by Penny Dee
Within minutes, two EMTs had Caveman strapped to a gurney, and with the Sheriff’s help we got the six-foot-something biker up the embankment and loaded into the ambulance.
“Nice work,” said a very hot looking EMT called Rory.
“Thanks,” I replied.
“Would you mind accompanying us to the hospital?” He looked apologetic. “Paperwork. Plus, if he starts crashing again I have a feeling you’ll come in handy.”
I looked at Sheriff B and he nodded. “You go. I will arrange for someone to drop your car to your mom’s.” He gave me a questioning look. “You were going to your mom’s, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, thanks, Sheriff.” I gestured to Michelle. “What about her? You know… about the whole pulling a gun on us thing?”
He gave me a blank look. “What gun?”
Sheriff Buckman had been a strong ally of the Kings of Mayhem for as long as I could remember. He wasn’t a pushover but he was known to turn a blind eye to a lot of things. It was no secret he wasn’t a big fan of paperwork.
I nodded. “I guess I’ll see you at the funeral.”
He gave me a casual, two-finger salute and walked over to his squad car to call a tow-truck while I climbed into the back of the ambulance. Five minutes later, I watched the town of Destiny come into view as we rode toward the hospital.
I was back in town.
CADE
Now
I heard her as soon as I entered the building.
“It’s a classic, sonny boy, and you don’t fuck with the classics. Do you hear me? Or has that combover blocked your ears?”
I couldn’t help but grin. The voice belonged to Sybil Calley, my formidable, charismatic grandmother. Seventy-something-years old, she was a force to be reckoned with and very rarely backed down in an argument. Any poor soul who took her on was in for a fierce fight, and by the sounds of it, Tito was about to feel the full force of hurricane Sybil.
“It’s blasphemy! That’s what it is. Blasphemy! Why, I bet Deborah Kerr is rolling in her grave, God rest her beautiful soul. How dare you stain such a beautiful story with your weirdness, you rude little boy!”
As I rounded the corner, Sybil and Tito came into view. Tito was standing with his back to the wall with his arms in the air, while my formidable grandmother yelled at him. He looked terrified.
“Grandma Calley,” I interrupted, trying to contain my grin. Seeing me walk in, Tito looked relieved and relaxed his arms.
Sybil wasted no time in getting straight to the point. She held up a DVD so I could see the cover. “Did you know about this?”
I took it from her and couldn’t help but grin at the cover. Pure spank bank bullshit that sells. But definitely not what you wanted your grandmother looking at in front of you.
“How on Earth did you even know about it?” I asked.
“I might be edging close to buying the farm, Cade, but I’m not quite dead yet. You know I like to keep my finger on the pulse. It’s Tuesday, and I know you drop into this pit of despair on Tuesdays, so I came down to speak with you.” She gave Tito a withering look. “Ran into this little twerp and found this . . .”
She ripped the DVD out of my hands and held it up. The cover was a rip-off of An Affair To Remember, except it was titled, An Anus to Remember. Gay porn. It was a bestseller.
“It’s a disgrace, Cade. An absolute disgrace.” She pushed the DVD into Tito’s chest. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of man-on-man love, Grandma,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation. Sybil could be unpredictable at times.
“I know that! Man on man. Woman on woman. I don’t give a goddamn! What I do care about is taking a classic and turning it into smut. Now that is not right, Cade. Not right. You don’t fuck with the classics.”
“Cade, this can’t keep happening,” Tito moaned.
Sybil turned back to Tito. “I’m seventy-three years old but I ain’t dead yet, sonny. I’m the original biker queen and I’m still packing as much attitude as I did back when my old man started the Kings of Mayhem more than fifty years ago. If you ever mess with one of the classics again and put your perverted stamp all over it, I will knock you on your ass, do you hear me?”
Again, I struggled to contain my grin.
Tito, however, looked unraveled. And he had every cause to be because I had no doubt Sybil meant what she said. She was a classy lady who never left the house without taming her bright red hair and putting on a thick coat of red lipstick. But she was a biker queen first. Tough. Fierce. With a mean right hook.
You didn’t fuck with Sybil Calley.
Taking pity on Tito, I slunk an arm around Grandma’s shoulders and guided her toward the front door.
“Now, Grandma, you can’t come in here and get up in Tito’s grill about things. Head Quarters is off limits to MC women, remember?”
That rule had come about after Sybil had swept through Head Quarters like a hurricane and upset an entire cast of actresses on the set of a movie we were making called Some Like It Hard. Sybil was a die-hard Marilyn fan and managed to put the fear in all the actresses who were on set, leading to a mass walk-out and halting production for three days.
Not that Sybil paid any attention to rules. She was the original rule breaker. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. And if it suited her, she’d blame her forgetfulness on her age to get away with it, despite being sharp as a tack.
She waved off the mention of the rules.
“If that little pervert can’t handle a seventy-year-old woman, then he needs to take a cup of cement and harden the fuck up.” She glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at Tito as we were walking away, and muttered, “little pussy.”
I tried not to laugh because that would only encourage her, so I asked, “Grandma, why are you here?”
