by L. B. Dunbar
“Too bad,” Giant mutters. “It was always fun to watch her put you in your place.”
Sensing Evie’s glee at wrapping me around her finger, she beams a smile in Giant’s direction.
“But you weren’t oblivious,” Giant directs at her. “James could look at you, and it was like watching a sunny day crank up the heat.” Giant fans his face like an overheated old lady, and I scowl at him and his sexual innuendo. Evie rolls her lips, lowering her gaze for the table. Neither of us knows what to say to him.
“There wasn’t a couple more in love than you two,” my brother continues.
“Giant,” I warn, watching Evie’s shoulders shrink.
My brother loved his wife, but I didn’t miss the looks he’d give me when I took Evie in my arms at family functions or kissed her in public. Clara was sweet, quiet, and innocent. Theirs was a private relationship while Evie and I were very physical and open, and something makes me wonder if Giant wanted more than he had with Clara.
“It’s still there,” Giant states, lowering his voice like a marriage counselor, and I want to tell him he’s out of line, but I realize he isn’t entirely off base. I love Evelyn. I always have, always will. It’s just our circumstances that have changed. Our lives fell apart because of me, and despite that love, we aren’t the same people we once were.
“That’s enough,” I growl at my brother as something covers my thigh. Glancing down, I’m surprised to see Evie’s hand there, fingers splayed over my denim-clad leg, giving it a squeeze. It’s a warning not to argue, and suddenly, I know what Giant means. I’d do anything this woman asked of me, other than one. I can’t get us back to who we were.
“Can you text me the information?” Evie asks, speaking for herself instead of both of us like she once did. There was always a collective “we” in everything.
I turn my head away from her, feeling the press of Giant’s eyes on the side of my face. My arm slips over Evie, coming to my own lap, where I cover her fingers with a brush of mine, and she removes her hand from my thigh.
“Letty said she enjoyed lunch the other day, and she appreciates your apology, but it wasn’t necessary.” Giant glares at me over the table, obviously aware of Evie’s exit from the Pub and my following her. He’s so in love with this new woman on a level different than this first wife. It’s surprising while encouraging. I want him to be happy despite my permanent bad mood and separation from him.
As if this little breakfast meal isn’t shitty enough, Dolores comes around the counter and heads for the table.
“Giant,” she addresses him first, then does a double take at me and almost strains her neck, taking in Evie sitting next to me.
“James.” Dolores and I patched things up years and years ago, and I still feel protective of her in some ways. I feel responsible for breaking her heart, but Evie feels even more guilty when I’ve told her she shouldn’t have ever felt that way.
“Evelyn.” My wife’s name is a bit sharp on Dolores’s tongue, but the expression on her face is more of concern, especially as her gaze comes back to me. She isn’t surprised to find me in the diner, but it’s Evie’s presence that’s causing her unease.
“Hello, Dolores.” Evie’s voice cracks as she speaks to my once lover. I want to turn on Evie and tell her for the millionth time to let it go, but then again, I’m one who can harbor guilt like a champion. Evie never had anything to feel guilty about regarding Dolores. I wasn’t in love with her, as cold as that sounds. Evie’s been the only one for me. Still is.
“What brings you to town?” When Dolores asks the question, Evie flinches. It’s innocent enough although I’m hopeful Evie isn’t about to blurt out how she wants to divorce me. Not that Dolores would care. She has a new man in her life—some rich dude from California who was turning her grandmother’s place into a vineyard.
“I’m here on business,” Evie states, and I release a sigh of relief she isn’t airing her true intentions. My peripheral vision notes Evie running a hand over her wrist, covered in a collection of silver trinkets from her jewelry line. It’s a nervous habit, and I want to reach for her hand. Then my sight leaps to Giant, who is the only person I told outside the club that my wife wants to divorce me.
“Evie’s also coming to the wedding,” Giant announces, and Dolores turns her attention from Evie to Giant.
