Chapter Eight

 

Sloan

 

I drummed my fingers on the bar, head bobbing to the music streaming from my earbuds, as I worked through another assignment.  The sensation of another body settling on the seat next to me caused me to look up and I blinked in shock at the sight of him.

“Johnny,” I stammered, popping the earbuds out of my ears as I stared at him.  “Something wrong?”

It had been a week since he’d refused to tell me anything about the Flying Eagles or my dad, and then proceeded to save me from Fat Willy.

He arched a single eyebrow.  “No.”

I waited but when he didn’t say anything else, I nodded slowly, “Okay.”  I gave it another second and then turned back to the assignment I was working on.

“What are you doing?”

My mouth twisted, but I answered him anyway. “Schoolwork.”  If he was giving one word answers then so was I.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I go to school online,” I informed him, trying to be as brief as possible as I turned back to the laptop Creed had lent me so I could do my work.

“You like it here,” he stated and I scratched the back of my neck, nodding even though it hadn’t been a question.  “The girls like you.”  I didn’t reply to that since I wasn’t entirely certain it was true.  They hadn’t really spoken to me since the whole Willy incident, but they also hadn’t bothered me.  At the moment, we were in some kind of holding truce, which was fine by me.  It might be lonely but it was better than dealing with catty comments.

“You’re not what I expected,” he continued, catching me off guard.  I glanced at him as he exhaled, and he slid a folded piece of paper toward me.  I took it cautiously, not wanting to open it under his watchful stare.  He seemed to realize that after a minute and stood up.  “Not everyone is cut out for this life,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with something that resembled respect.  “You’re not one of them.”

I shook my head, not sure how to respond.  I liked it here, more than I would have expected, and it wasn’t just because of Creed.  For the first time in my life I felt like I belonged, like I had a place, and was accepted.  “What was her name?” I asked as he started to walk away, my daring surprising us both.

“Ashley,” he replied, his startled expression telling me he hadn’t expected himself to answer.  He walked away before I could comment and I unfolded the paper he’d given me.

Written in block uppercase letters was a name and address and underneath was the symbol for the Flying Eagles.  I folded the paper, pressing my lips together as I realized what he’d handed me.  I shut the laptop and went to Creed’s room.  When he didn’t answer, I poked my head inside.

My breath puffed out of me in irritation when I didn’t see him and I turned to leave, stopping short when Weasel appeared next to me.  I didn’t even flinch at his arrival, having grown used to him being my constant shadow when Creed wasn’t around.

“He’s in the garage helping Clutch,” Weasel told me and I nodded, not surprised when he trailed behind me as I headed for the door.

The garage was literally next door and when I saw a familiar pair of legs sticking out from under a car, I stopped.  “Can I borrow the truck?” I asked, crouching down.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, followed by a clank, then a curse.  “Keys are in it.”

“Thanks,” I answered happily, standing back up.

“Where you going?”  He asked, his head suddenly popping out from under the vehicle.  I hesitated and he gave me a questioning glance.  I unfolded the paper Johnny had given me and handed it to him.

“Here.”

He glanced at it, his forehead wrinkling.  “That’s like three hours from here,” he told me, shaking his head.  “You’re not going there.”  I scowled, not liking his answer and he sat up. “Not alone at least.”

“You want to go with me?”

“Well, yeah,” he answered, hauling himself up and reaching for a grease stained towel.  He carefully set the address on the edge of the hood as he wiped his hands.  “Road trip with my girl,” he continued and my stomach flipped at his casual words.  He tilted his head, gazing at the paper again.  “Johnny gave you this.”

“Yeah, he did,” I answered, wondering why it mattered.  “You ready?”

He shook his head, eyeing me.  “We’re not going today,” he replied and I frowned.  “It’s three hours away, Jailbait, and it’s late.  We can get a fresh start in the morning.”  He nodded his head at the paper.  “It’s in the mountains.  I’d rather not drive those roads at night.  Plus, we can see if Clutch or Crew wants to ride shotgun.”

