Chapter 3 Catfish
CATFISH
In the bakery, Quinn is dancing to some eighties crap in the kitchen.
“Morning, Catfish,” she says. “Coffee pot’s brewing if you give me a couple more minutes.”
“Just popping outside for a cigarette. Perfect timing.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “You know, you guys aren’t gonna live forever given the way you keep smoking those things.”
I pat my cut pocket to check I brought my lighter. “Not gonna live forever, anyway, doll.”
The cold bites straight through the thick leather jacket with the club patch on the back that I’m wearing over my cut as I step outside. It’s a struggle to light my cigarette in the howling wind. I turn my back to it until it’s lit.
I do a circular patrol of the property, just checking for signs of anything out of place.
Footsteps in the snow lead out to the back alley where Quinn has obviously trudged today. There’s a snow shovel up against the wall, so I make myself useful in between drags. It’s monotonous work, but I’m here, and it needs doing.
As snow curls like waves on the edge of the shovel, I think about Wren, the other reason I didn’t sleep so great last night.
Never met someone who is non-binary before, so I had no idea I’d be attracted to someone who is a revelation. When King took me to one side and told me he’d cut off my hands if anyone touched them, I bristled.
When Grudge reinforced it in our group chat, I felt an instant wave of rebellion.
Uncertain what any of it means, I grab my phone and dial Willa up again.
“Twice in one morning,” she says playfully as I exhale smoke. She flashes the camera around to show both kids sitting on their stools, tears pouring down both their faces.
I stand the shovel on its edge and lean against it. “What did my beautiful hooligans do now?”
“Mason took Maddie out as she was running to show me something. Her tooth went through her upper lip.”
I look up at the sky. “Ouch. She okay?”
I hear my sister’s rueful huff as I take a long draw on my cigarette.
“She’ll be fine. The bruise on Mason’s eye from where she lifted the decorative solid brass apple and threw it at his head in revenge might take a while longer.
They’re both having a quiet sit to think about their actions, while I try and save the goddamn oatmeal. ”
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” my sister threatens.
“Come on, Willa. As long as no one died, it’s kinda funny. And I like that my niece won’t allow some boy to push her around.”
“Yeah. Well, you weren’t on cleanup duty. Mason wailing how he needs an icepack, Maddie wailing how blood tastes weird.”
I look up at the bakery where Wren is safe and warm and try to ignore the tiny trickle of warmth I get knowing they’re taken care of.
The conversation in the kitchen was not my finest moment, but I’m sure acknowledging that they tie me up in knots is an important first step to understanding what the hell is going on.
“Can I ask you a question?” I take another drag on my cigarette.
“Always,” Willa says, and I hear the clang of a pot on the stove.
“You got any non-binary kids in your school?”
“I got all kinds of kids in my school. Why?”
I wonder what it is I’m actually asking. “Do you treat them any different?”
“If you were any closer, I’d slap you around the head for asking such a ridiculous question.”
“Ah, fuck, you know what I mean. Are there things you have to do for them that are different to the other kids, to like, include them, or make sure they’re comfortable?”
There’s a pause. “You got a specific scenario you’re talking about, River? Before I start talking about bathroom boundaries?”
“Like someone you think was born a woman who wants to be called them and they.”
“Jesus, sometimes you sound like such a neanderthal. If they say they’re non-binary, they’re non-binary.
There’s no, ‘you think they are a woman, but.’ They’re non-binary.
It’s neither male nor female as you would describe them.
If I’m being generous, I think what you’re trying to say is you think they’re AFAB.
Assigned female at birth. But here’s another tip for free, caveman.
Stop trying to guess what’s in someone’s pants… unless… wait, are you and the person—?”
“Stop. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
There are three loud clangs in a row that I know are her hitting the side of the pot with the wooden spoon. “I don’t know, River. That didn’t sound like a negative.”
“Stop busting my balls and give me tips to make sure Wren’s comfortable, sis. They’re new in town. Staying with the club for a while.”
“Wren, huh? I like it. First, respect their pronouns, even if they aren’t present.
It’s shitty to use them to their face but not use them when talking to others.
Nothing about their choices is your business.
