Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Riptide
Van wipes stray tears from her cheeks as the slideshow progresses. There’s a photo that has him leaning against the horse trailer, a toothpick in his mouth that has Van snickering. “He always had one in his mouth when he was thinking over something,” she says.
“I remember,” I tell her. “Used to drive Paps nuts because he’d find them flicked here and there and always knew who the culprit was.
Paps made him start carrying one of those car trash sacks to toss them in when he was done.
He actually threaded the two slots in the back into his belt.
I used to laugh because anytime he’d walk, it’d bounce with each step. ”
“He still did that when we got together. I used to think it was silly, but now it makes sense. Oh, that’s a good one, too,” she whispers.
On the big screen, Gage is riding a bull with one hand gripped on the reins and the other tossed up into the air at an angle.
It’s how bull riders help balance themselves when they’re being bucked around.
“That’s the day he won his last buckle,” I explain, memories of the past flashing through my mind. “The bull he’s on in the picture, that’s Fury, he was the one that no one could ride out until the last second. Gage got the highest score of the day.”
“I never understood how something so dangerous as that enamored him like it did,” she ruminates. “There wasn’t a time that he’d come back from riding a circuit that he wasn’t either limping or suffering from bruised ribs.”
“It’s the cowboy call,” I tell her. “Paps used to say you’re either born with it or you’re not. Those who aren’t, have to work harder at succeeding and those with the natural gift, the calling, feel it in the depths of their bones. The animal becomes an extension of them.”
She tilts her head to the side as she mulls over what I said. “It must work with horses too.”
“It does,” I confirm. “Issy has it. I swear she’s a horse whisperer.”
“But you didn’t feel that ‘calling’?” she asks, using her fingers to symbolize quotation marks around the word calling.
“No,” I answer, shaking my head. “Wasn’t ever interested in dodging piles of shit, which is why when Paps came to me wanting to expand, I jumped.”
“So y’all don’t have cattle in Canton?” she continues, and I smirk because some folks get freaked out when they find out what we do, but it’s a necessary business to have when the Kings need someone to disappear.
“We don’t, unless you think some of my brothers could be considered animals,” I quip.
“From what little I’ve witnessed when it comes to your interaction with them, you do have to wrangle them from time to time,” she laughs, hooting.
I shake my head because her laughter is contagious. She lightens part of my soul that I thought was forever going to be dark. “Think that’s funny, do you, Van?”
“It’s pretty comical,” she rebuts. “But I have an outsider’s perspective.”
“Sometimes, those who are looking in from the outside can be the most intuitive,” I counter. “You may see things that I’d otherwise overlook. And if that time ever comes, feel free to talk to me about it.”
“It’s a good thing I have your permission because there are times I have foot to mouth disease,” she conveys, not looking embarrassed about it in the least. And she shouldn’t, at least, not with me. “When I am comfortable with someone, I tend to overshare. I’m preparing you ahead of time.”
“Duly noted,” I state. We get lost in conversation as the final ride progresses, and before I know it, it’s ended.
As we leave the bleachers and go in search of little man, Rio comes up to us and stops us. “I have been meaning to talk to you about an expansion. Montana needs help,” he tells me. “There just hasn’t been any time for us to sit down for a length of time so I could talk to you about it.”
“The original plan was for us to head back home tomorrow, but Van isn’t leaving for another couple of days, so I was going to see if you were good with us sticking around until then anyway.
How about we sit down tomorrow and hash things out and you tell me what you’re thinking in regard to it.
Is it going to be a complete take over or are we just going to help them get back on their feet? ”
“A little of both,” Rio replies. “We’re still tossing around ideas, but none of my men are interested in relocating long-term.”
“I can promise you none of my men will be interested either,” I respond. “I’m sure I could convince a couple of mine to head up there temporarily, though.”
“That’s along the line of what I was thinking. Nobody has volunteered to go, but if they know it’s only for a month or two, it’ll be easier to talk them into going,” Rio surmises.
“We’ll get a show of hands before the guys and I leave. Then whatever we decide, I’ll take it to the table and see what the consensus is,” I offer. “My men will be more willing to vote yes if I give them a game plan and they know we are in this together.”
“I’ll get with Abyss and make sure he’s there, too,” Rio advises. “Ten sound good?”
“Yeah, brother. I’ll be there,” I say, shaking his hand to cement it. Since my VP is still back home keeping things afloat, I send Slayer a quick text to make sure he’ll put himself in a private room around that time so we can conference him in.
