Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2)

by Bijou Hunter

  “I have a helluva left hook, and I’ve wanted to punch you since I saw you in the Mart that day. Now are we throwing down or did you want to discuss something more than my hair?”

  “I heard you’re still dating that cop.”

  “Did you hear that at the salon with the gossipy broads?”

  “I’m surprised you keep a man with your mouth. Do you brush your hair for him?”

  “I’m not warning you again,” I say, cracking my knuckles.

  “I always wanted a grandson. Guess I got one after all.”

  I lift my fist, but Zeb only laughs. “I came by for advice. You’re the smart sister, aren’t you? That’s what people say. The short hair one is a snitch. The good looking one is a bitch. The one with the eyebrows is smart.”

  Exhaling, I wonder what Donovan’s doing right now. Is he thinking about me and would he help me hide this old bastard’s body?

  “What did you want?” I ask.

  “Your mama’s birthday is coming up soon. What kind of thing should I get her?”

  “If you want to make her happy, you’d sit down and have a real meal with her. No yelling or jerk comments. Just talk to her like she’s someone you give a crap about.”

  “Boy, that sure sounds more complicated than I was imagining. Ain’t there anything I can put in a box and wrap up for her?”

  “No.”

  “I’m still not happy about her marrying that thug.”

  “Dude, let it go!” I nearly scream. “How old are you that you’re still nursing grudges from decades ago? Shouldn’t you be putting your shit in order and working on your bucket list? If I was about to keel over at any moment, I think I might want to let some shit go and be happy. Then again, I’m not a grumpy old fricker.”

  “You have a nasty mouth like your father.”

  “Thank you.”

  When I turn away from him, Zeb asks, “Did you ever hear the story behind your name?”

  “Sure, Mom wanted a ‘J’ name, and she liked the band Journey.”

  “Is that what your mama told you?” he says, grinning like an idiot. “Truth is I’m the reason you got that name. Wanna hear how?”

  Though Zeb is annoying, he’s better than sitting alone in the house with only the pets to keep me company.

  “Sure.”

  “See, like you said, Christine was looking for a name that started with a ‘J’ in honor of that thug daddy of yours. She couldn't decide on one. She’d come to my house and go through names. I’d dozed off hearing her and your grandma squawking about one damn stupid name after another. Then one afternoon, I had a dream about Christine giving birth. The baby looked just like that Journey singer. Hell, you even had a mullet. When I told her about my dream, she just smiled. You know how your mama smiles real sweet when she thinks someone is stupid?”

  Nodding, I sigh. “Thanks for the killer name. Now you need to find a way to sit down and have a civilized meal with your daughter. If you think you can’t handle your mouth around me and the girls, then meet Christine for lunch one day. Just the two of you can sit down and reminisce about when she thought you hung the moon. You know, before she saw how normal people are. So do you think you could handle that?”

  “Probably not, but it’s worth a try if you think that’s what she wants for her birthday.”

  “That is what I think. Now, I’m going inside to put this shit away.”

  “Aren't you going to invite me in?”

  “I would, but my dad will be over soon, and he doesn’t like you. Bye, now.”

  Zeb grunts, but I see him grinning. He’s a pretty sneaky bastard, and I wish he could spend five minutes around the family without making everyone crazy. Despite his big stupid mouth, Zeb remains vastly superior to my grandmother. I spotted the old bat at the grocery store earlier. She spotted me too and threw a soda can at my SUV as she drove away.

  In these kinds of special moments, I have no trouble understanding why Christine left town. I’m more surprised she’d ever come back.

  38 Snake Charmers

  Donovan

  The only way Moe and Mae’s Grill’s stays in business is because of its loyal regulars. No one is bringing families to this hole in the wall. The place has no specials, and it’s too small for get-togethers. The Grill is where people stop for good food and no conversation.

  Located outside of Tumbling Rock, Moe and Mae’s Grill doesn’t draw cops, and people mind their own business. For this reason, I suggest to Court that we meet his two club recruits at the diner.

