CHAPTER TWENTY

"More pinot?" asked Holly, holding out the bottle.

 

She'd already drank a third of her glass, knowing there was a fine line to walk between loosening up and losing control. At the end of the table, Regan was taking quick sips, as if she were afraid her parents would change their minds about letting her have any. Only thirteen-year-old Morgan, who was like a miniature version of her mother, right down to the blonde pixie cut and triple-pierced ears, had been denied a taste.

 

Earlier, she'd clattered into the room, thrown her black leather XOXO handbag down on the sofa, and started whining about a party she was going to miss that weekend since Holly had apparently grounded her for getting too many detentions at school. Ruby had known girls exactly like Morgan as a teenager. The ones who got invited to every party, who skipped class, and talked back to their teachers. The girls who started drinking, smoking, and having sex before Ruby had even known what half of that stuff was.

 

Of course, it wasn't surprising to Ruby, looking at her family. From gigantic, red-bearded, red-faced Colt, who had foregone the wine altogether and was on his third glass of Jack, to tattooed Holly. Then there was Regan, who, while she looked fairly conventional, worked at a biker bar surrounded by rough, dangerous guys twice her age. She understood now, with her button-down clean-shaven businessman father and Suzy Homemaker mother, that she never had a chance.

 

"But why does she have to be here?" Ruby had heard the teen complain to her mother earlier, when she’d thought Ruby wasn't listening.

 

"Because she's Kyle's sister, and she needs help. That's why. And if I hear another word from you about it, you can forget about going to next weekend's party, too."

 

A big sigh was all she'd gotten in return, but it was enough to make Ruby uneasy the next time she encountered the girl. After what Regan had told her about her feelings toward Joe, she had an inkling about why her welcome toward Ruby had been less than warm.

 

But still, it was Morgan she had to keep her attention on at dinner--Morgan, and Regan, and Colt--anyone, in fact, besides the young man seated directly across from her at the table.

 

It was torture to have to think every second that he might be looking at her, sizing her up. Or to momentarily glance up from behind her wineglass, hoping not to meet his gaze, only to find a pair of intense amber-gold eyes dart away with a look of concern, and maybe something else, something she was as desperate to hide as she was.

 

He'd been reserved, almost standoffish with her when they'd encountered each other in the kitchen. She'd at last built up the resolve to slip downstairs, tempted by the warmth, voices, and the delicious Italian-restaurant smell seeping up through the vents.

 

She’d spotted him leaning against the counter, drinking a bottle of Anchor Steam and chatting casually with Regan. The dark-haired girl gazed up at him, not even trying to hide her adoration, which, though intense, Ruby now knew was more or less innocuous. And, although it exhilarated but did not surprise her, he looked good. He'd looked like he'd showered and gotten a little rest since she'd last seen him. He'd taken off his leather jacket and added a black hoodie over a blue V-neck t-shirt that still showed off his collarbone, which she tried not to stare at as she cleared her throat. In fact, his jacket was hanging on the railing leading upstairs. For a second, she stood there staring at it.

 

"Excuse me," she said, pausing in the doorway into the dining room. He'd looked up at her, momentarily surprised, though she could see him trying to remain casual. She coldly slipped by him, avoiding his gaze. He seemed confused, but also resigned to not pushing an interaction with her. He seemed to realize that, for whatever reason, she needed her distance.

 

She made her way into the dining room, where she was immediately handed a glass of wine by Holly. She stared out at the Curtis' backyard, which, not to her surprise, contained a pole shed with the door hanging halfway open, stuffed to the gills with hulks of old motorcycle chassis and rusted-out parts.

 

"It's an eyesore, I know," said Holly from behind her. "But Colt claims that he needs every single thing that's in there and believe me, if I try to throw even a single sparkplug away, he'll know. Besides, when he’s not with the club, it keeps him busy, calm, and out of my hair, so I guess I can't complain too much," she laughed. "What was that old book called? Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance?"

 

"I prefer yoga myself," murmured Ruby.

 

"Hey, it worked for Kyle. Colt taught him everything he knew out there about fixing bikes. Joe, too, eventually," said Holly, turning around as if to call attention to the young blond man whose presence seemed to radiate throughout the room.

 

Joe was with Morgan now, who had already plopped down at the dining table, barely hiding the fact that she was tapping away at the iPhone that rested in her lap, the kind of this-is-stupid look on her face that only a teenager could pull off. But Joe glanced over her shoulder and cracked some joke that even made the moody teen laugh out loud.

 

Ruby gritted her teeth; tried to look away. He deserved an Oscar, even if she didn't. She'd been foolish to think she could ignore him; as foolish as the family whose home she was in, who thought they could trust him. After all, how could Holly, and even Colt, have known what Joe was up to when he rode out every night with Kyle?

