CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Outside the dealership, Ruby perched on a stone planter, staring up at the empty sign where "Fox Keene Harley-Davidson" had once been spelled out, the letters still partly visible. She hadn't yet decided what to replace it with. It wouldn't be her own name, though she now owned the dealership free and clear, thanks to the contents of the vault: the Russian money Kyle had skimmed off from Fox. It was now hers. What paper trail there was would point to two dead men, and Ruby’s new Swiss personal banker was remarkably discreet.

 

The door to the dealership opened, and George McCombs emerged, not a hair out of place, passing for a movie star in aviator sunglasses and an expensive black leather bomber. The money he'd borrowed from Fox had helped him buy out his deadbeat father's share in the lumber company, which was now doing well--and needless to say, he didn't have to worry about repaying it anymore. The life had come back to George's eyes; in fact, the more she saw him, the more appealing he looked.

 

As soon as she’d recovered, she’d enlisted him to go with her to the Stop 'n' Shop warehouse to unlock the safe in which Kyle had left it. The security guard recognized her instantly; a picture he’d kept all this time. He took her arm and ushered her in. When she stuck the key in the lock, she thought she was dreaming. Ruby had never seen so much cash in her life, and she was glad George had been there with a few extra backpacks to discreetly pack it up.

 

In the following days, he'd helped her with more than that--sorting through endless reams of business paperwork, getting her bank account set up. Fox, to his credit, had kept the legal side of his business completely separate from the illegal. And even better, it seemed the feared Reapers had been swallowed up into the earth. As Ruby had suspected, they hadn’t been so much an M.C. as a collection of thugs Fox had hired to harass and threaten Ruby and the Jockeys, and they had thankfully died with him.

 

They'd spent a few nights staying up late in her apartment with a bottle of wine, joking around, but he hadn't tried anything yet. She enjoyed his company. If he asked her out on a proper date, she'd probably say yes. But there was nothing primal there; nothing that moved inside her when she thought of George, nothing that made her soul ache. She acknowledged that there might not be anybody, ever again, who could do that. She was prepared to accept it. After all, she had everything else she wanted. She was taken care of; even better, because she now had the means to take care of herself. Kyle had arranged that, as if he somehow knew.

 

She saw George's eyes dart down to her décolletage above the low-cut neckline of her little black dress. Ruby shook her necklace, no clicking, just silence.

 

"I incinerated the key, just to be safe," she told him as he followed her over to her designated parking spot. "It's just jewelry now. But that doesn't mean I ever want to take it off."

 

"Are you sure you want to go there tonight?" he asked after a deep breath. "I mean, I know you want to do the right thing. But I could get a courier to deliver it to her. You wouldn't have to...you know."

 

Ruby swallowed and nodded. She knew it would it squeeze her heart like a fist to see Regan, Holly, or any of them again, after the circumstances under which they'd met and become close. "They're having a party for KJ at the Thunderbird. They’re my family. They gave me shelter. I owe them so much, and I haven't seen them since, and they’re all going to be there."

 

"All of them?"

 

She set one black boot up onto the pedal and vaulted on, a gesture as natural to her now as flicking a light switch. Ruby swallowed, knowing exactly what he was really asking. "That's what she said."

 

***

 

"Hold him," squeaked Regan, who reached down into the stroller, her long dark hair falling across her face, and Ruby just stared. The now-twenty-year-old’s body had filled out from breastfeeding. Her skin looked milky and beautiful. It was obvious why Kyle had fallen in love with her. She thrust the baby into the arms of an open-mouthed Ruby.

 

The Thunderbird of course looked exactly the same; she would have been concerned if it hadn’t, but still, her stomach churned as she parked her bike among the dozens of other familiar ones, standing there for a second, not daring to look too closely. Thankfully, she didn’t even have to walk in alone, because Holly and Colt had met her outside, before she even got a chance to take it in, enveloping her in a double hug, Colt crushing Holly and Holly crushing her until she couldn’t help but smile. But it was as if her mouth had been filled with marbles with all the things she had meant to say and explain and apologize for.