She relaxed and smiled. “Now, Cade, you know you’re my favorite grandson—”
“You say that to all your grandsons . . .”
“. . . and I love you. So I wanted to see how you were feeling about Indy coming home.”
“This isn’t her home anymore, Grandma. She lives in Seattle now.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. But you know what I mean.” Her face softened as she took my hand. “I know the affect that girl has on you. I just wanted to make sure…”
“What?”
She smacked me hard on the arm. “That you’re not going to be an ass about it.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Good on Grandma Sybil.
“A lot of water has passed under the bridge, Grandma. I’m not an eighteen-year-old psychopath anymore.”
Sybil didn’t look convinced. “You’re a Calley and we’re passionate sonsofbitches. When we love, we love big, and if that love dies, then we die a big death along side it. I should know. When your Pappy died, my heart went with him.”
I couldn’t help but smile at my feisty grandmother.
“I’m sure Jury wouldn’t like to hear you say that,” I said.
Jury was my grandma’s sixty-year-old boyfriend.
“Jury isn’t the love of my life. Your grandpappy was. Jury knows I’m just after his body.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Grandma, there are certain things a grandson should never hear his grandmother say, and that’s right up there with them.”
She waved me off. “The body may be old and the reflection in the mirror might be slightly different, but the mind is still twenty years old. I might not be able to do it the way I used to but—”
I stuck my fingers in my ears. “Lalalalalalalalala . . .”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you think that I don’t do the things I still did when I was twenty.”
“Seriously, Grandma . . .” I begged, pained by the mental images.
Sighing dramatically, she changed the subject. “Your mom is making dinner for Lady and Indy. Somehow I was extended an invitation. I assume you’ll be there.”
To say Sybil and my
mom didn’t exactly get along would be an understatement. The civil unrest had ended years ago, but in its wake was a frosty cold war of mammoth proportions. Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law didn’t exactly see eye to eye.
I nodded. “I’m heading over there now.”
“Fine. I’ll follow you. Lord knows I’ve had my fair share of pussy and cock today.”
I opened the front door for her and shook my head. “Jesus Christ, Sybil. My ears are bleeding.”
CADE & INDY—Aged 6
Then
It was dark but moonlight spilled into my bedroom. The house was quiet, and I was in the middle of deciding who would win between Spiderman and the Flash if they had a fight, when something rattled against my bedroom window. I sat up, straining to hear in the dark. Again, something hit the glass. Pulling my blankets back, I climbed out of bed and went to my window. Peering out into the moonlit night I saw Indy standing by the sycamore tree. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt with a big pineapple on the front.
I pushed up the window and she came toward me.
“What are you doing?” I whispered loudly.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
I glanced over my shoulder. The house was still and no lights had come on in the hallway, so my mama and daddy weren’t awake.
“Of course,” I said. “But be quiet. My mama will tan my hide if she catches us.”
I helped Indy climb in through the window.
“Can I stay here tonight?” she asked, a little puffed. “I promise I won’t snore.”
“You want to stay here? With me? Why?”
“We can have a sleepover,” she said. She was smiling but I could tell it was forced. “We’ve been friends for a thousand years, Cade Calley, and I’ve never stayed over. I think it’s time we fix that, don’t you?”
“Sure,” I replied casually, but I was confused. I didn’t say anything as I watched her climb into my bed.
“Is everything okay?” I didn’t know why I asked the question. There was just something about her tonight that seemed weird.
Indy looked up, surprised. For a moment she looked sad, but then she shrugged.
“I don’t like it when my Uncle Calvin stays over,” she said quietly. She lay down and pulled the covers over her, leaving half the pillow free for me. She didn’t say anymore, so I shrugged and climbed in after her.
For a moment neither of us said anything.
“Why don’t you like it when he stays over?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
Indy shifted closer to me. She was warm but squirmy.
“He makes me feel funny,” she said. To my surprise she reached around and pulled my arm around her. “Good night, Cade.”
And that was how we went to sleep, with her head on my shoulder and my arm around her waist. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. But she was back again later that night, this time wearing a big t-shirt with a faded strawberry across the front.
Again, she climbed in through my bedroom window and crawled into bed next to me, wriggling until she was comfortable.
“Indy?”
“Yeah?”
“Is your uncle still at your house?”
I felt her stiffen and nod against me. Then she let out a sigh and wrapped her arm around me. A strange feeling swept through me. A powerful need to hold her tight and keep her safe.
“Indy?”
“Yeah?”
“Why does he make you feel funny?”
I felt her swallow and then breathe in deeply before letting it go heavily. Finally, she said, “He calls me his little princess and makes me sit on his lap. He puts his big hands on my legs and sometimes his fingers rub up and down my back. And he looks at me funny. He always licks his lips and his eyes get all funny looking.”
Another strange feeling moved through me. I had no idea what it was because I had never felt it before. But it made me feel angry. I didn’t want her uncle doing that to her.
“Does he do anything else?”
She was still for a moment, thinking in the darkness, then said, “The other night, he opened my bedroom door. I could tell he was just standing there in the doorway, watching.” She swallowed deeply but she lay rigid next to me. “I could hear him breathing and I got scared. But then he closed the door because he heard a noise down the hall. A few moments later I heard him tell mama he was looking for the bathroom.”
