Nick

My opinion was all that mattered. If someone didn’t share my views, they were wrong, because I was always right. Being exposed to life-changing events seemed to be the only thing to ever get me to look at life – or myself – with honest eyes.

Pee Bee and I stood in the shop, solving the world’s problems, one at a time. The conversation soon included talk of Peyton, and to my surprise, he didn’t accept it well.

“How the fuck am I supposed to answer that? I’m not you, and you sure as fuck aren’t me. It really don’t matter what I say, you’re gonna come back with some bullshit and tell me I’m either dumb or crazy. When we’re done talkin’, you’ll be right. Because you’re always fuckin’ right,” Pee Bee said.

I kicked a small stone across the floor of the shop, then met his gaze. “I asked you. I want your opinion.”

“I think you’re reacting to what Whip and them did. You know, in Pete’s bar.”

I shook my head. “I think it’s more than that.”

He shrugged. “Like I said. I give an opinion. You shoot it down.”

“I didn’t shoot it down.”

He picked at his fingernails for a few long seconds, then cleared his throat. “All I know is this. Been knowin’ you for damned near ten years. You ain’t never had – and you ain’t never wanted – an Ol’ Lady--”

“I didn’t say I wanted--”

He leaned forward and shot me a glare. “Motherfucker, let me finish.”

I took a drink of my beer and nodded. “Fine. Finish.”

“Where was I?” His eyes fell to the floor. He rubbed his beard for a minute, then looked up. “Oh, yeah. So, you always say how you don’t need an Ol’ Lady. Fellas with Ol’ Ladies aren’t devoted to the club. When Stretch had that Ol’ Lady from El Cajon, you told me his devotion to the club went to shit, and he needed to get rid of her. Remember that?”

I nodded. “I do, but--”

He raised his hand in the air. “Motherfucker, I ain’t done.”

I sighed. “Continue.”

“Okay. So you don’t like Ol’ Ladies, and you bang bitches like the rest of us. Hit ‘em and quit ‘em. Some cute little bitch with an attitude comes along, and you start beatin’ that little pussy of hers up. Well, here’s my point.” He crossed his arms and shot me a glare. “All you was doin’ was fuckin’ her. That’s it. Never would have amounted to shit. When she was done with that article, I guarantee you that you’d have kicked her to the side.”

“What’s your fucking point, Peeb?” I tossed my empty bottle toward the trash can, missed, and it crashed to the floor and shattered.

He nodded his head toward the trash can. “See what I mean? There you go, tryin’ to intimidate me.”

“What?”

“Bustin’ bottles and shit. Subliminal stuff. You ain’t tryin’ to hear what I got to say.”

I shook my head and turned toward the fridge. “I missed the trash can. And your little speech made no sense.”

“I was tryin’ to be nice.”

“Since when are you nice?”

“Fine, motherfucker. How about this,” he snapped back. “Until Whip and them fellas raped her, you didn’t give a fuck about her or how she felt. All you cared about was dippin’ your dick. Then, they raped her. All of a sudden, you feel like you gotta take care of her.”

I opened my beer and stared back at him. “Not true.”

“True as fuck.”

I shook my head. “She’s been different since she came to the shop on the first day.”

“Grab me a beer, motherfucker.” He motioned toward the fridge. “Different how?”

I shrugged. “She surfs, snowboards, fucking bungie jumps, drives a Jeep--”

“She drives a Jeep? She drives a fucking Jeep?” He burst into laughter, and eventually caught his breath. “That’s your excuse?”

“Amongst other things.”

“There’s 200,000 bitches in SD that drive Jeeps.”

“Like you said earlier, asshole. I wasn’t done.”

“Hurry the fuck up and get done,” he said. “I got another point to make.”

I turned to the fridge, grabbed another beer, and handed it to him. “All the things she does aren’t important. The fact she does them is.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It defines what type of person she is. She’s adventurous.”

“And that’s what you like about her?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“That’s what you’re lookin’ for in life?”

“I’m not looking to get fucking married, Peeb. Not even to have an Ol’ Lady. I was just saying that I enjoy it when she’s around, and I hoped she keeps coming around after the article’s done.”

“And you say you’re sayin’ all this because she’s adventurous?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

He glared at me while he took a long drink of beer.

He lowered the bottle and wiped his beard with his free hand. “Why didn’t you put an ad on Craigslist five years ago? Tattooed biker seeks adventurous bitch. Must drive Jeep and bungie jump.”

“Now you’re being an asshole.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the little bitch. She seems to be a solid motherfucker. I mean, if you’re askin’ me. But you sayin’ you’re wantin’ to keep her around and shit just makes me think it’s for the wrong fuckin’ reasons.”

“What if I was saying it, and she hadn’t been raped?”

“But she was.”

“I’m asking you, asshole. What if she wasn’t?”

He shrugged. “It’d be a different story. I’d probably say somethin’ like, damn, Crip, you’re finally settlin’ down.”

“I’m not settling down. I’m saying I enjoy her company.”

He finished his beer, tossed the empty bottle into the trash can, and met my gaze. “I guess all I’m sayin’ is this. Don’t enjoy it for the wrong reasons.”

Standing there staring back at him, I had no response to give. All I could do was hope that what I felt was a result of a clear mind, not a sympathetic one.