GHOST (Devil's Disciples MC Book 3)
Page 19
Surfing would require nothing more than walking off my porch and to the beach, which was a matter of feet away from my home. It would be a new activity to add to my list of things to do with Porter on a regular basis.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go eat.”
An hour later, we’d cleaned up, changed clothes, and were seated in my favorite booth at George’s place. It was three in the afternoon. As always in the middle of the day, the place was empty.
George handed Porter a menu. “So, other than surfing, there’s no other new news, is there?”
Porter snatched the menu from George’s hand. “Not yet.”
I looked at George. “Like what?”
“Like.” He shrugged. “Anything.”
I glanced at Porter. He was glaring at George. I shifted my eyes to George. He had an ear-to-ear grin on his face and was staring blankly at me.
“What the F is going on?” I asked openly.
“Nothing,” Porter blurted.
“Just delivering menus,” George chided.
I alternated glances between them. “I don’t know what you two of you are doing, but you can stop it right now. You’re creeping me out.”
“Take your time looking over the menus,” George said with a smile. “I’ll be back as soon as you give me a wave.”
I squinted. “Give you a wave? Since when do we wave you in from the outfield?” I handed him the menu. “I’ll have pancakes. Times three, please.”
Porter handed his menu to George. “I’ll have the same, thank you.”
“Ham?” George asked.
“Please,” I responded.
He looked at Porter. “Bacon?”
“Please.”
“Short stack with ham, and a short stack with bacon,” George said cheerily. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk, we’ll have to mix the batter.”
“You always mix the batter,” I said. “It’s one of the reasons I eat here, remember?”
George grinned and turned toward the kitchen.
“Is it me, or are you two acting like a couple of goofballs?”
“Acting normal,” Porter replied.
“You’re acting normal?”
He nodded. “Perfectly.”
“I think you and George are up to something,” I said.
“Nope,” he responded. “We’re up to nothing.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Nothing at all. Everything’s normal.”
“Any new news?” I asked mockingly.
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“I was mocking George,” I said.
“Oh.”
I took a drink of my water and studied him. My birthday wasn’t for three months, and Porter’s wasn’t for seven. George didn’t celebrate birthdays, but his was in January, which was five months away.
So, a surprise party was out of the question.
I wondered if they might be planning a big fundraiser or a special dinner with the bike club. Maybe, I decided, Porter was quitting the club, which I really didn’t want him to do, now that I’d met everyone.
“Have you given any thought to quitting the club?” I asked.
“A little,” he said.
“Don’t,” I said. “I like everyone. And, I don’t want you to lose that fellowhip, or whatever it’s called.”
“Okay. Well, we can talk about that.”
“Let’s talk about it, then.”
“Not now,” he said.
I cocked my head to the side. “What do you want to talk about now?”
He glanced toward the kitchen and then shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I gestured toward the back of the diner with my eyes. “Do you want to check with George and see what he wants you to talk about?”
“No.”
“I’m going to figure out what you two nut buckets are doing. You know that, right?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are. And I know it.” I extended my hand. “Your phone, please.”
He wiggled to the side of the booth, pulled out his phone, and handed it to me. His mouth twisted into a grin.
I opened his text messages, scrolled through them, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I handed him the phone. “I’m going to figure it out, believe me.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.”
“Pancake delivery,” George said, sounding like a he was trying out for an Aunt Jemima commercial.
He set the plates in front of us. “Any new revelations?”
“No!” Porter blurted.
I looked at the steaming pancakes, and then at George. “What. The. F. Is. Going. On?”
“Nothing.”
I looked at Porter and raised a brow.
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
I picked up my fork and pointed it to George. “I’m.” I pointed it at Porter. “Going to.” Then, back to George. “Figure.” Back to Porter. “You two.” Then, to George. “Out.”
George shrugged and turned toward the kitchen. “Nothing to figure out.”
I looked at Porter. He was already half done with his pancakes and shoveling them into his mouth at a breakneck pace.
“I don’t know what you two knuckleheads are up to, but if it includes embarrassing me, there’ll be hell to pay,” I fumed. “Remember, I have a video of you blowing your load over the edge of the deck.”
“It won’t embarrass you,” he said.
“What won’t embarrass me?”
He cut another section of pancakes from the stack. “What’s going on.”
I scratched my arm feverishly. “What is going on?”
“Oh,” he said. “Nothing.”
I glared at him while I poured syrup on my pancakes. I had no idea what he was planning, but when I found out, he was going to pay dearly for disrupting an otherwise peaceful mid-day meal.
Because I didn’t like surprises.
At all.
30
Ghost
Baker gazed out the window of his office, looking at who knows what. I knew not to talk to him while he was peering through the glass. It was the time that he took every day to relax. Staring out the window while music played was his means of escape.
