Angels and Demons

by A. C. Bextor

  On the wall where they’re all gathered are two large pictures. The first is Pyke. His hair is tied back, picture taken in profile as he’s sits on a picnic table, smiling to God knows what. A much younger version of Ziah is at his side, pointing to where Pyke is focused. A child’s grin covers his small face.

  The next picture is Lane. She and Sunny are standing together in front of the bar, here in the club. Sunny’s arm is swung over her shoulders and they’re both smiling directly into the camera.

  Happy times.

  A small part of me feared Sunny was angry for my leaving the way I did. I didn’t say goodbye. I hadn’t called, texted, or stopped back for the rest of my things.

  Staring into her bright eyes, shining with excitement, I release a breath, relieved she’s happy to see me again.

  “Hi,” I greet, giving her a small wave.

  Wrapping her arms around my shoulders, she brings me to her in a tight hold. I fight for breath as she rocks us back and forth saying, “I can’t believe you’re standing right in front of me! I’ve missed you!”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  Sunny steps back. Her eyes scan my face, likely in search of the reason for my visit.

  When I give her nothing, she furrows her brow and prompts, “We’ve all missed you. And it’s great you’re here, but why are you?”

  Vante steps inside, dragging my suitcase through the door. When I called to ask him for a ride here, with all of my things, I could literally hear his sweet, charming smile over the phone.

  He answered with, “About fuckin’ time. Be there in fifteen minutes.”

  And he was.

  There was no small talk as he arrived. He walked in, grabbed my bags, walked out, and ordered me to follow. When he finished loading us up, he slapped me on the shoulder and said, “Now, let’s get you home.”

  And so, with a few concerned eyes on us, not to include Vlad or Abram, we were off.

  “Did Zalesky send you back here?” Sunny worries. “Oh God, is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine, woman,” Vante asserts, rolling his eyes and dropping my suitcase to the floor. “Give her some room.”

  Sunny scowls at Vante, but rubs my arm and asks, “Are you sure everything is okay?”

  Getting to the heart of why I’ve come, Vante interrupts, “Where’s El?”

  Sunny frowns. “He’s out back, but I don’t think—”

  “I came to see him.”

  Her face falls to disquiet. “But you two—”

  “I need to see him,” I profess again.

  “Let her through, Sunny,” Elevent interrupts on a slight, standing at the bar.

  At first glance, he looks grave. Worse than when he all but kicked me from his room. He’s not wearing his cut and his jeans are a dirty mess.

  Guilt surges.

  What’s more is that I notice Ziah standing behind Elevent, looking the same. His red tee shirt is wrinkled and stained. He’s wearing a pair of old, black faded shorts and it’s still chilly outside. Neither of the boys appears to have slept enough.

  “Hi,” I manage, my voice broken, glancing between the two.

  Ziah wraps his arm around Elevent’s waist and remains stoic, refusing to acknowledge my greeting. Elevent’s arm rests against Ziah’s back as he brings him closer to his side.

  The two stare toward me, both in shock, surprise, and if I’m right, impatience.

  Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should’ve left well enough alone. I’d go on with my life eventually. I’d recover from a broken heart and all I did to cause it. I’d learn to go back to my sad, lonely state of existing.

  Wouldn’t I?

  Elevent looks down at my suitcase and then to Vante, still standing guard at my back. Vante moves to my side, using the same protective measures Elevent used with Ziah. I feel the tips of his fingers at the small of my back, pushing me forward.

  “Why’s Mia here?” Ziah demands.

  Mia. Not Mama. Not babe. Not his woman. Just Mia.

  I figured Ziah would be angry when he heard the news I left. Obviously, he still is. I would be, too.

  “Z, buddy, to your room,” Elevent directs.

  “Why is she here?” Ziah demands again, this time his voice breaking with splintered pain.

  Looking down, Elevent nods curtly and with that Ziah surrenders.

  “Let’s give these two some space, shall we?” Sunny states, inviting the others out of the room. As Vante and the others follow, they don’t look at Elevent or to me.

