“…are you sure? Absolutely?” Carla spoke soft and furtive into the phone and Mr. Smithe answered back just as covertly.
“I’m sure, Miss Jensen. You have to stop worrying. Everything went exactly as we had hoped. It was a mis-trial, in large part because of the evidence you and Mr. Lasseter provided.”
“Good. Good, that’s…good,” she said, knowing she was rambling but the seemed so overwhelming that it was almost too much to soak in. “And…the other thing?”
“That’s nothing for you to worry about. He’s not going anywhere, not for a very, very long time. I’ll keep you posted on any new developments, but until then, I suggest you celebrate. I’m serious, Carla. After everything that’s happened, you deserve it.”
She wasn’t sure if it was relief or the casual way that the normally reserved lawyer Mr. Smithe said her name, but as she hung up the phone she found herself breathing out a soft giggle. The very air itself seemed lighter.
Carla slowly set down the phone in its cradle and walked around the large desk to take a seat in the wheeled chair. The office didn’t look anything like it had when it had been run by its previous owner and she was glad, even if occasional memories did rise up to haunt her.
She signed as she sat back, letting some of the tension that had seemed to become her constant companion over the past months ease away as Mr. Smithe’s news started to sink in. Carla reached out one still trembling hand and picked up the paper weight.
It was the only thing she had decided to keep the same. It was a small thing, but heavy, about the size of a softball and it contained a single marijuana leave from an immature plant preserved, frozen in time and surrounded by crystal clear resin. The only thing that marred the perfectly smooth surface was the hairline crack that radiated out from one side.
She knew exactly what had caused that crack and moved one finger across it, feeling the imperfection, remembering that terrible day. It had been one of her worst and she’d had a lot of really bad ones up until then. But nothing like that.
The crack had been caused when she’d tried to hit Maurice Montero over the head with it while he was pointing a gun at Joel, but she had dropped it when he’d turned on her and it had cracked from the impact.
It was the only thing she kept because it was a reminder. A reminder to treasure every day like it was her last, to hold those she loved close, and to never, never give up no matter how hard or desperate or hopeless things may seem.
It had been six months from that day and those last six months had been the longest of her life. Maurice was in prison After the recording had come to light, he hadn’t even gone to trial but had plead guilty. He would be locked away for a long time, she knew that, Mr. Smithe told her that every time she talked to him. But still, sometimes she had nightmares of his hands wrapped around her throat. She wondered how long those memories would haunt her. Probably for the rest of her life.
But she had good memories now. Memories of Joel. Memories of the club, and her friends. And now, memories of the farm. It had been a surprisingly easy thing to buy the farm after Maurice had been arrested. The price had been drastically lowered because of the violent crime that had happened there and Joel had been right about one thing. Selling marijuana legally was a hell of a lot more profitable that selling it illegally.
Joel had loaned her the money to buy the farm and they ran it together now, her and the Dirty Cruisers. Joel was even talking about taking the club straight, although there was some pushback from the rougher members about that. The steady, and impressive, paychecks kept everyone quiet though for the most part.
And she finally got to do what she loved to do. Work with plants. She spent all her days in the greenhouse, or the small research lab they had built on the grounds just adjacent to the office. She didn’t have to worry about rent anymore, about losing her house, or having to work for anyone else.
Carla put the paper weight down just as the door to the office swung open.
“Hey, you ready yet? We don’t want to be late,” Joel walked around the desk until he was facing her, his eyes catching on the paper weight as well before flicking back up to her gaze. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked softly.
“Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Carla cleared her desk, rising to her feet at the same time, “Let me just grab my bag and I’ll be ready to go.”
Joel nodded, waiting patiently while she gathered her things. She knew she was stalling and she hated the wave of nerves that washed through her but they didn’t stop her from turning around with a smile and nodding to Joel that she was ready to go.
As Joel got on his motorcycle, and Carla behind him she couldn’t help but think about what was coming. There were so many ways it could go bad. She didn’t even see the beautiful mountains pass by them as her thoughts circled the different scenarios. What if she blamed her? What if she hated her? What if she never forgave her?
Over and over in her head the thoughts tumbled, not stopping until they reached the clubhouse and parked. The lot was packed with various motorcycles and trucks and she could hear the muffled noise already coming from inside. Everyone would be in there. Everyone. And she would have to face them.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay, alright? Better than that. It’s going to be great.” Joel leaned in, one hand cupping her cheek like precious china and gave her a sweet, hard kiss before helping her off the bike and towards the doors.
Before she could say anything to stop him, they were walking inside and Carla made a beeline for the bar.
“Hey, Carla!” Honey’s face broke into a huge grin when he saw her.
“Whiskey. Now,” she whispered fervently, trying to stem her nerves and Honey poured her a glass and slid it over. She took a large sip, coughing slightly at the burn as the liquid went down and only then did she look up and return Honey’s smile, albeit weakly. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was a mistake to come here, she thought to herself. But it was too late now.
“So, ah, Carla,” Honey said casually. “About Elle–”
“Not now, Honey. Please?” she begged him and he looked at her face, shrugging but staying silent. She wasn’t sure what had happened between them the night of the showdown with Maurice but something had, and neither was talking about it.
There was a roar through the crowded bar and Carla slowly turned, dreading what was coming next, but it was the last thing she expected. She caught just a glimpse of Hot Wheels’s white blond hair and light green eyes smiling at her a second before the woman was throwing her arms around Carla’s shoulder in a massive bear hug.
Several minutes later she finally pulled back and Hot Wheels gave her a slobbering kiss on the cheek.
“So…you’re not…mad at me?” Carla asked hesitantly and Hot Wheels gave her a confused look.
“Mad?”
“You don’t…blame me? For getting arrested? Because I led Maurice to us?” she finally said, saying the fear that had been with her for the past six months out loud.
“Are you kidding me, sugar?” she asked, incredulous. “I knew the risks. We all did. And Joel filled me in on what happened. Of course I’m not mad, Carla. It was that recording of yours that got me out of prison. And sure, six months was a long time, but I’m back now, and it’s because of you. So don’t think that for a second I blame you for anything, alright?”
Carla sighed in relief at her words, finally letting the last of the weight from that time fade away. Carla smile at her, opening her mouth to speak but Joel’s voice cut across the room. He was walking towards them with a smile shining in his silver eyes.
“Everyone, shut up! I have two announcements to make!” his voice dimmed all the other sound to a muffled rumble. “First, I would like to welcome Hot Wheels back. She is free and we are going to keep her that way!”
There was a roar as everyone started yelling and whistling and Hot Wheels gave them all a good natured middle finger, which only spurred them on more. Joel waved them to silence once more.
“And secondly,” he said, just a few feet away from her now and Carla could see the warmth, the love shining in his eyes. It sent joy shooting through her, “I would like to officially welcome the newest honorary member of the Dirty Cruisers, Bluebird!” Joel held out a leather jacket towards her and she stared at him in confusion.
“That’s you, sweetheart,” he finally explained with a chuckle. Carla looked around at the crew with tears in her eyes as they all cheered and whistled for her now. Never in her life had she ever felt more accepted, or more at home. She had finally found where she belonged. She held out her arms and Joel slid on the jacket with an approving look.
“It looks good on you,” he said roughly and Carla reached up, impulsively kissing him and the crowd roared again at that.
“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, sighing in utter contentment. She didn’t think she could ever ask for more in her life. That was until Joel replied, his voice soft and sweet and Ernest, barely heard above the ruckus but she felt it move all the way through her to settle in the vicinity of her heart.
“I love you too, Bluebird.”
THE END
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