Chapter Three
Sadie
After James’s visit, I was far too off kilter to fake my way through tacos and margaritas with the girls, so I didn’t think twice about faking sickness when Evelyn said she couldn’t go.
I couldn’t—still can’t—stop replaying the meeting in my head.
Up close, the man was so much bigger. With his leather cut, thick red beard, and deadly look in his eyes, he could be Tormund from Game of Thrones.
Two things are exceedingly clear.
First, something dangerous is going on, and it rattled the Saints. Maybe Evelyn was right about June’s relationship. I’ll never tell her to leave Theo, but I fear the time is coming when I can no longer fake ignorance to who she truly is. Not if we’re both in danger.
Second, James knows about June’s darkness. Every time I consider that, the thought stabs me in my chest. She just started dating Theo, and she already told him and James? I’m her best friend. I grow fucking poison for her. I deserve her secrets more than those idiots.
Wednesday is a haze. While checking on the rosary peas climbing up the trellis, I allow my mind to craft complex scenarios during which I pluck a few seeds, find an asshole, and follow June’s example of cleaning the world of their stain.
But like every other time these thoughts arise, I shove them back.
As much as I admire June, I’m not her. I can grow the plants and provide the poison to other women, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to take a life myself.
I mean, when it came down to it, I couldn’t even defend myself.
When Dakota, one of my dumber decisions, tried to rape me, I only escaped because someone walked in on us.
I told June I fought back, that I actually used those self-defense skills she made me learn, but I didn’t. I froze.
I fucking froze.
Every day, I project this confident, outgoing, devil-may-care personality to the world in the hopes that, eventually, it’ll be real. And every day, I fall asleep with the knowledge that I’m nothing more than a scared girl too afraid to be alone or stand up for herself.
I lock up the store while mentally nailing boxes of insecurities and fears shut. In the car, I call the first person on my Favorites list, needing a thread of normalcy to keep me grounded in my own mind.
“Hey, Magnet,” my mom answers.
A smile automatically forms at the sound of her voice. “Hi, Ma. How are you?”
“Missing you, of course. Your brother is far too present in my life.”
In the background, I hear a deep voice yell, “Wow, thanks, Ma. Love you too!”
Laughing, I start my car and transfer the call to hands free mode. “Hey, Will! How’s Connor?”
“He’s training for a sunflower seed eating contest,” Mom answers. “I swear, I buy several Costco bags of the stuff every week.”
“You could stop buying it,” I say. “You know they come around all the time because you spoil them.”
“He’s just such a sweet boy,” Mom says.
“Connor is Ma’s new favorite son,” Will says. His voice is closer and clearer now, meaning Mom put the call on speaker.
“He’s the nicest of you all,” she adds. “I don’t remember the last time you bought me flowers.”
“He’s kissing up to you.”
“As he should.”
“He’s not even your son! He’s my boyfriend.”
“And he could do much better,” Mom teases.
My smile remains as they talk. I would be content to sit here and listen for hours.
I envision her crossing her arms as she stares up at Will.
My brothers are freakishly tall, taking after Dad, who’s six-foot six.
But where Dad is all limbs, Will is covered in lean muscle, thanks to his job as a stunt double.
“Careful, or you may suffocate me with your love,” Will says sarcastically.
“It’s not my fault both my boys brought home partners way out of their leagues. I have no idea how you pulled it off.”
“It’s the scars and bruises,” I say. “Those are hot, trust me. They’ll get anyone going.”
“Gross! I don’t need to hear about my sister’s weird scar kink.”
“She gets that from me. Your dad has this very intriguing scar below his right butt—”
“Nope!” Will shouts, cutting Mom off. “Please stop before you retroactively give me childhood trauma.”
“You’re thirty-one,” I say.
“Hence, retroactively.”
“Anyway,” Mom says, stepping in before we can descend into a verbal sparring match. “Were you just calling to talk, Magnet? Or do you have a specific objective?”
“I just wanted to hear how everyone was doing. I miss you guys.”
“We miss you too. When are you coming home?”
I roll my eyes. It’s been seven years since I left California and came to Tucson, and they still ask me when I’m moving back every phone call.
But as much as I miss my family, I don’t miss Hollywood.
And I have a life here that I really like.
I have June. She needs me now more than ever, whether she knows it or not.
“I’m visiting in a couple of months for my birthday. ”
“A visit isn’t the same. You’ve left me surrounded by boys. They keep multiplying!”
I laugh again. My oldest brother, Desmond, had a second son last year. Now, the boys in our family outnumber us girls six to three.
“What if I bring home a boy?” I ask.
Will barks out an overly dramatic laugh. “The day you get serious enough to bring someone home is the day I turn straight.”
“Don’t even suggest that,” Mom says. “I’d lose all street cred with the women at the club if I had to tell them all three of my kids are now heterosexual.”
“You’re right, I apologize. How dare I threaten your street cred?”
“I could bring home a guy!” I say, despite knowing how unlikely it is.
I have no problem dating—the numbers in my phone can attest to that—but letting one stick around long enough to consider dragging back to California?
That’s another thing altogether. It’s been almost five years since my disastrous breakup with the man I moved to Arizona for in the first place, and I don’t foresee willingly attaching my life to a man’s again any time soon.
“Or you could bring home a girl,” Mom suggests. “That would tie me with Shannon on the number of gay children.”
Despite living in Los Angeles, the women at the country club Mom and Dad are members of are still primarily middle-aged white women who barely pass the woke-parent test.
“As much as I wish I did, I just don’t swing that way.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asks. “Because I’ve always thought your friendship with that June is more intense than platonic.”
“Well, June has a boyfriend now, so that’s not an option even if I wanted it to be.”
“What?” Will shouts. “The June Graves has a boyfriend? Hasn’t she been celibate since you’ve known her?”
“William!” Mom shouts.
I flick on my turn signal and check my rearview mirror before switching lanes.
“She hasn’t been celibate. She just has high standards.
” By that, I mean she wasn’t going to date anyone who’d run screaming as soon as they got a glimpse of who she really is deep down.
Somehow, the thought of Theo running from her darkness is more absurd than her being a serial killer.
“Who is this man who achieves such impossible standards?” Mom asks.
“His name is Theo. He’s the president of a motorcycle club.”
“A motorcycle club, you say? Now that’s interesting. I don’t think anyone at the club has a biker as a son-in-law.”
“When did our love lives turn into fodder for your weird ‘who’s the most liberal parent?’ game?” Will asks.
“When only one of you decided to give me grandchildren, so now I have to find new ways to brag.”
“How about our successful careers? Or general well-being?” he suggests.
I don’t hear Mom’s response because the sound of a roaring motorcycle catches my attention.
The next second, a black bike zooms past, easily sliding between cars.
The rider isn’t wearing a Saints of Purgatory cut, but I find myself watching him until he’s out of sight anyway.
My mind drifts, imagining what it would be like to ride that fast with my arms around the hard muscles of a dangerous man.
Before my fantasy can conjure a face to go with the imaginary biker, my mom’s voice snaps my attention back to reality.
“Did you hear me, Magnet?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked how the shop is going.”
I give her the typical vague answer, and our conversation continues for another ten minutes until I’m pulling into my apartment building’s parking lot.
By the time the call ends and I’ve taken Soot on a walk, I feel slightly better and resolve to forget all about James’s visit. June will talk to me if she needs me.