And these women, these crazy, loud, larger-than-life women who owned the place, had my usual order waiting for me by the time I made it to the counter.
I was on my third cup of the day when the door opened and a familiar face walked in.
He was older, of course. As was I. And time had etched his features into a much more manly version of the boy I’d known. He looked a lot more like his father now. Which was saying something because I’d always thought his dad was kind of hot. That arms-dealing biker with the equally hot purple-haired wife.
Seth.
I can’t explain the look on his face when his gaze landed on me, but I could have sworn it was something like, I don’t know, glee.
Which made no sense.
I mean, I’d known the guy, but we hadn’t exactly been buds. He kind of hung out with the next-gen biker kids. And I sort of kicked around with different groups. Our paths hadn’t crossed much.
But, sure enough, that smile just stretched wider as he made his way in my direction, gate long-legged and confident. Gone was any of that adolescent gangly-ness and uncertainty that had plagued most of us back in the day.
Judging by the cut he was wearing, he’d gone ahead and followed in his father’s footsteps, prospecting, then getting patched in at Navesink Bank’s favorite outlaw biker club. Which made sense. I think all of us figured all the offspring would do the same eventually. After some went away to college to placate their parents.
“Louana!” Seth said, and up close, I was almost certain there was something mischievous behind that warm smile on his face.
Seth had always been a bit of a shit-starter in school and life outside of school.
But what shit was he starting with me, someone he hadn’t seen in years?
“Seth,” I said, getting up from my seat to accept the hearty handshake he offered me. “How have you been?”
“Good. Good. Where have you been?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Oh, you know, here and there. I did a lot of traveling.”
“That is… that is… very interesting,” he said, and, again, I couldn’t quite pin down the strange look in his eye or the tone in his voice.
Something was going on that I wasn’t aware of. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. After all, I’d been the one who’d been away and out of the loop for so long.
“Yeah. It’s been an adventure. So how are things? What’s new?” I asked.
It was then that the smile went from mischievous to downright wicked.
“Oh, you know. Riding bikes. Doing drops. Hazing the prospects. We got some new blood around lately,” he said, and I had no idea why he was giving me details about a club I’d never shown any interest in before. “Some feral dog named Voss rode in recently with Valen,” he said.
And I got it.
I finally got it.
The look.
The tone.
The glee.
Because he knew.
Of course he knew.
Everyone probably knew.
When I’d finally dragged myself out of my depression cave after all that shit went down, I’d skipped out of town so fast, not wanting to face all the people who knew. Who might judge. Who might find humor at my expense.
There were so many things to love about close-knit towns like Navesink Bank. But when something shitty happened, there was no dealing with it privately, no keeping things to yourself.
Everyone knew.
And everyone had something to say.
I hadn’t been in a place where I’d wanted to deal with it. So I’d skipped out of town. And, to an extent, I’d almost forgotten that people would know when I came back.
But, of course, everyone knew. And no one had forgotten.
It had been a really fucking long time.
But the sound of that bastard’s name was still like a kick to the stomach.
I guess I was lucky that Valen wasn’t exactly a common name. In fact, outside of the one I’d known, I’d never met another. I’d been able to go many years without hearing it spoken.
Maybe, though, if he had been a John or a Shawn or something like that, hearing the name often would have hardened me to it, would have made it lose all its impact.
Hearing Valen’s name, though, fuck, it damn near doubled me over.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, proud with how indifferent my tone sounded, despite the chaotic stream of thoughts and emotions that were swarming around inside of me right then.
“Yeah, crazy shit. He’s been gone all this time. Just blew into town a little bit back.”
“Interesting,” I said, though my tone made it sound like it was the most uninteresting thing I’d ever heard.
“Yeah. You should drop in sometime,” he said, smiling. “We are constantly having parties,” he added.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll have to drop in,” I agreed, nodding toward the counter that had just opened up, where Gala was standing with his drink in her hand, impatiently tapping a nail onto the side of it, waiting for him.
“Great. Hope you do. Nice seeing you again, Louana,” he said, smiling, then making his way to the counter.
Calm as can be.
Like he hadn’t just thrown a wrench into my inner workings, making everything start to malfunction.
It was ridiculous.
I’d been a kid back then.
It had been years.
There was absolutely no reason for me to be as impacted by the information as I was right then as I dropped down off of numb legs back onto my seat.
“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jazzy, one of the owners, said as she wiped down the table beside mine.
“Something like that,” I agreed, cradling my mug between my hands.
“You just got back into town and it looks like you’re about to hop back out again,” she said, brows pinching as she looked down at me.
Was I?
It would be easier, wouldn’t it?
To just keep running.
Away from my past. Away from the shit I never fully worked through because, again, it was easier just to keep moving, keep ahead of it.
I’d done Europe to death. But I could jump to a different continent. Maybe explore the unique cultures I could find in Asia. Go check out the giant bats and crabs in Australia. Or maybe check out my Ma’s heritage in South America.
There was plenty more to explore.
More places to hide away in.
But no matter where I went, how far toward the end of the Earth I got, I could never hide from myself, could I?
Besides, it felt good to be home. To spend more than a couple of weeks with my family. To maybe catch up with friends I’d lost touch with over the years.
For the first time in a long time, I wanted to stay.
But if I was going to stay, I was going to need to finally deal with my shit.
“I’ve been a flight risk,” I admitted to Jazzy. “But I think I am putting down roots this time,” I told her. Then added, without actually thinking it through for a solid second, “I think my roots just might need to be planted in the Henchmen clubhouse though.”
“Oooh, shit,” Jazzy said, that big, knowing grin of hers letting me know that she had already put the pieces together.
Each town had their “keepers of humanity.” Sometimes it was the old biddies sitting in their lawn chairs gossiping, watching out their curtains at night, minding everyone else’s business. In others, it was the local barkeep, listening to everyone’s sob stories and helping them celebrate their successes.