“That’s right. Congratulations. Will Mati be in town?” My sister hasn’t been in the area this fall with her new job. However, she’s dating Dolores’s wayward brother, the famous Denton Chance, who ran off at eighteen to follow his rock n’ roll dreams and became quite a hometown hero although he hadn’t been home in twenty-five years. He returned last summer and conveniently reconnected with my sister, who was widowed a year prior. I have no doubt Dolores knows if Mati is attending Giant’s wedding or not. The diner is a hotbed of gossip.
“She will be. It’s mainly family,” Giant emphasizes, glancing back at me.
At one time, Dolores wanted to be part of our family, and maybe it might have happened eventually, but deep down, I always knew it wouldn’t. I cared about Dolores, but I’d been waiting my whole life for Evelyn. I just didn’t know it until we ran into each other on the mountain.
“Can I get you guys anything else?” Dolores asks, scanning the plates and empty coffee mugs.
“Just the check,” Evie states. “I need to get going.” Evie fumbles in her bag while Giant pulls out his wallet and hands Dolores a fifty.
“That cover it?” Giant asks.
“Giant, no. I got it. I’m the one who asked you to breakfast,” Evie says.
“You asked Giant to breakfast?” I question, turning my head from her to my brother.
“Well . . .” she begins, but Giant interjects.
“I came in for coffee and saw her sitting here. Alone. She asked me to join her, but I would have sat down even without an invitation.” Giant winks at my wife, and I want to reach across the table and throttle him like we were kids. Roughhousing—as our mother used to call it—was a sport in the Harrington household.
Dolores is still standing at the edge of the table, now holding the fifty in her fist.
“I think that’s all,” I state to her when it isn’t her fault I’m upset. “I’m outta here.”
I roll from the booth, brush past Dolores, and head out to the street for my bike. To my surprise, Giant is on my heels and lays his hands on my handlebars, straddling my front tire as I hitch over my seat.
“Get your hands off my bike,” I snarl at him.
“Get your head out of your ass,” he bites back.
“Fuck off.” My brother and I have had words over the years—casual, brotherly—and in true male form, quickly forgiven each other until my son’s death. Then I pushed and pushed and pushed until my older brother relented.
“You need to give up the shitty attitude,” Giant demands, glaring at me, still clutching at my bars.
“Not gonna happen,” I remark, starting my engine to drown out whatever else he has to say to me.
“Your wife is here for you,” Giant states, over the roar of my Harley.
“She’s here for a divorce,” I practically yell back at him, announcing it to the entire block. My wife wants to divorce me. Shocker.
Giant shakes his head back and forth, disappointed and bewildered. “You’re a risk-taker, not a runner,” he states as if reminding me who I am. “And I never took you for such a fool, and a fucking blind one at that.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Evie still loves you,” Giant says, narrowing his eyes at me.
“No,” I reply, denying the thought and attributing Giant’s assessment to his future nuptials. He’s all in luuuve. Evie’s in love, too, with another man. “Get off.” I rev the throttle warning him to let go of my handlebars.
“Quit acting like you’re the only one who has suffered heartache.”
“I lost our son,” I growl back at him as if he doesn’t understand.
/>
“I lost my wife,” Giant counters.
“It’s not the same, and you know it. Besides, you have Letty now,” I argue back.
Giant shakes his head, further irritated with me. “I love Letty with everything I have, but if you don’t think I’d give one more day to be with Clara, you’re wrong. She can never come back to me.” Giant punctuates his words by pressing off my bike. “Your wife can. And she did.” He points a large finger toward the diner, which Evie has just exited and scampers down the street without a look back in our direction.
“We don’t need to compare sad stories,” I state, hitting below the belt at my brother.
Giant crosses his arms, moving his head side to side one more time, and says, “Now it’s you who can fuck off.” With that, he steps away from my bike and saunters after my wife.