I glanced up at him through my eyelashes and he shook his head.  “I’d rather have someone ride with us.  We have no idea what we’re getting into driving up there.  I won’t risk your life.”

“Johnny gave me the address.  He must think it would be okay,” I wheedled and Creed laughed. I huffed, leaning against the car.  “Have a good laugh,” I told him, picking up the paper and staring at the hand drawn emblem.  “I just want to know,” I mumbled distractedly.

“And we’ll find out.  I promise,” Creed replied, propping himself against the car next to me.  “But we’ll get better results if we don’t show up at night.”  I pursed my lips but nodded. I knew he was right. I was just eager to find out what this Micah Bradshaw knew about my dad.

“Why do you think he gave it to me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Creed answered, sounding mystified.  “It’s not like him to change his mind.  Especially, when it comes to the past.”

“You don’t think I’m going to find a grave or something when we get there?”

Creed chuckled.  “He’s a bastard but I don’t think he’d do that.” I let out a relieved sigh as Clutch strolled up.

“What are y’all giggling over?”  He asked, his mechanics shirt hanging unbuttoned over a white t-shirt.

“Johnny gave Jailbait an address to a Flying Eagle,” Creed answered, seeming to enjoy the stunned glance Clutch shot him.  “Yup, seeing is believing,” he continued, holding up the paper to Clutch.

“Hot damn, you been giving blow jobs behind the bar, Jailbait?”  Clutch questioned, squinting at the address written in Johnny’s hand.  Creed growled as I made a disgusted sound.

“No, he just handed it to me while I was doing a school assignment,” I retorted, snatching the paper out of their grasp and carefully folding it.

“Ugh,” he groaned.  “You had to remind me of your age and make it weird.”

“I think you did that all by yourself,” Creed replied, thumping him on the side of the head.  “And now, I don’t even want to ask if you’ll –”

“I’ll go with you,” Clutch answered promptly before Creed could finish.

“Maybe I should ask Crew,” Creed suggested instead and Clutch shook his head.

“He’s working on his car tomorrow.  Asked me if he could use the shop and everything,” Clutch told him and Creed nodded.

“Oh yeah, I remember now.  Replacing the water pump.”

“Yup, so I’m your guy.”  Clutch pulled himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the hood.  “That’s a good drive.  We overnighting?”

Creed gave me a sideways glance and I shrugged.  “Maybe,” he answered reluctantly.  “Act like we are.  Kind of depends on the guy.”

“You said it was in the mountains?”  I asked and Creed nodded.  “Thanks,” I added and at the last second, stood on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss against his cheek, feeling the rough prickle of his stubble with the feather light touch.  I ducked my head, suddenly embarrassed as I turned away and his hand caught my arm, stopping me.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his hand sliding down my arm slowly.  “You know I’ll always be here for you.”

I couldn’t stop my smile as I bit my lip, feeling breathless all of a sudden.

“If we overnight, I’m definitely going to need my own room,” Clutch said loudly, breaking the moment as my eyes widened.  Creed reeled on him as I made my escape.

I was chuckling by the time I got back to my room and decided to go ahead and throw a change of clothes into my backpack just in case.  As I was packing I realized I’d left my toiletry bag in the bathroom. I hurried to grab it, not wanting to forget it if we did actually stay overnight.

I went to the stall I usually used, but didn’t see my bag.  I checked the other stalls, but didn’t find it. A sigh escaped me as I wondered if someone had taken my bag.

“Looking for this?”

I spun around to see Candy standing there with my bag dangling from one manicured finger.  “I am,” I replied, feeling short and depressingly young compared to her. “Thanks,” I added, reaching for it, but she pulled it back.  I arched a single eyebrow, wondering what she was about.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she answered in reply to my look.  “You listened to Gloria and helped her and you didn’t have any reason to.”

“Yeah,” I replied with a shrug.  “Not a big deal.”

“Maybe not to you,” Candy answered, still holding my bag hostage.  “But it is to us.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I added, reaching for the bag again and this time she let me have it.  I skirted around her, fishing a hair tie out of my bag as I scraped my hair back into a sloppy ponytail.

