Chapter Twenty-Two
Eddie
My phone rings just as I get off the Moana exit, minutes away from meeting the guy with all the bikes for sale.
It’s been a week since Wesley got locked up, and every day since has felt heavier.
The last time I saw him; he looked more tired than I’d ever seen him.
He said they were throwing the book at him.
His useless-ass lawyer managed to argue down the intent to maim charge, but everything else stuck.
He’s staring down three years. Three fucking years!
Rich glances over at me as I put the phone to my ear, both of us hearing Amber’s sobs on the other line before she says a word.
“Amber? Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Everything,” she cries, a shuddering breath stopping the word like punctuation. “Pippa invited my mom to the bachelorette party.”
“Shit. What she do?”
Amber’s mom is the kind of woman that drains the light from every room she walks into.
A faded shell of someone who once had potential.
All the drugs, booze, and years of letting Amber down has worn her down.
Now she’s a piece of shit parent that’s barely there.
When Amber’s dad died, it was like whatever good she had in her died too.
“She left. Like right in the middle of everything. She barely said a word to me the whole time she was here, and half the time she was embarrassing me with her half sober behavior. I defended her the best I could when Pippa and her friends were making fun of her, but then she just bounced.”
“She didn’t even say goodbye?” The grip on my phone strengthens. This is the last thing we need when the wedding is right around the corner.
“She left a note. A really, really shitty note. She’s not coming to the wedding, Eddie. She says she’s too fucked up and needs help, so she’s checking herself into a rehab center.”
“About time, but shitty timing nonetheless.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Amber practically screams. “The woman has barely been in my life the last few years, and the first chance she gets, she suddenly grows a conscience and throws herself into rehab? Make it make sense. At this point, we might as well fucking elope.”
“Is that what you want?” I question, knowing damn well, it’s not.
“No, but what’s the point? Besides Mallory, Poppy, and Pippa, who do I have on my side?”
She has a point. Amber’s family is tiny.
All of her grandparents have passed. Both her parents were only children, and besides her mother, she has no living family left.
It’s actually heartbreaking when you think about it.
My parents have done their best to be there for her as much as possible, but it still doesn’t change the fact that the one person she has in this world is too damn broken and selfish to see what an amazing person she is.
“I’m so sorry, baby. If you want to elope, we can.”
She exhales a long, pained breath. “I wish it were that easy. It’s just... nothing has gone right. And I know it sounds shitty, but I’m starting to feel like this is the universe’s way of telling us not to do it.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Don’t say that, Amber. Please. You’re breaking my damn heart.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m just trying to stay above water.
Wesley’s in jail. My mom bailed. Nothing about this feels like a celebration.
” There’s a pause before she says, “Maybe we should wait until Wesley gets out? He means the world to you, and I don’t want you walking down the aisle without him. ”
Rich shoots me a look of pure pity. He and I are the only ones who know how long Wesley’s got. “That’s three years, babe. Are you sure you want to wait that long?”
She gasps. “He got three years?”
“They’re looking at more, but yeah, three is the minimum he’s facing right now. If we’re lucky. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking we should just get it over with and do it, despite everything telling us not to.”
There’s a long pause before she speaks again. “I just know how much you love Wesley. I don’t want you to get married without him.”
My hand moves down my face, dragging the skin along with it. I hate hearing her broken like this, and her second thoughts about marrying me.
“He wants us to. Says it gives him something good to hold on to from inside.”
She breaks down again. “God, I hate to love that big guy, but he really is one of the nicest human beings on the planet.”
“He really is.”
Another long silence breaks the conversation; this time it drags on for what seems like minutes. “I don’t know what else Pippa has planned for today, but my heart isn’t in it. I’m tempted to call the whole thing off.”
“You should really try to have fun, baby. I’m sure Pippa put a lot of serious thought into this and is planning something epic.
” My gut sours as I lie straight through my teeth.
I’ve had a bad feeling about this bachelorette party since Pippa decided to throw it, but I don’t want to discourage Amber, not without giving away what happened between Pippa and me.
“You sound like you’re driving somewhere.”
“I am. Rich and I are driving to meet a guy about buying a couple motorcycles.”
“Motorcycles? Seriously, Eddie? You know how I feel about them.”
