"Well, you can’t count that."
"Why can’t I?"
"Her momma bear genes kicked into high gear."
"Why didn’t they today?"
"Because baby bear took herself out of the family den."
"If my kid took herself out of the family den, I’d do everything I could to get her back in it. Wouldn’t shove her out in the cold."
"You know what these religious whack jobs are like. Once you’re out, you’re out. It’s all a fucking cult to me."
"You think Catholicism is a cult."
"The biggest out there," he confirmed. "All headcases. Why the fuck would anyone support a God who’s so goddamn mean?"
"You’re an atheist," I discounted. "And I’m too high to argue about existential shit with you."
"This is why I hate it when you take drugs. You’re the only fucker who’ll debate with me, period. We could be talking about all kinds of shit, instead I’m giving you advice on your love life."
"Is it good advice though?"
"It’s logical advice. That’s about as much as you need to know. Give her what she’s always known, then she’ll feel more secure.
"She’s pregnant, Storm. She’s just graduated high school. She’s married. I bet that was never a part of her five-year plan. Her world is in the air, up is down and left is right. Pregnant women need nests."
"But I’m not that kind of guy."
"You love her, don’t you?"
"I do. I really fucking do. More than I know how to handle."
"Then you’ll do what’s best for her. She wants to live in her little Stepford bubble like her mom did, then give that to her. She wants to go to college, give that to her. Just do what your baby momma wants, and sure as shit, you won’t need to get high because she won’t leave you." He grumbled. "If I have to dump your ass in the Fridge again to stop Dad finding out you’re hooked on—"
"It’s a one-time deal." I sighed. "Two-time, counting the other day."
"Does this chick know your sobriety hinges on her?"
"She doesn’t know I’m an addict."
"Fuck. Why the hell didn’t you tell her?"
"When should I have?" I argued. "In between saving her ass from some fuckers who had a bet on who could bone her first and her telling me she’s carrying my baby?"
"Jesus, this isn’t going to end well, Storm. You need to do something."
"Like what?"
"I don’t know. You can’t keep getting high. Not when you’re going to be a father."
"I know you’re right. Just…"
"No, just. When you gonna learn, fucker? I’m always right."
As I stared up at the night sky, I whispered, "Not always."
"Always," he retorted. "Do what I say, and trust me, happy wife, happy life…"
Twenty-Three
Storm
PRESENT - APRIL
Every You Every Me - Placebo
"We have a deal?"
Tony Myers smirked at me as he reached over my desk and held out his hand. "We have ourselves a deal."
I dipped my chin as I rocked back in my seat, every inch of me pissed off at having to deal with pigs in my office, but this was a lesson I’d learned from Bear.
Always stay friendly with the local Sheriff.
While, of course, figuring out a way to determine if he had something worthy of blackmail in the closet.
It was two days since Bear’s funeral, so my mind kept playing tricks on me, prompting me to remember all the random shit he’d taught me over the years. This lesson was high up there because he’d trained both Rex and me to lead. Even if he’d always known Rex would be the general, that didn’t mean he’d skimped on life lessons with me.
"I’m going to need you to make it so that the mayor doesn’t cause us problems with a liquor license."
Myers nodded. "I can make that happen. It’s the most popular bar in the area, so people are already grumbling about it being shut down."
"Good." I rubbed my hands together. "The city council can think what they want about the Sinners, but you need to convince them we’re turning legit. Look at what the Hell’s Angels did. Use them as an example."
"I know what to do." Myers smirked. "I had an understanding with the Prez before last. Butch was the one who didn’t want to play ball, not me."
"Idiot." I shook my head. "As long as we’re on the same page, we should have a good relationship."
"I’m looking forward to it," Myers said with a sly smile as he got to his feet. Placing his hat on his head, he stated, "Seems like this is going to be a rewarding friendship, Storm."
"I agree." I got to my feet. "I’ll walk you out."
"Thanks."
We didn’t discuss anything as we walked down the hall, and when we passed the bar, I heard the throbbing silence that ensued as brothers caught sight of his uniform. Ignoring them, much as Myers did though he glanced inside and peered at the men, we headed toward the door and I guided him over to his vehicle.
Turning toward me after he unlocked the squad car, he murmured, "Rumor has it that most of the bad eggs went running after Butch when he left."
"The brothers who stayed behind have families." I caught Little’s eye, his curious gaze drifting over me and the sheriff until he caught me watching him back. "We just want to get rich and make the town richer, Myers. You got a problem with that?"
"No, don’t think the city council will either in all honesty. We haven’t been doing well since we lost a couple of factories to China."
"Well, let’s see what miracles we can reap, huh?"
Myers smirked a little, then he bowed his head. "I’d watch him."
Turning around, I spied Grim who was also staring at us from the doorway. "Oh, I am."
Grim wasn’t taking well to not being my VP. Though SL was doing a great job of it, Grim was the biggest dissenter.
"He was Butch’s brother-in-law."
"Was?" I queried, well aware that folks around here didn’t know the old Prez was deader than the Confederacy.
"Well, whatever it is you call it. Not his last woman, the one before. Don’t think they were married but I know when you claim a bitch, it might as well be a marriage in your eyes."
I heard the sneer as well as the slur, but I didn’t expect the fucker to understand our way of life—I just needed him to turn a blind eye to any petty crimes that came across his desk where the perp was a Sinner.
"Were they close?" I asked softly. "As far as you know?"
"Not sure Butch was close to anyone. He had a rep for a nasty temper. Very volatile. Spent a lot of nights in the local jail because he was a meaner drunk.
"I had to haul him in so many times I was glad when I heard he fucked off to—" He arched a brow at me, one that said he wasn’t buying the gossip train in town. "Where did he fuck off to, again?"