 

“None of that,” said Holly as she pulled out a chair and set her down at a table under a string of neon lights, handing her a glass of wine, filling up a paper plate with pulled pork and chocolate birthday cake, and setting it in front of her.

 

Tony Weston, who’d helped her escape those months ago, looked fully recovered, full of swagger at last, striding into the bar bandage-free in his Jockeys cut-off jacket. It was good to finally see him the way he’d been, before he tangled with Aaron Beeson and the so-called Reapers. She gave him a hug.

 

“I never got to say sorry about your mom,” Ruby told Tony. She’d seen Brenda die, and it was an image that wouldn’t soon leave her mind.

 

“I appreciate that,” he said with a smile. “But god, is my life easier now.”

 

Nearby, Ruby watched Colt in the corner with Regan. Colt gently swung the baby in a circle above his head, the size of a tiny monkey in his tree-trunk arms. Kyle needn’t have worried; with Colt and Holly helping look after him, that kid would grow up fearless.

 

“But, you guys, you helped me so much.”

 

“I’m a forty-year-old step-grandma. What else do I have to do but help people? Drink and eat first, and then we can talk like human beings. Besides, Regan wants to see you.” Ruby had put her fork down when Regan had arrived in with the stroller. Holly kissed her on the top of the head and skittered off to see to things.

 

Now, long eyelashes blinked up at her in curiosity, shading the boy's achingly familiar gray-green eyes. Reverently, she ran her fingers through the baby blond highlights in his full head of curly hair as he lifted his hand, fixated on something at her chest. "That's your daddy's sister,” Regan said bending down to speak into his ear. “She loved your daddy very much. Just like me." A tear dripped down Ruby's cheek and landed on the baby's scalp. He cooed and laughed as he gripped her ruby in his fist, its brilliant facets reflected in the Christmas lights. The glass bottles behind the bar seemed to meld with Ruby's tears into a glistening kaleidoscope.

 

"Ruby," said Regan, her own voice hitching a little. "You can say Ruby, can't you KJ?" The boy just stared thoughtfully.

 

"Don't push him," Ruby said through a weepy kind of laughter.

 

"Hey, he can say all kinds of stuff," Regan insisted. "The usual: cookie, cracker, cake, chopper."

 

Ruby laughed and pulled out a piece of paper from a manila envelope. "I have something for you." The expression on Regan's face was almost one of amusement.

 

"Huh?" she said, bouncing KJ. The baby seemed more interested in the piece of paper than she did; he reached out his chubby hand.

 

"It's the number of a Swiss bank account. Nobody can touch it except you. And KJ, when he's old enough."

 

"This is insane." She pushed it away.

 

"No, it's insane for me to keep it. It's your money, Regan, as much as it is mine. You were Kyle's family. You and Holly and Colt and the rest of the Jockeys. I never accepted that when he was alive, because I was a stubborn and self-righteous idiot. I could have saved everybody so much grief if I had. I could have known you. I could have..." she blinked, reigning in her emotion. "It's my turn to make it right."

 

"Ruby, I have something to tell you, too."

 

If the room hadn't been a blur before, it was now. Ruby knew exactly what Regan was about to talk about. She'd delighted in anticipation of meeting KJ, and it was enough to galvanize her into going. This, however was the moment she dreaded. She decided to head it off before it got out of hand. "I know Joe’s with Lydia," she interrupted. She'd been prepared. "George saw them out together."

 

"That was business,” Regan insisted, and Ruby felt her hands unclench under the table. “Lydia took over for Aaron. She went back to Mexico yesterday, in fact, with Sean Donovan. She's getting away from drugs."

 

"And into what, human trafficking?" Ruby rolled her eyes, though her heart fluttered.

