“You’re a hard person to track down,” Gabriel said as he stepped up to the bakery counter at On A Roll.
“What are you doing here?” Stella demanded.
“I came to see you. I couldn’t leave it the way we did in the diner on Friday. I’d still like a chance to talk to you. Dinner after you get off work? Just to talk. If you never want to see me again after that…” He shrugged.
“How’d you find me?”
“Started at the diner. I went by there yesterday and they told me you didn’t work Mondays, but to try here. I came here and asked about you. Found out you work Tuesday through Saturday. So, it’s Tuesday and here I am.”
She looked at him a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but I have something for you.”
“What?”
“You left a fifty on the table Sunday.”
“So?”
“Wasn’t it a mistake?”
“No.”
She stared at him a moment. “Why? You can’t buy me, Gabriel.”
“I’m not trying to buy you, Stella. I left it because I wanted to, not because I thought it would change anything. If you would just talk to me, give me a chance to explain, maybe you would understand. I know what I did was…messed up,” he said, obviously changing what he was going to say at the last moment, “but I would like a chance to explain why I did it. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I would like you to know the reason why I left.”
She looked at him, her resolving weakening, wondering if she owed him at least that much, if for nothing but old times sake. “No,” she finally said. “That’s behind me now. What’s done is done.”
He nodded. “I understand.” He turned away and took one step before he turned back. “Just know it wasn’t you; it was me. I was trying to do the right thing, but I didn’t understand until later that I had thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me.”
She watched over the bakery case as he turned on his toe and walked out without a backwards glance, wondering what he meant when he said he was trying to do the right thing.
***
Royal stepped off his bike at the clubhouse. The contractor was supposed to be there already, but the only vehicle in the lot was Doc’s Dyna. “He’s not here?” Royal asked as he walked into the shell of their clubhouse.
“You see him here?” Doc asked, sitting on an upended five-gallon bucket.
“I guess he’s cheap for reason,” Royal groused.
“You ever seen a contractor, plumber, electrician, or anyone like that on time? Have a sit.”
“I don’t want to sit! I want to get this shit moving!”
Doc stared at his friend again. “What’s eating you, brother?”
“Nothing. It just pisses me off that nobody can be on time.”
Doc quirked an eyebrow at Royal. “Nothing, huh? Seems like something to me. You still got a burr up your ass about that diner chick?”
“I stopped by to see her today before I came here. I just wanted to talk to her, to explain why I did what I did.”
“Just fucking forget about her! Jesus Christ! You did what you had to. Even if you tell her, what will it change? Nothing!” Doc watched Royal a moment then softened. “Look, I think it’s great you want to come clean with her. That takes a lot of balls, and not a lot of guys would be willing to do it. But you’ve tried twice now, and she kicked you in the nuts both times, right? So it’s time to let it go.”
“Yeah, I know,” Royal replied softly. “But this is eating me from the inside and I don’t even know why. I was hoping if we could talk it out I could let it go.”
“Maybe you need to go back to Charleston until you get your head straightened out. This shit didn’t start until you got to Greenfield.”
“It’s not the where; it’s the who. When I saw her the other night in the diner, that’s when it all came back.”
“What you need to do is go out and find that witch bitch again. You need to fuck her, and keep on fucking her, until you get this out of your system. No pussy is worth this much headache.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Antonio Daniels said as he stepped into the clubhouse. “I got on the wrong interstate and had to find an exit to turn around.” Tony looked around the gutted building. “You guys have done a ton of work. The carpenters should be here any time to start putting walls up. That will be pretty fast, a couple of days, tops. The electrical, and especially the plumbing are going to be what slows us down on the rough in. You sure you want the two extra bathrooms and showers in the two existing ones? Without that, we can have the rough in work done in a couple of days.”
“Got to have them,” Doc said.
“You got it, but jackhammering out the floor to tie in with the existing plumbing is going to be a real pain in the rear.” Tony smiled. “Still, we can handle it.”
“Still think you can complete all the work in thirty days?” Royal asked.
Tony shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We’ll be working in the dry so there shouldn’t be any weather delays. You keep the money flowing, I’ll keep the guys busting ass. Once everything is roughed in, we can start the finish work. That’s what’s really going to eat up the time.”
Doc nodded. “Good enough. Make it happen, Tony, and the money will be there.”
***
Doc and Royal left to leave Tony to his work. Royal needed to clear his head. Doc was right. Stella wasn’t worth it. No pussy was. He turned north on the 276, a place he used to ride often. It was a nice stretch of road with plenty of curves, once he got out of town, to keep his mind occupied. He rode, going nowhere, while thinking.
The past four years had been the best thing to ever happen to him. He knew it had been the right decision at the time. He’d been offered a prospect patch by the Iron Kings and he’d leapt at the chance. He’d loved Stella, but he needed a way out of the spiral he was in.
He’d graduated high school but there was no money for college and his parents were useless. Constantly strung out on drugs and alcohol, unable to hold a steady job, they’d existed in abject poverty, surviving on food stamps and welfare while living in government assistance housing. He had nothing, and it seemed he would always have nothing.
He was working a minimum wage job at a car wash, the only job he’d been able to find, trying to save enough to get out. He’d finally managed to scrape together enough money to buy a bike, a ten-year-old Honda Shadow Sabre. He couldn’t afford a car, but the bike beat walking, even in the rain, and he came to love the machine for the freedom he gave him.
