When I come back out to the main room, Rock’s telling Angel what happened. I go outside and wait for the van to show up. About five minutes later, the rumble of an engine approaches, and Sarge flies in on Gunner’s bike.
“They’re right behind me,” he barks. “Let’s get ready to move Gunner.”
There’s a shitload of blood. Gunner’s still conscious, and trying to joke around as we carry him in, but his face is pale and strained. He grits his teeth in pain when we set him down on the pool table that’s been covered with large sheets of plywood.
Smiley’s face is grim as he examines the wound. “He’s fucking lucky it doesn’t look like the bullet hit the bone at all. There’s no exit wound, so the bullet’s still implanted.” He looks at Gunner. “I’m not gonna remove it. It’s not worth it, and it could be close to a blood vessel. Taking it out I might hit something and do more harm than good.”
“No worries, doc,” Gunner says, giving him a tense grin. “It’s not like I’m planning on setting off any metal detectors at the airport.”
Smiley shoos us away from his makeshift operating table and gets to work. By now, a few of the old ladies have heard the men are back, and they’re trickling in. Jenna runs to Ghost, who enfolds her in a tight embrace. Sam’s over by Hawk, and I can see by her expression she’s trying not to cry with relief. Geno’s old lady Carmen is there, too, as is Trudy, Rock’s wife, though she seems a lot calmer than the others. More years of being used to the drama and danger of being an MC prez’s old lady, I guess.
For the first time since all the shooting began, I think of Sydney. I can’t help but feel a pang of regret that she’s not here. Though even if we were still together, I might not have told her about this run. I wouldn’t have wanted her to worry.
As though she could read my mind, Sam chooses this moment to detach herself from Hawk and come over to talk to me.
“Have you called Sydney?” she asks, her voice quiet. “She’ll want to know you’re okay.”
“We’re not together anymore,” I bark, a little too harshly. It’s not Sam’s fault, after all. “It didn’t work out.”
“I know,” she says, her eyes reproachful. “I’ve seen her at the coffee shop. She’s a mess, Brick.”
She’s not the only one. “It’s a done deal. Anyway, she didn’t know about any of this. So what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”
I know Sydney would be right here with the rest of the other old ladies, welcoming me back, if we were still together. My mind flashes back to how natural she looked hanging out with Jenna and Sam, as if the three of them had known each other for years. My throat constricts.
“Look, Brick,” Sam continues. She sounds angry. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you. But I can’t imagine that Sydney would ever consciously do anything to hurt you. And frankly, I can’t imagine you ever doing anything to hurt her.” She pauses, as though considering her words carefully. “You know,” she says, “if there’s one thing I’ve noticed about a lot of the men of the Lords of Carnage, it’s that most of you are as stubborn as the day is long. You’re used to getting your way, by whatever means necessary. And I think sometimes, you need the women of this club to pound some sense through your thick skulls. So I’m just gonna say this. You are most likely being an ass right now. And Sydney doesn’t deserve that.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No?” she challenges. “I know what it looks like when two people are in love with each other. I know what it looks like when someone’s lying to himself.”
“Sam,” I warn. I swear to God, she’s lucky she’s a woman, and that she’s Hawk’s old lady.
“Fine,” she says with a disgusted look. “I’m done. But everyone in this club can see it except you, Brick. I don’t know why you’d throw away a chance at happiness.”
“I’m happy,” I bark, and it sounds so ridiculous that even I almost laugh.
“It’s never as hard as stubborn people make it out to be, Brick,” Sam says, and shakes her head. “All you have to do is realize it.”
Fuck me. I watch her walk away, relieved as hell that this conversation is over, but now I’m just fucking angry. I go over to the bar and ask Jewel for a beer.
“Sure thing,” she says, reaching for a bottle in the cooler. “By the way, how’s Sydney? I haven’t seen her around…”
“Not talking about it, Jewel,” I cut her off with a growl. She raises her eyebrows but says nothing, and hands me my beer.