+ + +
After the shitshow of the morning, I finally make it home for a long-overdue nap. I worked in a hangover haze, which I’m too old to do. On Saturday, I dropped Evie off at the Lodge and went home hours earlier than I expected. Unable to handle my own company, I got drunk. My thoughts wrestled themselves, fighting between the sweetness of Evie orgasming on my fingers and the tension of us separating afterward.
“I never took you for a fool, and a blind one at that.” Disappointment rang in Giant’s words.
My family should be used to the letdown of me by now, but somehow his words hit me hard. What did he know? It wasn’t a fair statement as Giant had lost his wife, his childhood sweetheart and best friend. He knew about loss, as did others in my family. Mati lost her husband in a car accident. Billy’s and Charlie’s wives both left them for various reasons. We were a family of losers in a sense. But then again, Giant was getting married in a few days. Mati was engaged. Charlie already married someone else, and Billy had a girlfriend if you can believe that one. Everyone was getting a second chance to get things right or recover from the absence in their life.
“I’m the loser-est loser,” I mutter to myself, hearing a rattle at my front door that won’t seem to quit. Giving up on my nap, I roll from the top of my bed. I rarely crawl under the covers, missing the other half that should be filling the space opposite me. I almost trip over Silver, who lies on the floor beside the bed.
“Dude,” I mutter, although I love his nearness. Trudging down the steps, I continue mumbling as someone hammers on the screen door again. “I’m coming.”
Yanking open the front door, I find a man I don’t know on the front step. In his hand is an official-looking envelope.
You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.
“Mr. James Harrington,” he questions, although he can’t have any doubts as to who I am. I must nod in acknowledgment because he continues, “You’ve been served.”
I press at the screen door, stepping out on the steps, and the man’s expression shifts. Silver rushes past me into the yard, and the man takes a giant step backward, clearing the stairs in one fumbling skip. I follow him until we are both on the grass. He holds the envelope between us like the sword I need to throw myself upon.
“I’m just the messenger,” he states, standing firm with the thin package presented to me.
“Yeah,” I snap, ripping it out of his hands and crumpling the edge of it. Immediately, he turns his back and marches toward a sedan parked in my driveway. He opens the driver’s door and climbs inside, but I don’t watch him reverse. I open the envelope, pull out the papers so only the top portion can be read, and then shove them back inside.
My fingers seek the leather strap around my neck, pulling forward the rough strip and circle the ring that dangles from it. I wear this every day inside my clothing, keeping the symbol of our commitment and love near my heart. Tugging at the strap, I yank hard, and the strap breaks against my neck. I toss the entire thing at the house, listening to it ricochet off the wood siding.
Silver barks in response to my actions.
“Goddammit,” I yell, tipping back my head and closing my eyes aimed at the sky.
She really did it.
As I stand there clutching the divorce summons in my hand and consider my wedding band just thrown at the house, the rumble of a motorcycle approaches and pulls into the gravel drive. I look to my left to see Justice coming to a halt on his bike.
“Now what?” I grouse, stepping over to him as he cuts the engine and hikes off his bike.
“Ranger,” he addresses me, his face stern until I get closer to him. “You look like shit.”
Scrubbing a hand down my face before I answer him, I say, “Yeah, I’ve had better days.” I’ve also had worse, way worse, and this man knows it.
“Whatcha got?” he asks, nodding his head toward my hand, and I lift the envelope as if I’d already forgotten what treachery lies within.
“Apparently, I’ve been served,” I state, shaking the papers while crunching them harder in my fist.
Justice slowly nods, crossing his arms and casually settling his large body against his bike. He’s quiet for a moment while I look back at the house, wondering where my ring fell and if I should bother finding it.
“Gonna sign ’em?” he asks, and I glance back at the manila parchment in my hand as if it’s stuck to my palm, and I can’t shake it off.
“Maybe,” I whisper, my voice rough. But I do know. I’ll give her anything she asks for, but I don’t want to give her this.