“I can do your hair,” Candy called out and I paused, sure I’d heard her wrong.  She hurried up to me, her hand going to my hair.  “I can French braid it,” she offered, her face hopeful as I stared at her wondering if I’d slipped and been knocked unconscious and this was some weird dream.  “I really like doing hair.”

It was the almost embarrassed way she said it that had me nodding my head in agreement and as her eyes lit with excitement I could feel some of my reluctance fading.  “You’re not going to cut it off, are you?”

She shook her head, leading me to a stool by one of the mirrors.  “No, but you’d look good with a pixie,” she mentioned, tapping my cheekbone.  “You have the face for it, but Creed likes long hair.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that’s not why I had long hair, but instead I said, “Thanks.  My mom always said I’d look chubby with short hair.”

“Oh, no.  Those huge eyes and high cheekbones are perfect for a pixie, but you also would look good with your hair up,” she gushed.  “You really can’t go wrong.”

I nodded and she started to brush my hair, chattering about random things as she parted and then weaved my hair into a complicated braided crown.

“Why don’t you style hair for a living if you love it so much?”  I asked, watching how intently she focused on getting my hair just right.

“Oh, I don’t know.  I always thought I’d be an old lady,” she replied, her fingers swiftly moving.

“You can’t be both?”

She paused, glancing at me, “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“You could work for Ronnie,” I mentioned and she eyed me in the mirror before shaking her head.

“No, Ronnie….she doesn’t hire club girls,” Candy finally answered. I shook my head and Candy yanked my head back. “Don’t move,” she admonished.

“Why doesn’t she hire club….girls?” I asked, deciding to use the same term Candy had.

“She doesn’t like us,” Candy said baldly.  “She thinks we’ll quit the second we get an old man or that we won’t take it seriously.  She’s not a fan of the club,” she confided, shocking me.

“Her mom is an old lady,” I burst out, remembering Mary’s bustling kindness.  “How could she be prejudiced against you?”

Candy shrugged, wrapping my braided hair and pinning it. “There,” she said in satisfaction. I turned my head, admiring the intricacy of the style.

“It’s amazing,” I told Candy and she flushed.  “Seriously, Candy, you’re talented. I think Ronnie is making a mistake not taking a chance on you.”  I met her gaze in the mirror.  “If Ronnie would be willing to hire you, would you go work for her?”

Candy bit her lip nervously but nodded.  “I would. It would be a dream to do hair all day.” She dropped her gaze.  “But Ronnie won’t consider it.”

“What if I talk to her?  See if we can work something out,” I offered and her eyes jumped to mine, a fragile hope in them that hardened my resolve.  “Can’t hurt, right?”

“Right,” Candy replied hesitantly.  “That would be really nice of you.”

“Well, I guess it’s the least I can do for threatening to pop your boobies,” I said, feeling a little guilty now, and Candy giggled. I stood up, tilting my head to the right and left as I admired her work of art.  “I’m going to go, but I promise to talk to Ronnie.”  Candy was nodding happily as I left, leaving me determined to figure out how I was going to get Ronnie to give a club girl a chance.

 

***

 

I shrugged the backpack on my shoulders as we walked out of the club, prepared for a long ride on the back of Creed’s bike.  I paused when I saw the truck idling by the back door instead.  Creed shrugged when he caught my glance.

“Easier on both of us if we take the truck,” he explained, throwing a duffel bag into the bed.  “Not that I don’t like having you clinging to me like a monkey, but I’d rather not push my control.”

I suppressed a smile at that thought and placed my backpack on the floorboard, careful to keep it upright.  Crew came up, giving me a smile as he bumped shoulders with Creed.  “Are you coming too?” I asked curiously.  I thought it was just Clutch riding along but it wouldn’t surprise me if Creed had roped Crew into coming too.

He shook his head, “Negative, Jailbait.  I’m working on my car today.”

“Okay, you’ll walk Maisy for me?”  I clasped my hands in front of me in a pleading gesture.  I’d been walking and playing with Maisy every day since we’d rescued her.  I’d already gone over to see her that morning, waking up early to make sure I had enough time, but she needed her afternoon playtime.