By this time, Smiley is finally finishing up on Gunner, so I head back to see him. There’s a sheen of sweat on Gun’s face, but he’s not as pale as he was. A half-bottle of whiskey and a shot glass sit next to him. As I approach, he grabs the bottle and fills up the glass.
“Hey, there, brother.” He gives me a crooked grin. “All sewn up. Smiley, you’re a genius.”
Smiley laughs. “Not hardly. But you keep believing that.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small bottle of pills. “You’ll want to take these to ward off the risk of infection. One pill, twice a day.” He gives Gunner a pointed stare. “Try to lay off the alcohol until they’re gone, too.”
Gunner snorts. “Not gonna happen. But let the record show you gave me your professional medical opinion on that.”
Smiley moves off, and I lean against the table and hold up my bottle to Gunner, who clinks his shot glass against it.
“How you doin’, brother?” I ask him.
“Feelin’ no pain. Well, not much, anyway. Smiley deadened that shit before he stitched me up. I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear it.” I’m not gonna make a big deal out of it, but Gunner getting shot threw me. He’s my closest friend, in the club or otherwise. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known anyone outside my family.
“Looks like all in all, the run was a success,” Gunner says with a grim smile.
“Yeah.” I take a long pull off my beer. “Now we wait to see what the fallout is. Either way, it had to be done.”
“Agreed.” Gunner looks out at the bar. “The women sure look happy to have their men back,” he observes.
“They do.”
“Any reason why Sydney isn’t here?”
Goddamnit, I should have known.
“Jesus fuck, is everyone gonna hound me about this?” I explode.
“We are if you’re being a jackass,” Gunner says evenly.
“Motherfucker,” I snarl. “I’m done with this.” I stand up and move to leave, but Gunner stops me.
“Look, brother,” he half-slurs, the alcohol clearly beginning to interact with the painkillers he’s taken. “I really like Sydney. She seems like a great chick. Plus she’s got awesome tits. Even so, I wouldn’t say a word about this if I thought for one second you were really done with her.” He shakes his head and snorts. “But Jesus Christ, man, have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like shit. And you’ve been drinking like you’re training for the Olympics of liver poisoning. You’ve always been kind of morose, but I’ve never seen you be such a goddamn martyr.”
“Martyr?!” I’m pissed. If Gunner wasn’t lying on this table right now recovering from being shot, I’d fucking shoot him myself.
“Yes, you goddamn martyr. Look at you. You’re fucking miserable. How is this better for you? For either of you?”
My hand is clamped so tightly around the bottle I wonder if it might break. I try to loosen my grip, but I can’t.
“I don’t know which one of you did what,” Gunner continues, oblivious to the fact that I’m thinking about punching him. “Or which one of you thinks the other one is in the wrong. But I know you. I know how you are. Shit, I’ve heard you say a thousand times that relationships are bullshit. That people are fooling themselves if they expect anything out of them. Even though you can look around you and see evidence you’re wrong right in this room.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snort.
“I know you’re head
over heels gone for Sydney. I know she’s completely crazy about you. Jesus, Brick, are you really gonna just throw that away?” Gunner leans forward, looking me in the eye. “I tell you one thing, if I had a woman who felt that way about me, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. You brought that girl to this clubhouse for a reason,” he murmurs. “Why the fuck are you punishing both of you, for every other couple that didn’t make it?”
I’m not, I want to say.
Fuck you, I want to scream.
You have no idea what you’re talking about, I want to yell.
“You know I’m right, brother,” Gunner says. “So you can hold on to your bullshit theories, and continue to be a recluse and an idiot. Or you can realize you deserve to be happy. And so does Sydney.”
“Okay. You’ve said your piece,” I bite out. “You done?”
“Not really,” Gunner says cheerfully. “But I know that’s all you’re gonna listen to before you kick my ass, so it’ll have to do.”
