Show the Fire
Page 25
~oOo~
Nolan came back as the EMTs were trundling Cory into the ambulance, a solution of ringers lactate being administered via IV until she could be given blood at the hospital. Isaac saw the boy first. Tasha saw him turn suddenly and trot, in the odd way he had since his shooting, down to the street. Then she saw him catch Nolan as he tried to run to the ambulance.
Tasha had been talking to the lead EMT, someone she knew well from her ER days. Now, she turned back. “Hold up, Al. She’s got a sixteen-year-old son. Can he ride with you?”
Al gave her a look. “We got to go, Tash.”
“He’s right here. Isaac! They’ll take him with her.”
Isaac led Nolan over. The pain on Cory’s oldest son’s face made Tasha’s heart cave in on itself. Acting on impulse, she hugged him—he was stiff and cold in her arms. “She’s going to be okay, Nolan. We got to her in time. She’s going to be okay.”
He nodded once and then pushed her off and climbed into the back of the ambulance with Al. Len, Shannon, and Isaac stepped away as the siren began to wail again and the ambulance drove off.
“We should follow.” Tasha heard Len’s statement at her back as she stormed into Cory’s house. Lilli was sitting on the sofa in the front room, her arms crossed, and Tasha went full bore right up to her.
“What the fuck is your problem, yelling at her like that? What the fuck, you bitch! Have you no feelings at all?”
Lilli jumped up. Tasha had come so close to her that when Lilli stood, they were chest to chest. Tasha was almost as tall as Lilli, so they were face to face, too. “Get out of my goddamn face, Tash. You have no fucking idea what you’re about, and that weak suck bitch just tried to leave two children alone in the world, so don’t you fucking come at me. You do not want to take me on.”
Tasha felt Len’s hands on her arms; he’d come up behind her and was trying to pull her back. “Ease up, Doc. Ease up.”
Tasha tried to shrug him off, but he was not letting her go. Still, she fought his pressure and snarled at Lilli, “I know you’re perfect and everything, but not everyone is a fucking warrior, Lilli. Some people just break under pressure like this. And you are a cold bitch if you can’t see that and have some damn sympathy for somebody who’s suffering.”
The next thing she knew, both she and Len were on the floor, and Tasha’s mouth was filling with blood. Lilli had decked her. And she’d done it with gusto.
“Fuck you, Tasha.” She walked out of the house.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Lilli! You okay, Tash?” Isaac stood near the front door, looking like he didn’t know which way to turn.
“I got mine, boss. Go get yours.” Len shifted under Tasha so that he could sit next to her on the floor. “Let me see. Ow. She broke your lip for you, no mistake. I’ll get you some ice.” He started to get up, but then Shannon was in the room, with another makeshift ice bag just for Tasha. Len stood and helped her up, then led her to sit on the sofa. He took the icy towel from Shannon and held it to Tasha’s mouth.
She could not believe what had happened in the past ten minutes. Her brain spun in tightening circles as she tried to sort out how she’d ended up sitting on Cory’s sofa, covered in Cory’s blood and now her own, having been punched by Isaac’s wife.
Through her swelling mouth, she muttered, “I think this is the strangest night of my life. And I’ve had some weird ones.”
Shannon sat on a chair near the sofa. “Lilli doesn’t talk much about her life before Signal Bend, so I don’t think you know this. When she was ten, she came home from school and found her mother dead in the bathtub. She’d slit her wrists. Lilli was home alone with her body for hours, until her father came home.”
“Oh, fuck me.” Len sat back hard against the sofa.
“Yeah. That wasn’t about Cory. That was her own stuff.”
“God. Oh, God.” Tasha felt like a heel. The stress of the night was making her head ache.
“We should get to the hospital, Doc. Maybe you can grease some wheels?”
“I don’t know how much grease I have left, but yeah, I can try. But we need to clean up—”
“Go,” Shannon interrupted. “I’m going to stay here with Luke. You go. I’ll call Show and have him come help me. He doesn’t even know all this went down.”