He was already nodding.  “I’ve got to feed the other two so I’ll make sure and spend a little time with Maisy too.”  I’d been impressed by how far the other two dogs they’d rescued had come.  Both Creed and Crew had a gift working with the dogs, helping them to trust again and heal.  Creed even said they’d be able to be adopted in a few weeks.

“Thank you!”  I surprised him with a hug, and hesitantly he patted my shoulder.  “She really likes you,” I informed him and he ducked his head as red crept up his cheeks.  “Don’t be embarrassed.  I always trust a dog’s instincts.”  I spun away from him as Clutch rumbled up, planting his feet on the ground as he waited for us to load up.

“Now that the party’s arrived, you ready to roll out?”  Creed winked as Clutch flipped him the bird and I nodded, hopping on the seat.  Crew shut my door, then shook hands with Creed. I rolled my window down as Creed came around.

“Hey, Crew,” I called and he turned back toward me.  “Stay safe.”  He gave me a puzzled look but nodded and I rolled the window back up.

Creed settled next to me and I turned to glance at him.  “What did Johnny say about us all going to talk to this guy?”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he answered with an eye roll.

“Sounds right,” I replied, bouncing a little as Creed started to roll out of the parking lot.  I saw Johnny standing in the door of the bar and waved, but he didn’t wave back, instead turning away, his expression hooded.  Some of my excitement dissipated at his reaction, but it came back when Creed bumped my hand.

“Ready to get some answers?”

“More than ready,” I replied, settling back in the seat as Clutch followed behind us.

We hadn’t been driving long when Creed exited the highway. I glanced at him and he gave me a tight smile, “Pit stop.”  His answer was a little too glib and I glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure Clutch was still there.   I saw him cruising behind us as Creed added, “What’s a road trip without snacks?”

When we pulled into the gas station parking lot, he parked along the side of the building, out of view of the road.  Clutch pulled right up in front of the door, not taking his helmet off until we went inside.

“Get a variety,” Creed said as I headed toward the racks of food.

“Beef jerky,” Clutch called after me and I waved my hand in acknowledgement.  I grabbed a few things, covertly watching the guys as they whispered by the door.  Something was going on, I just didn’t know what.

I made my way to the cash register and the guys met me there.  “A pack of cigarettes,” Creed told the girl behind the register, showing her the pack he had so she’d know what brand, and she glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached for the pack to see if he checked out her ass.  He missed her ass and the moue of disappointment she made as he looked over what I’d selected.  “Good choices, Jailbait,” he praised, going for the sour gummies first just like I knew he would.

“What’s going on?”

They traded glances, Creed finally answering, “I’m going to ride Clutch’s bike while he drives the truck.”

“Why?”  I eyed them suspiciously, not liking the sudden switch.  I didn’t have a problem with Clutch, but it seemed strange to me that Creed would decide to ride instead of stay with me in the truck.  I caught a mutinous expression on Clutch’s face, almost like he didn’t like the idea either.  “Seriously, why?”

“Clutch is a little sore,” Creed replied, straight-faced.  “Better he ride in the truck.”  A choked sound met that lie but before I could argue the cashier leaned forward, cleavage on full display.

“Anything else I can get you boys?”  My head turned at the blatant invitation in her voice.

“A receipt,” I snapped, no longer amused by the constant attention Creed seemed to receive from the fairer sex. He snorted, throwing a hundred on the counter.

“Keep the change,” he advised, scooping up the snacks and cigarettes as he hustled us from the building.  “Here,” he said as he thrust the armful of stuff at Clutch, and gave him a warning glance I didn’t miss. He tugged the full head helmet on before heading to the bike as Clutch hustled me to the truck.

“Sore?” I questioned doubtfully as Clutch dumped the snacks on the seat between us, starting the truck and backing out in a hurry.  He made a right instead of a left out the parking lot, Creed practically riding the bumper.  “Shouldn’t we go the other way?”