They don’t owe you any explanation about their decisions or surgeries they may or may not have had.
If they were AFAB, they might need access to sanitary products.
If they are on testosterone or estrogen, they might need access to the pharmacy.
Maybe offer to walk them into town so they can make their own choices discretely. ”
“Shit,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?”
“We can’t let them out of our sight, for now.”
My sister groans, and I can almost hear the need to strangle me in her tone. “For fuck’s sake, River. You’re a motorcycle club. Unless someone is gonna kill them dead on sight, have some of your men watch the front and back doors so Wren can shop in peace.”
“Got it.”
There’s another pause. “River. You’re a good person. Just treat them like you would a good human being. I don’t know why Wren has ended up in your care, but I can’t imagine any of it is good.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“Anytime. And River?”
“Yeah?”
“Bring them over for dinner. I think I want to meet the person who’s got your panties in a knot.”
And with that, my sister ends the call.
It takes another ten minutes to finish clearing a path to the road down the rear lane, so Quinn doesn’t have to trudge to the dumpster.
Once I head back in, Quinn offers me a coffee and a plate of croissants hot out of the oven. “For the yard work,” she says. “How’s Wren?”
“Doing okay, I guess.” But as I approach the stairs up to the apartment, I hear Grudge’s frustrated voice filter down.
“What do you mean, you only found two thirds of the money?”
I’m sure he doesn’t mean that the way it sounds, because if Wren really has gotten us any of our money back, I’ll be grateful. But right now, he sounds like a demanding prick, especially in light of Wren’s contributions yesterday.
I kick my boots off in the hallway before jogging up the stairs and nudging the door into the apartment further open.
Wren looks tiny, their hands wrapped tightly around a mug of coffee that Lucy probably made.
Lucy looks like shit. Her blonde curls are a mess. Likely didn’t sleep well given what happened at her parents’ home yesterday. Having to fight to survive is a position I’ve found myself in many times and it doesn’t get any easier.
“Grudge,” I say, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him back out of Wren’s space.
I know he’s pissed about the money, but the guy is intimidating as fuck to those who don’t know him.
“I know the two of you, and know you aren’t assholes, but right now, you got Wren pinned into the corner because you’re blocking each end of the kitchen island.
Sit your asses down and stop being unreasonable. ” I shove Grudge to the stool.
“Oh, shit,” Lucy says. “Catfish is right, I’m sorry, Wren.”
My eyes remain on Wren. “You need a minute?” I ask.
They shake their head, but the look in their eyes is one of terror, not indifference, no matter how they try to play it. “I’m fine. Just tired. Here’s a flash drive with all the information.” They place it down on the kitchen island.
That must have been the tail end of the conversation I heard. “That thing you said you were working on, it paid off? You got two thirds of the money back?”
Fucking A!
I feel as though I can breathe again.
Wren yawns as they nod. “It’s the money that was channeled into crypto that’s proving trickier.
All transactions are recorded on the public blockchain ledger, but the majority of them are pseudonymous.
In this case, they were transferred into privacy coins, which use technologies like ring signatures and stealth addresses. ”
One of the things I’ve noticed about Wren is that they rarely say much unless it’s about their work. Then, they’ll tell you everything they know, and you’ll probably understand only about a third of it.
I look back at Grudge. “Dude. Two thirds of the cash in twenty-four hours is two thirds further along than we would have gotten without Wren’s help.
Sounds like the other third is gonna be a hell of a lot harder.
Wren should transfer it all to you to hold.
If someone knew enough to get the money from us once, there’s nothing to stop them from doing it all over again once they figure out we took it back.
I’ll go close the old account today and open a new one to put the money back into. ”
“Good idea.” Grudge tugs his hand through his hair, then looks to Wren. “Sorry. Not a lot of sleep. No coffee. Lots of fucking adrenaline from yesterday.”
Wren finds their feet and rolls their eyes. “The mysterious ending that no one wants to fill me in on.”
I look to Grudge. He’s my president, after all.
He told me they killed two of our enemies. Father and son. And that Lucy’s mom is gonna protect the club using the “make-my-day” statute. Yet, I can’t help but voice my opinion.
