BRICK (Lords of Carnage MC)

by Daphne Loveling

  Hailey raises her eyes at me as she wanders off to find a table. “Wow. She’s really embraced the specialty coffee culture.”

  I make the woman’s drink, and just as I’m finishing up, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I have Hailey bring the latte out to her and check my messages.

  It’s a text from a number I was hoping I’d never have to see again.

  Thought I wouldnt find u didnt u bitch? Wheres my fucking money?

  A little shiver of dread ripples through me. He’s found me.

  I always knew it could happen, though I was hoping against hope it wouldn’t.

  Does he know where I am? Does he know where I live? Does he know anything more than my number?

  I stand frozen to the spot, trying not to panic. Of course I knew Devon would be able to find me if he wanted to. It’s not easy to disappear these days, since everyone has an electronic footprint that’s hard to erase. There are so many things I could have done to hide that I didn’t do: change my name, leave the country… Instead, I chose to just leave Atlantic City, taking what I knew was mine, and refuse to live my life in fear.

  I chose to believe I was small enough potatoes to Devon that he would leave me alone. That he’d decide tracking me down wasn’t worth the trouble.

  Looks like I may have chosen wrong.

  My fingers hover above the screen as I try to decide what to do. Responding to his text would be crazy, but not responding isn’t going to fool him. If he has this number, he knows it’s me.

  That money was me taking back what was mine, I tell myself fiercely. It was money he stole from me in the first place. However he wants to spin it in his head, that’s the truth. And we both know it.

  “So, is it okay?”

  Hailey startles me out of my thoughts.

  “It what okay?” I stammer.

  “Changing me to evenings sometimes.”

  “Oh.” I mentally shake my head to clear it. “Um, sure, I think so. Let me take a look at the schedule. I’ll just have to teach you how to close by yourself.” I shove my phone back in my pocket and give her what I hope is a normal smile.

  “Awesome,” she grins. “You’re so cool.”

  “Hailey,” I say in a bright voice, hoping she can’t hear how it’s shaking. “I have to go run a quick errand. Can you take over for a while until I get back?”

  “Sure, no prob,” she nods. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” I walk a little unsteadily down the hallway, but instead of turning in to my office, I keep going, out the back door to my car. With a hand that’s started to shake, I toss the phone down on the ground directly behind one of the rear tires.

  Then, I get in, turn the key in the ignition, throw the car into reverse, and deliberately back over it.

  And then, I head across town to my cellular provider. To get a new cell phone, and a new number.

  8

  Sydney

  I’m not running away from anybody. So what if he found me? I’m not hiding from anything.

  An hour and a half later, I’m back at the coffee shop, trying as hard as I can to concentrate on my paperwork and casting furtive glances at my new phone, even though Devon can’t possibly have the new number yet.

  I have got to put this out of my mind. I can’t let him get into my head like this. He doesn’t have the right. He can’t control me. I’m stronger than that.

  Devon was always an aggressive player. He always had an attitude, and took losing more personally than a professional should. I knew instinctively that he would take my leaving as a loss, a blow to his ego. Still, he’s practical, too, to the point of being cynical. I was only one of the players in his stable. He had plenty more when I was there, and plenty of bigger, more reliable earners than me.

  The fact that he was also romantically interested in me, though, changes the equation. I have to consider the possibility that his ego might have overridden his practical side where I’m concerned.

  As I get online and place some orders for supplies, I think about what my dad used to say about bluffing in cards. Poker was never my game, but Dad started out his career as a professional poker player. Some people never bluff, or almost never. Others are habitual bluffers. The best bluffers don’t get emotionally invested in their bluffing, one way or another. The worst ones are the ones who get off on it — who get off on the idea of pulling one over on someone else.

  I have to make myself assume that Devon is bluffing. Getting off on the idea of making me scared. If that’s what he’s doing, then probably the best thing I can do is not call his bluff. Let him think I’m afraid. Let him think that he’s won, and cross my fingers that it will be enough.