“Shortcut,” Clutch answered briefly, accelerating the truck.  He glanced over at me and the sight of my glare made him add, “I’m sore because I rode the new bucking bronco ride at the Crazy Horse.”  I lifted my eyebrows in disbelief at that statement, before glancing out the side mirror.  The sight of a black sedan caused my blood to turn to ice, drowning out Clutch’s rambling explanation.

“He’s following us,” I said hollowly.

Clutch made a few more random turns before he answered, “Temporary situation, Jailbait.”

My hand clenched around the seatbelt as I stared tensely out the side mirror.  “He’s still there,” I muttered, growing worried.  “He haven’t lost him.”  We were getting further from civilization as Clutch drove down an empty stretch of road.   Creed roared past us and when he was out of sight the black sedan suddenly seemed closer.  “Where is he going?  Clutch?”

He shot me an apologetic glance.  “This might be our best chance to talk to him, Jailbait.”

“You’re doing this intentionally,” I breathed.  “How long have you known he was following us?”

“Since we left the club,” he admitted.  “We needed to get him out of Friendly.”

“So you could talk to him,” I repeated, feeling ridiculously young and dumb.  “When were you going to tell me?”

“Before we ran him off the road,” he answered instantly. “Probably.”

“Before you run him off the….” My words faded as I twisted around, seeing the sedan surge forward toward the bumper.  “He’s going to –” My screech cut off abruptly as Clutch sent the truck spinning around, snacks flying, as he forced the black sedan to shoot past us.  Now we were behind them and Clutch took full advantage.  He chased after them in the older model truck as Creed appeared in the distance, headed back our way.  Grant’s sedan was now pinned between the two vehicles and as Creed came closer I saw he was playing a deadly game of chicken.

“He won’t win,” I cried, pointing at him on the motorcycle.

“He won’t need to,” Clutch promised as he bumped the black sedan, the heavy truck holding steady.  The car swerved, but the driver managed to regain control.  Creed continued to head straight for us and the black sedan, driving in our lane and I braced myself.  I desperately wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t, staring in horror, as we stayed locked on a collision course.

The black sedan barreled forward, far too close to Creed, and a scream ripped from my throat as they appeared to collide, the black car going airborne as I lost sight of Creed.

“He’s fine.  Jailbait!  He’s fine.”  Clutch’s shouts finally broke through as the truck slammed to a stop.  Abruptly, my screams halted as I stared sightlessly at the black sedan now wrapped around a tree.  I couldn’t move, frozen in place as my mind relieved the accident that took my mom.  The hard jolt, the momentary feeling of weightlessness as I heard my mom scream my name, and then the stomach churning drop as the seatbelt locked me in place.

The door yanked open and a callused hand cupped my cheek, “Jailbait, it’s alright.  I’m here.”  I blinked at the nickname, my head turning blindly to him.  “Right here.  Look at me, Jailbait.”

It took a second to focus, to escape the memory, but when it did a cry escaped me as I threw myself at him.  The seatbelt caught me, trapping me in place as I fought to reach him.  “Shh, shh, Jailbait,” he murmured, his hand releasing the seatbelt as he gathered me close.  “I’m here.  I’m so sorry.”  He kept up a continuous stream of soothing nonsense as I clung to him.

“Creed,” Clutch called out, standing at the door of the sedan. “He’s dead.”

The words shattered the fear paralyzing me and I fought Creed’s hold.  “Hey, hey,” he soothed, attempting to calm me. 

I stopped my struggle, staring up at him.  “I need to see him,” I told him fiercely, “I need to see him dead.”

“Okay,” he answered, exhaling.  “Okay.”

He helped me from the truck, swinging me across the ditch, and we walked to the sedan.  The driver’s side was crushed where it had slammed into the tree, and Clutch helped me get close enough to see into the car.

A man sprawled over the steering wheel, face resting on the air bag, blood smeared across his face, his open stare blank.  Air shuddered from me as I stared at him.

“It’s over, Jailbait.  He’ll never hurt you again.”

I shook my head, wishing it was true. 

“That’s not Grant.”