He was a poor substitute for Bear.
Too hairy.
Too skinny.
No tattoos.
But he would have to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thia
SIX MONTHS.
Six loooooong fucking months with no end in sight. Not a word from Bear. What was worse was that each time Rage’s phone rang, my stomach lurched and my heart dropped. The world around me stopped spinning until she gave me the, “It isn’t that call” look and I could breathe again.
At least until the next call.
I felt nauseated at least three hundred times a day.
I became jumpy. Paranoid. My hands shook whenever Rage mentioned Bear’s name.
I couldn’t eat, and just like Rage, I couldn’t’ sleep. Afraid that at any moment I would lose the one thing in my life that ever brought me real happiness, I became someone I was really starting to hate.
Bear could have asked me anything else. Anything at all, and I would have done it. Rob a bank, become a flying trapeze artist, learn Japanese. At that point I would have gone to the MC and put a bullet in Chop myself if it meant that I could take a breath again without wanting to pull my own hair out strand by pink strand and DO NOTHING.
But no. He asked me the worst thing he could possibly ask me.
He asked me to WAIT.
He might as well have asked me to sit while someone removed my fingernails one by one with tweezers because waiting was a torture in and of itself.
“How many of them went in there?” I heard Rage ask in a whisper. I stopped in the hallway and pressed my ear to the door of my room. “Four? Shit, do you know anyone on the inside who can protect him? I know that one guy but anyone else? Yes, it is my fucking business, because I’m here babysitting his old lady in little house on the motherfucking prairie out here, so if you want me to protect her, you will tell me what the fuck is going on.” There was a pause. “Really? Well, that’s something I didn’t know. No, of course I won’t tell her. She’s going to be fucking pissed though. Yes. Okay, fine I got it.” She ended the call and I leapt into the kitchen. With my heart in my throat, I threw open the little cabinet above the refrigerator and searched through my mother’s prescription bottles until I found the one I was looking for. I poured two glasses of soda and when Rage came back out I was leaning over the counter, pretending to be interested in the cookbook I’d just opened. I handed her one of the glasses.
“Thanks,” she said. “Cheers.” Rage raised her glass to me and took a sip.
As much as I couldn’t stand the girl when we’d first met, I really started to like Rage. We talked. I mean I talked and she mostly gave vague responses back, but it was companionship nonetheless, and lord knows that being in that house alone would have driven me up the biggest cliff in crazy town until I was sailing off the edge.
Which is why I almost felt bad when I crushed three Ambien into her Dr. Pepper.
Almost.
Ten minutes later her eyes closed and her head fell back against the pillow. “Sleep well,” I sang as she began to snore softly. I quickly dressed in my best sundress. A short, light blue, spaghetti-strapped number with tiny white flowers that made my legs look a lot longer than they were and my chest a lot bigger than it was.
The serious nature of what had to be done required a serious dress.
I grabbed a bike from the shed that probably hadn’t been ridden since the seventies, pumped some air into the tires which were seriously lacking tread, and peddled into town with my constant companion, Pancakes, running close behind my back wheel for the fist mile before growing bored and running off behind some trees in search of better entertainment.
Trust me, his note had said. And I did trust him. I trusted him enough to know that he would die for me, and six months was pushing the limits on borrowed time. After hearing Rage on the phone, it didn’t sound like there was much hope for month seven.
I was done waiting.
There was a certain deputy sheriff I was going to see, and although the last time I’d seen him ended with him locking me in a cell, and Bear almost murdering him, I had to at least try.
And I hoped the good deputy would be agreeable to what I had planned, because I wasn’t leaving until I got what I’d come for.
I patted the messenger bag I’d slung across my chest that held the gun I’d taken from Rage.
No matter what.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Thia
I DROPPED MY bike in front of the hardware store and looked around for Buck’s police cruiser. When I didn’t see it, I popped inside where I found Ted standing behind the counter in his usual attire of overalls, and not much else covering his huge belly. He was polishing something with a dirty rag. When he heard the door chime, he set whatever it was down and came around the counter. “Thia,” he said, with a sympathetic smile. “I was so sorry to hear about your parents. How you holding up?”
