Chapter 13
Humbug
The rumor hits that evening.
I hear it in the corner, where men think walls don’t echo.
Prez’s old lady saw Humbug with the Sno-Globes girl, leaving his garage. The one from the robbery. Pretty little thing. She looked freshly fucked. He’s lost his damn mind.
They’re not wrong.
The talk drops like cards folding. Eyes flick my way. I’m guilty, curious, waiting. Frost sits at the bar pretending he didn’t just whisper something to Icepick. Even the jukebox hums lower, as if it knows what’s coming.
I pour my own whiskey. My stomach’s already full of gravel.
“Evening brother.” Frost’s grin is all teeth. “Rough night?”
“Fine,” I say.
“Trina stopped by.” He takes a sip. “Didn’t look fine.”
My gut tightens. “What’d she want?”
“Guess you’ll see when you step outside.”
He nods toward the lot. I don’t ask questions. I just go.
Snow gleams on the row of bikes, chrome halos catching the weak sun. Mine stands out instantly, not shining, not proud. Shattered. The tank is slashed, paint carved down to bare metal. Tires knifed. Seat ripped open.
My Ol’ Lady’s handwriting streaks the tank in lipstick red paint, “You whore”.
The sight doesn’t hurt the way I expect. It’s just quiet inside me, the kind of quiet you get before a storm decides whether to move on or stay. I take a breath that tastes rotten.
“She must’ve been here early,” Frost says behind me, almost gentle now. “Gate cam caught her truck.”
“Delete it.”
He whistles. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
I crouch, trace the scar down the tank. It’s almost beautiful. Honest, at least.
“You gonna fix it?” Frost asks.
“Yeah. Not today.”
Back inside, the air is hotter, meaner. Prez, Lil’ Nick, waits by the bar, arms crossed. Nothin’ Lil about him. Old feller’s a wall of man and disappointment. “We gotta talk.”
“I figured.”
He jerks his chin toward the back room. The door closes behind us with the finality of a cell block.
“Town’s talkin’,” he says. “Trina’s talkin’. You brought heat down on the club.”
“I didn’t ask her to trash the lot.”
“I’m not talkin’ about the lot, son. I’m talkin’ about the girl.” His voice drops. “You can screw up your own house all you want, but you drag the club into it…”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“She was in danger,” I say. “I helped.”
“You helped her right into your bed,” he says. “You know the code, and why we don’t make promises, we can’t keep. Hell, Trina’s not just threatening lawsuits. She called the Sheriff. Says the club harbors stolen property. You know what that means?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “She plans to rat us out. Because of me.”
He nods, grim. “You’re gonna take a suspension. No runs. No patch for thirty days. Keep your head down till this blows over.”
“Copy.”
Lil’ Nick studies me another beat. “You ain’t even denyin’ it.”
“No. I broke code. I own that.”
He exhales hard. “Christ, Jack. You used to be smarter.”
“Guess I found somethin’ worth gettin’ stupid for.” The words come out before I can reel them in.
He doesn’t respond right away, just shakes his head slow. “Well, more than breakin’ code, you’ve made your Ol’ Lady mad. And Trina knows too much. Hope this news, your punishment, satisfies her… What’s going to happen if your new girl finds out you saved her from your own brothers.”
“She won’t.”
“You’ve got to call it off. Not just for the club. Trina’s gonna take you for everything you have if she gets proof you’ve been cheating.”
“I don’t care. I won’t stop seeing Carol.”
Lil’ Nick crosses his arms. “Do I have to order you?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“The hell, I wouldn’t? For your own damn good… Girl’s too young for you.”
“What do you know about her? Why do you care?”
He doesn’t answer that. “You’re on probation. Thirty days, no rides, no colors, no woman. Orders. Or you’ll be out bad.”
Damn.
Shaking my head, I take off my cut, fold it once, set it on the table. “Then I guess you’ll need a new sergeant.”
Nick stares at the leather like it’s a wound he can’t look at too long. “Thirty days is nothin’. A slap on the wrist. And you know it.” He huffs. “That girl’s not cut out for club life no how. If she can’t wait a month for you, she’s no better than the Wild Child.” He used Trina’s old bunny name.
When I step back into the main room, the eyes follow me again. I punch the damn wall. Almost break my hand. Some smirk. Some pity. I let ’em. I’ve lived with worse looks.
I head straight for the door.
Outside, the world is blinding. Snow, sun, glare, white noise made solid. I light a cigarette, watch the smoke twist into it. I should feel angry. All I feel is empty and alive at the same time.
Her face flashes behind my eyes, laughing in that tiny office, humming off-key, wearing my damn hoodie, making it sexy. I take another drag and hate how it steadies me.
The phone buzzes in my pocket. I recognize the number but no name. I’ve not saved Carol’s name for a reason.
Is there something going on?
I stare at the text long enough to melt a hole through the snow with my smoke. Then I type back.
Yeah. Bike’s trashed. Prez ain’t happy.
Dots appear, vanish, reappear.
Was it her?
Yeah.
I’m sorry.
Don’t be.
I should stop there. Instead, I write: Meet me. Same spot.
Her reply comes fast: On my break.
When I pull into the alley behind Sno-Globes, in my truck, she’s already there. She looks tired but fierce, like someone who’s been holding her own heart hostage too long.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she says.
“You keep sayin’ that,” I answer. “You never mean it.”
She sighs, steps closer. “The whole town’s talking, you know that? My boss said the MC’s trouble. That they’re behind the robbery.”
Fuck… Jimmy? Fuck him. I reach out, hook a strand of hair behind her ear. But I say nothing.
“Of course, I don’t believe them.” Her breath catches. “What happened to your hand?”
“Ol’ Lady took a wrench to my bike. Might as well been my ribs.”
“Trina?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was overdue.”
We stand there, inches apart, the world shrinking again to the sound of snow sliding off roofs. She looks up at me, eyes sharp with guilt and want, and I swear I can feel her pulse through the air.
“Got myself kicked out,” I say. “Thirty days grounded. No rides, no runs. No women.” That’s the truth, and I see it hit her. She swallows, blinking fast.
“You okay with that?”
“Never been okay with much. Except you.”
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because they sound like forever.”
I grin, small and sad. “Don’t need forever. Just now. But I’ve got to wait.”
She steps closer, close enough that her breath fogs against my chin. “I need forever, now.”
“Peppermint. Nothin’ has ever sounded finer to my ears. But I have to stop seeing you. Club’s orders. I’m going through a divorce, and you’ve got a boyfriend. We’re asking for trouble.” I lean in, brush my thumb over her lower lip, slow enough to watch her eyes darken.
She looks like she wants to argue, but instead she reaches up, touches the side of my face.
“You made me believe in something again,” I tell her.
The snow thickens around us, flakes catching in her hair, turning her into something holy and human all at once. I kiss her before she can say anything, slow, like I’ve got nowhere else to be.
When she pulls back, tears shine in her eyes. “I guess this is goodbye,” she whispers.
“Doesn’t have to be. It’s only a month.”
“You haven’t even asked me to leave Blake. Why not?”
“Guess I want you to choose to. Choose me. And it’s not like you’re fucking him. Told me that yourself.”
“That might change in a month.”
“We’ll see, I guess.”
I watch her walk back into the bar, her red coat cutting through the gray. My phone buzzes again before I reach the truck. Unknown number… Must be Trina this time, always calling me from a burner. I don’t answer.
Instead, I look up at the sky, at the colorless mess of snow still falling, and laugh once, quiet.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “You sleighed me, girl. Guess it’s my turn to bleed.”