Butch

by Trent Jordan

  “I dated a girl many years ago when I was younger,” he said. “Her brother fucking hated my guts. Like, hated me enough that he didn’t pretend to be pleasant with me when the girl was around. He’d openly mock me whenever he could, which was all the time. I didn’t give a shit. I knew he was kind of right.”

  Brian let out a long snort.

  “He said I was a bad influence on her. Much as I hated his guts for constantly trying to break us apart, I can’t say he was wrong. I partied hard, did drugs, was generally an asshole, but I always treated the girl well.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “Well, almost always well.”

  For the briefest of moments, I thought I’d heard Brian’s voice waver. I thought that I had heard hints of regret, vulnerability. I was probably just searching too hard, though. He probably had just swallowed some dust by accident.

  “About a year into our relationship, we had a bad fight. About what, I don’t really remember, and it doesn’t even fucking matter. As a result of that fight, I cheated on her. And her brother found out.”

  Well, there’s honesty, and then there’s radical honesty. And I think we’re sailing right to something beyond that. Telling me that now…

  I kind of appreciate it, in a way.

  “Her brother confronted me. I was an asshole and just said that it was none of his damn business, which was true. He said he would tell my girlfriend, his sister. I said go right on ahead, and then we’d figure it out. I don’t think he took kindly to feeling so brushed off. So he punched me. I shoved him back. I was much bigger than him and told him that if he hit me again, I’d kill him. I don’t think he believed I actually would.”

  He really did…

  “He found a knife and plunged it into my upper back. Luckily for me, he missed the spine and any important organs. Unluckily for him, I lost control. I became a fucking animal—no, that’s not strong enough. I became a demon. I became the devil incarnate. I killed him with my own hands.”

  He then paused and looked at his own hands, his own literal weapons of murder. I’d never had anyone confess murder to me before, and I had to admit, it was a little terrifying. Brian may have acted in self-defense, but it was also clear that Brian was someone who, once he lost control, went to a degree that no one else did. His dark side made other people’s dark sides look like rainbows and sunshine.

  “I realized after what I had done. I didn’t need to kill him. I could have just knocked him out, broken his wrist, made it clear he could stand up for his sister but not fuck with me. I didn’t regret killing him, but I regretted knowing how much it would hurt others, including my girlfriend. I knew that I couldn’t remain in Iowa, where this all went down. So… I cleaned up. I knew how. I ran away. And I changed everything about me. My identity. My name. Everything.”

  “So, Brian Young…”

  He nodded.

  “I can’t have enough layers of protection,” he said. “I came here because it’s where I can be anonymous.”

  That didn’t seem like the whole reason for him coming here. He could have been anonymous anywhere. Did he still want the chance to fight more? Or was he somehow believing he could be redeemed for what he did?

  “Well, I appreciate you telling me the truth,” I said.

  Trying to make sense of it all was far too much to digest. I know that had I met Brian—or whatever his real name was—before I fell into this spot, I would have gone running in the opposite direction, never to see him again. I would have put so much distance between us that he wouldn’t have known where to begin searching for me.

  But I knew what it felt like to be pushed to the outskirts of society. I knew what it felt like to feel useless because of your past. Granted, my past had been a lot more tragic, his a lot darker, but still. Maybe I was just making excuses for him, and by no means was I trying to look past anything as gruesome as bare-handed murder. I was very aware that all of this could end with me having to run for my life.

  I just figured there was more to the story than I was learning, and that Brian had probably become a better man in the years since. Or, at the very least, a more aware man.

  “Am I ever going to learn your real name?”

  The question came without me really thinking it. I guess my yearning for authentic connection was very real and very strong.

  “Doubtful.”

  Well, at least he’s still honest and straightforward.

  “And even if you can look past all of that, even if you are somehow crazy enough to believe that I have changed or that I’m not the bad person I seem like from this story, you won’t want to be in Springsville or near the Black Reapers in the coming weeks.”

  This was new. This was something I definitely wasn’t expecting to hear.

  “Things are getting tense in the clubhouse,” he said. “There’s going to be a hell to pay on a lot of sides, and there’s going to be a reckoning that’s going to turn a lot of things upside down.”

  “Why?”

  But Brian didn’t even pretend to acknowledge my question. He just kept charging ahead.

  “When the reckoning comes, no one will want to be at the club, because there are going to be some serious fissures and full-on splits in there,” he said. “Violence. Fights. Accusations. It’ll all go down. If we’re lucky and we can control it, the damage will be minimal, and we’ll be able to corral the worst of it. If we’re not, then there won’t be a club at the end of the day.”

  “Why?”

  But this time, instead of Brian ignoring me by just continuing to talk, he ignored me through silence, staring straight out to the town of Springsville, lit up in the miles ahead of us. There was something oddly serene about how if I just shut off my mind and went silent, everything would seem peaceful—and yet the second I let my mind turn back on, it would go back to the fact that Brian had just revealed so much darkness and violence to me that anyone who had a functioning brain would listen to him and run the hell away.