I toss my empty bottle into the bin, go grab another beer from Jewel, and head upstairs to my apartment. I can’t deal with anyone else’s shit right now. It feels like the whole club is conspiring to tell me that I’m wrong about Sydney. They don’t know what they’re fucking talking about it. I mean, hell, I know she didn’t lie to me on purpose to hurt me. She probably thought she was doing the right thing, fucked up as that is. How the fuck she got the idea that keeping information from me was protecting me, though, I have no goddamn idea. Especially when she was in danger.
Kind of like how you wouldn’t have told her about this run today. Because you wouldn’t have wanted her to worry about you. Even though you could have died.
That’s different. There was nothing she could have done about this run. Why make her worry? If I’d known about that shit with Devon, I could have protected her. What happened at the coffee shop never would have happened.
It’s not that different. You told her you couldn’t trust her, because a lie of omission is still a lie. If that’s the case, how could you expect her to trust you ?
Fuck. All this shit is making my head hurt. I cross to the dresser, grab the mostly full bottle of whiskey that’s sitting on the top, and throw myself onto the bed. I need to get drunk. I need sleep.
And mostly, I need to stop thinking about Sydney Banner.
36
Sydney
In the month since I last saw Gavin, I’ve been shocked to see that in spite of all the pain in my soul, and my heart — pain that makes me feel like I’m constantly struggling to move through water — life seems to go on for other people.
I texted him once or twice. Oh, who the hell am I trying to fool? I texted him at least ten times. He never replied. So, not only do I get to know he cared so little about me that he walked out once he saw the sordid past I dragged with me to Tanner Springs. I also get to feel the complete humiliation of me begging him to come back and him completely ignoring me.
Like a fool, I even considered going to the clubhouse. But I realized I no longer have the right to be there.
Sam stopped by the Golden Cup once to see me. I think she was trying to be nice. But it was just awful, and awkward, and the two of us were both trying to avoid the huge elephant in the room the whole time. She ended up getting her coffee to go and squeezing my hand, saying she was sorry and that she was sure things would work out between Gavin and me, somehow.
It’s not going to work out.
For about a week, I was still afraid Devon would come back. But the days passed, and there was no sign of him, I eventually realized I was safe. And it’s all because of Gavin.
I should have trusted him. I should have told him about Devon’s texts from the beginning.
I will regret that decision for the rest of my life.
In blackjack, it’s all about risk taking, and mitigating risk. Even when you’re counting cards. If you’re good at counting, you can beat the odds, but you always have to weigh that against the fact that people are watching all the time for card counters, and that even when you count, you still don’t have the complete picture.
I’ve spent my life sizing people up. Taking risks, but not exposing myself. It’s a game my father taught me. It’s ingrained in me.
This? Letting myself be seen for who I am? Letting someone else in on my vulnerabilities? I’m not used to it. Even with Devon I never did it. I hate that I let myself be that vulnerable.
But I hate even more that not doing it with Gavin soon enough lost me the best thing I ever had.
In the weeks that follow, I interview and train new workers, many of whom are high school students referred by Hailey. I try not to pay attention to Beverly and Bradley’s budding romance. Or Hailey and Teddy’s.
It feels like relationships are blooming all around me. Almost like someone’s playing a sick joke to mess with my head.
Beverly and Hailey both seem to sense there’s something off with me. But they have the kindness not to ask too many questions.
I wish in a way that I hadn’t hired any new people. Because the only thing keeping my mind off Gavin these days is work. And even though I really needed more staff, now I have less work to occupy my days. The hours stretch in front of me and I don’t know how to fill the time between waking and going to bed. I’m practically jumping out of my skin.
Months ago, I came to Tanner Springs because I wanted a new start. A new life, away from Atlantic City. I wanted everything to be fresh.
But my past caught up with me, and ended up ruining what I had built anyway. Just not in the way I expected.