He’d ridden to Charleston for Low Country Hog Fest and, while there, ran into the Iron Kings. It had been an inauspicious meeting to be sure. After the show he was in a bar, nursing a beer, before riding back to Greenfield. He was getting up to leave when he backed into a man, causing him to drop his beer. He’d apologized, and offered to replace it, but the man was drunk and belligerent. He’d slapped money down on the bar for the man’s beer and tried to leave, not wanting trouble, but the man followed him out. Outside, things got out of hand and they’d locked up in the parking lot while a crowd of men and women cheered them on.
Royal had his share of fights in high school, but the man was an experienced brawler and outweighed him by fifty pounds. It was no shoving match, and whether it was because the guy was drunk, or Royal was just too stubborn to stay down, he didn’t know, but after what felt like an eternity of pain, his burly opponent had thrown in the towel.
As he staggered to his feet, his clothes torn and his face and hands bloody, one of the women watching them fight stepped out of the crowd and escorted him back inside where she and another woman cleaned him up. As she cleaned the blood off him, the woman explained the man he’d fought was a loudmouth who liked to fight. He knew better than to mess with the Kings, but he must have looked like a soft target. She smiled and kissed him gently on the lips. He smiled as he remembered her words.
“Looks like he was wrong,” she’d purred.
Once he was cleaned up, she introduced him to the Iron Kings. Several of them had been out watching him fight. They’d bought him a beer, impressed that, even though he was getting his ass handed to him at the start, he kept getting up, and had finally worn the man down and kicked his ass.
He was in no shape to ride the three hours back to Greenfield and they had offered the hospitality of their clubhouse for the night. Reluctantly he accepted their offer, and a few hours later, as he was preparing to bed down, the woman who had kissed him paid him a visit.
She’d stayed the night, and though he was in no better shape to fuck than he was to ride, she’d given him the most exquisite blow job he’d received to that time. To say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement. After his orgasm they’d talked, and she’d talked about life in the Kings, and how she liked that he kept getting up every time the thug knocked him down. Everyone who saw the fight thought he was King material, and she encouraged him to apply for a prospect patch.
He’d slipped out at four, leaving the woman sleeping in the bed. He wanted to stay, but he had to be at work by nine.
That evening, after work, he’d stopped by the library and looked up the Iron Kings on the internet. He wrote a heartfelt thank you for their hospitality and expressed an interest in joining the brotherhood. The letter went in the mail the next day.
He waited for weeks, each day hoping to hear from the Kings, but hope gradually faded and he realized they weren’t going to offer him a patch, and he had returned to his life of drudgery and grind. Then the unexpected had happened. He’d met Stella.
He’d been invited to a party where he was supposed to hook up with a chick who wanted to meet him, but he’d left with Stella instead. There was something about her that he couldn’t get enough of. Yes, she was gorgeous, and yes, she could fuck him like no other woman, but it was more than that. It was that certain something you can’t describe but can feel when someone was the one. Stella was definitely his the one, and he fell for her hard.
After dating a year, they moved in together. She was working at On A Roll as a clerk while lobbying the manager to be moved into the bakery so she could do what she loved, and he’d left the car wash and was working at a brickyard.
They weren’t getting rich, but they were making it, putting a little back each month, and they were happy. Then it happened. One day he had a job, the next, the gates were locked and the owners were under investigation for tax evasion. He’d cast about for more work, even returning to the car wash, but nothing was available.
Three weeks after being let go, and feeling as low as he ever had in his life, he received a phone call from the Iron Kings. They wanted to talk to him about a prospect patch. He was thrilled at the opportunity, but also torn. It was one thing to move to Charleston when he had nothing, but now he had Stella. He wavered, then decided to go. If they offered the prospect patch, they could try to figure out what to do.
He sent Stella a text telling her he was going to Charleston for an interview and he would see her the next day. He’d ridden to Charleston and after the interview, they’d offered the patch and he accepted on the spot. If he made it through the one-year probation he’d be a member of the brotherhood.
He snaked the bike through the bends, his stomach churning as he recalled the grievous error he’d made. He had a text from Stella waiting after the interview. The store manager was going to give her a shot at taking over the bakery. The woman who was working there was leaving to assist her aging parents. He wanted her to work with the woman for the next two weeks, and if the woman who was leaving said she could handle it, the job was hers, along with a healthy increase in salary.
He could sense the excitement in her words and he could feel the creeping despair closing around him again. Stella was on her way. She was going places and he wasn’t. She wanted to open her own bakery someday, and she deserved better than he could give her. He sat for a long time, staring at the floor, before he stepped outside and made the call.
She’d gotten over him, just as he wanted, just as he hoped. So why was he still worrying about her? He knew the answer, though he hated to admit it to himself. It was because he’d never gotten over her.
Riding always helped him clarify things and as he made the large circle back to Greenfield, Royal realized why he couldn’t let it go. Though he tried to deny it, even to himself, and had tried to burn out that part of himself with bimbos and booze, he hadn’t been able to do so. He still cared for her and he needed to know she was all right. He knew he was being selfish, wanting to hear the words to assuage his guilt, but he needed to hear it. Once he knew that, he thought he could finally let her go and find some peace.