  But practically, where else did I have to go? I didn’t say that for pity. It was just a very factual statement. I’d been so long gone from the life of Hollywood and Los Angeles that I was as much a stranger to the scene as some kid from North Dakota who had never seen a movie in theaters. And as for Brian, again, while I wasn’t about to say he was an innocent man who was misunderstood, I also couldn’t pretend that I couldn’t relate to him far more than many other people could.

  “Well, you don’t have to answer me, but I don’t think you can get rid of me that easily,” I said, pushing my back against the bench and his forearm. “I’ve got no place else to go. Maybe in six months, that’ll be different, but this is where I am. And even if you are a criminal and a murderer, I don’t think you’re a bad person right now. Or, at least, you have good in you that can help you.”

  Brian looked at me with a look that I hadn’t seen him give anyone, most of all me—hurt. He looked like no one else had said anything like that to him. Maybe he had just assumed he was destined to be a monster his whole life. He finally knows how I felt when he actually acknowledged me as a human being.

  And maybe that’s why I’m not running away. Not because I’m not scared of his past, because it’s certainly a little bit concerning. But because I know what it’s like to be shunned, and I don’t want anyone to go through that.

  He rested his hand on my knee, squeezed, and even, much to my pleasant surprise, genuinely smiled at me. I didn’t think Brian could do anything other than give a smile except for ironic or special effect, but I knew a real, appreciative smile when I saw one. It’d been some time since I had, but here I was.

  “You’re brave, perhaps foolish,” he said.

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  Brian snorted.

  “I couldn’t tell you why I felt the need to tell you all of that,” he said. “I guess I felt a kindred spirit.”

  Now it was my turn to put my hand on his knee and laugh, leaning into his shoulder. Casual
flirting like this felt so nice and so relaxing.

  “That’s literally the exact same reason as to why I wanted to see if there was anything here,” I said. “You’re the only person to treat me as human.”

  I figured that such a statement would warm Brian’s heart and make that icy exterior melt even more, but instead, it just made him clam up and look the other way. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what would make Brian perk up—or, I did, but it just threw me for a loop so hard that I struggled to understand it and warm up to it.

  “You deserve better than me.”

  Maybe so.

  “If that’s the case,” I said. “You deserve to treat yourself better than you are.”

  “No,” he said forcefully.

  A long, long pause came. I knew he had more to say. But if I said anything else, I feared Brian would use it as an excuse to just shut down entirely.

  “I’m a monster.”

  It was all he said. And yet, I don’t think he had any idea just how ridiculous he sounded—not so much in the fact that he was a monster, but in the unstated words.

  “And other people aren’t?” I said, thinking about Shane and all that he had done to me. “You’re just willing to admit it and accept it.”

  In the brief silence that followed, I thought about Shane and how he had acted. Like a fucking coward. Shane wasn’t a monster to my face—he went behind my back, framed me for accusations, and got me fired. To this day, Shane had never really said a cruel word to my face, but that made me even more disgusted with him. If he’d acted like an asshole to my face, at least he’d have some semblance of courage.

  Instead, he hid behind the mask of office politics and gamesmanship. That was a real monster. Brian was a man who had the potential to be a terrible man—potential that had been fulfilled, in fact—but his awareness of it had since made him a guy who was good, or at least more selective about unleashing his worst side.

  “I know what it’s like to be hurt, far worse than you can ever guess,” I said. “And I don’t mean physically. Those scars heal. The ones that don’t are the ones that are beneath the skin.”

  And as I said those words, I thought of how Shane had messaged me less than an hour ago. I thought of how he had apologized and asked how I was. I thought…

  I thought of how sick it made me feel to see his presence again, and how sick it was that a part of me wanted to forgive him.

  But I also thought of how great Brian looked in comparison.

  Wasn’t that something? That the confessed murderer was a better match for me than the man who would never get prosecuted in federal court?

  “You’re willing to admit that you have done some terrible things, and because of that, you’re more trustworthy than many people that I’ve come across.”

  Butch looked at me, silently mouthed the word “really?” and looked away, shaking his head.

  “I suppose this means we need to go on a real date now, huh?” he said.

  “Yep,” I said pridefully. “You said it wasn’t nothing? This is your chance.”

  Brian grimaced, still apparently not convinced of this being a good idea.

  “Look, do I expect us to fall in love and live happily ever after? Do I expect us to be soul mates for each other? No and no. I have no expectations. That could happen. Probably not. But I do know that you’ve treated me well, and I like you.”

  I knew this was a serious moment, but I couldn’t help but confess to what I said next.

  “And you’re hot and really well endowed.”

  I finally got a laugh out of Brian that he didn’t try and cut off after two seconds, perhaps afraid of what I might have thought if he laughed any longer. In fact, I dared to say Brian was laughing out of embarrassment as he was anything else. It was kind of sweet to see.

  “Alright,” he said. “I’ve warned you about me. If something happens where you feel like you’re not safe around me, leave.”

