Chapter Ten #2
That’s what this meeting feels like. I wouldn’t be surprised if the group walked away with dozens of broken noses and black eyes and an even stronger familial bond between them. It’s disorientating.
Theo doesn’t look immune to the stress of the meeting either.
I have the perfect view of him from my spot in the corner.
I see every time his fingers flex in annoyance and how he grows tenser by the minute, the veins in his arms threatening to pop.
He sits at the front, James next to him, and only speaks to steer the conversation back on topic or shut someone down.
No one acknowledges me until an hour into the meeting when Daryus says, “Are we just going to ignore the fact that a hang-around is here?”
A dozen heads spin in my direction, as if his question was permission to look. I straighten my spine, carefully not lowering my eyes.
“She’s not a hang-around,” Theo says.
“Well, she’s not a member or prospective,” Daryus argues.
“He’s right. No one else brings their girl to church,” Raphael says. Then he adds in a heavier voice, as if referring to a collectively painful memory, “Not anymore.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure she should be here, boss,” another guy says.
A few others voice their agreement. I bite down hard, fighting the desire to stab someone.
“That’s enough.” Theo doesn’t yell, but the words are the most threatening he’s said so far.
Every single person goes silent and alters their posture, either cowering back or straightening like soldiers falling in line.
“June is here as my guest, and she will continue to come as long as I want her to. She’s to be treated like one of us until I say otherwise.
And if I hear one more complaint, I’ll start assigning dirty work and stripping patches and privileges. Understood?”
I scan the faces of the bikers. Some, like Daryus, look angry. Others, like James, nod. Luna’s wide, cheery smile nearly making me laugh.
“Anything else?”
No one speaks, though several must want to.
“Fine. Then we’re finished. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
Luna told me their weekly churches are typically several hours long, so Theo ending it after an hour sends a ripple of unease through the group. Those looking at me quickly turn their attention away, like they’re afraid of staring too long and pissing off their leader.
Theo stands and crosses the room, meeting my eyes and jerking his head forward in a silent command to follow.
My instinct is to stay seated, not to follow the big angry biker while armed only with a knife, but my legs push me up anyway.
I find Luna in the crowd, and though she’s not smiling anymore, she does give me an encouraging nod.
Taking a breath, I head outside, preparing for another fight.
Except when I reach Theo on the front porch, he doesn’t look mad. If anything, he looks sad.
I stand a foot behind him, wondering if he expects me to apologize. But I didn’t do anything wrong. This was all his idea. I’d gladly stay at the house while he attends these dumb church meetings.
Despite that, I’m still shocked when Theo breaks the silence with a soft, “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to cancel the meeting. I can walk back to your house.” Or I could go to Sadie’s. It’s not like he’d know. Though he does have cameras in his house, so he may check on me.
He shakes his head. “James can finish up.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to go back in, June. Let’s just go.”
Hearing him call me June is jarring, and my next question, if he ever took one of his previous girlfriends to club meetings, vanishes from my throat.
I distinctly remember Jennifer complaining about Amber going to meetings with her “gang-banger boyfriend,” fearing that it meant she was being initiated.
Except Raphael said no one brings their girls.
Instead of asking, I nod and follow Theo in silence to his bike. We don’t speak until we’re at the house and I’m heading to my bedroom.
“You can stay out here if you want. I was going to watch a movie.”
The last half hour has thrown me so off kilter that I don’t automatically say no. The therapeutic analyst side of my brain kicks into gear, replaying recent events and scrutinizing Theo’s words.
The club members are suspicious of outsiders, that much is plain.
Hang-arounds, people like me who aren’t members but spend time with the club, are normal, especially at the clubhouse or Iron Cage when they’re just relaxing.
But they’re more protective of formal events, like meetings.
Something specific happened to make them especially distrustful of strangers—girlfriends—hearing club business.
And that distrust not only angered Theo but sucked the fight out of him.
I doubt he’s just telling me I can watch the movie with him if I want to.
He’s asking me to stay with him, in his own way.
He won’t let himself appear vulnerable or weak, especially in front of me, a known enemy, but he doesn’t want to be alone.