 

"Fashion. She bought a maquiladora, and she hired the Jockeys to escort the shipments up here. Anyway, some friends of mine came by the bar to hang out with him to pull him out of his shell. He's always working; networking with people. Big fish. He's gotten the M.C. like a dozen new contracts. Legitimate contracts. I think...well it doesn't matter what I think. But he's so serious all the time. It's like he's...grown up, somehow."

 

"Joe, grown up?"

 

Regan shifted in her seat, eyes darting to her child. "Without Joe, KJ would be in a foster home in Arizona. My son would be lost to me. I never would have seen him again. I signed away my parental rights when I was down there, half-delirious over Kyle. I tried to get him back, but I didn't even know where to start. I don't know how he did it, but if it weren't for him...He got somebody to look into the paperwork and declare it invalid. He saved us, Ruby. He saved him," she said, stroking her child's hair.

 

He saved me, too. Ruby thought. Twice. But still. "Regan..."

 

"Wait, don't say anything. I know you didn't come here to see Joe. I know you probably don't want anything to do with him again, ever. That's your choice. I just...I just thought you should know. You and him together, Jesus, Ruby, it seemed so right. The way he looked at you, when I saw you together...now that Kyle's gone, nobody's ever going to look at me that way ever again; I know it. But you can still have that."

 

"I can't. Regan, and it’s not because of him. I don’t believe for a second that he lied. Fox was the liar, and he always was. But don’t you see? It’s because of me. He doesn't want to see me again. Why would he? The things I said when I was in that motel room with Fox, I can never unsay. I can never take them back. I don't deserve to be with him."

 

Regan wasn’t buying it. "Go talk to him. For me. For Kyle. For KJ." She put her face down on by KJ's ear and spoke in a high, squeaky baby voice. "Go talk to him, Auntie Ruby!” She sat up innocently, smoothing her skirt. “See, I told you he can say all kinds of things.”

 

Ruby's heart was thumping in her chest; the ambient noise of the bar had become a low drone. She could so easily say goodbye to Regan, walk out that door, get on her motorcycle and ride the hour back to Walnut Creek, curl up in front of the TV, and enter back into the life she begun to build. It would be a good life. But it would not be what she wanted. It would not be happy. She got up slowly, deliberately. “Is he...”

 

"He's outside. He said he didn't want to be here when you came. He didn't want to upset you. He won’t come in until you leave. Unless..."

 

"Unless.”

 

***

 

A white corona of moonlight shone over the cheap patio chair in which he sat, a couple of empty beer bottles in the grass beneath. He leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, staring out into the dark, as if asking it for an answer.

 

Of course she was done with him; what use could she have for him now? She had all the money she ever dreamed of; she deserved to live in happiness and comfort, never having to scramble against the wolf. She could meet successful men, men worthy of her, like George McCombs, whom Lydia, before she'd left for Mexico, smartly informed him Ruby was now dating. The power couple of Northern California.

 

And he would still be an outlaw. It was tattooed on him; he'd made that choice, like writing his own tombstone in advance. He was lucky enough to have escaped it in that motel room, his shoulder grazed by a bullet. He’d been riding again in a week, because he kept on. His brothers, his Jockeys, needed him. Regan and KJ needed him, even if it was only to make them laugh at his half-assed father-figure act, stumbling over the nonsense syllables of Dr. Seuss and handing KJ old spark plugs to play with in the garage. The Jockeys, of course, had learned the whole story of what he and Kyle had been up to with Fox, and the money Kyle had been squirrelling away. He was convinced he was about to be excommunicated.

 

"You tried to save him," A.J. said. "That's what matters." In fact A.J. been treating Joe with more respect ever since, although he tended to forget he that when he was drunk. Luckily, Joe could give back as could he got.

 

It was that money that had saved him, really, even though neither he nor the Jockeys had seen a dime of it. Of course Ruby thought he'd lied to her about the necklace. He'd brought that on himself. He'd never been any better than he had to be, and that was why he’d lost her. He could save her life a hundred times, and he'd still never deserve her.

