Clutch

by Drew Elyse

  “I need labor and delivery,” I said in a rush.

  She looked surprised, but got it together quickly. “Of course. Head down that hall, take the second left, then the third right. There’ll be signs along the way.”

  “Thanks.” I did not pause to see if that garnered any surprise, just took off.

  “Gauge,” I heard called as I made it to the mouth of the hall. I turned to see Ham, Stone, Roadrunner, Daz, Sketch, and Jack coming in. Christ, it was good to see them.

  Stone immediately took charge. “You know where we need to go?”

  “Yeah, this way,” I said, continuing my way down the path I’d been told.

  “Jager sends his regards,” Daz said as we walked, “but you know how the brother is about hospitals.”

  True enough. Jager had been in some sort of freak accident as a kid that killed both his parents and his two sisters. He was in the hospital for weeks recovering. Last thing I could do was fault the guy for not wanting to go to another one.

  Someone really oughta build a hospital and decorate that fucker in any color but sterile white. Sure, white looks clean, but it also makes the whole building seem like a really solid place to die and not much else. The occasional cheap oil painting didn’t make it any more welcoming. In fact, it made me think of Mrs. Stranton, an old widow down the street my mom always made me do yard work for when I was growing up.

  Oh. Shit.

  “Ham, call my mom,” I ordered. “Then go pick her up. She doesn’t like driving too late.”

  “Got you, brother,” he answered. I heard him talking to her a minute later. Mom might castrate me if she missed the birth of her grandson.

  What do you know? Maybe those paintings were good for something.

  When I made it to the separate waiting area for labor and delivery, I found Stacey’s sister, Jen, sitting near the hall back to the rooms. She’d been staying with Stacey since week 34 so someone would be with her when she went into labor. Good thing she’d gotten the time off for that.

  “Jen, where’s she at?” I said by way of greeting.

  “I’ll take you back,” she said. She hesitated, looking at the wall of bikers at my back.

  “We’ll grab some chairs out here. Keep us updated when you can,” Stone announced, leading the guys to one corner of the room.

  “Let’s go,” I instructed Jen.

  “Right, follow me.”

  Stacey was in a room about halfway down the hall. There was only one nurse inside with her. With the exception of the straining noises coming from Stacey as she no doubt battled through a contraction, the room was surprisingly calm. I froze in the doorway for a beat, unsure what my role was in the situation since Stacey and I weren’t together, but the desperate noise she made had my feet moving. I went to her side and clasped her hand, giving it a small squeeze to let her know she could go to town on mine if she needed it.

  “Hi, Gauge,” she said in a tired voice once the pain passed.

  “Hi, Stace. How’re you doing?” Was that a stupid question? Fuck if I knew.

  “I’m okay. The contractions hurt, but they’re still spaced out a bit,” she said.

  “Have you had the epidural yet?” I asked.

  “I’m about to check if we’re ready for that,” the nurse cut in from the side of the room. Her kind smile actually seemed genuine. She was definitely in the right department. She had a calm about her that was probably invaluable once the worst of the labor got going.

  “Oh, cool,” I muttered, shifting so I was firmly up next to Stacey’s head, hopefully out of the way. Jen mirrored my positioning on Stacey’s other side. It had already been decided the two of us would be in the room through the delivery. Jen had two kids of her own, so at least someone knew what they were doing.

  After a close inspection, the nurse announced, “Alright, you are dilated to five centimeters. We can go ahead and do the epidural now.” She left, saying she would be back in a minute with the doctor to administer it.

  While we waited, I checked my phone to find a text Ham sent a few minutes before saying he had my mom and was headed back.

  “What is it?” Stacey asked, looking up at me.

  “Nothing. My mom will be here soon,” I told her.

  “That’s good.” She smiled. How the hell she was smiling was beyond me, seeing as the discomfort was clear in the lines of her face. “You can go out there and wait for her. Jen can stay with me while they do the epidural.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, go ahead. She’ll want to see you when she gets here.”

  I did leave, figuring it was better to do so then, rather than when her labor progressed. The guys were all seated in the waiting room still, Doc having joined them while I was gone. He may not have been practicing anymore, but having him around was weirdly reassuring. If something went wrong, at least he would lay it out for me straight without all the bullshit.

  “How’s it going?” Doc asked first.