“And I’m hoping one day to change your mind. But I need this right now, Amber, and the guy has the bikes to sell today. I don’t want to hold off and someone else snatch them up before I have a chance to buy them.”
“Them? As in plural?”
“Yeah, I’m buying a bike for Wesley, too. Gives him something to look forward to when he gets out. We’re gonna start a motorcycle club. It’s gonna be called the Elm Street Riders MC. It’ll be the first horror villain themed club in Nevada.”
“That sounds dangerous, Eddie. Motorcycle gangs are reckless and scary.”
“It’s not a gang, Amber.” My voice drops into a low growl.
I hate that MCs always have to come with that stigma.
Sure, I want my club to be one percent, but that doesn’t mean we have to be the kind of guys that give bikers a bad name.
“And I’m not asking for your permission on this one. This is just something I have to do.”
“Fine. If you want to kill yourself, Eddie, go right ahead, but don’t think for one minute that you’re going to convince me to get on that death trap. Where are you getting the money for this, anyway? I thought you were broke?”
Shit! How do I tell her I have hundreds of thousands of dollars, without telling her I have hundreds of thousands of dollars?
“The guy’s practically giving them away.” This time I’m not lying. What the guy is asking for his bike is crazy as fuck.
“I’m gonna go. I hear Pippa and Poppy shouting my name.”
“Amber, please don’t hang up mad—”
She cuts me off. “It’s too late for that, Eddie. If you buy these bikes, I’m not going to be happy.”
The phone clicks without her even saying goodbye. Shit, she doesn’t even say I love you. I know she’s upset about her mom, but for her to completely shut down just because I want a motorcycle is insane.
“Want me to text the guy and tell him you changed your mind?” Rich asks quietly.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not going to let Amber douse my dreams. She’ll get over it… eventually.”
Rich smirks like he knows better. We both do.
We pull up to a two-story house sitting on a corner lot.
It has a wide garage, and a neatly trimmed yard with one of those white picket fences people talk about.
Out front, four bikes glisten in the Nevada sun, chrome flashing like the hilt of a knife.
They’re beautiful, like a line of metal gods sleeping in the heat.
We park just outside the fence, and almost instantly the front door swings open. A little girl bolts out laughing as she’s chased by a tall man wearing a biker cut.
“Iris, you come back here,” he calls after her.
She’s tiny, maybe five or six, with dirty blonde hair that flies behind her like a cape.
There’s a glittery fake tattoo on her arm.
It’s a butterfly with neon pink wings. She’s got scuffed sneakers and a sparkly blue tutu over jean shorts.
She clutches something to her chest and stops just short of the fence line, panting.
“Daddy, that scary guy is back!”
Rich shifts uncomfortably before tugging his mask into place. The last thing he wants is to scare a kid.
The girl darts behind the man’s legs as he approaches the gate.
He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with arms thick from years of riding.
His dark brown hair is cropped close to his ears, and he’s got a tired but kind look behind his sharp blue eyes.
There’s something about him, almost like a dangerous calm.
You can tell he’s a man who’s seen too much and barely lived to share his story.
“Good to see you again, Rich,” he says, offering a firm handshake.
His eyes shift to me. “And you must be Eddie?”
I nod taking his offered hand. His shake is perfect, hard and firm with nothing but respect. “Thanks for letting us stop by.”
“No problem. The name’s Oliver, but everyone calls me Cipher.”
I notice the patches on his cut. It’s different from what I’ve seen around town. This one has two rectangles: one reading LE and the other MC, both scrawled in stitched Old English lettering.
“Like the patch?” he asks, catching me staring.
“Just never seen one like that. I’m used to seeing the one percent diamonds.”
Cipher’s face hardens. “Ah. You in a club?”
“Not yet. But I’m planning to start one with my dad and some friends.”
His jaw clenches. “Are you guys busy right now?”
I glance at Rich, and we both shake our heads.
“Come in and have a beer. My girl’s out of town, so it’s just me and Iris.”
“I’m game if you are,” I say.
Rich shrugs. “I got nothing else going on.”
Cipher opens the gate and Iris is instantly at my side, grabbing my hand with a surprising amount of strength for someone so small.
“Come on, I’ll show you my toys!”
I shoot Rich a look and he chuckles. “You’ll live. She’s just a kid.”