 

For all they knew, he could have been collaborating with the very people who had killed Kyle, or even...She touched the pocket of the cardigan Regan had loaned her. Her face burned suddenly. One evil thought led to another. Sure, Regan had assured her that there had never been anything between her and Joe, but how could she believe that? She, like Joe, had been raised in an environment where dishonesty was a way of life.

 

You didn't grow up with outlaw M.C. members for a family and not absorb that mentality. It was just impossible. That was why Ruby had kept the Jockeys at arm's length for so long. And even if it meant she'd been naive, now that she knew the truth, she was glad she had.

 

"Ruby, are you okay?" Joe asked suddenly from behind her. She froze, hands clenched at her sides, trying to push down the simultaneous electric charges she felt--of being grateful of the mere fact that he was near her, and excoriating herself for falling for his charms--again. She turned her back, pretended not hear him. Trying to reply, trying to choke out an answer and pretend nothing was wrong. Trying to meet his eyes without wanting to crumple.

 

"The lasagna's almost ready," said Holly to Joe. Thank God for her, Ruby thought.

 

"It smells delicious," he replied a little absently.

 

Ruby was haunted by another sudden realization. He knew. He knew she had found the ruby. No; how could he? She put it right back in his pocket after the rest stop, and he hadn’t touched his jacket since he’d hung it on the railing.

 

Or maybe she was all wrong, and he had no idea about the necklace. But he knew something was wrong. He’d have to be oblivious not to. She was glad of that at least. The sooner he realized he couldn't lead her around by the nose anymore, the better off they'd all be.

 

They all pulled up chairs as Holly as placed the lasagna on the table on top of a wicker trivet. Joe was right; it did smell divine, and it had certainly felt like years since she'd had a proper, sit-down meal. She should be hungry, but the last thing she could concentrate on was filling her stomach. In fact, she'd have a hard time eating at all knowing that Joe was sitting across from her. He had enough finesse not to stare openly, but she knew he'd be paying attention to everything she did. He had the talent for seeing without looking.

 

"I hope you had a good rest," Holly said to Ruby. "You look lovely, by the way. That color brings out your eyes. Doesn't it, Joe?"

 

Joe raised his head from where he'd been talking to Colt, flipping his wheat-colored forelock of hair off his face. Ruby was immediately self-conscious. She remembered Regan's line: He likes leather pants. Being around the Curtises seemed to bring out something new in him. It was true that even here, Joe never really let his guard down; never risked shedding his armor.

 

But still, he was laughing easier and smiling more. It was as if he had reverted to a slightly younger, freer version of the intense, determined young man she had gotten to know. He'd taken that mask off with her, too, briefly. Like when he’d first tried to coax her onto the motorcycle, after they'd gotten out of the situation with Sean, and later, when he was teaching her how to aim the gun.

 

Never before had Ruby noticed the kind of profound loneliness that seemed to be inherent in him, even in the middle of a crowded room. He would pause in the middle of some story and look down into his glass, or play with his fork, or run his fingers along the edge of the tablecloth. Ruby could tell his mind was someplace far away, someplace none of them could follow. It made Ruby ache, because she knew she wanted to. She wanted to be close enough to know where he went. To be that privileged one, as Kyle had been, and to be let into that place.

 

A warm shiver formed deep inside her as she thought, once again, of how he had kissed her on Desiree's sofa bed. Of the way his hand had curled slowly but confidently around her waist, looking like he wanted to let her in but didn't quite know how.

 

It was as if there were two magnets set on either side of the room, simultaneously pushing Ruby towards him, and reminding her that she needed to pull away. As earnest as Joe seemed, he was capable, perhaps more than anyone else, of taking the trust she had carefully offered him and maiming it beyond repair. Of leading her so far into the abyss that she could never crawl out. And worst of all, she knew she was doomed to be trapped there, in that no man's land between the poles, for as long as she stayed in Joe's orbit.

 

At the moment, though, his expression was serious, as if he were determined that she know he meant every word. And although his gaze definitely rested admiringly for a split-second on the leather caressing her lower half, he lingered longer on her face.

 

"She looks beautiful."

 

Ruby was startled, having lost her composure. Regan had been right when she’d said that Joe had a certain way of looking at her. His gaze wasn't like the gaze of anyone else. It was lingering, searching, but respectful. It was like he was aiming his eyes far past the surface, past her body and what she was wearing, to within. Like he was interested in all of her, body and soul.

 

It should have made her feel violated, but it didn't, and that made it worse. It was like he knew how she wanted to be looked at, and that wasn’t fair. He had no right. Especially not now, when she knew what a lie it all was. He raised the corner of his lip to smile at her, the finger of his other hand running around the mouth of his beer bottle, a nervous gesture that didn't seem conscious. She tore herself away and pressed her lips to the edge of her glass.

 

"I'm so jealous," piped up Regan, who had snagged the chair next to Ruby. "Ruby looks better in my clothes than I do. She actually fills them out. On me, they just hang there like curtains. I'll take some more of that pinot, Holly."