Whatever the experience was that created a distrust of strangers among the Saints must’ve affected Theo more than the others.
Was it Amber? I can’t see how. She was an innocent twenty-one-year-old girl. Maybe what he did to her put them at risk, and instead of getting angry at their leader, the club collectively blamed Amber.
I need to know. Everything Jennifer told me was second-hand information from the perspective of a worried parent.
I’m fairly certain how the relationship ended, but I have no idea what got them there.
I assumed Theo was just a violent asshole who went too far one day, an unfortunate ending to many abusive relationships.
I’m not so sure about that anymore. And I won’t learn the truth by avoiding Theo.
So, I shrug and say, “What are we watching?” I ignore the visible relief in his eyes and how his muscles relax.
“What kind of movies do you like?” He kicks off his shoes and drops onto the couch, snatching up the TV remote. “Let me guess, Saw and John Wick are your favorites.”
I roll my eyes, sitting on the other end of the couch. “First of all, those are great movies. But for your information, my favorite movie is Across the Universe .”
He gives me an incredulous look. “The hippie one where they’re all on drugs? You do realize those people are pacifists, right?”
“It’s The Beatles. How can you not love that movie?”
“Okay, well, we’re not watching that.”
“Fine. What’s your favorite movie, then? Ghost Rider ?”
“Ha ha, very original.”
“Well?”
“I’m not telling you.”
My lips tug into a smile. “What is it?”
A barely noticeable red tint spreads across his cheeks.
“Oh, my god. It’s some stupid chick flick, isn’t it? Sweet Home Alabama ? The Notebook ?”
“Isn’t it misogynistic to call traditionally female-loved movies ‘stupid chick flicks’?”
“You’re not going to distract me from this.”
“It’s Interstellar ,” he says, though I don’t need to be a therapist to know he’s lying.
“It is not!”
“Drop it, little reaper.”
“I’m going to ask James. Or Luna. I’ll bet they know.”
The blush deepens, and he reaches over to stop me from lifting my phone. “Okay! Fine. It’s Tinkerbell .”
For a moment, I think he’s still joking, but the truth is etched in the lines of his forehead and shining on his cheeks. I lean back, staring at him with more confusion than ever before.
“ Tinkerbell ?”
He nods.
“The 2008 animated film?”
“It’s a good movie.”
“I’ll have to trust you on that.”
He averts his eyes. “Right. So, what do you want to watch?”
I permit the subject change because I can sense pushing this further would be a bad idea. “The new Marvel movie?”
“No, those are all the same movie. It’s boring.”
“That’s the point. You know what you’re getting. Awesome fight scenes and witty jokes.”
“What about Rocketman ? You like musicals.”
“I like the one musical.”
“Alright, no musicals. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood ?”
“Gross, that’s one of those stupid movies the critics rave about but actually has no point. Let’s do National Treasure . It’s a classic.”
“Really, little reaper? Are you obsessed with Nicolas Cage or something?”
“He’s an enigma, okay?” I shout, throwing my hands out.
“Whatever you say. Let’s just scroll Netflix.”
So, we do. It takes thirty minutes and several arguments until we agree on a movie.
“I still don’t think we should watch a Christmas movie in January,” I mumble even as I pull my legs under me and reach into the bowl of popcorn Theo prepared.
“ Die Hard is not a Christmas movie.”
“Is to.”
“Just because it’s set at a Christmas party does not mean it’s a Christmas movie.”
“Are we really doing this again?”
“Just as long as you know you’re wrong.”
“Alright, Tinkerbell.”
He glares at me, but there’s no real heat in the look. We settle into a comfortable silence of watching the movie with occasional commentary. James gets home halfway through and drops onto the couch between us without a word.
“Jamesy,” I venture, pitching my voice up an octave. “Tell Theo that Die Hard is, indeed, a Christmas movie.”
“Oh, my god! It’s not!”
“Sorry, T, but she’s right.”
“HA!”
“I hate you,” Theo mumbles to James, who just shrugs. I’m still grinning when I turn back to the screen, and by the end of the night, I’ve nearly forgotten about the awkward club meeting or my earlier fight with Theo.