Len didn’t look convinced. “You okay here alone until Show can get here? Even with…” He gestured toward the bedroom.
Shannon smiled, and it almost looked natural. “More than twenty years in the hotel business, Len. I’ve seen a lot. I’m okay.”
~oOo~
Cory was admitted on a three-day hold—there was not going to be any way around that; she’d tried to kill herself, and Tasha no longer had that kind of pull at the hospital. She’d tried, but had gotten nowhere. They let Nolan see his mother briefly after she’d regained consciousness and before they’d moved her up to psych. They’d let only Nolan in—Tasha didn’t even have the pull left to finagle an extra visitor.
He stayed with her for about ten minutes and then came out even angrier than he had been. “They won’t let me stay with her.”
“No, honey,” Tasha tried to explain. “It’s a locked ward. I’m sorry.”
“Why’d you bring her here, then? To the nuthouse?”
“Because she needed blood. I couldn’t help her enough on my own.”
“You should’ve let her die. That’s what she wants.”
“Nolan. Easy, buddy. Your mom’s just real sad right now.” Len tried to put his hand on Nolan’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.
“Doesn’t matter. If she wants to go, she’ll figure it out. Nobody stays.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“You can’t just sit there and stare out the windshield. Let’s get some pie.”
Nolan sat there and stared out the windshield, ignoring Len.
Len sighed. “Nolan. Get outta my truck.”
Nolan rotated his head as if it were on a rusty pivot and turned a blank look on Len. Then he opened the car door, got out, and headed through the lot of Marie’s diner, aimed for the street. Len jumped out and went after him. He grabbed his arm. “Nope, buddy. We’re getting pie. If you don’t want it, you can sit and watch me eat, but you are sticking with me.”
The kid jerked his arm free, but he followed Len toward the diner. “Why do you give a fuck? You’ve never given a fuck about me. Why pretend you do now?”
Len stopped and turned back to face him. “You know what? That’s not unfair.”
“No shit, asshole.”
“Buddy,” Len laughed, “I’m a patient guy. But you need to be thinking twice about calling a man names who could remove your teeth with one punch. Only so far the broody teenager bit goes.”
“Fuck you! Hav’s dead. My mom tried to off herself. My bio-dad couldn’t give two shits about me or her. So get off my back.” He took a swing. It was weak, and it was wide. Hav had missed a father-son lesson in the art of throwing a punch. Len deflected it with barely a thought, and then grabbed Nolan by the collar of his camouflage down coat, and he slammed him against the side of his truck.
“Okay, kid.”
Nolan struggled against Len’s hold. “Don’t call me that!”
“Nolan! Stand down!” He gave the kid a shake. “Look. I know you’re fucked up. I’m fucked up, too. You’re right—never paid much attention to you. You’re Hav’s. And you hang with Badge and Dom. And I keep to myself a lot. Or I did. But like I said, I’m fucked up, too. I was there, buddy. It fucked me up. I don’t want to lose any more family—and you look like you’re on your way to trying to get lost. So I thought I’d see if you’d let me buy you a slice of fucking pie.”
“So, what, I can share my feelings?” He sneered. “Why the fuck?”
Len let him go. “It ain’t therapy, bud. It’s just pie. Pumpkin. Or that chocolate peppermint thing Marie does this time of year—that’s nice, too.”
“I’m not talking.” Nolan adjusted his coat. “Just pie.”
The vibe inside was off; Len noticed it right away. The diner was fairly busy, and the ambient noise of conversing diners dropped as Len and Nolan came in. Usually, when Len came into the diner, people greeted him with at least a nod, often a word or two, and not infrequently with a question or a need, something to bring to Isaac. But today, people just stared, and then, when he met their eyes, they looked away.
They’d only buried Havoc three days ago. His father seemed to have started something in motion with his outburst at the funeral.
