“I thought he killed you.” Shit. She must have seen what happened to my car. How was I going to explain that? “I went back to get you, to apologize for running out, but the garage was on fire, and I saw that Cupid boy running away. I thought… oh Gracie. I thought he had taken you away from us.”
I had to hug her back. She had spent the last few hours thinking I was dead. That had to have been so difficult for her, especially considering she had been sent to protect me. I felt so guilty for the worry I had caused her.
“I’m fine. Aunt Kathryn, I’m fine.”
I turned her around, wanting to sit her down on the porch swing. As I twisted, I saw my father’s figure taking up the entire doorframe. He looked down at me from behind the screen, his face reddening with every breath.
“What Cupid boy?”
Ryan
“Pops, you here?”
I strolled through his house, peeking in each room as I passed. It was the home I’d grown up in, but it had been so long since I had run my hands down these walls. I was trying to remain calm, convincing myself that he had nothing to do with Grace’s car. After my altercation with Sean, I took off. I didn’t want to see anyone. I walked to the river and sat there for hours. I felt so alone: no bike, no girlfriend, and no family. But I couldn’t let my wallowing go on any longer. Things needed to be said. I needed to know where I stood with my club.
Passing the staircase, I noticed the basement door was slightly ajar. Voices rose up from the depths, and I quietly made my way down the old stairs, ready to encounter anything.
Even if I had prepared myself for it, I was still stunned to find my brothers meeting for Church without my knowledge. What could this be about?
Sean was standing at the helm, with Pops leaning up against the wall. All the guys slumped in their seats, listening vehemently to Sean’s apparent speech. On the table were an assortment of guns: a .357 Magnum blue-steel revolver, a Norinco 84-S assault rifle, a Smith & Wesson 9mm pistol, a Glenfield .22 semiautomatic rifle, a Charter Arms .44 Special revolver, and my favorite for target practice, a Beretta Express SS06 shotgun.
“What’s with the secret meeting?” I broke up the party. No one had heard me enter. The guys all looked at me, some seemingly angry, some hurt, some confused. Sean must have told them about Grace.
My uncle continued on as if I wasn’t there. “So after everything I’ve brought to light today, I would like to propose that we strip Ryan of his colors.”
I may have toyed with the idea of getting out, but never did I think I’d be kicked out of my own club. The guys spoke up, all against Sean’s request.
“Are you kidding us, Sean?”
“You killed his broad. I think he learned his lesson.”
“He’s our family.”
“The Shadows will be after him now. We can’t let him out on the streets on his own.”
Even after all the pain I had caused this club, they still stuck up for me, vowed to protect me. I could say what I wanted about their need for violence and crime, but their love for one another was stronger than anything a single person could ever imagine.
Pops finally chimed in. “Sean, drop this now.”
“No, there’s no way. I’m right about this. Take his colors. We’re burning off his tattoo.” His eyes caught mine as he lifted a lighter from his pocket.
“The room is against you on this. We’re not kicking Ryan out.”
I was shocked, unable to speak. The ramifications of my actions were taking shape and my uncle, my own flesh and blood, was recommending the burning off of my tattoo. It was an act that could possibly kill me. What had I done to make him hate me so much?
I stepped forward, requesting a private session with Sean. He spit in my face at the invitation, promising to make me pay for the suffering I had brought to this club. His spit slowly slid down my cheek, allowing me time to regain my composure. But as the liquid picked up speed, so did my anger. I lunged at Sean, wanting so badly to see him dead.
I jabbed, but his anticipation moved him back, and my energy was wasted in that thrown punch. He crossed to my ribs and sent a hook directly into my temple. This was my game. How was I allowing him to beat me? He grabbed my shoulders and held me in place as he used his head to throw back my jaw. So we weren’t playing by the rules? Fine by me. I sent my knee into his hip, crippling him to the ground. I had lost it. I began kicking his ribs, his stomach, and anything that the toe of my boot could contact. Finally, Pop’s voice brought me back to reality.