“Knowing might help Wren make sense of this. What are they supposed to do with only half the details?” What if the dead men are a crucial part of the missing money?
Grudge shakes his head. “Need to know. And in this case, they don’t need to know. But I’m grateful you found two thirds of the cash. Shouldn’t have overreacted because you hadn’t found it all.”
“You’re welcome,” Wren says, but the tone suggests otherwise. And as Wren walks by me toward their room, they turn up their nose. “You smell.”
“All the snow shoveling I just did, pup.”
They raise an eyebrow at me, but I see how the endearment gets to them for half a heartbeat. Wren’s got that snarky black-cat energy going, and while I’m no psychologist, I gotta believe it’s a protective veneer.
I watch their back as they leave. Their shoulders are sculpted, arms sinewy, biceps strong. Like Linda Hamilton in the second Terminator movie.
It’s hot.
Not gonna lie.
When I turn back to Grudge, he’s looking at me like I’m suddenly speaking a different language.
“Don’t look at me like that. You were a dick, and you know it.”
He relaxes his shoulders. “And only you could call me a dick to my face and me not be angry about it.”
I sniff my armpits. “Wren’s right. I stink. And I need clothes if I’m gonna stay here.” From the moment we decided that the best place for Wren to hide out was this apartment above the bakery, I’ve been here too. “Let me go home and pack a bag while you’re still here.”
Lucy reaches for the flash drive. “We wanted to go to the police this morning.”
“I know. But I’ll only be ninety minutes if I check on Mom too.”
“Go,” Grudge says. “We can wait.”
I hurry to my truck and go to the store on the way. I pick up the groceries I know my mom needs, and some extras given we’re heading into snowstorm season, then take them to her place.
“You stink,” Mom says as she maneuvers her wheelchair to greet me, and I kiss her cheek.
“You aren’t the first person to tell me that today. Morning, Ma.”
I drag the bags into the kitchen and begin to unload them into all the low kitchen cupboards Wraith, Butcher, Atom, and I fitted six years ago.
“I can do all that,” she says. “Want a coffee? Because I want to hear all about Wren.”
I shake my head as I stack the cans of soup onto the shelf. “Willa?”
My sister is such an interfering busybody.
“I haven’t met someone non-gendered before.”
“Wren is non-binary. Not non-gendered. And Wren is someone we have to look after for a little while for the president of the club.”
“Well, why isn’t Grudge looking after them himself?”
I shake my head. “Not Grudge, not our local president. The president of the national Outlaws.”
Mom places her hand on her heart. “That’s a big responsibility, Son.”
“Yeah, and it’s one you and Willa shouldn’t be gossiping about.”
She brushes my comment away. “Willa said you were asking about how to make Wren comfortable.”
I keep unpacking. “I was.”
“Well, Neptune has just gone direct and is in a forward orbit, so this is a good time for them to let go of unrealistic expectations and listen to their inner voice. You could get Wren a journal, if they don’t already have one.”
I stand and put my hands on my hips. “Ma. I didn’t ask for a hocus-pocus rundown on where the planets are at.”
“That’s because Neptune Direct can also encourage us to live in denial while simultaneously encouraging us to let go and feel our way through the next six months with our heart.”
There’s a dangerous glint in my mom’s eye. “You just made that shit up.”
She huffs. “No, you daft baboon, it’s an omen.
But here.” She turns her chair and goes to her crystal shelf, and it’s all I can do to not just walk out.
“Selenite, to bring good vibes to their space. Hematite to bring their nervous system back down to earth by grounding them and protecting them.” Mom’s naturally blonde hair swings as she turns to look at me. “Is Wren in trouble?”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
She grabs something that looks like a small brick of black coal. “Black tourmaline. It’s the best for a very raw kind of protective energy and helps with creating a sense of safety from the root chakra.”
“I’m not giving them lumps of rock.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Sometimes I think I raised a lump of rock. You will take them, and you will give them to Wren. And you will tell them they are sent with love from someone who prays for a higher level of protection over them, just like I do for you.”
What can a man like me born to a woman like her say to that?
“Fine.” I take them, and she aggressively kisses my cheek.
“Now, if you’re not staying for coffee, go, get home and shower, before I make you take a salt lamp too.”