  “Okay,” I tell Hailey when I go back out to the front of the shop. “I think I’ve figured out a schedule for you to start working nights and closing for me a few times a week. But in exchange, you have to tell me more about Teddy.”

  Hailey is only too happy to comply. I listen with half an ear as she chats happily about her crush, whom she describes as kind of geeky but, in her words, “stealth hot.” Apparently, Hailey’s friend Melissa is convinced that Teddy was stealing glances at her all during the meeting yesterday. It’s super cute to see Hailey so happy and hopeful, flushed with excitement, in the beginning stages of something that might turn out to be a major romance or might just be a tiny blip on the screen of her young life.

  A strange, heavy feeling seems to take over my limbs as I look around the shop and listen to Hailey’s voice rise and fall with teenage inflections. The scene in front of me right now is so reassuringly normal. Almost impossibly so. Tanner Springs seems — to me, anyway — like some All-American small town that someone invented in the pages of a book, or on a movie set. Hailey’s just a normal high school student, doing normal, high school things. Her life is just that… so normal. And so very different from the one I was living at her age.

  I feel a pang of regret, which I quickly push down. Can’t change the past, I tell myself. And I know that’s true. But it doesn’t stop me from wishing I could, sometimes.

  I do remember being Hailey’s age, though. As different from hers as my life was, I remember how incredibly important and earth-shattering the smallest things could feel. I remember how important my first kiss felt. How transcendent a first love can feel. How brutal a first rejection can be.

  And yet, looking back, so much of what seemed like pinnacles of my existence at the time are moments I can barely even remember now. So many things that I thought were almost literally the end of the world were nothing, compared to the private disasters that just snuck up to me later, taking me completely by surprise.

  My chest tightens a little as I find my self wondering whether Hailey will ever have someone hurt her. Really hurt her. Whether she’ll be in a relationship someday and realize that the man she’s with is no good — that she’s stayed far too long in something she never should have started in the first place.

  That she’ll have to walk, or run, away from a relationship, and leave a little chunk of herself behind in order to save what she has left.

  Another customer has come into the shop. It’s a girl of high school age, and it’s clear that Hailey knows her from the way she jumps up and bounces over to the counter to serve her. A few seconds later, four more kids about the same age trail in behind the first one. They all order elaborate, sugary drinks with mountains of whipped cream and large, calorie-laden pastries. I quietly marvel at them all — on the cusp of adulthood, play-acting at being grown-ups with budding caffeine habits.

  God, I feel old.

  I let Hailey serve her friends, bubbling with laughter and gossip, and move off to the far end of the counter to uselessly check my new phone, with my new number, for messages.

  “Excuse me, dear.”

  I look up to see the older lady in the tortoise-shell frames. She’s holding her empty cup in one hand, and her book in the other. She’s been here for more than two hours, I realize. Sh
e must be almost finished reading it by now.

  “I’d like another latte, if you don’t mind. I was wondering if you could make it for me, so I wouldn’t have to wait for these young people.” She nods at the cluster of Hailey’s friends at the counter.

  “Oh! Yes, of course.” I shove my phone in my pocket and take her cup from her. “I’ll give you a fresh cup, though. Can you remind me exactly what your order was?”

  “A medium, non-fat, no foam, extra shot, half-caf vanilla latte,” she recites.

  “Got it.” I start making her drink. “Are you enjoying your book?” I ask, to make conversation.

  “Oh. Yes.” She looks down, as though embarrassed. “It’s a wonderful new addiction I’ve discovered since you opened your shop: Sitting down to read a book with a delicious cup of coffee.”

  “I agree,” I grin at her. “It’s one of my favorite things to do. It might be one of the main reasons I opened the Golden Cup in the first place.”

  “A fellow reader! That’s lovely.” Her friendly smile changes to a dismayed frown. “Oh, but you never get to enjoy you own shop, since you’re always working!”

