Chapter 8
The sun is down, but the night is still warm as I wait for Priest outside my building. It’s almost like he’s two people in my head. Heath is still there, but he’s fading into the background as I get to know the man he’s grown into.
The rumble of a motorcycle comes closer, signaling his arrival. Priest pulls up in front and cuts the engine. He smiles as he looks me up and down. “Looking good. Not quite your demon fighting outfit, but close enough.”
I dressed for riding, with long jeans, boots, and Desdemona’s leather jacket over a white camisole with a lacy top.
My hair is pulled back in French braid to keep it from turning into a rat’s nest. Priest doesn’t seem as worried.
He’s wearing jeans that hug his thighs and scuffed up motorcycle boots, but on top it’s just a black T-shirt under his leather biker vest. There’s a helmet with roses on the side strapped to the back of his bike, though.
“Is that for me?”
He nods, unclipping it and helping me settle it down over my hair before adjusting the strap. “Borrowed it from one of the girls.”
“Are there a lot of women in the club?” I ask, remembering what he said about an ‘old lady’ earlier. It’s sort of like a girlfriend or a wife, I guess, but everything I know about motorcycle clubs is from TV, including the show I’m actually on.
Priest chuckles. “Depends on what you mean. Not members, no. It’s a boy’s club, honey. But some of the brothers have women, and there’s always girls around looking for a good time.”
Right. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. “Do you have one? An old lady?” I get close enough to touch the leather seat, running my fingertips over it like I’m gently petting a wild animal, wondering if it’s going to behave or if it’s going to bite.
“Nah, Q.” His smile widens into a knowing grin. “If I did she’d probably kick my ass for this.”
“Why?”
“Because behind me would be her spot. Sometimes it’s just practical. Can’t get too fucking precious about tradition in an emergency, but going out to pick up a pretty girl and take her for a ride?” He shakes his head. “Disrespectful.”
“We’re just friends, though.”
He cocks an eyebrow and my stomach does a little flip.
“Okay, so how do I…” I gesture at the seat behind him. “I kinda rode one for the show, but we faked most of it.”
“Get on, scoot up close and wrap your arms around me. When I lean into a turn, try to lean with me. Feet on the pegs. You’re gonna be fine.”
It’s not like a horse. It’s more like mounting a tiger with the intent to ride, but I get on and push in close, leaning into his broad back with my palms pressed into his chest. He’s warm. Solid. And right between my legs.
“I could get used to you being right up close like this.” His chuckle vibrates under my hands. “Hold on tight, baby.”
What kind of trouble am I getting myself into? My fingers curl into his shirt, and I slide even closer. When he suggested a motorcycle ride, it didn’t occur to me how intimate it was.
And then he starts the bike.
The roar of it coming to life has me digging my fingers into Priest’s tight abs. It shakes me from my core and all the way up like a giant vibrator. I’m starting to see why a woman might get jealous if her man started picking up other girls like this.
“You good?” He glances over his shoulder to where I’m clinging to him like a nervous backpack.
“Uh huh.” Did my voice crack? I’m not sure I trust myself, but I trust him, so I’m going to hold on for dear life.
To his credit, he gives me time to adjust, starting slow and smooth before picking up speed.
And as I learn the languid motions of the motorcycle, it’s not long before I stop spending all my time terrified of falling off, and actually start to enjoy the feel of the wind blowing by and the rumble of the asphalt beneath us.
He takes us for a lap around downtown, weaving through traffic between the tall office buildings, then up over one of the high bridges that gives us a view of the glittering ocean beyond.
It’s not like I haven’t seen these places a thousand times before, but it’s different like this.
There’s no box made of metal and glass to separate us from experiencing the world.
I squeeze Priest harder, and while I can’t hear his laugh, I can feel it through his back.
It’s not long before I recognize where we’re going.
Me and Axel lived with Mom in this neighborhood.
Heath lived a block away in a different apartment building.
It looks about the same. A little more worn, but still the same blue-collar area full of people who had more than some, but never quite enough.
There are a lot of memories here. I’d ask what his plan is, but there’s no way he’s going to hear me over the roar of the motorcycle and the air blowing by, so I’m forced to wait for my answer.
He doesn’t ride past our old apartment, and I’m kind of glad. After Axel died, I was more than happy when we finally got kicked out.
Instead, he pulls into the park behind the local middle school where the three of us would hang out. Well, he and Axel would hang out, and I would be there, because it was better than being at home. He puts us right up onto the sidewalk and rolls onto the grass, parking the bike under a tree.
“What are we doing here?” I ask as I slide off the bike, missing the feel of him close to me, and my legs a little shaky.
He pops open the saddlebag on the back right side of the bike.
Two sodas and a brown paper bag appear in his hands after he rummages in it.
“I didn’t have time to do anything fancier, but I picked up a couple subs on the way from DiMarcellos.
