“Wakey, wakey, gorgeous.” I nudge Lucy, who’s asleep on my thigh. She groans a while then wakes to look up at me.

“Wakey, woken,” she tells me with a sleepy smile. “The alarm has spoken.”

Her innocence is endearing.

I chuckle. “Wow. Someone get this girl a spot at slam poetry night.” For that, I receive a whack into my ribs from a sleepily disgruntled Lucy. She’s made me genuinely smile for the first time in who knows how long. I appreciate her for it.

She sits up slowly and rubs her face. I won’t lie that I’m a little taken aback by how calm she seems to waking up where she has. Doesn’t last long though. The reality of the situation hits her and she quickly stands up to back away from me.

“Shit,” she says to the far wall then turns her head back to me. “Landon?”

“Unless you’ve got a new name for me today, then yeah.” My memory’s still cloudy and I’m pissed about it after three hours of uncomfortable rest. With a sigh, Lucy heads toward the bar to pour herself a glass of a water.

She watches me a moment then cocks her head. “How’s your, uh, your head today?”

I have this persistent migraine I know ain’t a good sign but I have no choice but to endure it for now. Lucy can’t find out about it. “Better.”

“And your memory?”

I think of last week to what I go up to. Blank. I try to think of my parents’ names. Again, nothing. Where I went to high school…Where I work…Hell, even my favorite movie. It’s all white noise. “Fuckin’ wrecked, Lucy, if you’ll excuse my French.” I hope to God this Mia girl’s out there looking for me ‘cos ain’t a chance in Hell I can find my way home in this state.

“This really isn’t safe for you to put off seeing a specialist. We need to get you checked out. What if there’s permanent damage?”

“There won’t be.” I drag my teeth along my lower lip. I know I’m wrong. Fuck knows how brains and brain damage work but I can’t bring myself to go. There’s an intuition I can’t ignore, a goddamned good reason for me not wanting to see cops or hospitals trapped in my fucked-up head, and I’m gonna listen to it.

“How would you know?”

“Lucy.” I pound my fist against the table. She shrinks back a little. “Sorry. I’m tired. Just, please, not again with this shit, especially this early. No fuckin’ hospitals. That’s it.”

“But I promised Billie.”

“Well, Billie doesn’t seem to give a fuck about me and my well-being anyhow.”

“She’s just overprotective of me.”

“As she should be. Besides, she won’t have to worry long. I’m headed outta here today.”

Lucy stalls on her way back to me, her hands holding two glasses of water. “You can’t leave.”

“Huh?”

“Y—Your bike’s wrecked.”

My hands comb through my hair. That, too, had slipped my mind. How the fuck am I meant to fix her in this podunk town, let alone afford it? And where is my wallet?

My head shakes. “Fuck it. I’ll walk if I have to, hitch a ride somewheres. I’ll quit wafting my bad air through your sweet town.”

“Stay at my place,” she answers quickly. “Remember, I have that sofa bed. It’s not the best but it’s out of the way, beneath some redwoods and nowhere that anyone’ll find you. No visitors besides Billie.”

I can’t handle this girl’s innocence. I stand to meet her and put the glasses on the table with my non-slinged hand. I cradle her face as I stare at her intently, needing her to believe me on this. “Quit being so trusting, darlin’.”

“But I do trust you.”

It’s no use getting through to her. “Why the fuck would you trust me?”

“Because you haven’t given me any reason to think otherwise.”

“I might be a little out of my skull right now, but I’m from a patched MC. I don’t trust myself.”

I lay out my cut on the table, running my rough, dirtied fingers over the wrinkled, well-worn leather. There’s an embroidered logo of a dragon, the only patch that remains attached to the piece. Above it is an arc of a darker patch of leather where something has been torn off. There’s other rips in the leather that suggest a knife has been at it.

“You see this?” I ask, running my fingers over the missing patches. “Either someone hates me being a part of this club or I fucking do… I’m bad news, darlin’.”

She takes a minute to cast her gaze down along the black and grey ink on my arms— Skulls, people’s names, and grim reapers, all of which seem foreign to me. Then there’s the other tattoo of which I can still translate. “When you got ‘In death do I rise’ in Spanish across your fuckin’ chest, I’m figuring I ain’t the best company to keep for a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?” Lucy shoulders by me and switches the lights on. “Who do you think I am?”

She ties her long hair back into a ponytail. Her eyes are sleepy and her left-over makeup is smudged around her eyes and still I’m so attracted to this chick. She’s fucking gorgeous in every way I like but I can’t pin down exactly why.

“Lucy, I mean no offence.”

“No, tell me who you think I am?”

“I mean, you seem a little naïve, a little small town, girl-next-door type. The kind of girl I think I dated when I was a kid,” I said, my head aching with little flashes of memory too swiftly fading to hang onto. “You’re the kind whose daddy would kick me out of the house soon as I picked you up for prom and, to be honest, someone who really needs to learn a lesson or two about staying fucking safe.”