  “Well, I do get to enjoy watching others do it.” I pour skim milk into the steamer. “That’s a nice vicarious pleasure.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

  “What are you reading, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  She purses her lips, clearly a bit embarrassed. “Oh, I have a weakness for regency romances.” She holds up her book so I can see the cover. It features a pale woman with an empire-waist dress and an elaborate hairstyle. “True escapism,” she admits. “But I do love them.”

  For a moment, neither of us speaks, the whoosh of steaming milk too loud to call over. When I’m finished, I grab a saucer and set it down on the counter, then place the cup on top.

  “There you are,” I tell her. “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you. By the way, my name is Beverly.”

  “I’m Sydney,” I smile at her.

  “Sydney.” She gives a slight nod of her head. “That’s an unusual name.”

  “It’s actually my middle name,” I say, not sure why I’m telling her this. “My first name is Violet.”

  “Well!” she beams. “Violet is my sister’s name!” She seems so pleased at this connection that it’s infectious.

  “That is a coincidence!” I grin. “Older or younger?”

  “Younger, by three years. She lives in Nogales, Arizona, with her husband now.” She hesitates for just a second. “I hope it’s not rude, but out of curiosity, may I ask why you go by your middle name?”

  “Violet was my mom’s idea,” I tell her. “My dad didn’t like the name. They split up when I was young, and my dad ended up raising me. So, now I’m Sydney. Syd, to him.”

  “Oh.” Beverly coughs and glances away, clearly embarrassed. She needn’t be, though. I don’t remember my mom, so her absence in my life isn’t something I really notice much.

  I do miss my father, though. He’s been gone for more than seven years now. His face comes to me now — his familiar, roguish smile — and a familiar wave of grief rolls through me.

  “Sydney!” Hailey comes up to me breathlessly, interrupting our conversation. “That’s him!”

  “That’s who?” I frown.

  “Teddy!” she stage whispers, and tilts her head toward the large table in the center of the room where her high school friends are sitting.

  “Which one?” I cut my eyes toward them.

  “The tall, geeky one with the dark hair.” Hailey is muttering while trying not to move her lips. I’d burst out laughing if she didn’t look so earnest.

  I move my head slightly and take a quick look at the gangly boy talking animatedly with his friends. Teddy is the kind of boy who still looks like he’s growing into his limbs. Beyond the gawkiness though, he’s definitely cute — the kind of kid I probably would have had a crush on myself at that age.

  “He’s cute,” I acknowledge, shooting Hailey a quick nod, then turn pointedly to Beverly. “Hailey, I was just helping Beverly here. Beverly, this is Hailey. She works for me after school and on weekends.”

  “Nice to meet you, Hailey,” Beverly says, extending a hand.

  Hailey’s face turns sheepish as she shakes it. “Nice to meet you, too. Sorry I interrupted you.”

  Beverly gives her an amused smile. “No need to apologize. I was young once, too.”

  She bends to pick up her latte. Balancing it carefully on top of her book, she goes back to her table, and Hailey goes back to surreptitiously spying on Teddy.

  I’m left alone with my persistently maudlin thoughts — to imagine Hailey as an old woman, and Beverly as a young girl. Both of them bookends, at the dawn and dusk of what they hope will be a journey that ends with that rarest of gifts.

  A real love. A soulmate. A fairy tale come true.

  9

  Brick

  “So, what are we gonna do about this shit?”

  At the head of the table, Rock is looking tired. Next to him, Angel, our VP, wears a deep frown of concentration. The mood at church this morning is somber and tense. We just heard that last night, there was a fire at one of the businesses downtown. The whole place was gutted, and the police are already talking arson.

  “I dunno, but people are getting damn nervous around town.” Gunner leans back in his chair. “You know this fire’s going to be on the front page of the paper next week.”

  “Yeah,” Angel says in disgust. “With all sorts of leading language about criminals ‘hiding in plain sight’ and shit like that.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before they start naming us directly,” I mutter.