  “Who’s the second guy?” I ask, joining Court at a small table in the back.

  “He was a member of our brother club in Deacon. Nothing left of them now. Half are dead. Other half are in prison. This guy is the only one to get parole so far.”

  “I remember when the sheriff’s department rounded those guys up. Man, did they have an arsenal at the ready.”

  “We told them you guys were coming, but they didn’t do anything except dig their graves. A bunch of fucking showoffs. I’m not sure about this guy, Floyd. I didn’t deal with the Deacon guys much. Both Emmett and he are iffy, but they’re under forty, and that’s a demographic our club is lacking.”

  “Demographic?”

  Court smirks. “Justice is rubbing off on me. She said I ought to treat the club as a business and think about what kind of employees we want.”

  “So if this is an interview, what are you looking for from them?”

  “We need young guys, but we can’t have them trying to run the show. I need to get a feel for them. If they want to push me around, what are they going to try with old guys like Joe?”

  I reflect on the Rawkfist MC’s geriatric president and how he needed to choose a successor soon. “If you’ll be president one day, you should vet your future troops.”

  “I don’t want to be president,” Court says immediately.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like calling the shots.”

  “Right now, this very second, that might be true. I wouldn’t put it past you to be a bossy fucker in a decade or so. Like you said, Justice is rubbing off on you.”

  A smiling Court flips me off before glancing around the empty diner. Even the cook isn’t visible when we arrived, though he finally wanders out to take our order.

  “Where are Moe and Mae?” Court asks me while we wait.

  “I don’t know. I come here to eat, not ask questions.”

  “Of course, you’d never ask.”

  Before he can give me shit about Journey, we hear an approaching Harley. Not long afterward, a car desperately in need of a tune-up pulls up. I look at Court checking his phone. He plays the disinterested badass well.

  The first guy walks in with a woman and kid at his side. Tall and skinny, he’s wearing a ratty red shirt with grease stains and blue jeans missing the knees. Glancing around, he’s nervous as hell. His anxiety rubs off on me, and I’m glad I brought my personal firearm. While violence seems unlikely, I’d rather shoot first than die last.

  “Floyd,” Court says as if the guy might not spot us in the empty diner. “You gotta order from the cook. Have your woman and kid eat near the door. They can have whatever they want on my dime, but we need to talk in private.”

  The guy tugs at his thin blond ponytail. He’s still nervous, but Court’s easygoing demeanor calms him down some. The woman looks enough like Floyd to be his sister, but I don’t think they’re related. In some parts of West Virginia, everyone looks alike. The joke is they’re inbred from generations back. In reality, their families could all be traced back to the same parts of Europe and shared features rather than genetics.

  The woman and her toddler sit at a little table at the front. Floyd fumbles with a menu, trying to figure out what the place sells. I’ve always admired Moe and Mae’s willingness to make shit tricky for their customers. They almost dare people to eat here.

  “Who’s the guy outside?” Floyd says, finally joining us.

  “I don’
t know. I’m not outside,” Court replies like a smartass. I fight a smile because his woman has tainted his once nice guy demeanor. “Are your people solid now?”

  Floyd looks at where Court gestures to the woman and cranky child. “Yeah. Thanks for the grub. Our car broke down a while back, and we’ve been short on cash after fixing it.”

  “No problem.”

  The front door opens and our second interviewee arrives. He’s bigger than Floyd by a few inches in height and width. His hair is covered by a red, white, and blue do-rag. He’s wearing a red tank top and jeans that seem a size too big.

  “Hey, fucker!” he says, seeing Court.

  The men slap their right hands together and shake vigorously. I notice Floyd shifts his chair away from them before glancing at his woman and kid nearby. They have their drinks and what looks like potato skins. I watch the kid gnaw on his food. He sees me looking and smiles with a mouth full of potato and cheese.

  “Emmett, this is Floyd. You’re both looking to settle in Tumbling Rock.”

  The two men eye one another and give edgy head nods. I want to roll my eyes at their display. Dick wagging always makes me embarrassed for my gender.