 

It didn't mean he didn't lie awake at night, hiding his face from the cruel moonlight, shining on the empty space next to him where her exquisite form should be, a white swan in his arms, stripping out of the devil's lingerie to bloom like an angel in the space next to him, coming hard and fast and perfectly.

 

And he couldn’t make that happen. All he could do was be a better version of what he was, and always would be. He went after new contacts and allies, but not through intimidation. People hesitated when they saw his youth and his colors, but opened up when they saw his ambition and sincerity. It was enough. Maybe, after all, as Regan had suggested, he was doing it for Ruby. But he was doing it.

 

***

 

“Looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?” he said when he heard the door open and the indoor light flood over him.

 

“He’s beautiful.”

 

Joe turned around. Though his expression was half hidden, she saw the little start his body made when he saw who was standing there. He dropped the bottle he was holding and got to his feet, as if she were a queen who deserved reverence.

 

She started talking; knowing if she didn’t get it out now, she never would. “Joe, I didn’t mean what I said when I--”

 

“Shh,” he said. “I know. Come here.” She stepped a little closer, gingerly, and so did he. He didn’t try to touch her. He just wanted to look.

 

“You know, after Kyle died, I thought I was cursed.” she said quickly.

 

“I don’t believe in curses,” he said. “But if there ever was one...you were braver than Kyle could have ever dreamed of. I know he would be proud of you, Ruby. If there ever was a curse, you broke it. Smashed it.”

 

“No,” she said. “You did. Joe,”

 

“But--”

 

“Hold on. When I was driving over here, I was thinking about you. No, I was praying about you. That you’d be here, so I could see your face. Just once. And telling God, or whoever was listening, that that would be enough. That if he let me see you, I would stop asking then. That I would live my life.”

 

“Well?” he asked, stepping into the light completely, flipping a lock of hair out of his eyes, and her breath hitched to see him again, as breathtakingly gorgeous as she’d ever seen him, or ever hoped to. To think that this man was more than just an angel out of the darkness, that he had once, in another lifetime, laid, warm flesh and blood and bone in her arms. Even if he never would again. That was the miracle. “Is it enough now?”

 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not.”

 

“Well,” he remarked thoughtfully. “What if I kissed you?”

 

She looked up. His face was all seriousness. “Now?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, hands still jammed in his pockets. She thought she saw a smirk on his face, a trace of the cocky guy who’d put a hand over her mouth in her apartment, who’d teased her about cuddling with him on the bike. “Would that be enough?”

 

She only nodded. Then a rush of movement, and as he came to her, it was as if she’d never left. He was kissing her fiercely, almost violently, his lips all over her face, her lips, and neck, as if to savor her, to taste her, as if he was terrified she might not be real, or that she might dissipate into the dark, a specter, an illusion. But she wouldn’t, she knew. Not anymore. Not ever.

 

“Ruby.” He breathed her name in her ear, so soft she wasn’t sure if she’d really heard it. He wasn’t talking to her, she realized. He was talking to himself. To him, her name had become a whispered prayer, like something he’d been saying to himself for the past three months. And now that prayer, that incantation, had finally breathed her to life.

 

“This has to be enough, now,” he said, pulling back, strong shoulders shaking, breathless as she was.

 

But she shook her head. “It’ll never be enough,” she sobbed into his neck, and she felt that familiar hand with its roughened palm reach out and stroke her curly hair as if he were touching gold. And as he pulled back, she realized he was actually smiling now, his face aglow, childlike, as if just to be able to look into her eyes at this moment was enough to give him happiness. As if despite all the horror he’d seen and lived through, all the times he’d grieved, lonely and abandoned, had been defeated. As if nothing could ever be wrong ever again, he held Ruby in his arms. She knew this because she felt the same way. “It’ll never be enough.”

 

“Well,” he whispered, “Then we’d better keep trying.”

 

THE END

 

 

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