I frowned in the darkness. What Indy was telling me didn’t sound right. I didn’t understand why, but I knew it was wrong. Remembering what I had promised my mama about protecting Indy, I wrapped my arms around her and held her to my chest.
The following night we lay in the exact same spot and the exact same position. I had my arm around her while she curled into my shoulder. She was warm and smelled like soap.
“When is your uncle leaving?” I asked.
I would be pleased when he left because then Indy wouldn’t be scared anymore. But at the same time, she would stop coming into my room at night and I would miss putting my arm around her and listening to her breath soften as she fell asleep.
“Tomorrow. Mama said he joined the Army and won’t be back for a while.” She sighed. “I wish I could tell her . . .”
“Tell her what?”
“That I wish he won’t ever come back.”
I held her to me, just like I had done every other night that week. But then I did something I had never done before; I turned my head and pressed a kiss into her hair.
“If he comes back, I will protect you.”
She tilted her head to look at me. “Promise?”
I nodded and smiled. “I promise.”
INDY
Now
“Indy!”
I swung around at the sound of my name and saw my mom hurrying down the hospital corridor toward me.
“Baby!” Catching me off guard, she flung her arms tightly around me. “It’s so good to see you, my girl.”
“You, too, Mom.”
My mom was all of five-foot nothing, even in her six-inch-heeled boots. She held on tight, her arms secured around me as if she was holding on for dear life. It took me a moment to realize I was holding on just as tight. My grief started to rise to the surface in her familiar embrace, and I pulled away before the tears behind my eyes spilled down my cheeks. I didn’t realize how much I had missed her.
When Mom stood back, she noticed my bloodied blouse.
“You’re hurt? Oh my God, Indy, are you hurt?”
“Relax, Mom. I’m fine. It’s someone else’s blood.”
Despite my reassurance, she still looked alarmed. “What happened?”
Not wanting to recap the details of the last half an hour, I said, “I’ll fill you in later, okay.”
My eyes shifted to Veronica—Cade’s mom and the MCs legendary biker queen—who walked up behind my mom. They were best friends.
“Baby girl,” she greeted me, her smoky voice low and full of affection.
Veronica, known affectionately as Ronnie, was your quintessential biker goddess. Tall. Leggy. Tight jeans. Tight top showing just enough cleavage to tantalize.
She hugged me, and when our gazes met, her eyes softened and she gave me a gentle half-smile. “Its so good to see you, baby.” She brushed hair out of my eyes. “It’s been too long.”
Ronnie reminded me of Cher, circa 1988, strutting her sexy-stuff on a battleship while surrounded by a platoon of hot Navy guys. Same head of dark curls. Same hooded eyes. Same sassy attitude.
“Hey, how did you know I was here?” I asked.
Sadness swept over my mom’s face. “We were downstairs organizing your daddy’s funeral.”
The town’s funeral home was ironically attached to the hospital. It was kind of a creepy, multi-tasking thing.
“Cade called us,” Ronnie replied, her voice soothing and smoky compared to my mom’s soprano timbre. “He said Caveman had been in some kind of accident and that you were at the hospital with him and Michelle.”
&
nbsp; “Cade called you?” My stomach twisted.
“He and Isaac are on their way in,” Ronnie said.
Anticipation flared in my chest.
“Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” Mom asked.
I hadn’t seen a mirror since I’d knelt in mud and cut open Caveman’s throat. I was pretty sure I was a bloodied, muddied mess.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m fine.” I touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She smiled softly. “I will be, baby girl. I will be.”
The elevator pinged and we all looked in its direction. Hell, why did I have a sudden urge to run and brush my hair?
I held my breath, waiting for Cade to walk through the doors, but a mixture of relief and disappointment flooded my body when two men in Kings of Mayhem cuts appeared, and neither one of them were Cade.
“Well, well, well . . . if it isn’t little Indigo Parrish,” the taller of the two men greeted me. It was Cade’s cousin, Isaac. Tall and broad, he looked like a big, blond Viking, strong and commanding. Two sleeves of tattoos colored his arms.
Grinning, he pulled me into a bear hug, slightly lifting me off the ground with his strength.
“Hell, girl! You look like you’ve been to war,” he exclaimed, dropping me to my feet and taking a good look at me.
I looked down at my bloodied white shirt and mud-covered tailored pants. Both were Marc Jacobs. Both were ruined. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sending your buddy Caveman the dry cleaning bill.”
“How is he?” Asked the guy with Isaac. I had been so distracted by the mix of relief and disappointment tearing through me that I had barely recognized Caleb Calley— Cade’s younger brother. When I’d left Destiny twelve years earlier, he’d been a weedy fifteen-year-old with pimples and patchy facial hair. Now he was all grown up and handsome. And massive. Just like all the Calley boys. He had the same dark hair and blue eyes as his older brothers, and like his cousin, he had two sleeves of tattoos. I remember my mom mentioning he’d done a stint in prison, but I couldn’t remember why.