That was trouble. That could be big trouble. It made Len weary to think how big—if the town turned against them? Badger had been right—they’d started on this road to Hell to try to protect their home. And they had. Not one resident of Signal Bend ever got hooked on meth. And the Horde had been a place to turn for help and protection. For redress. The town was healthier than it had been in decades because of the Horde. Everything went upside down if Signal Bend turned on them. The Horde could not seem to catch a fucking break lately.
But Len set all that aside for now. Now, with Nolan in tow, he walked to the counter and sat down. Nolan sat next to him. Marie went around the counter and put the coffee carafe back in the machine, then came up to them.
“Hey, Len.” She patted his hand. “You holdin’ up?”
“Hey, Marie. We’re solid. Good to see a friendly face.”
She dropped her voice and leaned her elbows on the counter. “Yeah—things…things are changin’ a little bit, hon. Since that day, when those boys got shot, and then, at church t’other day…well. I love you boys, you know. Always been good to us. You’ll always have a place at our counter. And we’re not the only ones feel that way. But look sharp. There’s an ill wind blowin’ the club’s way. Never seen it before like this. Maybe it’ll blow over, but I don’t know.” She stood back up. “What can I getcha?”
Letting Marie’s warning marinate in the back of his head, Len smiled and said, “You got some of that Christmas pie? The chocolate peppermint one?”
“I do. Two slices?”
“No, thank you—I’ll take apple, please, if you got it.”
Marie turned a bright smile Nolan’s way. “I do love a handsome boy with good manners. I always have apple pie, honey. How about two scoops of ice cream on it?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
“Oh, be still my old heart. Coffee for you both?”
After a confirming glance at Nolan, Len nodded.
He didn’t know why he had the kid here at the diner. He’d been driving to his place from the worksite that would hopefully soon be Tasha’s office. Living at the clubhouse was a real drag, with his horses to be cared for, and Tasha trying to sell her condo in Springfield, and the practice getting built up. He felt like he was going back and forth nonstop, and usually in his truck instead of on his bike. His hands weren’t good enough yet for a lot of riding, especially in the cold. He needed to get them strong soon, though, because they had another weed run coming in January, right after the holiday. Their little sabbatical was over, and Santaveria wanted his bitches on their knees. Len would be damned if he’d sit that out and let any of his brothers face the heat of that run without him.
He’d seen Nolan walking along the road. He’d never known anybody to walk as much as Nolan did. When that boy got behind the wheel or on a bike, he might blow town completely.
Which might account for how he’d gotten to be almost seventeen and didn’t have a license yet. Too much wanderlust to be trusted.
He’d seen him walking, his head down, looking like he carried every care on his back, and Len had pulled over and essentially bullied him into getting in. He had no idea why, except for what he’d told him—Len felt different. He was fucked up, but it was more than that. He felt protective of his family, and of his place in it. It wasn’t just about what Santaveria had done. The change had started in him before that. When he’d woken up in an ER in Illinois, gutshot and afraid that he’d been left behind. Nine months ago.
A lot had happened in those nine months, and Len no longer valued being alone in the way he once had. He’d seen Nolan skulking along the road, and the boy had looked the wrong kind of alone. Len knew that Cory wasn’t being released after three days. They were holding her longer. Nolan’s road was not getting easier.
So now they were eating pie. They sat and ate, and didn’t talk. Finally, as Len finished the last crumb of pie and pushed his plate away, he picked up his cup and said, “Maybe talkin’ would be better than walkin’.”
Nolan’s fork stopped midway to his mouth, then continued its journey. When he swallowed, he said, “It’s not.”
“Okay. You know your head.” He set his cup down and turned on his stool. “But Nolan, you are my brother’s kid. He loved you. So I love you. All his brothers do. You’re our family. That won’t ever change. ‘Less that’s what you want.”
Nolan said nothing. Then Len took a risk. “You know, when we were in that room, the day Hav died, things were bad. We were hanging by the thinnest thread. And Hav told us he kept one good thought in his head. Something to keep him strong.”
Nolan went perfectly still, and Len, watching him, went on. “He talked about a stretch of 68 that he liked to ride, the freedom he felt. The power. I asked him—I said, Hav, don’t you think about your family? Isn’t that your one good thought? Your lady, your boys? Don’t they keep you strong?”
