’m going to figure it out one day. And then I’m going to steal it.”
“What? What would you even do with it?” Brody spluttered.
“Maintain my monopoly on the best seats in the bar,” I said.
“I am going to go sit in a barstool that is definitely not the VIP seat in case my ass needs to bid farewell to the best secret seat in the bar,” Katie said, slipping out of the booth and walking away.
“And I’m going to see if anyone needs any drinks, because I don’t think Haley and Nadine are coming down off that bar any time soon,” Ace said, following Katie.
“They’ll come down if they fall down,” Brody said, wincing as Sloan somehow managed to spin Nadine around, her legs kicking in the air. “Jesus. Do you think they’d listen to reason?”
“No,” Cheyenne said. “But they’ll listen to me if I want a turn dancing up on the bar.”
“Nice strategy,” Brody said. “Wait, how drunk are you?”
“Sober enough to strategize,” she said with a grin. “But drunk enough to climb aboard a bar top and dance a little bit.”
“Be careful,” I called after her as she dashed across the floor. “Brody, watch her!”
He waved at me as he followed her, but I knew he was much more concerned about Nadine and the possibility of her hitting the floor. She was really going for it up there – a free spirit through and through. Brody was going to worry himself right into premature gray hair and wrinkles if he didn’t just let her be.
“The bar’s not that far from the ground,” Chuck said, sitting down heavily in the booth across from me. He was a little sweaty from moving the tables and chairs, but now more people were dancing on the floor instead of on dangerous, potentially slippery surfaces.
“Far enough to break something,” I reminded him.
“It would serve them right,” he laughed. “Teach them a lesson, maybe.”
“Haley’s up there, too,” I informed him.
“Wait, what?” He craned his neck around. “I’ll, uh, be right back.”
I almost regretted telling on her, if only because I was losing company with Chuck. All of this tumult was a good distraction from a holiday I just didn’t like. The closer the clock got to midnight, and the rowdier everyone got, the worse I felt. Not even Brody’s holiday brew was doing it for me – unless he was lying about the alcohol content. If that was the case – and it could be a genius move on his part – he should call it the Horizon placebo brew. See how many people would pretend to be super drunk after having a six-pack or so.
I wasn’t very good at distracting myself. Never had been. I decided that I should slip out instead of looking like a wallflower. I could go to the storage shed, or home, even. With all the fanfare of the dancing and the music, it would take a while for people to realize I was gone. I could come back after a break, even. Pretend I’d never left.
But luck wasn’t on my side. Cheyenne was hopping down from her turn at dancing on the bar as I tried to sidle out the front door.
“Jack?” She snagged my elbow just as I was making a beeline for the exit. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Outside.”
She smiled while huffing an exasperated little laugh. “But you’ll miss the countdown.”
“It doesn’t make much difference. It’ll still be the new year when I get back inside.”
“Sure it makes a difference. Especially when it makes me miss my New Year’s kiss.”
“You’re such a sap.”
“A romantic, you mean. And maybe I just like kisses.”
I planted one on her lips, felt a squirm of discomfort as an audible ripple of excitement worked through the bar as the countdown dipped below a minute.
“There’s your kiss,” I said. “I need fresh air. It’s too hot in here.”
“It’s not hot.”
“Too many people.”
Cheyenne was going to lodge another protest. It was her nature, I was beginning to understand, to be argumentative, especially when something didn’t make sense to her. But I needed to get out of there. I couldn’t endure the countdown, the shouting, or that goddamn song.
“You good, bud?” Ace called from the bar, frowning at me, but I waved him off, my reply clear to people who knew me – leave me the fuck alone, and get the fuck out of my way.
Cheyenne didn’t know me that well, yet, or she was still confused about the person I used to be.
The cold night air hit me square in the face as I pushed the door open, and it helped sweep away some of the tension that had been building. I was thankful for the cold, for the night, for the clear skies and the infinite stars blazing in the darkness. Each tiny, twinkling light made all of this a little bit more bearable.
“What have you got against New Year’s?” Cheyenne shuddered at the weather’s chill before shrugging underneath my arm, putting a cold bottle of beer in my hand.
“What are you doing out here?” Even if I was glad she was here, warming my side. “You’re going to miss that countdown you were harping on me about.”
“Kind of loses its importance without the guy I like in there with me.”
“It’s not important, though.” I was feeling obstinate, drinking the beer even if I didn’t need it.
“It’s a completely new year.”
“Time is an illusion.”
“You’re seriously going with that argument?”
“This holiday just doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to the rest of the world. That’s all I’m saying.”
A roar rose up from the bar, and we looked over our shoulders.
“Happy New Year,” Cheyenne said. “It’s here whether you want it to be or not.”
I kissed her because that was what normal people were supposed to do, and she laughed against my lips. “Oh, hell no. Get out of here with that weak-ass kiss. That’s not how I’m starting the new year.”
“Fine.”
And that was all the warning she got before I put my arms around her and bent her backward, dipping her and kissing her at the same time.
“That’s more like it,” she said, breathless with laughter, looking up at me with utter trust in her eyes. If she could trust me like this, why couldn’t I trust her with the real
reason I disliked this holiday?
“I came outside because I hate that fucking song,” I informed her, setting her on her feet again.
“Which one?”
“You know. The one everyone sings at midnight.”
“‘Auld Lang Syne’?”
“Fuck that song.”
“What’s so bad about it?” She paused for a minute, and I could practically hear her singing it in her head, testing out the lyrics. “It’s a little melancholy.”
“‘Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind,’” I reminded her. “Is that really what people want out of this holiday?”
“Just a new chance to do things the right way,” she said.
“I forgot you. I don’t know how I did, and I hate that I did.”
“Oh, Jack.”
She kissed me this time, and it was full of sweetness and hope instead of sadness.
“What in the world was that for?”
“Here’s something you can do to make this holiday a little better.”
“I’m listening.”
“Look forward instead of backward. Make a resolution to make the coming year even better than the last. Isn’t it already better?” She raised one of her eyebrows at me. “This is your cue to say, ‘yes, darling, it’s already better.’”
I snorted in laughter, feeling a little better. “Yes, darling, it’s already better.” Except that with each passing year, I had more and more to lose. When would the novelty of all of this wear off for Cheyenne? When would she get tired of waiting for me to regain my memories and decide to move on with her life?
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” she said, a stern expression tightening her features. “Stop, and tell me this year’s going to be your best yet.”
“That I know of.”
“No. Best yet of all of them. Regardless.”
I knew what she was doing, even as I dug my heels in and resisted. “Fine. I’ll do it. Make this one the best year yet.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
I shrugged and sighed, my breath coming out in a puff of warm air bubbling against the cold. “The new kitchen project at the bar.”
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