Chapter 5
Ethan
Some people found the sounds of the ocean or birds calling relaxing. Not me. I was simpler than that. The ticking of a wrench was as relaxing as it got for me. The sounds of something being fixed soothed me. I didn’t need a church when I had the garage. The garage was my temple and my altar of choice. It was my sanity as much as any other place, which was why I didn’t take kindly to anybody bringing mess into my church.
“Hey,” Luke said, leaning against the wall, his brown eyes staring a little too intently at me as I worked. His stance was relaxed, but his hands fidgeted in front of him.
“Just say it,” I said, glancing at him without stopping my work.
“Say what?”
I shook my head. “Whatever it is you came in here to say.”
His eyebrows jumped before he schooled his face again. “How do you know I have anything to say? Maybe I just came in here to check on you.”
“And maybe I’m going to play dumb and let you just stand there,” I said, standing from my crouched position. A dirty hand rag lay across the bike’s handle bars and I snatched it away to wipe my hands. “You’re fidgeting, man,” I said, balling the rag up and throwing it on the ground. “You do that when you’re nervous. You got something to say? Just say it. I ain’t got all day,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest. “You know how I feel about beating around the bush. Say what you came to say.”
Anyone who knew me knew I didn’t like lies. I always said better out than in. Lies were weeds that killed everything.
“Well, I was just wondering when’s the last time you’d been to a meeting?”
“You were wondering or the crew was wondering?”
“Just me. I haven’t seen you slip or act shaky in a while, but I would be a shitty sponsor if I didn’t check up on you every once in a while. I know you hate me asking for no reason but feel like I should. So this is me checking in.”
His thumbs circled each other in his lap. He wasn’t done.
“And?”
“And there’s a meeting later today in Flagstaff. I think you should go.”
“What time?”
“At seven.”
His fingers stilled and he slid them into his pocket.
I hadn’t had any cravings in a while. Granted, I only had them when I was stressed and I knew Luke meant well.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asked. “You’re saying you’ll go?”
“I said okay, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, man. Okay. Cool. I’ll text you the address,” he said, smiling, taking away at least ten years from his face.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Gus said to come inside. We’re having a quick meeting.”
“All right,” I said, picking up tools and throwing them in the box. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
I washed my hands and entered just as Evan came from the office.
“Hey, bro.”
“Sup,” I said, sliding into an open seat.
“You planning to visit mom soon?”
That question put a scowl on my face, and right after I came from my holy place.
“Why?”
“Because you should go see her. Because she’s our mom,” he said, scowling back at me with my identical face. “And because she’s been having good days recently. She’s been asking about you, man.” He stared me down with disappointment, looking too much like our dad.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ll see what you can do? She’s our mom. You better ride your ass out there sometime this week.”
“Or what, Ev? You’re going to find me and make me? Watch yourself, little brother—”
“Now that everyone’s here,” Gus said, immediately quelling any side conversations, “we can get started. We need to discuss the matter of prospects.”
We had three. Ace, Dead Shot, and Phil. Ace had been with us the longest, a little over a year, and was one of those guys that would never fit in. He was too clean-cut and looked like he belonged in a suit, even when he wasn’t wearing one. He looked every bit the criminal defense lawyer he was, but he was loyal, didn’t mind blurring legal lines, and was our ace in the hole should anything ever go wrong.
“We need to take a vote. I want to bring in at least two of them. After all this shit with the Skulls, we’re bound to take a few more hits. We need numbers now more than ever.”
Dead Shot was a retired Navy Seal and something of a trained assassin. He could shoot any gun, thus the name, and wasn’t big on rules. He was big on loyalty and that was a big deal around MCs. Only thing was his military background made him look and move a lot like Harrison, who had died almost a year ago now. Taking him in poked a lot of our sore spots, though several of us wouldn’t admit it.
“I think Ace is ready. He’s retired and he’s got his bike, though he still needs to practice riding it,” he said, laughing along with some of the guys.
Ace was skinny and, in his attempt to show us he was ready, he bought one of the biggest and loudest Harley’s ever. Needless to say, whenever he tried to ride, it was pretty entertaining.
“I’m stuck between Phil and Dead Shot,” he said, rubbing his beard.
Phil was our most recent prospect, and in my opinion, a little shifty. He wasn’t getting it without a unanimous vote and I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one who would say nay. Maybe it was his beady, little eyes or the way he had a tendency to be sneaking around corners and pretending not to eavesdrop. I couldn’t prove anything, of course, but something in my gut didn’t trust him. Plus, he was consistently under the required mileage. We’re bikers – we ride and our prospects were expected to put in time riding too.
“Nobody wants to say it, but Dead Shot rubs a bit of salt in our wounds while Phil needs a little more time. Do we need to take a vote?”
“Nope.”
