by Bijou Hunter
By the time he arrives to pick me up, I’ve lost my earlier electric feeling. I’m instead struck by a steely determination. Shane might only be mine for a few more days, or we might last until the holidays. Hell, he might be so stubborn that he’ll keep me around for years. Whatever time we have together, I’m all in. No shame, no concern for how it looks to others. As long as he loves me, I’ll always be with Shane.
We spend the afternoon riding around Shasta on his Harley. He says he needs to make an appearance at the Swamp, but I swear we drive down nearly half the town. He stops occasionally and asks questions about where I lived, went to school, and hung out as a kid. I direct him to various places. The ditch where the Band and I used to hide when the bullies chased us. The pizza place where Max’s mom used to work. She’d let the four of us share a personal pizza and a drink when her boss wasn’t around. The Chucky E Cheese that Velma took me to for my tenth birthday, even though we didn’t have the money to blow on frivolous stuff.
For years—especially since I got old enough to move out of her apartment—I’ve only seen my mom as a pathetic loser who loved a jerk more than she loved me. It was easier to imagine her as the bad guy.
With my arms wrapped around Shane as we ride through Shasta, I feel safe enough to accept that Velma does love me. Maybe not the right kind of love. After all, I never felt safe with her like Shane seems to always feel with his parents. The way he talks about them gives me the impression that I can’t even imagine the life he lived. Just like I can’t picture a place on the other side of the world, there’s no understanding what it would feel like to have two parents dote on me.
But Velma did love me. She just had no one to teach her how to be a good mother. Her heart felt closed off to me a lot. But there were times when we would just sit on the couch and watch cartoons together. Or she would suck off some guy to get enough cash for me to get new shoes. Velma wasn’t a particularly good mother, but she wasn’t the worst either. Seeing her more clearly eases a lot of that weight off my heart, where I’ve held a lifetime of resentment, hurt, and disappointment.
“I want to see Shasta the way you do,” Shane says after we park next to a creek and get off to look around.
“I don’t think you can. I grew up in Shasta. A lot of what I remember and think is clouded by being a kid here. It’s why the smell from the rendering plant doesn’t really bother me. I grew up with that stink.”
“I tell myself it’s burning wood,” Shane says as his dark eyes scan the overgrown area around us. “In the winter, my father would often use the fireplace, and I loved the smell. So, I tell my brain that I’m smelling burning wood, and it doesn’t bother me so much.”
“I wish I could boss my brain around.”
Shane grins at my teasing tone and then reaches for me when I wander too far away. “I want you to meet my parents and move into my house and get your tat fixed and a million other things that you’re not ready for. I have to tell my brain to quiet down. I’m not as good about bossing it around when it comes to you.”
I pick up a pebble from the ground and throw it in the creek. “People were always telling us not to throw rocks in the water. It’s bad for the soil or something. We never listened. I just loved the sound of the rocks plopping into the water, and I’m not good at telling myself no. You and I are the same like that.”
“I know you’re not ready to meet my parents.”
Exhaling, I’m relieved he accepts my limitations. “I’m afraid of first impressions. If I could skip over that part, I’d really like to meet your parents. I’m curious as hell to see them up close and personal. Your dad looks like you in the videos Shelby showed me, but I want to see if his eyes are as dark. Your mom is so quiet that I can barely hear her. I bet I could if she were in the same room. I think about that stuff, but I’m really nervous that I’ll say something stupid right off the bat, and they’ll think I’m an idiot.”
“If that happens, I could dance the jig to distract everyone.” When I frown at Shane, he rolls his eyes. “I offered to dance the jig for you last night when you were upset.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to have a happy memory in that parking lot.”
Smiling, I tug at his jacket. “What’s a jig?”
“I’m not sure besides it’s a kind of dance.”
“We should look it up on my phone and then do it together. No one’s around to care if we look stupid.”