Len didn’t think Nolan was even breathing. “He said no. He couldn’t think about his family. Thinking about his family—that was a givin’ up thought, he said.”
A quick intake of breath—a gasp—no other response.
“He said it made him weak to think about his family. I thought that was strange, but he said that thinking about you made him afraid he was going to leave you, and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to hurt you. He knew you’d be pissed, and it made him hurt too much to think it. It made him weak with hurt.”
He leaned in. “So while you’re so pissed off at him for leaving, and at your mom for trying to chase after him, you think about that. He fought as hard as he could to come home to you. He fought so hard he didn’t even let himself have what he loved best as his last thought in this life, because he was trying not to give up. To his last breath he was trying to get home. To you. That’s the love your mom’s having trouble losing.”
Nolan was shaking, his fork, still in his hand, rattling against the plate. Len put his hand on his shoulder, and Nolan leapt up from the stool, his fork dropping from his hand and clattering to the counter.
“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. FUCK YOU.” He turned and ran.
Len got up, grabbing his wallet as fast as he could, but Marie waved him off. “On the house. Go—go!” With a grateful nod, Len turned and chased after Hav’s boy.
He caught up with him in the parking lot, heading again for the road. “Nolan. Hold up.” He reached out and grabbed his arm, snagging only his coat but managing to pull him back anyway. “Hold up, kid.”
“Don’t call me that! Shut up!” Whatever barriers Nolan had erected between himself and his grief were down, and he was sobbing hard; if that’s what Len had intended, he’d succeeded. But he didn’t know if that had been his goal. He’d wanted to reach him somehow, that was all.
“I’m sorry, Nolan. I just wanted to get you to feel it.”
“FUCK YOU! I feel it! I feel everything! I feel it all! Just FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE!”
Len understood that he’d made a mistake. All he’d done was cause Nolan hurt. More hurt, when he was living a life that was full of it. “I’m sorry. I’ll take you home.”
After a struggle to compose himself, Nolan answered more calmly, “No. It’s only a mile. I’ll walk. Just leave me alone.” He wiped his face.
“I’m not gonna let you walk, bud.”
With a look of long-suffering disbelief and contempt, Nolan sighed. “Fuck. Fine.” He turned and
headed to Len’s truck.
Len drove him home and dropped him off. Lilli’s SUV was parked in the driveway. The old lady brigade was still on the job. When Cory was able to take over her family again, they would, at least, be well fed and tended, though they would not be without their scars.
~oOo~
When Len got back to the clubhouse that afternoon, the Hall was empty but for Badger, who was sitting on the sofa facing the television. The TV wasn’t on; Badger was just sitting there. Very still.
“Hey, Badge. You okay?” Len was just walking through the Hall, really, on his way back to his room for a shower. He’d spent a couple of hours trying to clean up his little trailer, thinking he and Tasha might be better off there until he could get a house up. But he was fully aware what a fucking slob he was, and he didn’t even want her through the door until he’d made it livable for someone besides him. Now he needed a shower. He was kinda hoping Tasha would have been back from the building site, because a shower with her would be better. No luck on that count, though.
But Badge didn’t answer his question, and that pulled Len up short. “Badge?”
Nothing. Feeling a tingle at the back of his neck, Len walked over and around the sofa. Badger was just sitting there, his hands slack in his lap. He was awake. Not blinking.
“Badge! Brother!” Len clapped his hands once, and with a jolt Badge came out of whatever trance he’d been in. He looked up. His eyes were empty, and then Len saw them fill.
“Hey, Len.” He smiled.
“You okay? You were far away, little brother.”
Badger rubbed a hand over his chest. It was a habitual gesture now, as if he was constantly aware of that part of his body. Len figured he was. He himself was constantly aware of his missing eye and his mangled hands. It wasn’t pain, exactly, anymore—or not always. Just presence. But Badger’s pain had been worse than his or Show’s.