by Xander Hades
And then there was the rest of it. “None of his business?” What the hell kind of thing was that to say? It took their history, their time and threw it all away. It was his business because he cared for her and always would. It was his business because he’d ended up owing Hitmon more money than he’d probably make in a lifetime.
He checked his speed. It would look particularly awkward if he was arrested for speeding on the way back from jail. Sure enough, he was going a little…ok a lot faster…than what was posted. He took a deep breath and focused on the road, the thrum of the engine, the feel of the wind in his hair.
Was she right? The thought came through the zen of the open road, perched on his mind and waited patiently for him to listen. Was she right? Did he have a great need to control, was he so riveted in holding the reins that he had too hard of a grip?
The entrance to the park was shut down for the night, but the rest area was still available. Hoodoo pulled over and parked under a street light, more for the safety of the bike than of his own. He would welcome an opportunity to work off some frustration, let the muggers come to him.
With his luck, he’d be arrested for self-defense. He stood, stretched and walked around a little. There were a few who stayed all the way out here in the boonies, late-comers who couldn’t lay claim to an empty patch of dirt closer like Tracy had. Some in RVs, some in bikes, some in cars. He kept his distance, though, not in the mood to be social, throwing a wave when someone shouted a hello.
He leaned against the building and enjoyed the cool of the stone blocks against his back. When Tracy came to Phoenix, he’d been ecstatic. Not just because he was going to get some time with her, although that was a huge factor. But she was coming across the country, 2,000 miles just because he was there at the other end of the journey. That was… incredible. The fact that she would take the time, make arrangements and go through all the trouble for no other reason than to be near Hoodoo meant that she felt the same about him.
She’d confessed as much when she arrived. it was the first time she’d said “I love you” but the fact of her journey to say it had already proven the words. For some reason, he’d thought that there had been a turning point, a new direction for them both. It seemed that the new path was opening for him. For them.
But later, she’d asked him…no, begged him, to come back to Chicago with her. She couldn’t leave forever, she’d said. She had work and family there. He pointed out that he had work in Phoenix, that the Gilas were his family there, that she was asking of him what she wouldn’t do. So had begun the argument that had ended it all.
That night was the worst of his life. Instead of holding her, he slept alone. Instead of talking, he stayed silent. Her father was newly released from the hospital just then, and finally allowed to be returned to work. He understood her not wanting to leave him for very long, but the man was growing stronger with each passing day, or so she informed him. He hadn’t sounded particularly anxious for her to come home the last time she’d called, so why the hell did he have to be the one…
Hoodoo couldn’t stand still anymore. He left the shelter of the building and found a copse of trees surrounding a single picnic table. Without stopping to think about it, without realizing he was doing it until it was done, he drew up the frustrations and resentment in his fist and hit the base of the largest tree with the meaty edge. It hurt like hell, and the tree shook and rained leaves and dust down on him. Damn it. So he was controlling. That didn’t have to be a bad thing. That didn’t mean that he loved her less.
She’d wanted him to butt out. The bike was hers. It was stolen. The cousin was hers. So that meant, that by extension, the problem was hers. After all, hadn’t she left him? Again? They were no longer together and her life wasn’t his to control. It never was.
So, yes, he was just supposed to turn his back on the woman he loved. He was supposed to walk away from the injustice and injury. The bike was never his. Tracy was once, but even she wasn’t his anymore.
That brought him up short. Tracy wasn’t his anymore. He’d never thought about it, in all this time, in so many words and the words hurt. She wasn’t his and wasn’t going to be.
“You can be right,” Mamma Leonna’s voice echoed in his ears, “or you can be happy.” Mamma had given him a long searching look and sighed. “In your case, you have a better chance at being happy.”
“Well, I for sure ain’t happy now, Momma.” Hoodoo said, leaning against the tree. “I don’ even know what it was I did to screw it up, I was just…”
I was just holding on. I didn’t want to lose her, and I held too tight.
Being in control wasn’t a bad thing. Being in control meant being ready, being able to handle whatever came up. Being able to… being able to dictate how the world revolved. Hoodoo took a breath and thought about that.
Her bike. Her life. It wasn’t about that little shit Joey, it wasn’t about Hoodoo’s girl getting ripped off, it wasn’t about Hoodoo’s investment. The insane need to pay off Hitmon more money than he ever could make was putting a tear in that friendship too and it didn’t matter a bit to him. It was important to Hoodoo and he’d pay it back if he had to cram it down Hitmon’s throat.
Ok, so I’m an ass. It was remarkably easy to say, although it sounded a lot like Momma Leonna’s voice. So, what’s next?
“Standing in a rest area talking to a tree in the dark ain’t helpful,” he said to the tree, then added somewhat shamefaced, “sorry about the punch,” and strode back to the bike.
When he arrived at the RV, the lights were out and curtains drawn. He wasn’t about to come pounding on the door and waking her just to announce that he was trying to be more considerate. Morning would be soon enough.
It was a quiet ride back to the campsite.
“Hey, Hoodoo,” a quiet voice greeted him as he shut down the bike.
“Val? You’re still up?”