  Ziah nods, but stops his forward motion. When he turns back, his bright-eyed gaze comes to mine, and a cloudless expression of hope comes with it.

  Any doubt I had about coming back to the place I loved and feared being rejected passes. This is where I’m supposed to be.

  I can fix this. I know I can.

  “Mia,” Elevent calls as the others file out. “What’re you doin’ here?”

  “You haven’t been eating,” I accuse first. His skin is gray and his face is gaunt. “Or sleeping,” I say next, noticing the bags beneath his eyes. “You look like shit.”

  He winces but agrees. “I feel like shit. Now you wanna draw this out, or you wanna answer what I asked.”

  Persistence, Mia, Vlad had said.

  This won’t be as easy as I’d hoped. But I knew better. Elevent’s no longer upset. He’s downright pissed. Like Ziah, he has a right to be, even if he was the one who demanded it. I left him when he was at his worst. I walked out, doing as he asked. I should’ve fought to stay.

  Prove to Elevent you’re stronger than he thinks you are.

  “I want a house away from the club,” I explain first. “Not a big one, but just enough we have a quiet place without anyone else around.”

  “Angel,” he voices so quietly, I nearly miss it. His address is a plea.

  “I want you home every night. I know you have club business and ride outs, but those are exceptions. And I want babies. Enough to fill whatever space we have.”

  Beginning to lose composure, Elevent asks, “What the fuck are you tellin’ me?”

  “If we have a boy first, his name will be James Pyke Scott.”

  “A boy first,” he murmurs in disbelief. He gives me nothing in way of expression before he drops his focus to his feet.

  “Because our son being named after a father who loves him will be important.” Pressing, I add, “If we have a girl first, her name will be Pyka Lane Scott.”

  At that, Elevent’s head rears back up in surprise. His shoulders loosen, and he takes in a breath before taking off in my direction.

  As he makes it to where I stand, I use my hand to fend him off. If he touches me, I won’t get out what I need to say.

  So, pushing this, I tell him, “I’m not finished.”

  “Those are road names, Angel,” he disregards. “Not sure a kid should…”

  When I shake my head, he quiets.

  “We don’t have to get married. I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give me.”

  “Angel,” he coaxes.

  “James,” I reply, using his given name. “All of this means something.”

  “Are you finished?” he tersely queries.

  “Yes,” I confirm. “Almost.” Taking in a deep breath, I give him my last term of agreement. This is big; monumental in a way I don’t know that I could live without. “I want Ziah. I want him to live with us. He needs to go to school. To be around kids his own age, so when he’s old enough, he can decide for himself if this is what he wants. You’ve said yourself that wearing a cut and being a brother isn’t for everyone.”

  I may have stepped too far. Elevent’s jaw tightens and his eyes shimmer in a way I’ve never seen. But I can’t stand down. I meant what I said. Ziah suffered a great loss because of the life he’s been brought into without consent, and it wouldn’t be fair for him to suffer another one without being given that choice.

  Anger marking his tone, he clips, “You done?”

/>   Satisfied I’ve had my say and praying he accepts, I shrug and advise, “I guess I am.”

  Silence deafens the room, hope and fear stilling the air between us. Elevent’s pondering, his mind twisting the way it always does.

  Thinking better; I start to digress, “Maybe I should—”

  “You still love me?” he asks, his tone still angry. “You said it before, I heard you.”

  He was listening the night I murmured those words. He heard me say it.

  Without delay, he continues. “’Cause you’ve listed everything here: a house, kids, marriage. Fuck, even takin’ Ziah.”

  “Well, I—”

  Elevent moves quickly, stepping toward me until my back hits the wall. My hands fly out between us in order to keep balance.

  Chest-to-chest, mouth-to-mouth, Elevent’s hand fists in my hair. Pinning me in place so there is no escape, he prods again, “Yes or no, Angel. Do you love me?”

  My eyes fill with tears and his beautiful face blurs.

  “I never stopped,” I struggle to answer. “So, yes. I still love you.”

  “That’s all that fuckin’ matters. The rest is extra.”

