Chapter Forteen
There were enough witnesses to assure the police that the fight hadn’t started on the side of the Gilas, but on the Bandits who had slipped into the crowd and were long gone by the time anyone got around to asking. Being that they had clearly lost the fight, it never occurred to the local constabulary to detain them.
Still, it was late when the processing and the paperwork were finished and although there were a few new victims in the women’s holding cell, no one was willing to accuse Val openly of anything. It was a muted and disparaged troop that met Loki at the front of the city jail.
“I tried to bail you guys out, but they weren’t willing to set bail.” Loki said when he saw them. “Then they just said that you were being released.”
“Did you secure the shop?” Hoodoo asked, although he well knew that by now it was probably a useless exercise.
“Well, yes…” Loki said, backing away slightly from the large man. “But, ah, Mad-dog had his keys with him, and… I couldn’t get into his trike…”
“Where’s my things?” Hoodoo grumped. It was a long day and although charges against him were dropped, it was still enough to make his teeth begin to grind. Losing his stuff was only the icing on the cake.
“It’s not gone, I just didn’t have a safe place to put them,” Loki said, hands up in a sort of surrender. Hoodoo turned to him and glared.
“WHERE?”
“Tracy has it all.” Loki said miserably.
Hoodoo closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he counted backward from ten to zero. Then back again in French.
“I didn’t know where else it would be safe,” Loki said miserably.
He would almost rather the stuff had been stolen. Hoodoo nodded and massaged the back of his neck. Finally, he sighed and turned to Loki again, at least somewhat calmer. “My bike?”
“Right where you left it,” he assured the big man.
Well at least one thing was going right. “You guys, go… get some rest. Get cleaned up if you can. I’ll be back soon.”
Even the twins seemed subdued, as if the processing had taken their energy and negated the adrenaline rush from the fight. Some of it was sheer exhaustion, getting dragged off right after a fight when the adrenaline was still coursing through your veins was tiring in the extreme. To be “cooperative” with the local authorities meant pretending to be calm and respectful when your body is still thrumming from a fight.
Val, being separated from the men, didn’t have the others to help dispel the pressure and had almost been re-arrested. Hoodoo shook his head at that and wondered. To be arrested while already in prison? Had to be the worst kind of irony. She walked away with the rest muttering something under her breath about “the ONE time I try to do my nails…” and he flinched, not envying anyone who crossed her path tonight.
So long as it’s not me.
He trudged back to whatever was left of the booth. He felt filthy and was tired of smelling his own sweat. Unfortunately, there wasn’t really a handy place to “clean up,” as there was too much demand on the town with all the visitors that rolled in, but a quick wash with a towel in a bathroom sink at least kept the illusion of cleanliness. Earlier, Hoodoo had been able to use Tracy’s little shower, although barely and whatever good that had done him was long gone by now.
He trudged through the still crowded streets and came to his bike. There was one guarantee about a place like this: men might want to kill you, but they will never touch your bike. No one would risk the retaliation from something like that. He lay a hand on the seat and just breathed a minute. There was something calming just being there. Right now, he wanted nothing better than to ride out into the Badlands, and pretend that Sturgis had never happened.
He wheeled it out from the relative shelter of the booth and fired it up. The comforting growl of the engine and the reassuring vibration of power through the frame was like coming home. The back seat was empty, would always be empty. If it weren’t for that, it would be home, and he would never leave the slung seat and the raked forks and the warmth of Tracy on his back.
He rode to the RV rental where he’d spent one of the best days of his life and pulled up beside her door. The inner door was propped open, a screen door was closed against the nighttime insects that had begun to gather.
She must have heard him arrive. In a sea of motorcycles all customized and bored out, she recognized his bike’s sound. If the circumstances had been better, he would have found that to be a loving idea. Tracy was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and head tilted to one side.
“This looks familiar,” she said slowly, raking a hand through her hair which tonight she wore loose around her face. “Where have I seen this before?”
“I just came to get my things,” Hoodoo said, holding his arms wide, innocent.
“No, you didn’t.” Tracy shook her head.
“What do you mean?”
“If you were here to get your things, you would have some way of hauling your things. Like Mad-dog’s trike for example. Or a car. Or a taxi.”
Hoodoo looked back at his bike and scratched his head. “Yeah…” he said slowly, “… guess I wasn’t thinking that one through.”
“Hoodoo,” Tracy said, unfolding her arms and opening the door. “You don’t think. You really don’t! I can’t… I can’t depend on you! I think you changed and it’s the same Hoodoo all over again! I don’t… I don’t know what to think anymore!”
“I didn’t go looking for him!” Hoodoo said, the injustice of the day catching up to him. “He came and confronted me!”
“Look at you!” Tracy yelled, throwing a hand in his direction, “I’m standing four steps up and I’m still not to your height! Joey is a little wimp of a man. Five foot FOUR at best. He’s barely strong enough to take me on, no one sane would try to pick a fight with you!”