The same as Abby and me sitting on her deck watching the sunset.
I sat in the chair on the opposite side of his desk and enjoyed the music that was playing. When the song ended, he turned around.
Upon seeing me, he gave a nod. “How’s it going, Brother Ghost?”
“Going good, thanks.”
He stroked his beard as he looked me over. “What brings you in? Hell, you haven’t been up here in ages.”
“Just wanting to talk.”
“About?”
“Well, first, what was that song that was playing? I liked it?”
“Peter Gabriel. In Your Eyes.”
I recognized the artist as being the singer of Abby’s favorite song. “Have you heard Solsbury Hill? Same guy, I guess.”
“I have,” he said. “You’ve never heard it?”
“She was going to play it for me but hasn’t got around to it. Just wondered what it was about. I liked that last one.”
He reached for his phone, fucked with it for a moment, and then set it on his desk. In a few seconds, a song began to play.
I closed my eyes and listened intently. I didn’t perceive the song as spiritual, as Abby had described it. To me, it was more of a revelation about a man who was finding himself. When the song ended, I opened my eyes.
“What’s that about, in your opinion?”
“It’s about him finding himself after he quit the band he’d been playing in. He talks about making it from day to day, and how his life was in a rut. He talks about his life being filled with people who had no etiquette, and how he was going to find his own way. It’s about taking your own inventory and moving on without the baggage. That’s what I hear, anyway.”
“Good tune. Kind of timeless,” I said.
“Abby? She’s great, thanks.”
“Didn’t wreck the car, did you?”
“Nope.”
I crossed my arms and looked around the room. “Bought a ring.”
“I’m guessing it’s not a clunky sterling silver set-up with a skull on it, is it?”
I laughed. “Nope.”
“You’re proposing to her?”
“Planning on it.”
“It’s a good feeling. Committing to a woman you love. I proposed to Andy on Christmas morning.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
“About becoming engaged? Hell no.”
“No,” I said. “About how you did it? On Christmas morning?”
He shook his head. “No. Why would I?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been carrying this ring around for three or four days and can’t seem to find the right time to give it to her.”
He chuckled. “Sounds to me like you’re having second thoughts.”
“Not at all,” I said. “I just don’t want to do it at the wrong time, and I don’t want some cliché bullshit attached to my memory of it. Or, to hers.”
“Not at Christmas, then?”
“Nothing against you, Brother, but no.”
He stroked his beard. “Do it at a time that’s natural. You know the feeling you get when you just feel like kissing her? Like, out of the blue?”
“Yeah, it happens all the time, why?”
“Give it to her at one of those times,” he said. “It’ll feel natural. Or, in one of those moments when you’re laying in bed admiring her. When she does something cute. When she, and you, are least expecting it. It’ll feel natural. Who gives a fuck about the story that’s attached to it. Do it for you, and for her, not for the story you’ll tell about it later.”
I nodded. “Good point.”
“Everything else okay?” he asked. “Is she still sick?”
“She’s better. Fucking oysters.”
“Didn’t bother me. Cash puked out his butt for two days. Must have been some bad ones in there. Hell, he flew them in from Louisiana, fresh. It’s not the Goose’s fault.”
“Not blaming him,” I said. “Just one of those deals.”
He studied me for a moment, and then grinned. “Finally lifted that ass of yours off that wallet.”
“What?”
“Other than building that fucking Mustang, you haven’t spent a dollar since high school. Took you thirteen years to build that car. As far as I can figure, that’s five hundred bucks a month, give or take. Hell, that’s the interest you’re receiving off our first job. You don’t even own a house, you rent one. You’re so tight, you squeak when you walk.”
“Don’t like spending money.”
“Did it hurt? To come up off some of that cash?”
He was right. I was frugal. Spending money seemed like a waste to me. I grew up without it, and now that I had some, I cherished it. Buying a new pair of jeans troubled me so much I’d often wait until they had holes so big my junk was falling out.
Spending it on Abby’s ring didn’t bother me one bit.
I shook my head. “Didn’t feel a thing.”
“Spend a chunk?”
“Half a million.”
His eyes went wide. “Jesus. Must be some ring.”
“It’s a nice fucker.”
“Got it with you?”
I laughed as I reached into my pocket. “Been carrying it for days.”
I handed him the box.
He opened the box and looked the ring over. “I take it back,” he said.
“What’s that? About me being a tight ass?”
“No.” He handed me the ring. “About proposing. You need to make sure she’s got something soft under her when you do it, because she’s likely to faint. That’s one hell of a rock, Ghost.”
“Hope she likes it.”
“She’d like it if it was a polished coffee bean. That girl’s eyes light up when you start to speak. Andy said she didn’t shut up for five minutes when they went out. Talked about you the entire time.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” I said.