  As I stand in his arms, tears roll down my face one after another, resting on my chin before threatening to drop. All the arguing, all the time I took away, all the loss we’ve suffered, comes forth in a rush of emotion I can’t contain.

  “Can you keep your shit together long enough I can kiss you?”

  Nodding with a laugh, I ‘get my shit together’ and am rewarded with a punishing kiss like he’s never given. His tongue wields its way, maneuvering through every motion and taste. His teeth nip my bottom lip before he pulls back and smiles down.

  “You don’t want anything?” I ask with curiosity. I mean, really, I did take the time to think about what our life could and will look like. All he asked is if I love him, and that goes unsaid.

  “I want you,” he returns.

  “There has to be something,” I insist, picking at the collar of his shirt. Not because I like the shirt, but because my fingers have missed the warmth and strength of his body. Of him.

  Once he’s sure he has my attention, he hails, “I wanna be able to come home to you and Ziah every night. I wanna be able to spend time with all those fuckin’ kids you think we’re gonna need. And I wanna be able to fuck you whenever I damn well please, and do it without anyone around to hear.”

  I want that too. Namely the last. What this says about me, I don’t care.

  “Well, I guess that works for me.”

  “You love me,” he tells us both, now smiling.

  “And you love me,” I counter.

  “Yes, Angel. I fuckin’ do.”

  “Mama Mia,” Ziah stammers out through a strangled breath. “We gotta go back to the pound and pick out Hamlet a friend.”

  Not only is Ziah wearing an exasperated expression, he’s also wearing a pair of new jeans, a clean printed Johnny Cash tee, and a gently used, black leather vest. Size small and sans any patches.

  The first order of business, after Elevent agreed we would take Ziah from the club, was to take him shopping for clothes. My time with him there was short, as he decided in the first fifteen minutes he didn’t have time to try on ‘stupid clothes.’ Once I had his size down, I did the rest of the shopping alone.

  “He’s wearing everyone out,” Ziah explains, picking up Hamlet and handing him to me. “And Elevent says if he sinks his teeth into another boot, he’s off to live on a farm.”

  I scowl. I understand Elevent’s unsaid threat. Thankfully, Ziah doesn’t.

  “Take Hamlet into the house,” I order, handing the furry black monster back to Ziah and scanning the yard for Elevent. “Wash up when you’re in there. Lunch is almost ready.”

  Ziah sighs in irritation, doing as I’ve said.

  Elevent is standing next to one of the club’s sheds. His arms are crossed over his chest, and through his sunglass shielded eyes, he’s zeroing in to where I am at the back door. Advay is talking to him, but Elevent is paying no mind.

  Four weeks have passed since I all but threw myself back into his life.

  Three weeks have gone by since Elevent and I bought a house in the hills, twenty-seven miles from here.

  Ziah is set to start school in the fall. He’s been adamant about not wanting to go, citing he can learn all he needs from the men of Saint’s. I appreciate his willingness to forgo his formal education, but Elevent and I have agreed. Going forward, Ziah will live a life as any ten-year-old boy should. He’ll grow up in a home not a clubhouse. He may not understand our decisions until later, but by the time he does, he’ll be all the better for them. Most importantly, he’ll always be surrounded by people who love him.

  “Have you seen Cricket?” Sunny approaches, setting down a large bowl of macaroni salad. “She promised she’d be out here to help set up. I called her cell and she doesn’t answer.”

  Scanning the crowd, and not finding Leglas among them, I note, “Maybe she’s still sleeping.”

  “It’s almost one in the afternoon,” Sunny points out.

  “Leglas isn’t here yet either,” I point out. “Maybe they’re both still sleeping.”

  “Sure they are,” Sunny chastises. She shakes her head and utters, “Those two are driving me crazy.”

  I smile as Vante and Jizzy cross the yard. Vante has her hand in his. He’s grinning down sweetly as he tugs her roughly into his side. Since I’ve come home, the two have been inseparable. Loss of those one loves affects people in different ways.

  Elevent officially brought Max, Blaze, and Wilson into the Saint’s family. The small ceremony took place last week. Max whistled, happy as a clam to have new brothers. Blaze shook hands and nodded to those there to help celebrate. Wilson got smashed drunk and was passed out in his room by eight.

