Chapter Thirty-Six
Selena
I’m free.
For the first time in too long: free.
My son clinging to my back, miles of road in front of me, I’m free.
This is what I’ve wanted. This is that feeling I’ve only glimpsed hints of throughout my life.
And now I have it.
No strings, no obligations, no threats.
I could drive anywhere — Los Angeles, Vancouver, or even fucking New Jersey — and be certain that nobody from this giant mess would follow me. I could start up a new life with my son and be confident that there will never be another Bloody Jackal or Devil’s Rider knocking on my door.
I thought I felt free after Reno when I took to the road with my son and a bag of cash and the urgent impetus to find somewhere to settle down and start a new life. But nothing compares to this.
I’m broke, I’m scarred, but I am utterly and absolutely free.
We move from side-streets to the highway and I laugh at how open the road is. The sun is shining down on my shoulders, my hair is whipping through the wind, and my heart has never felt so light.
“Hold on,” I yell over the roar of the engine.
Then, I turn the accelerator. The bike responds like a living thing — speeding up smoothly until we are flying down the road.
“Careful, mom,” Jake yells.
Everything inside me feels alive and weightless.
About ten miles north of Salem, Jake cries out. “Mom. Mom!”
Again and again. His tight grip turns to a squeeze.
I don’t want to stop — I want to keep driving until I’m out of gas — but there’s an urgent note in his voice. Something that tells me whatever he wants I can’t solve while going eighty down the highway.
I take the nearest exit ramp. Some faded, worn-wood sign with rainbows and butterflies declares: Welcome to Woodburn.
I pull up to a stop in the parking lot of some fifties-style diner called The Tasty Freeze. I hop off the bike, then turn around and help my son down. He’s squirming and anxious in my hands as I pick him up.
“What is it, honey?”
“Is Jarrett going to be ok?”
“I think so, honey.”
“Are you sure?”
He hits me with a look that’s full of doubt and fear — I can’t stand to see that expression on my son’s face. And just like that, my freedom feels so hollow. Everything goes crashing from the love of the moment to grim, permanent reality.
Call me greedy, but I want it all.
The man I left back in Salem, when he’s having his good days, means almost as much to me as Jake. That man looks at me like an equal, he respects me, he makes me feel like no man ever has, and he can fuck me in ways that make my knees give out just thinking about them.
I need to do something.
I take out my phone — Jarrett’s phone — and I dial and I pray.
Please pick up.
Please.
Three rings in, and finally an answer.
“Hazard?” comes a gruff voice on the other end of the line. “What’s your status, brother?”
“No, it’s not Jarrett. It’s Selena.”
My voice betrays me and Gunney’s voice goes softer than a man like him should be able to achieve. He knows things are in a bad way.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s in trouble.”
“We’re all in a bit of trouble. I can tell you I’m not sitting in a fucking coffee shop, Instagramming my goddamn breve latte right now.”
Over the phone, gunfire rips in the distance. Two other men’s voices scream, one of them unmistakably a death-rattle. There’s scuffling, a muted cry of “shit, shoot that son of a bitch”, and it’s a tense twenty seconds before Gunney comes back on the line.
“He’s going to die if you can’t get to him, Gunney. There’s a stash house the Jackals are using, it’s about a mile west of Salem. Just listen for the gunshots. Jarrett stayed behind to keep the Jackals busy so Jake and I could get away.”
“Son of a bitch always had a death wish.”
There’s some muffled rustling and Gunney’s ferocious shouting. “Get ready to move out, brothers. Hazard’s got himself in a fix, and if we don’t get moving right fucking now, one of you bastards is going to take over that fucking charity job and I swear to Christ Almighty, I’ll make sure we do a tribute to him with that fucking Sarah McLachlan song.”
More shuffling and he brings the phone back up to his ear.
“How many do you think there were?” he says.
“I don’t know. Five. A dozen. I didn’t stay around to find out. But he’s already hurt — he took a bullet in the shoulder.”
Jake reaches out and takes my hand, the eyes he looks up at me with loaded with concern and fear. I smile at him and squeeze his hand.
“He’s hurt? Damn, that means those Jackals have a fucking chance. Whatever. Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. We’ll kill them all.”
“Thanks, Gunney.”
“Take care of yourself, Selena. You mean a lot to Hazard.”
“I will.”
“Are you planning on sticking around when this is over?”
He doesn’t say it, but I can hear the implication in his voice. Are you going to become his old lady?
“Yes. I love him.”
“Look, if you can, get north to Portland. Sam’s up there. There’s a brewery in East Portland — Cascade Barrel House. She’ll be there. She’s driving my truck; look for a black Dodge with too-many Marine Corps bumper stickers and a gun rack. Take care of yourself, Selena.”
“Take care, Gunney.”
I hang up and look down at my son and put on my most comforting smile. My cheeks don’t want to cooperate, but I force them into submission. I will smile. Jarrett’s going to be ok. He’s going to be ok and, when this is over, he’s going to be a part of Jake’s life.
“It’s going to be all right, honey. The rest of Jarrett’s club is going to take care of him and make sure he’s safe — they’re tough guys. And you and I are going up to Portland to meet one of mom’s friends. Ok?”
Somehow, my words have an effect on him. Despite every mistake I’ve made and all the trials I’ve put Jake through in my stupidity and arrogance, he looks at me with trusting eyes and smiles. “Ok, mom. Can I have a milkshake?”
I lift him back on the bike and slide up in front of him. The bike roars and, with my heart still anxious inside my chest, I guide us back into motion.
I hope Jarrett’s friends can get to him in time. I hope that he survives. I hope for a better life, together, for all three of us.
I hope.