Turkey and ham okay? Probably shoulda asked. You on some kind of fancy diet?”
I shake my head. “Not really.” I’ve never needed one, not with my mother’s voice in my ear about it for as long as I can remember.
“Here.” He motions for me to follow.
I balk for a second, knowing where he’s heading, but now that we’re here, I want to see it, too.
We stop in front of the biggest oak in the park. As a bunch of kids with nothing to do and no adults who cared, we spent a lot of time doing nothing, especially during the summer. This was a good spot. Plenty of shade, and sometimes in the summer someone would bust open the hydrant on the corner.
I run my fingers over the deep cuts in the bark. “Still here.”
He nods. “Yeah. I come by every once in a while. To think, and look. Been a long time since last, though.”
Carved deeply into the tree are three sets of initials.
Heath’s, Axel’s and mine. I still remember that day.
Axel’s mom had just taken off, and I’d said something dumb about him not being able to get rid of me.
Heath had a pocketknife and we made it official.
No matter what happened, our names would be there, proving that we’d existed.
Now they’re just a snapshot of how things used to be.
He laughs. “You were such a pain that day, you know that? Axel scored some weed off a guy he knew, but we couldn’t do shit with you around.”
“Why? My mom didn’t care.”
“But she fucking shoulda. Drove him crazy. I’m glad she got her act together eventually.” He puts his back against the tree and slides down to sit. He pulls one of the subs out of the bag. “Here.”
Did she? Maybe compared to what he remembers. I let him believe it. I take it and sit down next to him. I didn’t even realize I was hungry, but once I have it open, my stomach growls. I tear the sub in half and open it up, pulling out the cheese.
“Thought you said you didn’t have a diet.”
“I—I don’t. This isn’t a diet, it’s just…”
Priest raises an eyebrow, daring me to continue.
Fine. I take a bite, tasting the perfect blend of deli meat, cheese, mayo and veggies.
“Better, right?”
Yes. “I suppose, if it makes you happy.”
He throws back his head and laughs.
“Jerk.”
“Maybe, but you’re still eating my fucking sandwich.”
“Thanks.” I give him a smile between bites. “This is actually kind of nice.”
We eat in companionable silence for a while, but the subject we’ve carefully not mentioned starts feeling heavier and heavier between us.
I take off my jacket and roll it up so I can rest my head on it when I stretch out and look up at the sky. We’re too deep in the city for the stars to be impressive, but they’re still pretty. “He was supposed to meet you that night.”
Priest lies down beside me. “Yeah.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
“I wish I could tell you. We…” He takes a deep breath and holds it before letting it out in a soft rush.
“Was supposed to be our first real job. It got fucked six ways to Sunday. Thought we were so fucking grown up, but we were still kids, you know? The details don’t fucking matter, but we split up to lose them.
I waited all night and most of the next day. ”
“I never told anyone, but he came home.”
“What?” Priest sits up, leaning on his arm and looking down at me. His face is shrouded in darkness, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze.
“He… there was so much blood.” No matter how long I live, even if the sharpest edges of loss go dull, I will never forget the sight of him dripping blood on my biology homework.
I got in so much trouble for not turning that in.
It’s funny what details the brain decides are worth keeping.
“He gave me money and told me to take care of it. That he was going to try and come back.”
“You were what? Twelve?”
“Yep.”
“Shit… How much money?”
“Ten grand. Some of it was from what he was saving for us to move out, but I think he probably stole some of it.” Blood money. I close my eyes, unable to look at Priest without seeing Heath. “I miss him.”
His fingers ghost across my cheek, wiping away a tear I don’t remember crying. “I’m not a good man, Quinn. I didn’t learn from that night and turn my life around. I just grew up and got better at it.” Priest almost sounds like he’s apologizing for surviving.
I might not know the gory details, but I know what he’s saying.
He, Colt and Sinner aren’t little boys pretending to be cowboys.
But this man bought me a bed. He was back in my life for a day and he bought me a bed.
Good is a mostly meaningless word meant for people who never actually do anything to test it.
Without opening my eyes, I move my hand to his and thread our fingers together. “You don’t have to be good. Just… stick around, okay? I missed you, too.”
“I’ll try.” He lifts our hands and presses a kiss to the back of mine.
I feel it all the way to my soul. The heat of his lips, the slightly wet pull as they lift from my skin.
The urge to kiss him for real simmers right under the surface, but I don’t know what it would mean.
Priest mentioned that there are always women around the club looking for a good time.
All three of them seem so easy with their flirting.
Sex is probably just another fun way to pass the time.
I don’t judge them for it. Film sets and theater productions are like sexual pressure cookers. You’re thrown together with passionate people working long hours under strange, emotional conditions. I’ve always been cautious, but I’m not a prude.
I just don’t know if I could cross that line and recover from it.