  “You got any women in this town?” Emmett asks after ordering a beer.

  Court loses his relaxed expression. “Aren’t there women in every fucking town?”

  “I mean good women.”

  “I get you’ve been locked up, and your dick has urges, but is that your opening question?”

  Emmett turns a chair around and sits backward on it. “Now that I’m out of prison, I’m looking to go respectable. Find a woman, settle down, have a few rugrats, tell people I pay taxes. You know, the American dream stuff.”

  “We have women here,” Court says, and I catch his jaw twitching.

  “That’s good to hear. Back in my hometown, everyone was married off. It was slim pickings unless you wanted to drive over to Uptown with all those diseased Barbie dolls.”

  Court glances at me and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Emmett’s mouth and the Earlham will make a dangerous mix.

  After Floyd’s woman and kid get their food, he turns to Court and asks, “What kind of money is the club bringing in these days?”

  “We aren’t here to talk business,” Court instantly says. “We’re here to see if you make me uneasy. If I’m uneasy, my president will be uneasy too. This is just a hello, how are you, meet and greet. Nothing about business. Understand?”

  “Be cool, man. You know me.”

  “That was then,” Court says, giving me a quick glance. “I know you were part of a crew that fucking crashed and burned. I know you got less time than your brothers. I know you’re asking a lot of questions about things you don’t need the answers for. I know all kinds of shit, but I don’t know anything that makes me want to call you my brother.”

  “Is this one of your brothers?” Floyd asks, gesturing toward me. “Because I don’t see any patches on him. Seriously, who the fuck is this guy?”

  I tighten my crossed arms. “That question falls under business talk, and Court said we aren’t doing that today.”

  “Look, man, I’m not looking to start trouble. I can tell you why I got out earlier than my brothers. They started trouble in the joint by throwing around weight and acting like they were free men calling the shots. I kept my head down. You know why I did that even if I got called a coward?”

  Court gives him a curt head nod, and Floyd continues, “That lady right there. She didn’t run around on me when I got locked up. She and I were just fucking before I went to prison. She had my kid, but I didn’t think she was anything special. Except the other sluts like her ran off with other men once we got locked up. Not Ellie. She stayed loyal to me. She took care of my kid and brought him to see me in the joint. That woman did right by me, so I want to do right by her now. That means finding a place to live where she and my kid can be safe. If I come off too chatty, it ain’t because I’m a punk looking to start trouble. My only concern is keeping my woman around.”

  Court nods because he wants a loyal guy with something to lose. For me, Floyd’s words make too much fucking sense. Journey does right by me like no one else, and I need to keep her around. Floyd walked away from his old crew to make shit right for his woman. I need to be willing to do anything to make things right for Journey.

  The rest of our conversation involves the men talking about what motels they’re staying at and where they can find the best food. A broke Floyd’s more concerned about the price of everything. Emmett only wants the best of everything.

  I don’t focus on the rest of their conversation. My mind imagines tracking down Journey and saying the same kinds of things this man said about his woman. I don’t even sense Floyd loves his baby mama. He only wants to reward her for being loyal. Their relationship seems based on need rather than want, but he can easily say what needs to be said to keep his woman satisfied.

  39 Snake Charmers

  Journey

  Like many afternoons, I keep Otto busy with chores. My third-grade teacher used to say, “A restless kid is a troublemaking kid.” I don’t know if that’s true, but Otto seems to enjoy alone time with me, even when we’re doing boring stuff.

  Today, we walk around the yard, picking up Hal’s crap. Once again, I notice how much Otto needs a haircut. I reach out and swipe his bangs out of his eyes.

  If he were my kid, I’d have buzzed his hair short months ago. He’s too young to handle the mess of this hair every morning before school. Otto isn’t my kid, so I leave it long and hope his grandmother wants it chopped eventually.

  My relationship with Otto is much like the one I have with Donovan. They’re only partway mine. Sometimes, though, I forget this fact and begin making plans for our future. Then reality slaps me down.