  “Fine. They’re doing the epidural now. I’m going to wait out here until Ham gets here with my mom,” I explained.

  “You doing okay?” Stone asked.

  “Fuckin’ freaked,” I admitted.

  “Yeah, that’s not going away any time soon,” Roadrunner interjected. Sometimes it was easy to forget he had a daughter. She lived down in Cali, I think. He always went to visit her, not the other way around.

  “Could really go for a smoke,” I said.

  “Man, so could I,” Daz agreed. “Why don’t we go out front and get that in while you can?”

  I considered saying no. Should I be taking a smoke break while Stace was in labor? Then I thought about what state I’d be in if her labor lasted hours more. Best to get my nicotine fix early.

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  We were out front and I was finishing off a Marlboro I bummed off Daz when Mom and Ham walked—well, Mom was actually kind of jogging—up to the entrance.

  “Oh, Joshua,” Mom greeted. “You’re having a baby!”

  Yeah, thanks for the reminder, I thought, I almost forgot.

  She threw herself at me, and I wrapped my arms around her. It took me a second to register that she was shaking. I pulled back a bit to look at her face and saw she was crying. “Pull it together, Momma,” I told her.

  She slapped my chest. “I’ll get emotional if I please, boy.”

  “She’s been a fuckin’ wreck,” Ham told me.

  “Ham!” Mom chastised.

  “Sorry, Linda,” he muttered. Mom could make any of us feel like we were ten years old again.

  “What’s going on? Tell me everything,” Mom insisted. I filled her in on where we were as I led her through the hospital halls.

  When we made it to the waiting room, she took time to greet everyone. Mom was popular among the Disciples, and everyone treated her like a queen. After she hugged Stone, she looked around the room like she was searching for something.

  “Where’s Cami?” she asked.

  Fuck. I did not want to get into that.

  A big hand thumped my shoulder, and I turned to see Tank standing there. Just who I fuckin’ needed. “How’re you doin’, brother?”

  “Fine,” I answered.

  Mom was distracted from her question long enough to greet Tank, then she was back at it. “Is Cami on her way?” she pressed.

  Hopefully, Tank wouldn’t beat my ass in the hospital waiting room while my son was on his way.

  “She’s not coming,” I admitted.

  Tank and Mom looked ready to tear me a new one. “And why not?” Mom asked.

  “Because I fucked up and she left.”

  Mom shook her head like she was disappointed in me, but Tank stood taller and stepped toward me. “What’d you do to my girl?”

  Stone stepped in and inserted himself between the two of us, putting a hand to Tank’s chest. “Not the place.”

  “You hurt my daughter, jackass?” Tank pushed on.

  “Tank,” Stone snapp
ed, “this ain’t the time or place. There’s an issue here, we’ll sort that shit later.”

  Tank looked like he was ready to keep at the issue, standing his ground for a tense moment. If he came swinging, I wouldn’t stop him. I fucked up, and I earned that shit. A black eye wasn’t how I intended to greet my kid for the first time, but I’d take it if I had to. After a moment of struggle, Tank finally stepped back.

  “This isn’t fuckin’ through,” he warned, pointing at me.

  I jerked my chin at him in acknowledgement. No, it wasn’t close to fucking finished. I still had to take a shot at getting my girl back.

  Mom, whose face still told me I’d disappointed her, said, “You should get back in there, honey.”

  She was right. Of the many issues I needed to deal with, one was most pressing. My son was coming. I needed to be there for that. Everything else would have to wait.

  My boy came into the world at 6:47 AM, weighing eight pounds, two ounces, and measuring twenty and a half inches long. His skin had hints of my darker coloring and there was a tiny tuft of solid black hair on his head. It was hard to know just from seeing him in the first few hours, but it seemed like my boy would look like his dad.

  His dad.

  I was a father.

  Fucking. Hell.

  Stacey knocked out just after he arrived, four hours of labor proving to be too much for her. The delivery had been routine, no issues arising. Stace had started wearing out near the end, but she’d powered through until our boy could make his appearance.

  Unfortunately, she fell asleep before we could give our son a name. We’d been throwing a few around for the last few months, but couldn’t decide. Eventually, Stacey suggested we wait until we saw him to see if something stood out. I wasn’t so sure about bringing a baby with no name into the world, but she insisted it would be fine to wait a little while after he was born.