“I’m all right, Ted,” I said, appreciative for his concern. Most of the people of Jessep were raging gossips. It’s the small town way. Ted’s always been the first one to ask me about me without joining in on the rumor mill. “You seen Buck around?” I asked, needing to see my friend ASAP.
Or my ex friend.
Or whatever he was.
Ted shook his head. “Not yet today, but sometimes I see him parked behind the diner ’round this time. You could check there.”
“Thanks, Ted.” I spun around to rush back out the door, but Ted stopped me.
“You know, I met your Bear last time he was in here,” Ted said. “He’s a good one. I can tell. We bonded over bike parts and being outcast bikers.” Ted smiled and I could tell it meant a lot to him to meet one of his own. Bear had told me about their conversation and I’d been surprised. I’d known Ted my entire life and in our small town I’d never heard a soul utter a single word about him being an ex member of the Wolf Warriors MC.
“He told me,” I said, offering him a tight-lipped smile.
“Good,” he said, straightening a stack of Auto Trader magazines by the door. “He’s a good kid and I know he didn’t have nothin’ to do with the way your parents went out, but from the look in your eyes I can see you already know that.” It sounded so weird to hear someone call Bear a kid, because to me he was the furthest thing from it.
“I do know that,” I admitted with one hand still on the door handle.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told him when he came in here. I may be an old man and retired, but my club knows I’m still here, just inactive, and I’ve still got friends in the life. If Buck can’t give you the kind of help I think you’re looking for, then you come see me.” Ted walked toward the register and reached behind the counter. He pulled out a shotgun, resting it high on his shoulder like he was a soldier going to battle. “I can still be pretty persuasive when I need be,” he said. The evil glint in his eye made me instantly believe him. It was like I was seeing Ted for the first time and it made me realize something, if I were being honest.
I liked this Ted.
“Thanks, Ted,” I said. With that, he tipped his hat and put the shotgun away. He went back to his polishing as if Biker Ted had never been there, slipping easily back into the role of Hardware Store Ted.
“You tell him I said hello,” He added, as if I just came in to buy a quart of oil.
Too hairy.
Too skinny.
No tattoos.
But he would have to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thia
SIX MONTHS.
Six loooooong fucking months with no end in sight. Not a word from Bear. What was worse was that each time Rage’s phone rang, my stomach lurched and my heart dropped. The world around me stopped spinning until she gave me the, “It isn’t that call” look and I could breathe again.
At least until the next call.
I felt nauseated at least three hundred times a day.
I became jumpy. Paranoid. My hands shook whenever Rage mentioned Bear’s name.
I couldn’t eat, and just like Rage, I couldn’t’ sleep. Afraid that at any moment I would lose the one thing in my life that ever brought me real happiness, I became someone I was really starting to hate.
Bear could have asked me anything else. Anything at all, and I would have done it. Rob a bank, become a flying trapeze artist, learn Japanese. At that point I would have gone to the MC and put a bullet in Chop myself if it meant that I could take a breath again without wanting to pull my own hair out strand by pink strand and DO NOTHING.
But no. He asked me the worst thing he could possibly ask me.
He asked me to WAIT.
He might as well have asked me to sit while someone removed my fingernails one by one with tweezers because waiting was a torture in and of itself.
“How many of them went in there?” I heard Rage ask in a whisper. I stopped in the hallway and pressed my ear to the door of my room. “Four? Shit, do you know anyone on the inside who can protect him? I know that one guy but anyone else? Yes, it is my fucking business, because I’m here babysitting his old lady in little house on the motherfucking prairie out here, so if you want me to protect her, you will tell me what the fuck is going on.” There was a pause. “Really? Well, that’s something I didn’t know. No, of course I won’t tell her. She’s going to be fucking pissed though. Yes. Okay, fine I got it.” She ended the call and I leapt into the kitchen. With my heart in my throat, I threw open the little cabinet above the refrigerator and searched through my mother’s prescription bottles until I found the one I was looking for. I poured two glasses of soda and when Rage came back out I was leaning over the counter, pretending to be interested in the cookbook I’d just opened. I handed her one of the glasses.