  Hawk clears his throat. “You know,” he begins, “I think we’re gonna have to consider the possibility that the cops know it’s not us. Or even that they’re working with Holloway to pin it on us somehow.”

  “I have considered that,” Rock barks. “Question is, what the fuck do we do about it?”

  “Maybe we have to find out who it is ourselves,” I say. “Doesn’t seem like the PD is doing much about it, other than swaggering around town and giving quotes to the Tanner Springs Star.”

  “That means a hell of a lot of man-hours doing shit the cops should be doing,” Rock retorts.

  “Yeah. I know.” I look around the table. “It’ll definitely put a burden on us. And we don’t really have enough men to do it.”

  “That’s the truth of it,” Thorn nods. “Even with the prospects.”

  “Maybe it’s time to start thinking about accepting some new blood,” Geno, our Treasurer, rumbles.

  Striker speaks up. “I been thinking that, too. For more reasons than one. Shit, the Iron Spiders have been growing their ranks damn quickly lately, by the looks of it. We can’t afford to let them get too much bigger than us if we want to hold on to our territory.”

  The Iron Spiders are a club to the south of us. We’ve been involved in a war with them off and on for the last year or so. It’s no secret they’ve been trying to weaken our club, and come after our territory. So far we’ve managed to avoid any fatalities on our side, but it’s been close. The last time they came after us, Hawk’s old lady Samantha got caught in the middle and almost got killed.

  Angel nods his agreement. “We don’t have any way of knowing exactly how many men the Spiders have, but if I had to guess, I’d say they might be closing in on almost twice as many patched members as we do by now.” He doesn’t say any more, and he doesn’t have to. We’ve held our own — better than held our own — against them, but if their numbers are as big as he thinks they are, that won’t be the case for much longer.

  “There’s also the possibility that the Spiders are behind all this shit going down in Tanner Springs,” I reply. “Could be a back-door way of fucking with us. Weakening our hold on our territory.”

  “That’s true,” Tweak murmurs. “Keeping us busy by siccing the law on us.”

  There’s silence for a few
moments. I expect Rock to say something, but he doesn’t do anything but stare murderously at the table.

  “How many of you know men you think would be a good fit to be a Lord of Carnage?” Angel eventually asks, looking around. Almost a dozen hands go up. He nods. “Good. Look, I think we need to move quickly here. Let’s actively recruit some prospects, some men we think are top notch. All of you try to think of at least one person you can vouch for. But no wet behind the ears kids. We need numbers, but numbers aren’t enough. And I think we need to look at moving forward with patching in the prospects we do have, if we think they’re ready.”

  “I think Bullet and Lug Nut are ready,” Geno offers, talking about our latest prospects. “They’re tough, and steady in a crisis. I think they’ve proven themselves.”

  “Yeah. And Bullet’s the only prospect I’ve ever seen who can drink me under the table,” Gunner smirks. A chorus of loud laughs goes around the table. It’s a welcome moment of levity.

  “You think we should put them up for a vote?” Angel asks, turning to Rock.

  “Oh? My opinion is requested?” Rock sneers back.

  Angel eyes him levelly. “I’m asking a question.”

  For a second, it feels like the tension in the air just before a lightning strike.

  No one speaks. Rock looks like he’s waiting for Angel to say more, but Angel doesn’t take the bait.

  Finally, Rock turns away and looks at all of us. “We put Bullet and Lug up for a vote, next church. But that doesn’t solve our problem. New prospects take time to vet. Meantime, we need to act.”

  “We ought to be talking to some of the local business owners,” I suggest. “The ones who’ve already been hit, to begin with. Ask them if they noticed any unusual activity or anything before the break-in. Offer our help.”

  “Good idea,” Gunner nods. “We should think about what all the places that have already been hit have in common. Try to figure out what the motives are. Might help us get an idea of which businesses might be next.”