All too soon he’s turning the truck into a motel. It’s one with exterior doors so we won’t have to troop through the lobby. He pulls around to the end and parks, and then lifts a finger off the steering wheel to point. “This one’s ours. We got lucky. It’s on the first floor at least.”
I wouldn’t say the motel is a dump; it looks about mid-grade on the quality scale, but it’s not a national chain, at least not one I recognize.
He shuts the truck off and looks over at me. “You ready?”
I nod and put my hand on the door. The minute I step out, my shoe sinks into the standing water. The parking lot is indeed starting to flood. I dash up under the second story walkway, out of the downpour, and meet him at the door.
“Ow wee,” he yells out, shaking the rain off his head and sliding the card in the lock. He has to yank on the handle a couple of times before it opens. I stare at the number on the door—sixteen—and suddenly that’s how old I feel.
We enter, and the room is frigid, the AC blasting from the old unit under the window. There is indeed just one queen bed.
He sees that I stare at it but ignores the issue and moves to crank on the heat.
I slip off my wet shoes and rub my hands on the flannel sleeves of his shirt, grateful that at least I’m dry.
When Gypsy is through adjusting the heat, he moves to the desk and picks up a pizza delivery menu. “You hungry?”
I jump at the chance to delay what is probably the inevitable. “Sure. Pizza would be great. You think they’re delivering in this storm?”
“Let’s find out.” He pulls his phone out and makes the call while I wander into the bathroom. Not because I need to, but just to get some privacy from him for a minute while I try to keep my internal freak-out at bay. Once the door is closed between us, I make a face and stare at the ceiling, mouthing all kinds of swear words. I finally breathe deep and tell my reflection to calm the fuck down. He’s just a guy.
Yeah, just a guy that gave you the best sex of your life and is currently and probably will always be a DK. And not just any DK, but a DK in your father’s chapter. Fuck, shut up!
I breathe again and remind myself that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. But that’s the problem… My body is all too willing, and I’m the one I have to worry about, not Gypsy. He might make a play for me, but he’d never do a thing if I didn’t consent. That I know I don’t have to worry about.
I wash my hands and splash water on my face. I grab a towel and pat my cheeks dry, then stare at my reflection, breathing into the terry fabric. I’m being silly. He may not want to make a play for me, and if he doesn’t, this whole internal argument I’m having with myself will be moot. Because it’s for certain I won’t be the one coming on to him.
Somewhere deep in my brain a little voice whispers, “You so sure about that?”
When I can’t stay in the bathroom any longer, I turn off the water and walk out.
He’s lying on the bed, the remote in his hand, flipping through the channels. He looks over at me. “Got us a large with everything and a liter of cola. Place is right down the street. Should be here in half an hour.”
“Oh, good. Thanks.” I tuck my leg under me and sit next to him on the mattress. “What are you watching?”
“Trying to find the weather. See if this is going to clear up anytime soon.” He stops on a local channel. The radar shows that it isn’t slowing until sometime in the middle of the night. “Guess we’re stuck here.”
“Guess so.”
“Anybody you need to call?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You?”
“Nope.”
“These rides down here… Am I keeping you from club stuff?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’ve been working around it.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“My mom told me the club is different now with new people. Is that true?”
He shrugs. “We ran off a few guys when Rusty took over. The vibe is different now that your dad and some of them are gone, no denyin’ that.”
“For the better?”
He meets my gaze. “Yeah. For the better. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Got anything else you’re wonderin’ about?”
Yes, if sex with him would ever be as good as I remember it. But that’s not what I say. Instead I ask, “Tell me why you owe my mother a favor.”
He exhales deeply and stares at me. “Why do you wanna know?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “She’s not the kind of person who does many nice things for people and not the kind who makes them feel like they owe her a favor in return. I’m curious.”
He crosses his arms and looks at the ceiling, and I’m sure he’s done with the conversation. But then he starts to talk.
“It was years ago… hell, probably a decade or more. Back when your old man ran things. I was still just a prospect. There were two of us at the time. The club treated prospects like crap, back then especially. Ran us ragged, berated us, beat on us. We were less than dogs in their eyes. I was working my tail off. I was exhausted all the time, and I just felt I was failing everyone around me, like I was failing the club, failing the other prospect.”
I frown. “Why would you say you were failing the other prospect? What was your responsibility to him?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, and I can tell that in his mind, he’s back in the past.
“And?”
“His last name was Dirks, but everybody called him Dirt. The guys were really hard on him. As bad as they were on me, he took the brunt. He was just a kid, barely eighteen. One night most of the brothers had gone home, and it was only Dirt, the club’s VP, and me. Dirt made a mistake. That night when he was exhausted and too slow to get Rat his beer, the man put Dirt’s hand in the chest style cooler they had behind the bar and slammed the metal top down on it. Broke a bunch of bones. Mangled it good. I was close by and could hear the crunch. Dirt screamed. Hell, who wouldn’t have? But Rat didn’t like that and dunked his head in the dishwater in the nearby sink. Held him under so long the kid drowned.
“I stood there, not ten feet away and didn’t stop him. I did nothing, just stared, stricken in place, my eyes moving from Rat’s evil face to that water, until the bubbles stopped rising and the kid went slack.
“Rat just let go, and Dirt slumped to the floor.”
“What happened?”
“He kicked his dead body and told me to get rid of it.”
“Oh my God.”
“Ain’t gonna tell you the rest of what I did, but the next day, I was in the clubhouse, in the back kitchen. The place was empty. At least I thought it was. I sat there, thinking about what happened to that poor kid and how I’d done nothing. I pulled out my gun and looked at it and saw a way out. It’d be so easy to just eat a bullet. Belle talked me out of it that night.”
“How?” I find it surprising that my mother was the one who saved him.
“I didn’t hear her come in, but when I glanced up, Belle was standing in the doorway. I guess I had tears in my eyes. I just know she knew immediately what I was planning.”