“Nah.”
“You got it.”
“Then it’s settled. Ace and Dead Shot will be welcomed into the club,” he said nodding, “I’ll go get the prospects their new leather and by the end of next week, they’ll be our new brothers.”
The meeting ended and I went to the room I frequented in the club. Most of us had houses or apartments but the few who worked closely in the club like Evan and I, had rooms on the second floor. I hung my jacket in the small closet before stripping as I made my way to the shower. I was going to a meeting; it was best to remain anonymous. Once clean of the grease from the garage and the dirt from the day, I dressed as nondescript as possible. All black, with no tattoos showing and combed hair. Arizona was cool at night and riding on a bike made its air seem even cooler. With a plain, leather jacket on and my boots, I started my bike, prepared for the hour drive. At night, the drive wasn’t as long as it could be. There wasn’t any traffic, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The shadows on each side of unlit houses and trees passed by in a blur. It was monotonous, and not distracting enough to halt my pondering. Evan wanted me to visit mom. I hadn’t visited her in a while. Did that make me a bad son? Possibly. I wasn’t afraid to go. I just didn’t want to taint the good memories I had. I wasn’t afraid; I was selfish. My mother was a gem. She was my dad’s old lady and a proper MC wife. She was the prototype and the original. When my dad was president, she did everything from hosting parties to showing patch whores that my dad was not available.
Patch whores were women who got off sleeping their way to the top and crossing off patches as they went. From prospects all the way to president, if they could manage it. My mom was never like that. She was classy, but fiery. She was very protective and would do anything if it meant her family was safe. I do mean anything. She was bigger than life and the one person I thought would never change. So no, I wasn’t in a rush to see her as anything but herself.
The last time I saw her, she wasn’t herself. She was dazed, with a look of confusion. She couldn’t remember who I was. I didn’t want to live in a world where my mom couldn’t recognize her own kids, but since I had to, I tried hard to not remind myself that that was my reality.
I was so lost in my thoughts I almost didn’t notice the extra wobbling of my bike. Almost. I pulled off the road under a street light and dismounted. All bikes had a minimum vibration, but excessive vibration was a sign that several things could be wrong. I hadn’t worked on my bike in some time, but the last time it had an issue, the chain had popped. I walked around the bike looking for any obvious problems. When I didn’t see any, I slid my key in the middle to see if I was leaking any oils. Just the right amount of oil and gas. I didn’t have any tools with me so anything in depth would require me getting a tow.
I stood, thinking with my hands on my hips as a red Honda civic pulled up behind me.
“Hey, you need some help?” a soft voice asked through her open window.
She was driving a car. She wouldn’t know how to help me.
“Nope. I’m good,” I said as she climbed out from the car. I didn’t bother looking at her as she stood to my side.
“Nice bike,” she said with appreciation.
“Thanks.”
Sure. I could have struck up a conversation, but I didn’t need to be talking. I needed to be fixing. I glanced at my watch and saw I had a little under thirty minutes to make it to the meeting. Maybe this was a sign I shouldn’t go.
“What year is it?”
“Harley, 95.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Too much shaking,” I said, not bothering to be more specific. This woman probably didn’t know a thing about bikes.
“If you’ve already checked the suspensions and shock absorbers, I’d suggest checking if the seat bolts are properly bolted. You’d be surprised how many people forget that,” she said, turning to get in the car.
“Wait,” I said, turning to her. Most women didn’t know the first thing about cars, let alone motorcycles.
“I’m sorry,” she said, standing just out of the street light. “I can’t. I have somewhere to be and I don’t want to be late. Good luck with your bike.” She climbed into her car, the light briefly illuminating her face before shutting the door.
It was her.
The girl from last week.
The one-night stand.
What was her name?
I couldn’t remember it and I was left standing in front of my bike looking lost.
She was right. I hadn’t checked my seat bolts. They were loose. I tightened them by hand and the extra shakes and noise went away. I knew that. I already knew that about my own bike. I just forgot. I couldn’t believe I forgot that.
I went a little faster than the speed limit and pulled into the church parking lot one minute before seven. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself before entering. I was nervous, but I didn’t want my face to show everything I was feeling. With confidence that I didn’t feel, I walked in the church and followed the signs to a small gymnasium. Several people were already standing in the typical circle and I could hear introductions being made. Two men stepped aside to allow me into the circle and I nodded thanks as the next person started talking.
“My name is Molly.”
“Hi, Molly,” everyone said as I made eye contact with the woman from the one-night stand, the woman who drove a red Honda civic, and the woman right across the circle from me.
“And I’m an addict.”
Molly. So that was her name.
Why the hell was she there?
After all the nasty things I did to her the other night, it almost seemed sacrilegious meeting again in a church.
Almost.
It was part fate and part inconvenience; that was my life.