“Can’t sleep,” she admitted. She was sitting on the ground next to her tent, wrapped in a blanket against the nighttime chill. When she looked up, she seemed lost in the folds. “Been thinking a lot.”
“There’s a lot of that going around.” Hoodoo said ruefully, hoping it was too dark for her to notice his raw and bloody knuckles.
“Maybe… maybe we should head home,” she said hesitantly, her hand twisting the edge of the blanket. “Maybe this year isn’t our year?”
“You’re not afraid of those thugs, are you?” He blinked. Val had never had any fears about anything that she let on.
“No. It’s not them.” Val looked at the ground, at the bikes, at the revelers who were still drinking, anywhere but at him. “You’re… different here. You know?”
“What? How?” Hoodoo leaned over to hear her better. When Val was uncertain of where she stood, her voice grew very quiet.
Val lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. Back home, you’re… you’re always sure of yourself. You have plans and everything is… organized. Here, you’re… it’s like you’re… overwhelmed. I think your art is amazing, but selling it like so many oranges… It’s not you, boss.”
Hoodoo nodded. “It wasn’t me,” he admitted, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope. No, it wasn’t him. But it wasn’t too late to find himself – his true self. He smiled suddenly, feeling more optimistic than he’d felt since they’d gotten there. “I think, in the morning, I’ll probably be back again.”
Val smiled a tenuous smile. “Good. I miss you.”
“Val.” Hoodoo said as he crawled into the tent he’d brought, “Get on a pretty dress, you’re meeting Rocky tomorrow.”
As fast as Hoodoo was, he couldn’t completely avoid the kick well-aimed at his backside.
Chapter Sixteen
“So,” Mad-dog said, stretching outside their tent. The hour was early, and hardly anyone was up yet. “Back to the booth?”
“Nah.” Hoodoo said, trying to work out the kinks in his own back. Somewhere in the course of the night his air m
attress had deflated, leaving him flat on the ground. Not the most auspicious start to the day. “Not today.” He looked around and cracked a smile. “Got no product to sell. Tracy has it all.”
“You didn’t get it from her last night?” Mad-dog cocked an eyebrow, “I take it the reunion went well?”
“If you count me being tol’ to stay out of her life as going well, I suppose…” Hoodoo said and shrugged like it didn’t matter. “But I wouldn’t say it was true.”
“Damn, man, I’m sorry to hear it. What are you gonna do?”
Hoodoo looked at his oldest friend and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna let ‘er go,” he said simply. “Not much else to do. She want me to go away, it’s her choice.”
Mad-dog clapped the larger man’s shoulder. “Well, it’s shit no matter how you look at it, but hey, maybe you can enjoy the rally?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking that they got something I might check. Some of the locals are taking tours around the back roads, someone said about climbing the Black Hills. I may go on that.”
“Sounds good to me,” Loki said from behind Hoodoo.
Hoodoo had learned at an early age not to show when he was startled. It was the product of being an oldest brother to six siblings. Then too, no one who was raised by Momma Leonna was easily startled. The voodoo might not be real, but the spiders and snakes she used for effect certainly were. But he jumped now and gave Loki a glare that should have quelled him for the rest of the day.
Except, of course, it didn’t. The man was all eagerness as he asked, “When do we ride?”
Hoodoo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a flyer he’d found. It folded better than Val’s electronic tablet. “Noon,” he pronounced.
“I’m going to go round up some doughnuts,” Mad-dog said, somewhat gleefully. “Be back in a bit.”
“Trike gets the haul,” Loki said cheerfully. It was an old joke, there was limited room on a bike and packing a bike wrong can make it unbalanced. Any experienced rider could compensate for it, but it was pain in the ass. Trikes had room, so whenever there was something that needed to be carried, say for example, a keg of beer, Mad-dog was the one to haul it. Even something as simple as a box of doughnuts could be a problem on two wheels.
Mad-dog was good-natured about it. It was one of the things he valued about the man. No matter what the cause or disaster, Mad-dog was always calm. Unless he was in a fight. Then he earned his nickname.
“So where is the fair Valkyrie?” Loki asked, making a show of leaning down to see inside her little tent. It was sealed shut, so the best he could see was the zipper, but the move was so roguish that Hoodoo couldn’t resist a smile.
“Remember,” he warned Loki, “that fair Valkyrie can kick your ass up over your ears.”
“That’s why I say these things when she’s asleep,” Loki assured him, parodying Hoodoo’s accent, “No fool I!”
“I’m awake,” Val said, walking up to them from the general direction of the port-a-potties.
“You were sayin’?” Hoodoo cocked an eyebrow at the smaller man.
“I was saying that I’ll go check on the twins and see if they’re around yet. Excuse me.” Loki made a half-bow to Val and turned to the furthest tents with the greatest of interest.
“Hey boss,” Val said, looking up at Hoodoo, “I was wondering if your lady friend would let me use her shower.” She shrugged, “I just…”
“You’re gonna meet Rocky and you don’ want to stench,” Hoodoo finished for her.
“Yeah,” she said, hands on her hips. Hoodoo knew that look, it was the look she gave whenever she was caught out being a “girl.” It had surprised them all when she’d been doing her nails yesterday, Harley Davidson colors notwithstanding. But now this? He held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“As it happens,” he said with a big grin, “I have a better idea.”