  “I will,” I said, and I meant it.

  “Everything you said is true, but it’s also true that I could be a terrible person, and I don’t want you to suffer because of that. So just… don’t fall for me too hard, too fast. The monster is only a snap moment away.”

  I knew that. But it was a monster that I’d know was there immediately.

  “When can we go out?”

  “Damn, patience,” Brian said with a smile. “Next Saturday work?”

  I nodded.

  “Then let me get you to back to your car. You’ve got a couple of nights off before you have to deal with my terrible ass.”

  It’s not a terrible ass, Brian. It’s a great ass.

  But for real, you’re not as bad as you think you are.

  I just hope you realize that.

  This time, on the bike ride home, I kept my eyes open. I felt like I didn’t have to keep them closed to understand Brian any longer.

  When we pulled up to the parking space with my car, I looked to the shop I’d first seen Brian and Axle. Axle was still with his girlfriend in there. And what was great about that?

  I genuinely didn’t feel anything but happiness for him.

  This wasn’t like I was trying to say that for the sake of posturing. I wasn’t trying to put up a facade for myself. In my deepest core, I really was genuinely happy that the guy I’d first had the most longing for had found someone who cared for him, maybe even loved him.

  Maybe that was because of Brian. Or maybe it was just because someone, in general, cared about me more than for a quickie. But regardless of the reason, it gave me a lot of hope for the future.

  I hopped off the bike and leaned forward to kiss him, but Brian only gave me his cheek.

  “Later,” he said.

  It was said with a hint of a promise in his voice. I looked over and saw Axle glancing over his shoulder. Brian still acts like he needs to keep his act up in front of the club.

  That’s fine. I’ll get him to break eventually.

  I watched Brian then peel out and drive away quickly, ignoring the fact that my phone was buzzing with a new text message in my pocket again. I might have had to wait a week to have a real interaction with him again, but it was a week I could wait out.

  I finally had something in my life to look forward to that could put my soul genuinely at ease.

  Butch

  Being with Thea was a far more wonderful feeling than I would ever admit to anyone else. I struggled to admit it to myself.

  But those good feelings almost entirely went to the wayside over the course of the next week as tensions in the Black Reapers became as thick as they ever had.

  For as much as Lane had talked about “being aggressive about not making a decision,” he didn’t schedule a meeting in advance of the typical Thursday meeting. That led to plenty of grumbling from the likes of Patriot and Red Raven, and the fact that Patriot and Lane were butting heads was as bad a sign for the club’s leadership stability as anything else. I feared that Lane was falling into his old bad habits of passive detachment, trying to stay above the fray for fear of being hurt, but it wasn’t my place to say anything.

  As it usually went, nothing happened while I was around. The closest man in size to me was Axle, and the last time he and I had fought, though he’d gotten a few good blows on me, I could have easily killed him if I really wanted to. In any case, I saw Axle as an ally in my attempts to get rid of Red Raven, not someone to fight.

  But there were plenty of arguments and grumblings that I heard about through the grapevine. Red Raven had apparently cursed out Lane, and I couldn’t ever recall Red Raven coming after someone outside of a meeting. Obviously, I had my strong suspicions as to why, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t mark serious trouble in the club. Patriot and Lane apparently had a loud shouting match outside of the club headquarters. Even Father Marcellus caught flack from Red Raven, a conflict that I would never have envisioned happening in all of the years I’d been with the club.

  No one came to me to push back,
but I think that had more to do with fear of physical reprisal and an awareness it wouldn’t do any good more than it did not having any gripes with me.

  All of this was to say that when it came time for the Thursday meeting, there was no small talk in the minutes just before. No one sauntered in and shook hands with anyone else. No one was even smoking or drinking, although it was very evident that there had been some cigarettes smoked in the minutes just before.

  We all sat and waited on Lane in silence, the clock ticking closer and closer to seven in the evening. One minute before being too late, Lane opened the door and walked in. He took a moment to pause and look around, cognizant of how the whole scene looked before him, but he wisely kept his mouth shut as he walked to his sheet.

  “Was wondering if you were going to be late,” Patriot said.

  Lane glared at him, and Patriot turned his gaze down. Lane gave everyone else the chance to speak, but we all kept our mouth shut.

  “Let’s set some ground rules before this meeting begins,” Lane said. “We’re going to be respectful of each other in this meeting and not turn it into a personal attack session. We’re also going to turn this into a vote at the end of the meeting for a strike or not. I don’t fucking care if it takes us until four in the morning to come to a decision. I need at least four people in this room to vote one way or the other. I have my opinion, but I am going to keep it to myself. For now, though, does anyone have any new information to give?”

  Patriot cleared his throat, but he did not look up at the rest of the room.

  “Kaitlyn told me that some at the hospital are now anticipating more violent attacks,” he said, sounding defeated. “And so they have doubled down on the security and police presence there. And that’s just the official response. That doesn’t say anything for what the Saints are doing.”

  “So in other words,” Axle said. “A strike is probably not possible any longer.”