Shane’s game for my idea, but we both learn that we’ll never win any dancing contests. I lose my balance—both from dancing and laughing—and nearly fall in the creek. Shane effortlessly wraps an arm around my waist and keeps me safe.
Staring into his amused eyes, I realize I trust him in a way I didn’t think possible with anyone outside of the Band. Shane looks at me as if I’m a part of him. As if my needs are his.
I just can’t wrap my head around why he’s in love with me rather than someone else. I wouldn’t fuck my kind of crazy unless there was some serious money involved, but he’s here for free. Shane makes no damn sense, but the man’s resolve is unshakeable.
That’s why when we get to his bedroom for what I’ve been craving since I woke up this morning, I don’t keep my shirt on. I trust that Shane knows what he wants. The tattoo is just words. They don’t mean I belong to someone else. Shane knows the score. He understands that I never wanted the tat. If he doesn’t think I’m a bad person for letting it happen, then maybe I don’t have to think that way either. I can bully my brain into letting go of the past in the way Shane tells his that the smell hanging in the air is burning wood.
Tossing my shirt across the room, I straddle Shane’s naked body as he sits on his bed. I stare in his eyes and wait for him to reject me. Of course, that painful rebuke never comes. Shane is far too excited to have full access to my breasts. No more fumbling with my shirt to get to my goodies.
“I’m with you,” I say as he nuzzles his face between my breasts, and I caress his thick hair. “No other man ever mattered. I’ve always been waiting for you.”
Shane swallows hard, and I realize under his stubborn shell that he’s still a man facing the same fears and insecurities as everyone else. He needs me to take care of him, even if he never asks for help.
His lips find mine, and he holds me against him as if desperate for reassurance. Shane’s already ten steps ahead of me in this relationship. He’s got our life planned out. For him, the future is set in stone. Yet he fears that I’ll never reach the forever he’s already created in his mind.
With the removal of my shirt, a few loving words, and not an inch of separation between us for the next hour, I hope I prove to Shane that we’re heading to the same destination.
THE CHAPTER WHERE TWO TEAMS UNITE
THE ROMANTIC
For the next few days, Ramona glows. Even when shit upsets her, she calms down quickly with a little help. Like when I ask if she’s started thinking about designs for her back. I try to keep the topic casual, mentioning Aaron’s kids are tattoo artists too. Ramona, though, tenses up.
“I don’t know what to put back there,” she says, watching me warily. “What do you want back there?”
“I want something you’ll like.”
“But I can’t see it.”
“But you’ll know it’s there.”
Ramona looks scolded. Logically, I figure she should want it fixed as soon as possible. Why not remove a reminder of something painful? But I don’t think Ramona worries about the tattoo much. She doesn’t think about it. Just like her wrists. She isn’t wearing bracelets to hide the scars. She already wore them for years before cutting herself. I keep thinking I know how she deals with shit, but I’m making assumptions. Earlier that day, Dad told me to be patient while we talked online.
“People don’t change,” he said, surprising me.
“But you were an asshole before Mom. Everyone said so. Mom didn’t like being touched before you. Clearly, you touch her. People do change.”
>
“No, they don’t. I’m still an asshole, but I learned to control myself better. Mom still hates being touched, but she trained herself to endure it because she wants to be close to the people she loves. What I’m saying is you can’t change Ramona any more than she can change you. You can only bring out your better qualities and suppress your shittier ones. But you’re not changing anything.”
“I don’t want to be patient.”
“I know. That’s one of your shittier qualities,” he says, laughing at whatever he sees on my face.
His words make sense. So, when Ramona looks scolded, I repeat the word “patience” in my head before I speak again.
“There’s no hurry for me if there’s none for you.”
“You don’t want to look at it.”
“When I see it, I think of how you protected your friends by going. Of how you’re loyal to the people you love. I’ll think the same thing when I look at your new tattoo. There’s no hurry.”
