Chapter 14 #2
Pope chuckled at that and shook his head, while Sunshine snickered. “Nope. It’s me,” Pope admitted.
“Man, your hair was long even back then,” Roan remarked. “Have you ever worn it short?”
“Only when they locked my ass up,” Pope said. “It’s not a good look.”
“It isn’t on me, either,” Ocean admitted when he noticed the photos beside it, of all the boys riding the waves. “He looks like he was having the time of his life. I never got to ask why he left when it always sounded like he loved it here?”
Pope sighed, and for the first time since they’d entered the building, there wasn’t a smile on his face or joy in his eyes when Ocean met his gaze.
“You know, don’t you?” Ocean asked.
Pope nodded, lips pressed in a grim line. “You deserve the answer to that, and I’ll tell you, but not in here. Why don’t we go grab a snow cone and let Gramps entertain Roan and Danger with stories about Flaming Betty while I explain?”
He’d expected resistance, so it threw him for a moment to have Pope freely offer him the answers he craved.
“Yeah,” Ocean said. “Let’s do that.”
“Very well then,” Pope said, inclining his head toward the door.
Before Ocean could turn to follow him, Roan slid into his arms, hugging him, warm nose rubbing along the curve of Ocean’s neck. Shuddering, Ocean clutched him close, inhaled the scent of cedar still lingering in his hair from his shower that morning, and hoped he wasn’t making a grave mistake.
Their eyes met when Ocean finally turned him loose, and Ocean could see the concern written all over Roan’s face.
“Don’t worry kid,” Pope said, reaching out to give Roan’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got him.”
Roan nodded, looking torn until Danger nudged his arm. “Come on, they’ll join us when they’re finished.”
Ocean waited for Roan to make up his mind and trail after Danger before he followed Pope out the door.
On any other occasion, he’d have read all the flavors before ordering his snow cone. Today, he just rattled off his favorite combination, pineapple-mango, barely tasting it once he and Pope were seated at the furthest picnic table away from everyone.
“I know it’s been, what, twenty years since he passed away, and you were young at the time, but did you ever hear your father talk about Carl or maybe refer to him as Chaos?” Pope asked once he’d taken a bite out of the lemon-lime snow cone he’d ordered.
Frowning, Ocean studied his snow cone, nibbling occasionally while he sifted through old memories, most of them hazy.
“No, I don’t think so,” he finally replied.
“Chaos was Wreck’s father,” Pope explained.
“And the first man we lost as a club. He’d only had his colors for a few months before he was killed by a dumbass tweaker who decided to pass a line of bikes.
Whether he was too high to care or didn’t see the truck because the sun was getting low, who the fuck knows, but he’d only passed the rear guard and one other rider before he swerved into the line to avoid the truck, forcing Chaos and Shane to swerve.
Chaos avoided hitting Shane in what I’ve heard described as a masterful piece of driving, while the rear guard veered onto the shoulder when Chaos started fishtailing.
Shane spun out into the guardrail, while the idiot in the SUV behind the line never slowed.
Some of the guys figured he was pissed about the line of bikes in front of him.
An SUV hit Chaos, and a couple cars hit it.
The medical examiner said Chaos was dead before it burst into flames, so I guess that’s something, but the rider in front of Shane was your old man.
He and the rear guard tried to get to Chaos, not knowing that he was already gone, but it was an inferno by then.
All anyone could do was watch it burn until the firetrucks arrived. ”
“Holy shit,” Ocean said, unable to imagine the horror his father had witnessed.
“It’s one thing to go out in a hail of bullets or running from the law, but the guys weren’t doing shit that day but riding up the coast, enjoying a bit of wind therapy,” Pope said.
“Senseless is what it was, bullshit impatient people. Your dad couldn’t shake the nightmares.
Couldn’t ride that stretch of road again either.
He started chasing the biggest waves he could catch, just to rid himself of the memories.
That’s when he started talking about California and all the surfing competitions out there.
Some of the older guys encouraged him to go, figuring it would be a good diversion for him since he’d started dabbling in shit he shouldn’t, just to get some fucking sleep.
There are times when I wished I’d gone with him. ”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was nineteen at the time and more interested in getting bloody,” Pope explained.
“Instead of playing my guitar, my focus was on putting in work for the club and earning my stripes, so to speak, which eventually landed my ass behind bars. Of course, there were already other members in there, so we set out to run the place and racked up more charges in the process. By the time I got out, I was too invested in the Jokers to ever leave, and your old man, he just never came back.”
“Do you ever regret not going?” Ocean asked.
“Sometimes. The thing I regret most was losing touch with him. I kept up with how well he was doing in competitions, mostly through magazines and late-night videos on the sports channels. There are times when I wonder if I could have done something with my music if I’d gone, but those are fleeting, since there are things I would have lost out on here that shaped me into the man I am. ”
Ocean nodded, most of his cone finished as he’d listened to Pope’s story.