  With Donovan, I want him, but I’m preparing for a painful end. With Otto, I worry every day I’ll get a call about Becca getting paroled.

  After we finish cleaning up after the dog, Otto and I walk around the acreage. He doesn’t talk and neither do I. These quiet moments remind me of my childhood before Paul showed up. Things were tricky when we first arrived in Indianapolis. Living in a tiny apartment, Christine, Justice, and I only had each other.

  Otto and I stop walking and glance back at the commotion occurring at Justice’s house.

  My sister chases Felix out of the front door. The laughing boy runs around the yard with his step-mom in pursuit. Court hurries outside with Matilda on his hip. Still getting chased, Felix finally laughs so much that he runs out of steam enough for Justice to catch him.

  Watching them, I’m flooded with a jealous heat. Justice is a pain in the ass, and her mouth never stops, but she’s also fearless. I thought I was too because I can throw a punch and face down an asshole. However, my heart is pathetically weak.

  Court and Justice paint the picture of a typical nuclear family. Matilda isn’t theirs any more than Otto is mine, but they never hold back with her. If Justice wants to chop the girl’s hair, she does. In her mind, Matilda and Felix belong to her. When she loves someone, Justice claims them completely.

  I crave such fearlessness. Too often, I look at Otto and worry about his future. Will he be mine in a week, month, or year?

  As Justice tickles Felix, I catch Otto watching me. Does he wish I was more like my sister? Or that he was more like his brother? Heck, maybe the kid is only staring at me because he wants something to eat.

  Rustling his too long hair, I gesture for Otto to follow me back to the house. We soon whip up a couple of sandwiches and watch TV with Poppy.

  By the time I tuck the boy in bed, my thoughts linger on the autumn of next year. I can’t be certain if Donovan and I will still be together. Or if Otto will live with me. Nothing feels concrete, and I’m exhausted by the uncertainty.

  Like many nights lately, Justice ends up back at our house while the kids sleep and Court makes calls about club business. Willfully blind to Rawkfist MC details, Justice joi
ns Christine, Poppy, and me to watch the evening Cartoon Network lineup.

  I stand behind the couch and check my phone to see if Donovan called while I was tucking Otto in bed. Finding no new messages, I hate how overwhelmed by disappointment I am.

  Lately, I second guess everything. Like should I have sucked it up and been nicer to his family? If they liked me, would they ease off the extra shifts? If I smiled at pretentious people and laughed at unfunny jokes, would they forget how my father is a long time member of a motorcycle club or how Jared did time years ago?

  Maybe they have expected me to apologize for his bad choices. If I had crapped on my father and distanced myself from him, would they have embraced me? If that’s what it took to get in their good graces, I was happy to remain on the outside.

  The reality is the Mooneys have strict rules on what makes a person acceptable. Even if I’d blown the entire garden party, I doubt they’d ever want me around.

  “Why so gloomy?” Justice asks, glancing back at me.

  I ignore her question, though her patting the couch entices me to join her. In the past, she’d rest her head on my lap while I played with her hair. Tonight, I’m the one needing cuddling.

  Justice plays with my hair while her gaze remains locked on the TV. The four of us enjoy comedy reruns we’ve seen dozens of times. The cats curl up with Poppy on the floor. Christine cuddles with Hal in her recliner.

  This relaxed routine is how things were for a long time. We enjoyed a quiet life before moving to Tumbling Rock. We knew where we belonged in the world as long as we were together.

  Now we have men and kids, and things are no longer so simple. Despite missing that simplicity, I never wish to return to a time without Otto or Donovan. They own my heart as much as my sisters and parents do. Even if I can only keep them in my life for a little bit longer.

  40 Snake Charmers

  Donovan

  I sit in my patrol car and stare at the empty highway. A part of me has always hated this job. I’d signed up for the sheriff’s department and gone through training to prove something. Had I succeeded in making my point? Did my family respect me more for being like them? Could I live down my outlaw father and wild mother’s histories? The answer was always no, but I hadn’t been brave enough to face that reality until now.