 

Her stepmother gave her a faux-dirty look, but she did poor a thimbleful of wine into Regan's glass. "Drink it slow. I'll be watching."

 

Yes, he’d called her beautiful, but after having tried to engage her earlier, it seemed Joe had given up the task. And now this no-hassle attitude, in Ruby's churning mind, felt like neglect, and it angered her. The conversation that night, to Ruby's consternation, was all about Kyle and Joe, about their antics as teenagers and later, as the youngest members of the Steel Jockeys.

 

It became clear to Ruby that though he held affection for Colt and his family, it was Kyle whom he had loved like a brother, and no other relationship in his life had yet replaced that bond. Ruby tried to laugh along, but she felt herself sink lower and lower into her seat.

 

"Remember how Joe and Kyle had a surprise birthday party for Colt at a strip club in Oakland?" spoke up Holly.

 

Was that before or after he stabbed him in the back? Ruby wondered.

 

“How could I forget?” Colt chortled, and Holly turned to Ruby to explain.

 

"They told me to show up at this address in the city that I didn't recognize of course. I'd never heard of it in my life and I figured it was some banquet hall. So I show up with Colt's seventy-eight year old mother, whom I’d just picked up from the rest home."

 

Regan was laughing so hard she was practically spilling wine out of her nose.

 

"After a few dry martinis, she was trying to kiss me and telling me she hadn't had so much fun in years," said Joe, who was also laughing, though he was clearly a little embarrassed for Ruby to know that he had ever set foot in a strip club. "We only did it as a joke because Colt once said something about wanting to have his ninetieth birthday there."

 

"What can I say?" said Colt. "I want to go out with a bang."

 

"When we realized we'd never heard of a biker who actually lived that long, we figured we might as well give it to him now." He glanced at Ruby, and then stared down momentarily at his glass. "I'd never been there before in my life."

 

"Yeah, right," teased Regan.

 

Joe laughed. "What? It’s true!" He grinned.

 

Faces faded; voices blurred like a tuning-up orchestra. She'd thought, for a second, that this could be it--that after so many years of fighting it, on the road, behind a Harley, believe it or not, was the place she belonged. That for a second, it had seemed right. But no--she didn't belong anywhere. The only place she'd ever belonged was with Kyle, and he'd been stolen from her.

 

Nobody at this table, least of all the young man who'd claimed to, understood that. She pushed her chair back a little; almost considered leaving the table, going outside to take some night air into her lungs. Suddenly, a voice like a dust devil suddenly rose up, swirling, sucking her back to earth. It was Morgan.

 

"Hey Joe, was Lydia there that night?" asked Morgan, suddenly having looked up from her phone. She spoke innocently, childlike, but it was clear to Ruby that she had been listening all along, waiting to make her move. "I seem to remember you two together, afterward. You know, she's coming back from Mexico this week. You promised her you would meet her at the airport, if I remember correctly." Her eyes drifted coldly over in Ruby's direction, and the smirk on her lips made Ruby feel as if she'd just eaten a forkful of poison.

 

Joe's face had paled, like he didn't quite know where to look. The recognition in his expression was unmistakable.

 

Ruby set her water glass down on the table so hard the liquid spilled out and onto the tile floor.

 

"I'll tell you what I think of Joseph Ryan's promises," she spat out. "He promised he'd never let me down, but he did. I think he's liar, a cheat, and a thief, and I wish he'd never come into my life--or Kyle's, either. Because if he hadn’t, maybe Kyle would be still be here now."

 

She reached into her pocket and threw the ruby down in the center of the table, chain and all.

 

"That was with my brother the night he died. And I found it in his jacket." She pointed at Joe.

 

Joe had stood up from the table, silent, resigned, a terribly serious look in his eyes, as if he hadn’t decided yet what he could say.

 

Ruby spoke calmly, knowing if she looked in those eyes, she would crumble. She would die because the look of concern he was giving her was exactly the same one had given her when she'd jumped off his bike and taken off across that muddy field. He had tricked her with that look. He had caught up with her and approached her like a skittish animal, talking her down, pretending to lay himself bare and make himself vulnerable so she would no longer be afraid to let go of herself. To strip away her every carefully-constructed defense and lie armor-less in his arms. Something she could never, ever, do again.

 

"I'm going to go upstairs now. If you follow me, I'll scream. Sorry for ruining dinner. Goodnight."

 

Her face burned hot and wet on the way up the stairs, passing the blurry family photos that marched up the wall, arranged from oldest to newest. She hated them. This entire world was a lie. She knew now what she should have known all along: that she had been wrong to trust him--all wrong. She was right when she'd told Fox she was cursed.

 

Nothing had ever gone right, she realized as she threw herself down on the guest bed, tears flowing freely now and wetting the comforter. But at least she was no longer under any illusions that anything ever would.