CHAPTER FIVE
Tess—
“And then what’d you do?” Hayley leans toward me, elbows on her kitchen island, a curl of her short blonde hair flopping onto her forehead as she hangs on my every word.
“I told him I needed to get home.”
“Seriously?” The you-dumbass tone in her voice is clear.
“I told you, he’s not my type.”
“He says something so totally badass hot to you, and you didn’t melt inside?”
I can’t hold her gaze, because I did melt inside. “Not at all.”
“Bullshit. You are such a liar, girlfriend.”
“I am not.”
Her hand lands on her hip, pulling back the side of her flannel shirt, one she probably swiped from her sexy-as-hell drummer boyfriend to reveal the vintage Van Halen tank beneath. One I’m sure I’ll steal from her first chance I get. She glares at me. “We’ve been friends too long for you to pull that shit with me. I can read you like a book, Tess.”
“There’s nothing to read. He did me a favor. End of story.”
She strolls into her living room to her collection of vintage LPs and flips through them. “Maybe he’s not like those other guys, ever think of that?”
“He’s one of them,” I stare into the glass of wine she poured for me the minute I walked in her door tonight. I down the remainder. “They’re all the same.”
“Not necessarily. I mean, yeah, there were some scary bad dudes in your dad’s old club. I remember the few times I was at your house, and they came in. But your mom said it’s all so different now. And didn’t this guy say your dad was a piece of shit for the way he’s treating your mom? Would he say that if he was just like him?”
I can’t argue with her, so I uncork the wine bottle and refill my glass. It’s been a long, stressful day driving to see my dad and then the conversation with Gypsy. I’m so confused by the conflicting feelings I have about him. Bouncing those feelings off my BFF has always helped me cope, but she’s making me question everything. I take a sip of the chardonnay, thinking about her reasoning.
Hayley pulls an LP out and puts it on the turntable. The mellow sounds of Boz Scaggs’ Silk Degrees album fill the air. She lights a joint, walks back, and passes it to me, resting her elbows on the granite. “Maybe this is like a second chance for the two of you. Maybe you’re like soul mates, and the universe keeps throwing you together.”
I take a hit, inhaling and letting the drug and the music relax me. “Get real. He’s a Devil King. He’s in my father’s club. You know how I feel about that. How I’ve always felt about that. I’m not throwing my life away like my mother did.”
She pulls the joint from my fingers. “Yadda, yadda, yadda. You forget who you’re talking to. You forget I was the one who picked you up the morning after you went home with this guy. I saw it all over your face, chickee.”
“You saw nothing.”
At my lame denial, she chokes on a lungful of smoke. “Bullshit. He rocked your world. Hell, you didn’t get over it for months.”
“Lies, all lies.”
“Right. Live in denial, then. So, what’s your plan?”
“I have to see if I can get the information my father wants. Although, Gypsy wants me to ask Growler to put him on his visitors list, so I’m hoping my dad can just ask him.”
“That could take weeks, though, right? I mean, you told me they do a background check and all that before a visitor is approved. What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I have to keep trying to get the information. God, I wish I wasn’t in this situation.”
“Isn’t there another way? I mean, can’t your mom just get a job?”
“Be serious. She can’t hold onto one, not with her issues with anxiety. Not to mention passing the drug test.”
“Maybe we could find her something simple with no stress. One that won’t run a drug test.”
“I’ve tried. She’s set on getting this money.”
“And if your dad is right? What if she just blows it all on booze and drugs?”
“I’ve tried talking to her about her drinking. She won’t listen. Doesn’t want to hear it. I thought maybe with Growler in prison, the anxiety would lessen. I always thought he caused more stress in her life, but I’m beginning to see that maybe he had a way to calm her. Oh, and guess what else?”
“What?”
“He said he mailed her a letter.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know. If I tell her and he’s lying, she’ll drive herself crazy waiting for it to come.”
“You think he’s lying? Why would he lie about that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t think she can take any more disappointment right now.”
“Maybe you need to get your hands on that letter and read it first.”
“Probably.”
“You know what you need?”
I grin. “The key to the safe deposit box.”
She rolls her eyes. “Besides that. You need a night to just cut loose and stop worrying about your damn mother. Come see Josh’s band with me tonight. They’re playing at the Voodoo Lounge.”
She’s right. I do need to forget about everything for one night. I lift a brow. “Only if I get to wear your Janis Joplin tank top.”
“Damn, girl, you drive a hard bargain.”
“And your brown boots.”
“Christ, you’re pushy.”
I throw an arm around her shoulders. “But you love me just the same.”
She shoves me off. “I’m finding you a man tonight. You need to get laid.”
“You always say that.”
“And it’s always true.”
CHAPTER SIX
Gypsy—
Late Saturday night…
It’s near midnight when Jammer and I roll our Harleys down the long rutted dirt drive that leads into the woods. The lights of the singlewide trailer glimmer through the pines. I can smell the meth cooking before we’re within twenty yards of the place. We coast to a stop and drop our kickstands, shutting off our bikes.
I release the buckle under my chin and pull my helmet off, hanging it on the handlebar as I climb off my bike.
Jammer does the same, and I follow him up the two steps onto the wooden porch add-on with its corrugated metal roof.
“Let’s make this quick,” I murmur as Jammer lifts his knuckle to the door, even though we’re both sure they know we’ve arrived. If the motorcycle engines didn’t give us away, the two cameras mounted up in the trees let the occupants in on our arrival.
There’s a diamond shaped window in the door, and a face appears.
He’s got long stringy hair and sunken eyes. He gives Jammer a stupid grin as we hear several locks unbolt.
The door swings open, and we walk in. The place is set up with folding tables and equipment. There’s another guy over by one of them. He’s got a three-inch Mohawk and a mask covering his mouth and nose.