Chapter Seven
Russ
I get out of the hospital: Nothing too serious, the doctor tells me. I’m supposed to stay off my feet for a few days. When he saw my tattoos, he recommended I take ibuprofen and stay away from alcohol. Julie sat there the whole time, neither one of us knowing what to say to each other.
She drives me back to my bike, and I tell her I have a few things to take care of, and “Can we talk in a little while?”
She nods her head and says, “Okay.”
Trying to hide the strain that comes from lifting my leg over my bike, I slip my key in and ride off. Riley talked Rev into putting me on his visitor’s list. It’s not the way we’re supposed to do things, but I’m running out of options. This time, when I walked out of the bar to get on my bike, there wasn’t a cab pulling up at just the right time to save me.
It would have been worse if Switch didn’t have a glass jaw, and Yardbird didn’t cut and run when he saw Switch go down. It would have been worse, and next time, it will be.
Those three, they’re just the beginning. The three of them, they’ve never planned anything in their lives. I’ve been around this kind of thing enough. They’re where I’m supposed to be looking. I spot them, and from now on, it’s supposed to be tunnel vision so I don’t see the ones creeping out of the darkness behind me.
I’m not stupid, but telling myself that doesn’t help much as I’m signing my name on the visitor’s sign-in sheet, and handing over my state-issued ID to the officer who’s been eyeing me since I walked into the place. “Here to see your boss?” the guard asks.
“My friend,” I tell him.
After that, I don’t have to wait. Visiting hours are short, and I didn’t get here at the top of the clock. Maybe I won’t get to see him. If I do, I have to be careful. Every word we say to one another is going to be overheard, recorded, and picked apart.
I’m sitting on a metal stool, in front of a circular metal table, and Rev comes in, larger than life as always. A lot of people, even guys in the club, they don’t do too well on the inside. For Rev, until there’s a change in hierarchy, he’s still the guy on top.
He sits down, saying, “What do you want?”
“I need your help,” I tell him.
“Not a whole lot I can do about a whole lot where I am,” he says. “What do you want?”
He’s not happy I’m here.
“Get that at the shop?” he asks, nodding to my busted up face.
“Yeah.”
“Someone trying to take your job?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Hard to avoid,” he says. “You get a bunch of guys who want to work on the same engine... What do you want me to do about it?”
“You know me, Rev,” I tell him. “I’ve always worked hard for the shop, and I’m a loyal employee. They’re going to force me out, though. They’re going to do it and make sure I can never find another job unless you do something.”
He smiles. “Sounds like you need to find out what broke,” he tells me. “Until that happens, you’re going to have guys gunning for your job, saying whatever they have to say to push you out and make sure nobody stands up to help you. What do you think my life’s been like?” He stands, but before he leaves, he says, “Really, I wish I could help, but until you find out what broke and who broke it, nobody can help you. And without the guys on your side, there’s nothing I can do for you.”
That’s it. He walks away.
So I’m on my own. I don’t know what I expected him to do. Like he said, he can’t control what people do when he’s on the inside, but if someone takes me out, that means he’s out, too. I’m there because it was Rev’s decision to put me there. They kill me, it’s a mutiny, and I’m just the placeholder. If I’m dead, it won’t be long until Rev’s dead, too.
Both of us on the line, and he’s telling me it’s my job to fix it.
I shouldn’t have come here; and I’m only more convinced of that fact when I see Julie standing next to my bike in the parking lot of the jail. This has to stop, and it has to stop right now.
“I was worried,” she says. “I know I shouldn’t be following you, and it’s probably pretty weird that I did, but with what happened… I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know if it’s over. When I saw you pull in here, I didn’t know if I should go, or if I should just wait for you. Here I am.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell her. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“It’s dangerous.”
“I know it is. I can see what they did to you. You need to go back in there, and tell the police—”
I’m quiet to keep from yelling, but the words are forceful coming out of my mouth, “I talk to the cops, and I’m dead. Do you get that yet?”
“Then you need to leave,” she says. “You need to go where you’ll be safe.”
“No, that’s what you need to do,” I tell her. “You had the right idea when you sent me that text earlier.”
“I made a mistake,” she says. “This time of year… It’s when my brother died. I always do something, overreact in one way or another, or just sink into myself. I never know what’s going to happen, but I always know it’s going to be bad. I was lashing out, I thought, but the truth is I’m standing here because I—”
“You’re standing there because you’re not listening to what I’m telling you. It is not safe for you to be around me. Last night, I never should have gone to your house. I’m done putting you in danger.”
“I’m standing here because you’re always trying to save me,” she says. “You’re the first person since my brother I could say that about and mean it. Well, now maybe it’s my time to save you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but—”
“I know what’s going to happen,” I start. I have to do this, but I do not want to do this. Things are only getting worse, and she’s not listening when I’m telling her she’s in danger, too. I have to make sure she doesn’t show up again, or else she might get caught in the crossfire. “You’re going to get in your car, you’re going to drive back to your nice house, and you’re going to forget you ever knew me.”
“Why would I—”
I do not want to do this. I have to do this. “You were just a conquest,” I tell her. “You came in that night with Riley, and I wanted to see if I could get you in bed.”
“You’re not like that,” she says.
“Look at me!” I yell. When I hear the echo off the front of the jail, I remember where I am, and I lower my voice. “You don’t know anything about me, and if you did, you wouldn’t need me to try and convince you. You’d leave, stomping your gas pedal through the floor. You look at me and you see an edgy guy with a motorcycle, but you wouldn’t last two minutes in my world. You’re a tourist, and now I’m done with you. Do you get it? Sometimes, the people you’re told are bad really are. There’s no soft, squishy bullshit inside each and every one of us. This is the real world, and sometimes, people just fuck each other because they can. Do you get it now? I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to hear your voice or read your fucking text messages. I want to remember you as a notch on my belt, and then I want to forget you while I go looking for the next one. Get out of my life already. I’m done with you.”
She’s holding back tears.
I went too far. I didn’t have to go that far. If it keeps her safe, it’s worth it. I’d rather have her hate me than get hurt because of me.
I tell myself it’s for the best and that I’m just a passing curiosity for her anyway: Her trip to the dark side. She gets in her car, and I’m telling myself she was about to break things off anyway. It can’t be that she changed her mind that fast. She saw me looking like this and walking like that, and being a decent, empathetic person, she wants to make sure I’m going to be okay. She drives off, and I’m telling myself part of her’s thanking me for saving her from the long-form mistake that is being with me.
We barely know each other, anyway. Like she said, she was acting out because it’s the time of year when her brother died. I’m telling myself whatever I can think of, so I don’t think about what I’m feeling right now.
Gutted.
Most of what I’m telling myself is true, maybe all of it. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s hurt right now, and I’m the one that hurt her. Pure motives or not, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for that. On the bright side, I won’t be alive to regret anything too long. That is, if you can call it a bright side.