“What’s that?”
Before he could answer, Mad-dog returned. He pulled up next to them and killed the trike. “Val, grab the doughnuts out of the back, will you?”
“Hey! Doughnuts!” She lit up and was halfway into the trunk before he’d even gotten off the trike. “Thanks!” she mumbled, her mouth full of pastry.
Mad-dog pulled Hoodoo off to one side. “Hey boss, I ran by Tracy’s place to get your stuff. She’s not there, man, her rig’s gone.”
Hoodoo sighed and looked at him. He’d half expected it, but it still left an empty feeling in his chest, an ache that wouldn’t go away anytime soon. He knew that from experience. “Well,” he said slowly, “that’s it then.”
“Your stuff, though…”
“I can get it sent to me,” Hoodoo said, waving it off as inconsequential. “In a way, it’s probably a good thing. Now I got nothing to put in the booth, maybe I can jus’ enjoy the trip.”
Mad-dog looked at him a moment and then smiled. “Shit, man, welcome back.”
Have I really been that bad? Hoodoo shook his head, and called them around. The twins came, half-asleep, reaching for doughnuts with the same enthusiasm that zombies show for brains. Val took one look at them, and disappeared back inside her tent, muttering something about trying to get cleaned up for the day.
Hoodoo looked around the group. The Gilas. His family. Maybe a little awkward and dysfunctional, but home all the same. What the hell had he been doing, chasing all the way out here like this? They were bikers. Bikers rode their damn bikes, didn’t they? Enough of this nonsense of sitting around and watching the world go by for the sake of a handful of nickels and dimes. He motioned Mad-Dog over to his bike and lay the flyer out on the seat, flipped over to show him the map on the back. “Ok, so here’s the plan. We got this local run, right? It goes all around and over these roads.” He used his finger to trace the route and stopped at a crossroads. “Just before it winds back, there’s an exit. There’s another town out there, about forty miles away.”
“Not much of a town,” Mad-dog said dubiously, eyeing the map.
“No, it’s a gas station and church, but… they have a motel. I couldn’t sleep last night and I called them up, made a reservation for today.”
“That’s like a hundred miles, round trip.”
“That’s why they had openings. No one else had anything.”
“So we’re all bunking down in one queen-sized bed? Val’s gonna love that.”
“No, we’re not spending the night, we’re going to use a toilet that doesn’t stink of disinfectant We’re going to use a shower with hot water, and if there’s any justice at all, there’ll be a laundromat there that we can use.”
“Fresh start, eh?” Mad-dog grinned.
“Look, don’t tell her I said so, but I know that Val is all kinds of nervous about meeting Rocky.” Hoodoo winked at his buddy. “I say we give the girl a chance to girl it up a bit for him, you know? This means a lot to her.”
Mad-dog blinked and looked at the table where Val and Loki where laughing at the twins trying to fight off a hangover. Val was practically dancing on the tabletop just to make enough noise to punish them for their supposed transgressions. “Damn, they grow up so fast, don’t they? It was only yesterday that she was a little girl in pigtails.”
“I’ll tell her you said that,” Hoodoo warned with a grin.
“No you won’t,” Mad-dog said, punching Hoodoo in the arm. He almost felt it. “What good would it do if your wingman was beaten to a bloody pulp? You’d miss me!”
“Just make the calls. Find out if there’s a restaurant in the area, we can get some sit-down and be served food.”
“Someone die and leave you a fortune?” Mad-dog said, eyebrows raised as he pulled out his phone.
“I sold a painting, remember?”
“That’s to repay a debt!” Mad-dog said, shaking his head, but tapping the phone screen until the mysteries of Yelp were unleashed.
“What debt?” Hoodoo shrugged and walked away smiling.
Tracy or no Tracy, it was going to be a good day.
Chapter Seventeen
The restaurant was… quiet. That was probably the best that could be said for the venue and for the food. It was a little mom and pop place and so far the coffee was a little… dicey. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the food, but figured it was awfully hard to screw up a hamburger, and he’d likely be all right. Besides, Hoodoo was clean, he wore clean clothes, and the hot water in the hotel room had held out just long enough for everyone to take a shower. Alone. Although Loki had offered to double up with Val just to play it safe. He was still rubbing the fresh bruise on his arm.
Val was unanimously ushered into the hotel room first, the guys making noise about how long it takes a woman to get ready, while they walked across the street to the laundromat. Val joined them in ten minutes, hair still wet, but handed the key to Mad-dog who took his turn next, with a look of joyous relief on his face. He hated re-wearing dirty socks and had been trying to rinse them out at the campsite for days, having forgotten to pack more than two pairs. These were the first things to be thrown in the washing machine.
By the time the clothes had washed and dried, they’d all had a chance to get clean and converged on Wilson’s Family Restaurant. It was less than two hours away from the constant chaos of Sturgis and there were no other patrons in the place. Hoodoo was hoping it was because no one had been clever enough to discover the place, although Yelp hadn’t offered a lot of good to say about the place, and in fact had given some pretty dire warnings regarding the pasta.