“So he’s nuts!” Hoodoo spat. “That shouldn’t come as a big surprise, should it? That boy is as mad as my Aunt Jenny and she was locked up for painting chickens!”
“What?” Tracy blinked.
He waved his hand. “What does that matter?” She kept staring at him. He sighed, sorry he brought it up. “She broke into one of those large industrial chicken farms because they needed to be blue. She’d spray painted a dozen hens before they caught her.”
“That’s insane!”
“Yeah!” Hoodoo said and threw his hands in the air. “That’s why they locked her up! And frankly, this… cousin of yours is one step away from painting a few chickens hisself!”
“I don’t know what went on there!” Tracy said, waving her arms to negate the topic, “but this is so… you! I don’t want to spend my life bailing you out of jail!”
“You didn’t,” Hoodoo pointed out a little nastily. “That was Loki.”
“’Loki’? What the hell kind of name is that for a grown man? Loki, Mad-dog, what the hell are you playing at? When is it over, when do you grow up?”
“Is that why you left me?” Hoodoo asked, taking a step closer. “Really? I’m not mature enough for you?”
“No,” Tracy said. “Maybe. Damn it, I can’t depend on you, Hoodoo, I need to be with someone that’s strong, that’s reliable. I can take care of myself, but I don’t want a babysitting job. You need to be able to take of yourself too, you know?”
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” Hoodoo growled the words.
“Really? Then why do I have all your stuff? Why weren’t we here together, or why weren’t you at your booth you paid so much for? Why? Because you were in jail. For fighting. Again.”
“I was only ever arrested twice in my life for fighting!” Hoodoo yelled, “and BOTH times were because of you! Last time was because you left me and didn’t even bother to tell me why!”
“Well, now you know, don’t you?”
“No. No. That doesn’t work!” Hoodoo closed the gap and looked Tracy eye to eye. “I was busted because you left me. You left first and I STILL DON’T KNOW WHY!” He glared at her, seething. “TELL ME THAT MUCH, WHY?”
“Because of that fucking BIKE!” Tracy screamed at him, and caught her breath. “Because you… you gave me… gave me $250,000.00. That you didn’t even have! How could I have turned you down after that? How could I…” She swallowed hard, and he could see the tears glittering there in her eyes, unshed. “How could I ever say ‘no’ to you?”
“You never owed me anything.”
“No? You don’t owe your friend. He forgave the debt, didn’t he?” Her hands were buried in her hair at this point, like she was trying to hold her head to keep it from coming off. He knew the feeling.
“And yet…and yet, you’re spending the entire rally, your entire life trying to pay him back! Why? Because you feel guilty? Because you don’t want to feel like you owe someone a debt you can never repay?”
“I never asked you for anything.” Hoodoo said softly, looking down, not able to meet her eyes at this point.
“Yeah, you did, Hoodoo. You asked for me to love you. I couldn’t help that. But that fucking bike will always be between us. I thought… I thought it was a part of my father, that it would… bridge the gap between us, and all it did was take you from me, too.” Her hand moved. She was wiping those tears she was trying not to let him see. It was his turn to swallow hard, his throat suddenly seemed to have something in it. “I suppose it’s only fair, we met over the damn thing,” she said finally, and drew herself up as though she hadn’t been crying at all.
Hoodoo shook his head. “But you wanted me to move to your city. Uproot everything I knew.”
“Isn’t that what you asked of me, too?”
Hoodoo stared at the ground between them. “I can’t up and leave,” he said finally. Tracy nodded, but didn’t say that she couldn’t either. Hoodoo’s head snapped up when the silence dragged on. Her face was pale. Why hadn’t he noticed it before. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s gone.” Tracy said and shook her head. “Not that it matters. But it’s gone.”
Of everything she could have said, he wouldn’t have guessed that one. It came out of nowhere, and hit him like a fist to the gut. “What?”
“The museum called in a panic. The Crocker is gone. It was taken.” She shook her head, holding herself so tight it was a wonder she could breathe. “Joey’s gone, too.”
“I’ll find…” Hoodoo growled.
“NO! Damnit! Don’t you get it? We broke up! This has nothing to do with you anymore! Your friend let you off the hook. You don’t owe him. I don’t owe you. GET OVER IT! I can handle myself!”
With that, Tracy turned around, and stomped back into the trailer, slamming the door shut behind her.
Hoodoo stood, rooted to the spot, staring at the RV. He couldn’t breathe.
Finally, he pulled the bike up under him and sat heavily. The bike held him, the worn seat fit like old shoes. The only time Hoodoo’s life made any sense anymore was when he was riding. So Hoodoo fired up the bike and drove off into the thickening night, praying that some miracle would find him somewhere down the road and give him the clarity he so desperately needed.
The air grew chillier as he got further from town. Only his headlight gave any indication that he was slicing through the darkness.