“Guess I’m stuck being a biker then, huh?” he asked, sending me a devilish look.
“Were you always a biker? I mean, you know, like Cary?”
“Nah. Just since I came to this area.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s different than I thought,” he admitted, shrugging.
“In a good or a bad way?”
“Mostly good. It’s like a family. I like having the guys around to hit the bars with. And I like tagging along with the girls.”
“The princesses?” I clarified.
“Yeah. The daughters of the OG members.”
“Are they, you know, bikers too?”
“Nah. No chick bikers yet. They all got their own shit going. Hope does private investigation. Violet chases skips. Layna is a professional gambler. Oh, and then there’s Billie who does all the hippie, new age shit.”
“Do any of them have, you know, normal jobs?”
“Luna is a librarian. Willa is doing the boss bitch shit, making bank. Andi’s a vet. Got a mix.”
“And what about you guys?” I asked, not having really pestered Cary with any questions about being a biker. I mean, I had back in the day. But it seemed like these Navesink Bank bikers were a different kind of breed altogether.
I was sure he would answer, but I didn’t want to be annoying. And, hey, Dezi was in a talking mood. I might as well pick his brain, right?
“What about us?”
“Are you all just… you know… bikers? Or are there other jobs you do too?”
“The club and some of the brothers in the club have side hustles. Make shit look legit for the law, y’know? There’s a shop. Fallon and Malc have the diner. When Fallon locks down his woman, he will have a bar too. Fallon is always on the lookout for new legit businesses to invest in.”
“That makes sense,” I said, nodding.
I knew Raúl didn’t have anything legitimate going on, but I also knew how deep his pockets had been, and how willing he was to corrupt even the highest local officials to turn the other way and ignore his illegal business practices, so he didn’t have to worry about taxes and things like that.
I figured the American IRS was a whole other beast to deal with. If you had a nice house and fancy cars, they were going to look for where that money came from.
“Have you ever thought of getting your own business started?”
“Me? I’m not what you would call entrepreneurial. Sounds like a headache, and the only headaches I want is from too many shots at the bar. Why? You thinking about opening something up?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I have no idea what to do with my life now. Before now I… I had no real choices. Now that I do, they’re kind of overwhelming.”
“Makes sense,” Dezi said, continuing to work the yarn around the spokes of the loom, doing so without really even needing to look. “Dunno. Figure the best way to go about that kind of shit is to figure out what you like. Seth’s dad, Repo, he always liked cars. So he opened the shop. Seth, he likes ‘em, but not that much. Think I heard him say something about opening a shooting range. He’s a good shot,” he added.
“And Fallon and Malcolm like cooking?” I asked.
“What? Fuck no. Nah. Malc’s girl, when he met her, worked at the diner. He and Fallon bought it and she does the bakery.”
“Ah, hence all the donuts,” I said, gesturing toward the box we’d already finished.
“She makes the best. But yeah, what do you like doing?”
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, voice small, just a whisper of a sound, as the embarrassment flooded my system.
I mean, who the hell got to my age without knowing what they liked? Without at least having some hobbies?
“Shit happens,” Dezi said, shrugging. “Life happens. Gets in the way of shit like that,” he added, brushing away my insecurities. “Life is on pause right now,” he went on. “Seems like a good time to suss that shit out, yeah?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very wise?” I asked, meaning it.
But when he glanced over at me, a giant smile was on his face, and a chuckle escaped him. “Nah, babe, can’t say anyone’s ever accused me of being that.”
“Well, I think you are. Maybe you just hide it from those people,” I suggested.
“Maybe it’s not something everyone needs to know about me, yeah?” he said. But it was also a question, like he was asking me not to share it with anyone else.
And, well, I was in no place to share anyone’s secrets, not when I was asking so much from them.
“Just a heavy-drinking biker with rocks rolling around in his head then,” I agreed.
“Now you’re getting it. What do you think?” he asked, holding up his several inches of scarf beside his face. “Does this go with my coloring?”
“I can just see it now… your tee, a leather jacket thing, and a big, chunky winter scarf.”
“Chicks would be intrigued.”
“I bet they would,” I agreed.
“Cut,” he said.
“Hmm?”
“It’s not a leather jacket. It’s called a cut. Figure if you’re gonna be a biker old lady, you might want to get some of the lingo down.”
“I’m not… it’s not…”
“Yeah yeah yeah. Heard that shit already. But me? I got eyes. Sexy, smoldering fucking eyes, mind you, but eyes. And they see shit. I’m seeing shit with you and Cary.”
“He’s just helping me.”
“Mmhm, heard this song more than a few times. All the remixes too,” he went on. “You want to order Mexican?” he asked.
“We just had burgers,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but burgers aren’t tacos.”
“I mean, we—“ I started, when I heard a knock at the door that had me stiffening and sucking in my breath hard.
“Prolly just Zaddy,” Dezi said, and the nickname surprised me enough that a wobbly smile toyed at my lips as Dezi got off the bed. He reached for his gun, though. “But it never hurts to be prepared,” he added when he saw my gaze move to it.
Less than twenty seconds later, though, Cary was coming into the room, barely able to keep a smile off his face.
“What’d I miss? Place has been a fucking tomb for weeks, I leave for a couple hours, and it looks like something went down,” Dezi complained as he tucked his gun away.
“Do you remember Louana?”
“The chick Valen skipped town on, yeah? Daughter of that vigilante guy.”
“Yeah. That one.”
“What about her?”
“She just became a prospect,” Cary said, sharing a smile with Dezi that I was jealous of not fully understanding.
“Aw, man. It’s gonna be a shitshow. I gotta go get my front-row seats,” Dezi said, giving me a nod. “Figure out your happy, yeah?” he asked, and then before I could even thank him, he was gone.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. He just helped me realize I have time to figure out what I want to do with my life.”
To that, Cary nodded as he moved toward his bed, picking up the loom Dezi had abandoned, and looking at the progress. “Hey, look, you figured it out.”