I half expect a laugh in return but instead she tells me, “Fuck you.”

“Woah, there she is. Think that’s the first time I ever heard a bad word fall from those sweet lips.”

“You have no idea who I am.”

“Alright, prove me wrong.”

She scowls, probably stopping herself from mentioning a time she shoplifted some gum from a convenience store back when she was sixteen to prove how tough she is.

“I buried someone,” she squeaks, glancing up at me and watching my response.

“Oh, uh-huh.” I laugh along with her attempt at a joke but she doesn’t follow suit. I’ve offended her.

“Forget it.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. Tell me what’s the worse thing you’ve done.”

“Landon, how about you quit being a prick to me? All I’ve done is help you.”

“I’m just making conversation, darlin’.”

“Well, darlin’, I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking stop. You don’t wanna go to the hospital? Fine, I won’t take you. But you damn well better come up with a plan on what we’re gonna do with you before Billie gets here and tears us both a new one.”

“Oh, so you’re afraid of her and not me?”

“There you go again.”

“Fine!” I snap. “I’ll leave.” At that, she rolls her eyes, huffs and folds her arms. “What? I’ll leave. That’s what you want, right?”

“No, that isn’t what I want. I want you here since you can’t remember where the heck you’re even from. That jacket… Somebody might be looking for you.”

I’ve upset her. Her voice is quivering in her frustration with me and I want to calm her down but she keeps zig-zagging around the room, pretending to tidy the place.

“I’ll grab a motel.”

“With what money?”

I look at the cash register on the bar without even thinking. Lucy must see me because she walks back to me and knocks a fist on the table in front of me. “Don’t even think about it!”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re a thief. Is that who you are?”

“Woah, jeez. I fuckin’ glanced over there. Get outta here with that bullshit.”

“No.”

“I ain’t gonna steal from you.”

“What’s your name?” Lucy says, ignoring what I said. “Your full name, Landon. What is it?”

“Really? We’re doing this again? I. Don’t. Know.”

“Try. We’re gonna play a game. I ask you questions and you answer them as quickly as you can. Got it? So, what’s your full name, Landon?”

“I don’t—”

“Landon, what’s your name?”

“Ask a different fucking question,” I say.

Her expression suggests she’s not impressed. “Where were you born?”

“Portland.”

“What color is your hair?”

“Dark blonde.”

“Faster. How old are you?”

“Twenty six.”

“Wrong. How old are you?”

“Wait, wait, wait one sec—”

“—How old are you, Landon?” she interjects forcefully.

“Twenty eight?”

“How old are you, Landon?”

“Fuck, I don’t know?”

“Goddammit.” Lucy slaps her palm to the table. “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

“Mia.”

“Where is she from?”

“Ohio.”

“Ohio?”

“I guess? I’m answering fast. I don’t—”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Forest green.” I smile. She seethes.

“What’d you wanna be when you grew up?”

“Uh…”

“Faster!”

“I don’t know.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.” That one comes out easier, automatically almost.

“What’s your club’s name?”

“Devil’s Dragons,” my mouth answers before my mind has even had a chance to think. Lucy pauses her interrogation. She raises an eyebrow to me and bites her lip. “You remember your club?”

I stand up to take a second.

“Landon, is that the club’s name?”

“Yeah, guess your aggressive methods work,” I say. “Lets take a break though because you’re giving me a fucking migraine.”

I collect my leather jacket, checking the pockets again for my wallet. I’ve got to get out of here. I look at the Devil’s Dragons emblem on my cut again and flip it over. There are some patches missing on the front of it too. Bits of my memory were clicking together. This was bad fucking news… There’s only a few ways out of a club. You either die, retire, or you go out in bad standings. You don’t lose your patch unless you’re out bad.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks, noticing my hesitation.

“Nothing sweetheart, just trying to remember,” I reply, my hand sweeping across something solid beneath the leather. I flip the jacket open and reach into the pocket, pulling out a small matchbook.

Big Sal’s, Jethrow, Northern California, it reads, with a small image of a naked woman.

“What’s that?”

“Matches from some bar. Y’ever heard of Jethrow?”

“Jethrow? You remember Jethrow?”

As soon as she says the words, an image appears in my mind; A slow fog of recognition rolling into my conscience. There’s a road with a few mom and pop stores, and the inside of a bar but there’s a lingering feeling that this memory is wrong. I feel uneasy.

“Landon?”

“I’m gonna need a minute,” I reply, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. The pounding ache is killing me.

Lucy inspects her watch then collects her belongings. “Billie’s gonna be here soon. We should go back to my place. Relax on the way.”

I have to go with her. It’s my only option. When I’m at Lucy’s, I can sort out a ride to this bar and see if it jogs my memory…