Chapter 16
Marissa
The bright house lets me fully savour the warmth and light of late March. Hawk is in the kitchen, standing at the stove in what I assume are his gym clothes, with the news blaring on the TV. When he notices our arrival, he lowers the volume.
“Good morning!” He greets us cheerfully.
“Hello,” I say, and DJ gurgles his response too.
“There’s coffee in the pot, and I’m making eggs,” Hawk says. “They’ll be done in a minute.”
I buckle DJ into his high chair and locate his formula can on the counter. “That sounds great, thanks. Can I help you with anything?”
“Nah, all I have to do is wait for these to be done and press a button on the toaster. What’s lil’ man gonna eat? I wasn’t sure what you usually give him.”
“He’ll get some formula in his sippy cup, and I’ll give him some of my eggs. And this avocado that travelled with us from Tucson yesterday,” I say as I lift the fruit in question. “Are you going to the gym?”
“Already went,” he says.
I’m impressed, but not surprised. A body like his doesn’t come about without single-minded tenacity.
“Can you tell me where you keep the plates?”
Hawk gives me a rundown of the various cabinets and their contents, and before I know it, the three of us are sitting at the table together, eating and chatting.
Afterwards, Hawk rinses the plates and utensils and puts them in the dishwasher. I try to feed DJ the rest of his avocado, but he resists.
“Do you need a refill?” Hawk asks as he fills up his travel mug.
“No, thanks, I’m good. Thank you for breakfast.”
“It was my pleasure. I hope DJ liked it.”
“He did,” I say with a smile. “Tomorrow I’ll make us something.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hawk says, “if I’m up, I don’t mind cooking. We can alternate prepping dinner if you’d like.”
“Sure! I can make dinner every night,” I offer, and he shakes his head reproachfully.
“Please don’t think you have to earn your keep. I was the one who insisted on you two being here. What will it take to convince you of that?”
“Making dinner tonight?” I say, and he chuckles.
“There’s a club meeting today at 4, so I think dinner will have to be a freezer meal,” he says. “But tomorrow you can prepare whatever you want if that’s going to make you feel better. Now I have to go get ready for work.”
I wasn’t prepared for freshly showered Hawk in his work clothes. He smells even better than usual, and he’s dressed how I (probably incorrectly) imagine Navy SEALs dress, like he’s going on a secret military mission somewhere.
I suddenly remember asking him about what happened to Beavis and Butthead. He told me, “You don’t want to know,” in a tone that chilled me to the core.
I continue wiping the crumbs off the table.
“I’ll call you later to let you know if we’re meeting at the clubhouse or if I’m picking you up here, okay?”
“Okay. Have a nice day,” I tell him with a small wave.
Right before noon, Bev calls and asks if she can come over. She shows up holding a manila folder in one hand, and a tote bag filled with some bulky items in the other. She’s wearing white capri pants and a peach-colored blouse that makes her torso seem even longer.
She hugs me like we’re best friends.
“Hi! Sorry for springing this visit on you, but I need your help.”
That doesn’t sound right.
“Hi, DJ,” she coos at DJ, who’s playing on the living room floor. “Are you guys hungry? I brought lunch from the Friendly Fork,” she says as she lifts up the tote. “We can eat, and I’ll explain everything.”
I’m pretty proud of myself when I successfully locate all the necessary items and set the table for us.
The food is delicious. As we eat, Bev talks me through my work placement schedule and outlines my duties at each of the businesses.
“In the third week of April, while you’re working at the diner, there is this event called Arizona Bike Week, maybe you’ve heard of it?”
I vaguely recall Dylan attending some event towards the end of my pregnancy. I remember ironing tiny bodysuits and footie pajamas while he was gone. I look over at DJ and can’t believe how big he’s gotten.
“I have, but I don’t know the details.”
“The best way to describe it is a week-long festival with charity rides, music, vendors, parties, and custom bike displays.”
“Okay?”
“I have to schedule things so that people who want to participate in the different events don’t all miss work at the same time.
I also have to allocate the donations from the club and the businesses, sort out tax write-offs and employer matching of donations with Cash, make fliers, call donors and partners for the event the Chasers are organizing,” Bev stops listing things and takes a deep breath before concluding, “and I would appreciate all the help you can give me.”
“Sure, although I’m not sure how.”
“I’ll tell you exactly what to do, don’t worry. And in the process, I think you’ll familiarize yourself with the club and its members, so you’ll get something out of it as well.”
“How do people decide which events to participate in?” I ask Bev later, as we look at the acronym-filled Bike Week schedule.
Bev looks up from the table she’s studying. “Almost everyone will be at the event on Monday, because the Chasers are among the organizers. Other than that, most people have a cause that is particularly close to their heart.”
I check the flier. “The SRMA Ride?”
“Yes, SRMA is the Sober Riders Motorcycle Association, which we are part of. We’re doing a 100-mile ride, followed by safety training and a drug and substance abuse awareness workshop over at Blue Security. Then, we’ll finish the day with a barbecue in the business lot in the afternoon.”