As we walk through the field, Van broaches the topic of what we do to survive. “You have never told me what business y’all run in Canton, Riptide.”
“We took over the cemetery there,” I admit. “We do all of the mortuary services. Does that freak you out?”
“No,” she denies, smiling up at me. “We all have to go somewhere like that after we pass on. Those sorts of businesses don’t bother me.
Unless they turn into zombies, then, it’s every man for himself.
I will trip someone to stay ahead of the brain munchers, I’m not becoming a dead man’s snack. You’ve been warned.”
“I’ll keep in mind that if that happens, I need to stay ahead of you,” I tease. “I’ll attach little man to me in one of those sling things.”
“Not a bad idea,” she states. “You’ll have a better chance than I would carrying the added weight. My luck, I’d lose my balance, trip and fall, then become a person of the dead. Now that idea freaks me out.”
“Is that a real fear of yours, Van?”
“No, because I know it’s not realistic. However, I like to be prepared and have a plan in place in case the government has been hiding the fact that things like that do exist.”
“You’re not secretly a doomsdayer, are you, baby?” I ask, enjoying this side of her.
“Would it be a turn off if I was, Riptide?”
“Can’t say that it would, I’m just wondering if I need to build a fallout shelter,” I banter.
“Texas is known for tornadoes, so it wouldn’t hurt to have one anyway,” she debates.
“That’s true, but we have a room underground that keeps us safe for those occurrences,” I profess.
“Is it where you burn the bodies?” she asks, emitting a full body shiver.
“Scared?” I taunt.
“I’m picturing bodies flying around and having to duck and weave. It’s not a pretty picture,” she acknowledges.
Laughter erupts from my chest. When I get myself back under control, I tell her, “It’s in the same general area, but in a separate room. The incinerator isn’t seen from where we’d end up if Mother Nature throws a fit.”
“That’s good to know,” she giggles.
“What are you laughing at, Van?”
She snorts with amusement before confessing, “Every time a tornado comes to mind, I revert back to my childhood and think about the Wizard of Oz. Flying monkeys, witches riding broomsticks, as well as munchkins singing and dancing.”
“Well, there won’t be any yellow brick roads to follow.
Only marble and concrete,” I inform her.
“It’s all austere and clinical in the bowels of the mortuary.
The only thing that takes that cold and practical aesthetic away are the couches, television, and board games we have stocked down below in case we’re stuck there for a long period of time. ”
“You may have to add to that inventory now that there are kids involved. You’ll need things to entertain them and keep their minds busy,” she recommends.
“You and Zoey should get together and make a list.” I stop and scan, trying to locate Icer. “Where the hell has he taken them? Do you see Icer and the kids?”
“I haven’t seen any signs of them. Can you text Indiana or Zoey and ask if they found him?” she asks, her once calm and playful demeanor has shifted to one of nervousness.
Nodding my head, I pull out my cell and call. I don’t want anything getting lost in translation. When Indiana answers, instead of greeting him, I spit out my question, “Have you found the kids?”
“Yes. I had Booker track his phone. Did you know Issy set up a nap area for the small kids?” Indiana asks, sounding perplexed.
Sighing, I ask, “I didn’t know that but it was a fantastic idea. Issy is full of surprises. Is that where you are?”
“Yes. Elodie and little G are sharing a sleeping bag. It’s cute as hell, I’m gonna snap a picture and send it to you,” Indiana says.
“Or you could drop me a pin to your location and I could see it for myself,” I growl.
“I can, but my way is more fun,” Indiana jokes.
“Indiana,” I warn. “Not in the mood for your games. My woman is restless and getting anxious. The sooner she puts eyes on her boy, the better.”
“You’re such a party pooper, Rip. Fine, dropping the pin now. See you soon, fucker.”
“I don’t envy you,” Van states. “You must have a backbone of steel to deal with him.”
“Not just him, all of my men need a strong man to lead them,” I reply. “And my spine is titanium, baby. It’s the only reason I’m able to deal nine tenths of the time.”
“Alright, Man of Steel, lead the way,” she says, waving her hand in front of us. “This crowd is making me nervous.”
“Then let’s get away from these people and go get our boy.”
“Our boy, Riptide?”
“Are you mine, Van?”
“I think we already established that I am,” she comments.
“That we have, Van, that we have. And since little G is yours, that makes him mine too.”
“Don’t make me cry, Riptide. I’m not a pretty crier. We’re talking snot and puffy eyes.”
“That’s okay, darlin’, I’ve got a handkerchief handy if you need it. I’ll always take care of your needs.”