  A nurse came to me with the birth certificate to start filling out, but I had to tell her we would need to wait. She was cool enough about it, but that was still some uncomfortable shit. For now, his little crib in the nursery was labeled “Baby Baxter”.

  I stood outside the nursery window with my mom beside me. I pulled out my phone, taking pictures. Luckily, the guys made sure the thing charged while Stacey was delivering so I would have it in the aftermath.

  “He’s beautiful, honey,” Mom said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  I stared at the little picture of him on my phone. I wanted to send it to Cami. I wanted her to see my son, to share the moment with me, but that wasn’t fair to her.

  The guys came around the corner, boisterously congratulating me and talking about how my son was the next generation of the Disciples.

  “That’s my godson!” Ham bellowed.

  A passing nurse shushed him; a cute little thing he took notice of right away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Just excited to be a godfather.”

  “Hey, jackass,” I called his attention to me, “who the hell said anything about you being the godfather?”

  “Come on. I’m your best friend. I have to be the godfather!” he insisted.

  “We’ll see.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Tank approached last. He was tense, still pissed at me. Even so, he offered me his hand and said, “Congratulations. It’s a big moment meeting your kid for the first time.”

  We both let that hang there until I had to ask, “Have you spoken to her?”

  “She hasn’t answered,” he said. “Sent her a couple texts, including one saying the little guy had come. She’s read ‘em, just hasn’t said anything.”

  Fuck.

  “I’m gonna fix this,” I swore.

  “I hope you do, brother,” he replied, surprising me. “I really fuckin’ hope you do.”

  Dad had been trying to reach me most of the night. If his calls and the texts asking if I was okay were any indication, he’d found out about Gauge. It was his final text around seven in the morning I kept staring at.

  Dad: The baby arrived. Healthy little boy.

  I had not replied to that or any of the others. What was there to say? Gauge was officially a father, and I was holed up in a hotel room on my own.

  My phone had not left my hand since that final message came through nearly an hour before. I turned it over and over, contemplating messages I considered sending and what it would look like sailing across the room.

  Of their own volition, my hands typed out a message I was not sure I was prepared to send. I stared at it, deleted it, typed it out again. Eventually, I knew there was nothing to be done about it. I hit send.

  Me: Congratulations.

  It might have been a mistake to message him, but it felt like something I had to do. If he ignored me, I would know where we stood. If he responded…

  I had absolutely no idea what I would do if he responded.

  Unable to take the pressure of waiting on a response that might never come, I set my phone down on the nightstand and made myself take a shower. For a long time, I stood beneath the warm spray, watching the beads of water stick to the white tile wall before sliding down and out of sight. Guessing which drop would fall next was stimulating enough to keep my mind from going anywhere else.

  When I actually started to clean myself, I did so methodically, scrubbing every inch of skin, delaying the inevitable need to leave the safety of the shower for the harsh reality living outside.

  By the time I emerged, I was squeaky clean and my fingers were pruney. A cloud of steam followed me out of the bathroom when I opened the door. I had been in the water so long, it felt like I might never get dry again. The idea of laying out a dry towel on the bed and just lying on it for the rest of the morning was incredibly appealing. However, I needed to check in about my job. It was Monday morning—provided issues with Gauge were not going to cost me that position.

  I grabbed my phone to call Roadrunner and froze when I read the screen. Gauge had called twice and texted.

  Gauge: Thanks. I really need to talk to you.

  As I held my phone, I received a voicemail he must have been leaving. I opened it up and clicked play, nearly dropping the phone when I heard his voice.

  “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but…shit. I really need to see you. If you’ll see me for ten—hell, just five minutes, you can tell me to fuck off if you want.” He was quiet for so long, I pulled my phone away to make sure the message was still playing. “I have a son, Cami. He’s so fuckin’ small, and he already looks like me. I’m freaking the fuck out, and all I can think about is how I wish you were here with me for this.” I could hardly breathe past the tightness in my throat. “Please call me back, text me, whatever the fuck you want. Just tell me where you are so I can come see you. Please.”

  That was it. As soon as the recording ended, I replayed it. I almost thought the second time around I would realize I had imagined that desperate tone to his voice. I had never heard Gauge plead that way. I never would have guessed it could happen, yet there it was—indisputable proof he could, and would, for me.