Ramona watches me with that wounded-animal expression in her eyes. Then suddenly, her worries turn off, and she relaxes. Without the help of music or any other distractions, Ramona finds her smile and asks if I moisturize my beard. Her question makes me laugh, and the earlier tension is gone.
I’m still thinking of how relaxed she is in my house when Maverick shows up one Friday to talk business with River. I’m in the living room with Shelby and Ramona. The women get along well, which I think is more the latter’s doing than the former’s. Shelby can rub people the wrong way. She invades their space, gets moody out of nowhere, and frequently mocks their hygiene. My woman just rolls with all that. When Shelby suddenly hugged her very tightly last night, Ramona returned the affection. When the hug kept going and going, Ramona slipped a bud in her ear and got comfortable for the long haul.
“This house feels haunted, doncha think?” Shelby asks after she hears someone at the front door. “It feels decrepit and eerie.”
“I don’t like the green color outside, but the windows and high ceilings are cool,” Ramona says. “I bet if you painted stuff and added more of your personal tastes that the house wouldn’t seem so creepy.”
Shelby wants so badly to get negative, but Ramona’s comments make her shift gears. “What color should we paint the outside?”
Leaving them to search for colors online, I join River and Maverick in the house’s study. The younger man slouches in a leather chair left behind from the estate sale. River stands at the desk and waits for me to find a seat in the opposite corner as Maverick.
“Let’s keep it quick since I know you want to get back to your woman,” River says and glances at his brother wearing a mask of indifference. “Let’s talk about the slasher shit first.”
“Cops think it’s not one guy,” I say, crossing my arms. “They claim the marks on the girls are different. I asked if they got any help from the Feds, like looking at forensics or whatever. He just told me to stop watching so much TV.”
“The cops here are useless. They make the same as a full-time waitress without the tips.”
“Perfect place to be a serial killer,” Maverick mutters.
“We don’t know what this is really,” River says while shoving his hair out of his eyes. “Could even be one of our guys. Who the fuck knows? I just don’t trust Glider to be in charge of the Swamp and those women.”
Nodding, I picture the trailer parks. The apartment where Ramona and Kelsi grew up in is on the border of the Railroad and the Swamp. She was so close to the absolute poorest, more violent part of town. While her fucking dad lived in the cushy side of Shasta.
“The chick that got killed wasn’t even eighteen. Her mom pimped her out,” I grumble. “We need to get a handle on that fucking area.”
“Already on it,” River says, tapping a pen absentmindedly. “I switched out Glider with Utah. The other guys will think it’s because Utah’s gay. Honestly, that’s part of it. There are no free fucks, just like we have to pay for our pills and pot. I don’t know if Glider was pressuring any of the girls for sex. Or if he was showing favoritism because some put out, and others didn’t. I just know we’re shutting that shit down now.”
“And scheduling the drive-bys to the trailer parks?” I ask since apparently River’s been busy while I was playing boyfriend.
“We’ll have more of a presence in Shasta from now on. I’ve scheduled guys to ride down Corpse Crossing with regular stops at the Swamp. Nothing stealthy. From now on, we’re the opposite of Maverick.”
His little brother flips him off while slouching deeper in the chair.
“In other business, I feel good about the prospect, Quaid. He’s not just a punk-ass local. Skilled operator. Obedient. Not looking to take over. I’m ready to offer him a patch, but we need to handle a few things first.”
“Like what?”
River leans forward and holds my gaze. “I want Joey Limbaugh dead for being a twat. I want Mixer dead for threatening Ramona and her friends that day when they forced her to Ohio. He’s also been talking shit about me, and I’m very sensitive to criticism.”
“How do you know that part?” I ask, glancing at Maverick the Spy.
“Not him,” River says, smirking at his brother. “Utah got real chatty that fucking night you took off with Ramona. I think he’s ready to move up in the club and sees his shot.”