“Both of you, out!” He boomed.
I stalled, mid kick, staring at him. Both of us? This was my childhood home, and I was being asked to leave.
He pushed the air from his lungs, his lips trembling at the expulsion. “Actually, everyone out. I don’t want to see your faces anymore.”
The silence was deafening until one of the guys spoke up. “Hey Prez, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to take on the Shadows. There’s no doubt they’re coming after us.”
His hands moved to his temples as he weighed the consequences of the rivalry. “Take tonight off. Be with your ol’ ladies and your kids. Tomorrow we’ll meet for Church: talk about finishing this off once and for all.”
“Here again, Pops?” Even if he was angry with me, there was no way I was being left out of another meeting.
“Not you. I don’t want either of you here. Figure out where your loyalties lie, and then come talk to me.”
He walked up the steps of his own basement, leaving the rest of the crew alone. I slammed my fist into an old stereo, shattering the glass across my knuckles.
“Fuck me.” I thundered. I left the broken glass and stormed off, preparing to wrap my bleeding hand and spend Thanksgiving alone in my shit-hole apartment.
Grace
“No Dad, it was a misunderstanding.”
“What Cupid, Grace?” His tone sent my heart racing.
“Patrick…” Aunt Kathryn raced up to him. “It’s my fault. I let this happen. Don’t blame Gracie.”
What was she trying to take credit for? She had nothing to do with my car exploding.
He slowly opened the screen door and shot his left hand out, grabbing Aunt Kathryn by her collar.
“Stop!” I begged.
Still holding her off the ground, he backhanded her across the face and dropped her to the wood panels. She didn’t say a word, just caught herself on her hands and turned her gaze toward me.
Everything seemed to happen so fast. His eyes moved from hers to mine and he approached the spot where I stood.
“Dad. It’s not like it sounds.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, not at all.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Dad…” What was I supposed to say? How could I lie to him?
“Grace, who is the Cupid boy?”
He was standing over top of me. I had never feared him so much in my entire life. I had never known just how tall, how large he was until that moment. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head to the side. I don’t know for what I was preparing myself.
His voice turned to a whisper, and I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. “Tell me what happened, now.” He grabbed my jaw and turned my head to face his. My eyes shot open, staring directly into his widened pupils.
“Someone blew up my car.” I stuttered, trying to steady my shallow breath. “But Dad, it wasn’t Ryan. I know it wasn’t Ryan. He would never hurt me.”
“Ryan?” I saw the realization hit his face. “Cassidy? Are you fucking Ryan Cassidy?”
Why had I said his name? What had I done?
“Dad, no!” I reached out to hold him back from God only knows, and he responded by slapping me across my face and tossing me to the ground. It was the first time my father had ever struck me. I started to cry. It was such a childish thing to do, but I couldn’t help the rush of feelings.
Still on the ground, Aunt Kathryn pulled me into her, trying to quiet my tears. “It�
�s okay, Gracie. It’ll be okay.”
He stood over the two of us, unfazed by our shock. “Get in the cage now. We’re going to Church.”
Dad walked inside, slamming the door behind him. Aunt Kathryn and I scurried to our feet and cautiously moved toward her car.
The bikes were already there as we pulled around back of the clubhouse. We stayed locked in until Dad retrieved his colors from the trunk. One of the many MC rules was that you were not allowed to wear your colors while in a car, or cage, as they called it. It was another silly regulation that I would not miss once I left this life for good. The question that then rolled through my mind was how I would be leaving this life.
The trunk slammed shut, and Dad kicked the door, signaling us to crawl out of the vehicle. We slowly followed him inside and sat by the door.
“Grace, I want you in here.”
“But…”
“No buts. Get your ass into this meeting.”
Aunt Kathryn and I exchanged worried glances, but I did as I was told. The officers and a few older club members were already gathered around the long table. My father sauntered to his seat, but never sat down.