“Why not the clubhouse?”
“We don’t allow many people into Rat Park,” Bev says with a smile.
“What is BACA?”
“An organization called Bikers Against Child Abuse.”
I imagine a group of strong, long-haired bikers arriving to defend a child in need, and my heart melts. I can see myself donating to their cause.
“I think Hawk will be at that one,” Bev says, and her tone irks me, so I deflect.
“What about you? Aside from the SRMA ride, are you going to anything else?”
“The Harley Owners’ annual Wednesday ride,” she says, and I check the flier again.
“What is that one for?”
“Camp Courage, it’s a free therapy camp for the emotional needs of kids with severe burn injuries. Hold on,” Bev says as she opens her laptop to show me photos of the different activities the children do there.
“This is absolutely amazing,” I say when I’m sure my voice won’t break. “Can I donate to this one?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Bev tells me. “Do you want to ride or just donate?”
“Just donate,” I say quickly, trying not to imagine myself straddling Hawk’s bike or squeezing him with my thighs.
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know. It’s fun.
After the ride, everyone gathers at the fairground to check out the vendors or attend the concerts.
The food is great. Some events have raffles.
For instance, the good people organizing the Saturday event are hosting wet T-shirt and bikini contests, since they’re raising money for breast cancer research. ”
I look at the schedule. “Bikers 4 Boobies. Makes sense.”
Bev then goes through her email, tells me who to put down for each event, and makes a note on her laptop. Throughout the process, she drops little pieces of information about each person.
“Her brother has epilepsy,” as we put Red down for the charity auction for epilepsy research.
“Tank is from a military family,” as we put him down for Friday’s veteran support event, Heroes Ride.
“Lucy’s favorite aunt is a breast cancer survivor.”
Bev tells me to put Hawk’s name down for the BACA ride and the ride to the Grand Canyon organized by the RezRiders to benefit the Native American scholarship fund, but, to my great disappointment, she doesn’t volunteer any additional info about him.
“I think this is more than enough for today,” she says around 3:15, right as we hear DJ stirring through the baby monitor. “I see someone agrees with me.”
I get DJ’s diaper bag and buckle him into the stroller, and we head out. Bev told me earlier that I needed to fill out some payroll-related paperwork, so she drops me off in front of Cash’s office ten minutes before the club meeting is scheduled to begin.
I knock, and after being given permission, I enter.
“What is it?”
I’ve only seen Cash once in my life. He looked annoyed then, and he looks annoyed now, so I’m starting to suspect that’s his default mood.
“Hi, um, Bev told me you wanted to see me?”
“I don’t want to see you. I need documents and information from you.”
“Of course, right.” I feel flustered as I walk deeper into his office.
He hands me a piece of paper without looking at me.
I scan the paper and frown. “What do you need my son’s social security number for?”
“I need it for everyone living inside Rat Park,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Fine,” I reply impatiently, “I’ll bring these by tomorrow.”
Someone knocks, and he yells out, “Come in,” then turns to me and says, “My email is at the bottom; email me instead of coming over.”
Red walks into the tiny office, and upon seeing my face, she presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. “Cash, are you done? You know we have a meeting?”
Cash waves her away, presumably to indicate yes, and continues to peer at his screen.
“We’re waiting for you, moneyboy,” Red tells him on our way out, but he doesn’t respond.
“Does he not like me?” I ask in a whisper.
“He’s like that with everyone,” she tells me.
I sincerely doubt it.
“Do you know your work hours yet?” Red asks.
“Bev said nine to one until I pick a workplace and sort out permanent childcare, then nine to five like everyone else.”
“Sounds good, let’s hope you click with the babysitter,” she tells me as she scans her ID to open the meeting room door.
Dylan always called it ‘church’ and made it sound like a big deal. Members only. Back then, I never imagined myself as a club member. Even now, it doesn’t fully register. I’m more like Hawk’s plus one. Not like a date, but… Whatever.
Everyone but Cash is already here, in what looks like a fancy conference room, with a projector and a long table with comfortable-looking leather chairs. No windows, though. I don’t like that.
Hawk is standing at the front, typing on his laptop. After giving him a small wave, I find a place at the very end of the table, where I can accommodate the stroller next to my chair.
“Is he coming?” Hawk asks Red, and she rolls her eyes.
He goes out and comes back with Cash a minute later.
“Now that we’re all here, the first order of business is to officially present Marissa with her ID badge,” he says, and brings over an ID badge on a lanyard.
“Thanks.”
He takes DJ’s stroller and turns it away from the screen.
“It’s too bright for him,” he whispers, and I nod.
I feel warm all over. I pretend to analyze my badge. I don’t know where he got this photo from.
“And the second reason for this meeting,” Hawk says as he walks back to his laptop, “is to discuss a plan we have. Marissa, how do you feel about doing some good in the world while, at the same time, getting revenge on the Wolves?”