  Joz left to find another life. After what happened to Lane, she swore off all men, stating they were all nuts. Last I heard from Joz was that she’s starting to settle in Boulder.

  Sty proposed to Sunny. The two are getting married in the fall. Sunny’s planning a big wedding, which I envy. Sty says he doesn’t care as long as at the end of it, her last name is his.

  Leglas has curbed his temper to the point of almost being approachable. He and Cricket have been on the outs more than usual. She still hasn’t recovered from Pyke and Lane’s passing. I’m unsure if she’s even begun the process to heal. Cricket is sensitive, she feels deeply.

  With his change in mood, I’m relieved to see Leglas is treating her with kid gloves. At least for now.

  Two weeks ago, Advay brought a drop-dead, gorgeous Indian woman to the club to meet the others. She was tall and slender. She had a flawless complexion and a mane of beautiful, long dark hair. She didn’t talk much, but then again, neither does he. She hasn’t been back, but Elevent assures she will be. He also said in all the time he’s known Advay, the woman was the first he’s ever met.

  All in all, having said goodbye to Pyke and Lane has brought the group together in the way they’ve needed for as long as I’ve been here.

  Except for Gypsy, I’m afraid. He’s been quiet—more than usual. He’s also been away. He left last weekend to visit Mom and Pop, saying he’d be back when the time is right. Elevent fears he’ll never make his way back. I’ve assured him he will. But warned he’ll be back for one reason—to get the girl he’s so far let get away.

  “I vote we grab Ziah and get the fuck outta here,” Elevent’s whispers harshly, at the same time his scuffed chin moves my hair from my shoulder. His arm wraps around my waist, leaving his hand to cover my stomach.

  “We haven’t eaten,” I reply, grabbing his hand with my own.

  “Why’d we buy a fuckin’ house if we’re never in it?” he clips.

  He has a point. With so much club business and chaos, we’ve been sleeping here more than at home. Until things are settled, as they need to be, Elevent and his men will continue to work tirelessly. I don’t understand much
of what needs done, but Elevent assures new recruits are still needed, new relationships need established, and other avenues to gain revenue must be explored.

  “You know, you could go help Sty with the fire pits?” I offer.

  “You know, you could take us back to our room and help me with something else,” he challenges back, pressing his back to my front.

  Before I can agree, Leglas rounds the corner of the building, moving his hand through his long, thick hair. He gives the crowd a once over before his lips get tight.

  “Brother?” Elevent prompts, seeing what I do. Leglas is in a state.

  “Has anyone seen Cricket?” he worries.

  Freeing myself from Elevent’s hold, I step toward Leglas. “She’s not with you?”

  “No. I’ve combed the club for an hour. I thought she was pissed about something again,” he says. “Fuck, she’s always fucking pissed. But she’s not here.”

  My gut retches.

  Cricket knows we worry. After what happened with Tyrant, and after Vlad ‘took care’ of Toby—in a way I know nothing about, nor do I care—Jesse Bynes swore he has no intentions, good or bad, toward Saint’s.

  He also said if Cricket’s father decided to move against the club, he’d wade in.

  No one here believes this. We’ve been moving around with careful caution until Bynes’s word can be proven.

  “She’s around here somewhere,” Elevent assures. “You check all the rooms?”

  “I fucking did!” Leglas shouts. “Max, Wilson, and Blaze have been lookin’ as well. No one can find her.”

  “We found this,” Blaze enters, walking up behind Leglas. He turns, staring at the bright pink oversized bag. “Her wallet and cell are in there.”

  Blaze hands Cricket’s purse to me. Going through it, I find her birth control pills are in there too. Her sunglasses, Chapstick, perfume. All things pointing to Cricket are in this bag. But she’s nowhere to be seen.

  A random piece of paper slides up the side as I continue fishing through her things.

  Elevent grabs it before it falls. His body tenses, his jaw clenches, and he reads to himself.

  When he’s finished, he hands it to Leglas standing at his side and curses.