“Today we’re going to plan Ryan Cassidy’s death.”
“No!” I screamed. I didn’t mean to, it just came out.
They all looked at me. I saw the realization hit everyone at once. They knew there was something between Ryan and me.
“And that’s why we’re killing him.” My dad said, pointing his thumb at me.
The guys jumped in, agreeing. They were pathetically excited to carry out such an important task for their president.
“Nineteen years ago, the elder Cassidy killed my wife, and now today, his prodigy tried to take away my little girl. I should’ve killed him then, but it’ll be so much sweeter to watch them both die at my own hand.”
There was applause, screaming, but time had stopped for me. Dad knew this entire time that it was Ryan’s father who had shot my mom? Ryan’s father was the one who I watched rape her? And then…and then I let his son inside of me. I felt sick. I wanted to throw up. I didn’t want to be there any longer.
I felt my face pale and bile start to attack my throat.
“Gracie,” my father was addressing me, but the room had begun to spin, “I want you to be there when I kill him; when I jab a knife into his heart.”
How was he saying this to me? Why was he getting so much pleasure out of it?
“We leave tonight. After turkey, of course.” He shot a wink in my direction. I couldn’t handle the torture anymore. I race out of the room, running past Aunt Kathryn and out into the parking lot. I needed the fresh, cold air against my face.
I hit the ground and screamed. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I started pounding my fists against the black top, unaware that my knuckles had started to bleed.
“Grace!” I heard my father yell. He was looking for me, but I didn’t want to be found. I had nowhere to go, but I knew I couldn’t stay in the parking lot. I picked myself up and began to run. The bitter wind battered my tear stained cheeks, but the external pain was muted by the death I felt inside of me. I could still hear him calling as I raced down the street, but there was no turning back. Not only had he swung at me, but he also demanded I witness the murder of someone I cared about. I promised myself that would be the last time I would willingly see my father.
Patrick Brennan had gone too far.
I found the hidden bike and started the booming engine. The only place I wanted to be was in Ryan’s arms. After all the stories, the warnings about his family, he was the only person left who made me feel safe. There was now no doubt in my mind that Ryan would never hurt me. But that didn’t mean his father wouldn’t.
The miles sped by: Huntingdon, Mill Creek, Mount Union, Juniata. I didn’t even see the passing towns. When I came up on Harrisburg, an image flashed through my mind. It was a face from the night I was shot.
Someone touched my forehead, my cheek. I opened my eyes and was staring at an older man, an older Ryan. He moved my hair from my face and sighed. His lips pursed and his brow furrowed.
I was certain that haunting face was Ryan’s father. That man could have let me die in that field. But his face, the way he looked at me, there was no hatred there. He couldn’t have killed my mother. Dad must have been wrong about him.
I had to warn Ryan. He and his father were in danger, and it was my fault. At last I had a destination. I might not be welcome on their property, but I would make my intentions known. I would find Ryan, find his father, and…and…and then what?
Who’s to say they wouldn’t shoot me on the spot? Hell, one of them tried to blow up my car. Ryan was right: I never thought about my own well-being. Did I not care about my life? Was I subconsciously asking for some sort of ending?
But now was not the time to worry about my secret death wish. Dangerous or not, I would not be able to live with myself if something happened to Ryan and I had been able to stop it.
The sun had put itself to sleep and the lights were waking up on boathouse row. The skyscrapers shined up ahead and the museum majestically stood on the river edge. It really was a beautiful city. I prayed it would still be beautiful once The Walking Shadows had done their damage.
I had no problem finding the home of The Blood of Cupids MC. It seemed that everything from that night had been burned into my brain. I killed the engine and backed Ryan’s bike up against the curb. There was only one other bike there. Hopefully I’d be able to talk some sense into its owner. Hopefully they’d trust me enough to bring me to Ryan.