“Ready for her to be out of your life?” he questions, but I don’t answer, looking back at the house, squinting in the afternoon sun. I loved this house. We picked it out together, thinking it was perfect for a growing family. We never had more babies, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Gazing at the house, I notice how sad it looks. Even as an inanimate object, the windows look like lowered lids, eyes ready to cry any second. With overgrown bushes and a dirty front screen, the overall impression is one of remorse. The roof sags a bit. This place once contained my entire world, but now it looks like it wants to curl in on itself and sleep for a hundred years.
“I guess I’ll have to be,” I finally answer without looking at my friend.
“You good with that?”
“What the fuck?” I bite. Of course, I’m not good at this.
“Heard you bent Rusty over a knee and spanked him the other night for looking at your woman.”
“That is not how it went down,” I retort, and eyeing Justice, I sense he knows this. He holds the unofficial title of president of a club that doesn’t exist in the same capacity it once did. However, his authority is still felt and honored by those who were lifers before things fell apart, and new recruits rode in, like myself. There wasn’t any initial hazing—no illegal dealings to prove my worth. I just gave him my word I’d keep any secrets I learned.
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have reacted the same way if it was Cora? Did he say something else?” I fucking hate that guy, and we don’t make much of a secret of our dislike of one another, even if we’ve pledged brothers before others.
I pause, glaring at my friend, who has lived a rough life. I don’t doubt the evil in his past, but I haven’t seen it in the six years I’ve been with the Rebels. Life is chaos but not malicious with this gang of hooligans. Justice’s name fits him as his philosophy with the new version of the club is fairness.
“You had breakfast with your brother this mornin’.” I know how the club works. We have eyes everywhere, and I hate that those eyes are looking at me lately.
“Not a crime,” I bite. We have no rule that states ex-communication from blood. Most members pick the club as a family by choice. “What’s your point?”
“Just checking in. With Evie back, I thought you might be pulling back from us.”
“Are you saying I can’t have my family back? My wife back?”
Justice narrows his eyes at me with the rough tone I use on him but screw him. “You want your wife back?” he mutters, nodding at the papers in my hand, but I ignore him by staying on topic.
“I thought yo
u and my brother liked each other.” Giant’s been coming into Ridged Edge more and more with this damn ride to raise funds and community center dedication bullshit, and the two get along like old chums.
“It ain’t a matter of liking him or not, and don’t make it sound like I fucking want to date him. We have an agreement between us.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“Looking out for your ass,” he snaps, and I startle at the fact my blood brother and my biker one have a pact concerning me.
“Well, I don’t need either of you looking out for me. I’m a big boy now,” I groan at him.
“Then fucking act like it,” Justice states, uncrossing his arms and shifting his body so he can sling a leg over his bike. “Man up.”
What the fuck? I don’t get to question him as he starts his engine, then reverses, leaving me standing in my yard, clutching my future in my fist.
17
Wedding Blues
[Evie]
“I got your message.” James’s terse voice makes me bristle, and as I hadn’t called him, I have no idea what he means.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ve been served,” he mocks, mimicking someone else’s voice.
A heavy pause of silence falls between us for a minute.
“Friday,” he states. “Give me what I want, and my signature is yours.” The menace in his voice does nothing to comfort me in making the decision to sleep with him, nor does his tone put me at ease that he’ll actually sign off on our divorce once we do have sex.
“I can’t on Friday. I’m going to your brother’s wedding.”
James snorts through the phone. “Cancel.”
“Not going to happen,” I state. “I love your brother, and I’m happy for him.” While Giant was James’s older brother, over the years, he’d also become the big brother I never had. I worshipped him for his service to our country, his honor toward his wife, and his overall generosity of heart toward me. He allowed me to check in with him once in a while after I first left, making certain James wasn’t hurting any worse than I was. It was always worse in some ways, but I’d never known how bad, and apparently, neither had Giant. He had no idea of James’s extreme risk measures.