“Looking at doing a job in Bakersfield,” he said. “Some child pornography kingpin. Fucking creep runs a website where he sells videos and shit. Been making millions for years and hasn’t been caught. We’ll talk about it Wednesday. If it goes the way I’m thinking, you’ll make enough to pay for that ring two times over. After we’re done, Tito’s going to open up a back door on the guy’s website and let the feds get him.”
I had no desire to do a job. The risk of getting caught, which had always been a thrill to me, lingered over me as a reminder of losing Abby. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. At least not at that moment.
“Sounds interesting.” I stood. “Think I’m going to do some tuning on the X5M, get it ready for the upcoming job.”
He stood. “Let me know how the proposal goes.”
“Will do, Brother.”
I turned toward the door, feeling no more certain of when I was going – or how I was going – to propose.
But I knew one thing for sure.
I didn’t want to do another job as a Devil’s Disciple.
31
Abby
George’s diner was frigid. While I waited for him to greet me, I sat on my hands, hoping to warm them up. When he arrived at the table, he was overly excited to see me.
He sat down across from me and motioned toward my lap. “Why are you hiding your hands? Let me see your hands, Abby.”
“They’re cold.”
“Let me see them.”
“What is wrong with you?” I gave him a look. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Let me see them.”
I raised my hands. “It’s like Antarctica in here.”
He looked my hands over and then sighed.
“What?”
“Well, you’ve been talking about a tattoo, I thought maybe you got one.”
“On my hand?”
He shrugged. “Hand, wrist, arm. Who knows.”
“No new revelations?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
“Nope. Just laying around. Trying to feel better. All I can eat is pancakes.”
“Where’s Porter?”
“Making his rounds. Seeing Baker and checking the pumps on the carwashes in Oceanside.”
He rested his chin in his hands and looked me over, smiling the entire time.
I giggled. “You’re acting weird.”
“Do you want children?”
It seemed like a strange time for that specific question, but I liked that he asked it. “I do,” I said. “Three.”
“Boys? Girls?”
“Some of each. I don’t care. But I want one in the middle, and one on each end. Maybe the boy would be oldest, so he could protect the other two.”
“Porter and I were talking the other day. Might not be my place to tell you, but I’m doing it anyway. He wants kids. The thought of you two having kids excites the hell out of me. They’d be like grandkids to me.”
My heart swelled. “He said that?”
“He sure did.”
We hadn’t talked about it, but I’d hoped he wanted children. Having children with him would be the best gift ever. I could see us spending all our time on the beach building sandcastles and teaching them to surf.
“I like thinking about that.”
“So do I,” he said.
“Why didn’t your marriage work?” I asked.
His gaze dropped to the table. “I got married to please my mother.”
“Did you love her?”
He looked up and shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”
“You didn’t even love her?”
“Not in the sense you’re thinking. I loved her, but I didn’t lov
e her like a wife. We were friends more than anything. We had been since we were kids.”
“Then, after you got divorced, you went in the Marines?”
He smiled. “I was twenty-one. Oldest kid in my platoon. Everyone looked up to me. Best decision I ever made. I guess, in some respects, I married the Corps.”
“Do you think you’ll ever fall in love?”
“I haven’t got time.” He looked around the diner and then met my gaze. “I love you, though. I love Porter, too. Love all the people that work for me.”
“Can I ask you something? Something serious?”
“Sure.”
“Are you sure?”
“Abby, you can ask me anything.”
“Anything?”
He reached for my hand. “Anything.”
“Are you…are you…do you think you might be gay?”
He glanced over each shoulder, and then smiled. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask. Yes, I am.”
“Holy crap?” I screeched. “Really?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m kidding.”
“You’re serious, though? You’re gay?”
“I am.”
I felt happy and sad at the same time. I was happy that he told me the truth, and of the possibility of him finding someone to love, but sad that he’d chosen to hide it from me, and from everyone else as far as I knew.
“Why do you hide it?” I asked.
“I didn’t have a choice in the military,” he said. “It would have ended my career.”
“What about now?”
“It’s a choice I make, I suppose. It’s not as easy as you’d think to reveal something like that. Everyone looks at you differently.”
“Not everyone,” I said. “Just some people.”
“How do you think Porter would react?”
“Just like I am,” I said. “He’d ask you why you’re not in a relationship.”
“I doubt that.”
I crossed my arms and gave him a look. “I don’t.”
“I like the way things are right now,” he said. “Everyone’s happy. I’ll keep things like this until the good Lord tells me to make a change.”
I shrugged. “I can’t argue with that. Thanks for telling me, though.”
“It feels good to admit it. I haven’t done it with too many people.” He smiled. “Pancakes?”