“Thanks,” she said. “Cheers.” Rage raised her glass to me and took a sip.
As much as I couldn’t stand the girl when we’d first met, I really started to like Rage. We talked. I mean I talked and she mostly gave vague responses back, but it was companionship nonetheless, and lord knows that being in that house alone would have driven me up the biggest cliff in crazy town until I was sailing off the edge.
Which is why I almost felt bad when I crushed three Ambien into her Dr. Pepper.
Almost.
Ten minutes later her eyes closed and her head fell back against the pillow. “Sleep well,” I sang as she began to snore softly. I quickly dressed in my best sundress. A short, light blue, spaghetti-strapped number with tiny white flowers that made my legs look a lot longer than they were and my chest a lot bigger than it was.
The serious nature of what had to be done required a serious dress.
I grabbed a bike from the shed that probably hadn’t been ridden since the seventies, pumped some air into the tires which were seriously lacking tread, and peddled into town with my constant companion, Pancakes, running close behind my back wheel for the fist mile before growing bored and running off behind some trees in search of better entertainment.
Trust me, his note had said. And I did trust him. I trusted him enough to know that he would die for me, and six months was pushing the limits on borrowed time. After hearing Rage on the phone, it didn’t sound like there was much hope for month seven.
I was done waiting.
There was a certain deputy sheriff I was going to see, and although the last time I’d seen him ended with him locking me in a cell, and Bear almost murdering him, I had to at least try.
And I hoped the good deputy would be agreeable to what I had planned, because I wasn’t leaving until I got what I’d come for.
I patted the messenger bag I’d slung across my chest that held the gun I’d taken from Rage.
No matter what.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Thia
I DROPPED MY bike in front of the hardware store and looked around for Buck’s police cruiser. When I didn’t see it, I popped inside where I found Ted standing behind the counter in his usual attire of overalls, and not much else covering his huge belly. He was polishing something with a dirty rag. When he heard the door chime, he set whatever it was down and came around the counter. “Thia,” he said, with a sympathetic smile. “I was so sorry to hear about your parents. How you holding up?”
“I’m all right, Ted,” I said, appreciative for his concern. Most of the people of Jessep were raging gossips. It’s the small town way. Ted’s always been the first one to ask me about me without joining in on the rumor mill. “You seen Buck around?” I asked, needing to see my friend ASAP.
Or my ex friend.
Or whatever he was.
Ted shook his head. “Not yet today, but sometimes I see him parked behind the diner ’round this time. You could check there.”
“Thanks, Ted.” I spun around to rush back out the door, but Ted stopped me.
“You know, I met your Bear last time he was in here,” Ted said. “He’s a good one. I can tell. We bonded over bike parts and being outcast bikers.” Ted smiled and I could tell it meant a lot to him to meet one of his own. Bear had told me about their conversation and I’d been surprised. I’d known Ted my entire life and in our small town I’d never heard a soul utter a single word about him being an ex member of the Wolf Warriors MC.
“He told me,” I said, offering him a tight-lipped smile.
“Good,” he said, straightening a stack of Auto Trader magazines by the door. “He’s a good kid and I know he didn’t have nothin’ to do with the way your parents went out, but from the look in your eyes I can see you already know that.” It sounded so weird to hear someone call Bear a kid, because to me he was the furthest thing from it.
“I do know that,” I admitted with one hand still on the door handle.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told him when he came in here. I may be an old man and retired, but my club knows I’m still here, just inactive, and I’ve still got friends in the life. If Buck can’t give you the kind of help I think you’re looking for, then you come see me.” Ted walked toward the register and reached behind the counter. He pulled out a shotgun, resting it high on his shoulder like he was a soldier going to battle. “I can still be pretty persuasive when I need be,” he said. The evil glint in his eye made me instantly believe him. It was like I was seeing Ted for the first time and it made me realize something, if I were being honest.
I liked this Ted.
“Thanks, Ted,” I said. With that, he tipped his hat and put the shotgun away. He went back to his polishing as if Biker Ted had never been there, slipping easily back into the role of Hardware Store Ted.
“You tell him I said hello,” He added, as if I just came in to buy a quart of oil.