It’s late afternoon on a Friday, and I’m getting ready to leave the shop for the day. Hailey and one of my new employees, Jamison, are going to be closing up tonight. Jamison is one of Hailey’s classmates, and also plays guitar in a band. He’s trying to convince me to start doing live music on the weekends, saying that the young people of Tanner Springs would come here in droves if I did.
“You’d only have to let them pass around a tip jar,” he’s telling me, his young face earnest. “You don’t need to pay them at all. And think about all those people coming in and ordering coffee drinks and food. You’d be making serious coin!”
“That’s a whole other ball game from what I’m doing now,” I protest. “That means stocking a lot more baked goods, and maybe even sandwiches and bagels and things like that. I’m not sure I’m quite there yet.” Truth be told, I have been thinking about starting to offer lunch items, but I’ve been putting it off. “And what about the crowds? I’m not sure having a bunch of rowdy high schoolers in here on a Friday night is a great idea.”
Next to Jamison, Hailey snorts. “They’re hardly going to be rowdy. Jamison’s band plays folk and bluegrass music. The worst thing that could happen is someone will get their eye poked out by a flying banjo string.”
The idea of taking on a new project sounds exhausting to me right now. I can barely function as it is, even as I find myself wishing I had something to occupy my mind twenty-four seven so I’d never have a chance to think about Gavin. Still, I have to admit Jamison’s idea is a good one. Most of the people who come to the shop in the late afternoons and evenings are kids their age anyway. It might be worth giving them something other than coffee to attract more of them.
“Tell you what,” I say, leaning against the front counter. “I’m willing to give this a shot. But for now, let’s keep it low key. We can do a Thursday night, starting sometime next month. No advertising to promote it. And no group. Just you, Jamison, on solo guitar. Let’s see how the patrons like it. If it goes over well, then I’ll think about making it a regular thing.”
Jamison breaks into a face-splitting grin. “I can do that,” he says.
“Okay,” I nod. “We’ll work out the details later. I’ll look at the calendar for next month and get back to you on the date. And of course, this would be outside of your regular work schedule.”
“Yeah, of course.” He bobs his head in agreement. “And thanks, Sydney.
This is a great opportunity.”
Hailey pumps her fist and holds up her hand to high-five Jamison. I can’t help but laugh; their excitement is contagious.
Behind me, the bell on the front door tinkles. I push away from the counter and stand up. “Okay, you guys, I’m gonna take off. Let me know if you need anything, but I’m assuming you’ve got this. Hailey, it’s your job to train Jamison on how to close. If anything’s left undone when I come in tomorrow, it’s on you.”
Hailey nods, but her eyes slip from mine to rest on a spot over my shoulder. They flick back to me uncertainly.
“Do you, um…” she stammers, “want me to take this order, or do you want to?”
I frown at her and turn around.
Facing me on the other side of the counter is Gavin.
“The usual,” he says.
37
Brick
Sydney’s face goes pale when she sees me. Behind her, two high school kids are staring at me round-eyed.
“I know it’s been a while, but I take it black,” I prompt.
Sydney’s eyes start to glisten. She clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak.
“I’m all out of blueberry muffins,” she says throatily.
“No problem. Any kolaches?”
That gets a laugh. A soft, sad laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. I’ll take it.
“Afraid not. They’ve been pretty popular. I need to start doubling my batches.”
“Tell you what. I’ll take a rain check on the coffee.” My voice drops a notch. “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute.”
“Um…” Sydney clears her throat and sniffles a little. “Sure.” She glances back at the two kids. “Okay. You two are on your own,” she says, and then turns back to me. “Let’s go out front,” she murmurs.
I stride to the front door and hold it open for her, letting it close behind me. Outside, she clutches her arms around her like she’s cold. “What did you want, Gavin?” she asks, her eyes darting everywhere but at my face.
BRICK (Lords of Carnage MC) Page 19