“Hello?” I called, arms in the air. “I need to speak with someone.”
I quickly turned at the sound of broken sticks behind me, but no one was there. The field was empty, except for myself. I guess I was just hearing things.
All of a sudden, a forearm was around my neck, pulling me back. I couldn’t breathe.
“Why hello, Gracie. Do you remember me?”
I couldn’t see his face, but the voice…the voice I remembered.
“I…can’t…breathe…” I choked out. I tried to kick my feet, but my energy was waning. “Please…”
“Shhh.” He whispered. I felt his lips on my jawline, and then he nipped at my ear.
“No.” I squeaked with my last breath.
“Shhh.”
The lights dimmed around me.
September 3rd, 1994
My J,
This past year and a half has been absolutely thrilling. The excitement of our secret love affair has made bearable all the days in between. I wake up each day awaiting a new adventure. Without a doubt in my mind, I can profess to you my love.
But my love for my child is something that cannot be measured.
After our last rendezvous, I arrived at our farmhouse to find my husband home early. He questioned my whereabouts, and I could not find an excuse. With Grace still in my arms, I was thrown to the floor, splitting my lip in two. I am not proud, or claiming his act to be his right, but I chose my fate when I married him. I know you cannot truly understand this, but I wear his patch, and therefore it is me who is in the wrong.
This time has to be it, J. I cannot risk leaving my beautiful little girl motherless. I cannot allow her to make the same mistakes as I have.
Goodbye, J. I will love you today, tomorrow, and past the light.
Always,
E
Ryan- Present Day
I paced back and forth in my room. I had no idea when Grace would be back or how I was supposed to reclaim my bike. In the hustle of events, we hadn’t gotten that far. I wondered desperately what had happened with her aunt and father. Did I have to be worried? Would they be coming after me like my brothers suggested?
I kept checking out my window. I don’t know what I expected to see, but it helped the time go by. I was fairly certain that within the next few hours, Grace would be coming for me. And if she didn’t, The Walking Shadows MC certainly would.
The worst part was
that I couldn’t even talk to Pops about it. He was so angry with me for losing my temper with Sean, but what did he expect? Had someone attempted to kill the woman he’d planned to run away with, I’m sure his reaction would have been fairly similar.
I started to pack. I wouldn’t need much, I didn’t need much, but there were a few things that I still cared enough about that I would want to take with me on my next journey. I grabbed a backpack and began to toss in the staples. Clothes, bathroom supplies, a wad of cash I’d hidden away for a rainy day, and a few pictures. I never put them in any sort of album, I really wasn’t that type of guy, but I knew where they were, and always had them in order. I flipped through the stack, reliving some happy moments in my childhood.
My mom left us right about the time Pops joined the Cupids. The pictures before were so different, cleaner. We looked like a happy little family. But then came the club years. Pops began his leather phase and grew out his beard. As I grew taller, he grew older, grayer. His worry lines deepened with each image.
I stopped at a picture from my sixteenth birthday. I really did love those guys. I loved the parties, the alcohol, and the drugs. When with the club, I felt invincible, which seemed pretty impossible for any other teenager. Because I had the support of an outlaw motorcycle club, no one messed with me. At an age where everyone else squirmed under the scrutiny of their peers, I was the one people feared and respected.
Only two years later, when Pops moved from treasurer-secretary to president, I was given my bottom rocker. I wore my new cut with pride, begging for everyone in town to cower as I walked by. And they did. I felt powerful.
Over the past seven years the pictures became less frequent. Even with only the select few, I could watch my smile dissipate as the club wore on me. Once you get over the excitement of crime life, you’re left with only a family. I guess the family just stopped being enough for me.
I threw the pictures into my bag and secured the zipper, but there was one thing I didn’t want to leave without. I lifted up my mattress and pulled out a Jennings .22 semiautomatic pistol. This baby was staying inside my jacket, just in case. I learned at an early age that you could never be too careful.
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