“Fuse was a dick to him,” Maverick mumbles. “Wanted the muscle Utah offered but didn’t like having a gay guy in the club. The other Skullz don’t trust him. I think that means we can.”
Surprised by how chatty Maverick is tonight, I take a moment to ask River, “Anyone else you want dead?”
“Not in our club. For now, anyway. However, I think we should demand someone from the Executioners.”
“I want Pinball.”
“The Executioners are about due for another shitshow. They’ve behaved so far since we took over, but Mav caught a few of them hanging around the Railroad.”
Scowling darkly now, I ask, “When was this?”
“A few days back,” Maverick says, looking at his hands rather than at me.
“Could it be connected to the girl who died?”
“No. I got tipped off when they arrived, and I watched them fuck around for an hour. Then I followed them out of town.”
“Did they see you?”
“Hell yeah.”
“What were they doing?”
Maverick stops playing shy and just frowns at me. “I think they were waiting to talk to someone, but they spotted me and then started wandering around the different stores.”
“What’s their play, though?”
“Some Skullz still think they can reclaim the club and Shasta. Fuse dying fucked up those dreams. They thought we killed him, so they backed off. When Joey and Mixer end up dead, they’ll get quiet. Still, there are people in our midst who are looking to make a play. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but they’re not going anywhere.”
“Who are these people?” I ask.
Maverick shrugs. “No one specific. It’s all just ‘some guys are saying that Fuse had a plan’ or ‘some guys are claiming that when their brothers in prison get out that there’ll be a reckoning.’ No one ever admits they’re the ones saying that shit, though.”
“I can count on one hand the Skullz I trust,” River mutters. “We need to find more guys loyal to us rather than a dead man.”
“What about the Executioners?”
“We know they’re talking to someone here. They’ll think that’s what the meeting is about. Instead, we ask for Pinball to make us even. They fucked with your woman, and we plan to fuck with him.”
“I want him dead.”
“Be cool, man.”
“Shut up, dude,” I growl, ready to kick his ass.
“Trust that I have a plan.”
“Yes, but your plan is about the club. My needs are beyond the club. If I can’t kill Fuse, then I want to kill Pinball.”
Now I understand what all his earlier fidg
eting was about. River knew I wouldn’t be happy with his plan.
Shrugging, he says, “Or you can kill Mixer and just injure Pinball.”
“Why not kill him?”
“Why can’t you trust me?”
“I do,” I say, only half lying.
“But not when it comes to Ramona.”
Narrowing my eyes, I’m seconds from jumping across the desk and tackling him. “She’s a stranger to you.”
“Yeah, but you’re not, and she’s your woman. Therefore, she’s an extension of you, and I don’t do my boy wrong.”
“Just kiss and get it over with,” Maverick mutters, leaving the room.
River smirks. “If I was into guys, I’d be all over you, Shane Campbell.”
“No way would you be able to quit me either.”
“Just like your woman can’t.”
Calming down, I ease back into my chair. “Yeah, she seemed ready to run a few times, but now she’s hunkered down into loving me with all her heart. You should try that sometime.”
“Loving you?”
“No, dipshit, finding a woman.”
River sighs dramatically. “I thought Shelby was the one, but it never clicked. She looks at me, and I look at her, and there’s no urge to get naked and do things.”
“That’s a mighty romantic story about my sister, River Majors. Thank you for sharing it.”
“I’m just saying that I might not be the kind of man to find a Ramona of his own.”
“Your dad was older than you when he met your mom. Just quit your bitching, Lil Miss.”
I know River will attack before he makes a move. Dodging his punch to the jaw, I still suffer a knee to the gut. Fortunately, while toppling out of the chair to avoid him, I manage to kick him in the hip.
“Almost neutered you there,” I say, laughing from the floor.
“Have at it. I’ve decided I don’t want kids. Growing up with seven siblings made me crave silence. It’s the reason I like Maverick,” he says, opening the office door. “The motherfucker barely talks.”