10. Colt
Chapter 10
Colt
I t did not take long after the call to Austin for me to convince Zane we should visit the club and meet Tric’s father. All I had to do was explain to Zane what Tric’s last wishes were and even though he didn’t agree, he was in. Thankfully, the town wasn’t too far and we were able to leave right away. I was happy to be gone. I needed to get away from my hometown as soon as I could.
Despite my dad or Zane’s warnings, I did go look at where the old maple tree had stood. The space around it looked like devastation and heartbreak. Not even the old bench sat there anymore. The area was uncared for, ignored, almost as if anyone who tried to enjoy it or fix it up would be cursed as unlucky-in-love. Lyric’s pain was evident in the stump that was left behind. My mind conjured up images of her face twisted in pain, dark hair flying around her while she hacked into the bark that told our story. The one symbol that played a part in our best moments. So yes, I ran again, from the memories and the hurt I had caused. All I wanted to focus on was meeting with Tric’s father, so my friend could finally rest in peace.
“What do you think this club does for business?” Zane asks. He doesn’t turn to look at me, but his eyes are carefully watching every business building and house we pass on our way into town. I have never been to Braham before, with it being almost four hours from my hometown. The first time Tric mentioned it was when we realized we came from the same state.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrug. Zane finally turns to me and watches me carefully. If he’s aware of how messed up I feel inside after being home, he hasn’t made a single comment. We stay solely focused on what we’re about to do.
“I can’t see it being that bad if Tric wanted to come back when he was done with his enlistment. I mean he turned down a second signing bonus to return here.” Zane motions out the window.
The town is bigger than our own hometown, but still manages to have that smaller city feel. There are brick buildings and a few bars that line the main drag, along with a couple churches. At the end of the main road, it splits to the left and then right. My eyebrow rises slightly at the two very different billboards directing traffic.
“So, left is Braham Valley homes, where your family home awaits,” I say in a singsong voice.
“And to the right is Diamond in the Rough Casino and Royal Flesh Gentlemen’s Club.” Zane scoffs and shakes his head.
We turn right and follow the road a few miles, noticing that for the most part it's pretty secluded. There are no family homes in this area or shopping malls and coffee shops. I drive past the casino, which is, in fact, nestled right next to the strip club and another bar. Two more miles down the road, I finally see our turn.
“Raven’s Ridge,” I mutter to myself, and Zane looks at the map on his cell phone, nodding. The dirt road leads us to a chain fence and we’re stopped by two guys wearing leather cuts. The word prospect is stitched over the Undead patch.
“How can we help you, boys? Lost?” the one man jokes, his hand tapping the hood of my truck with his knuckles. I glance over him and grit my teeth. He’s a young punk, at least ten years younger than me.
“We’re here to see your VP. We’re friends of Tric’s,” I respond, attempting to keep my voice calm, even as my hand is lowered in case I need to grab my concealed gun under my seat.
The smirk falls off the man’s face and it's instantly replaced with a grim expression. “You knew him?”
I nod my head. The guy takes a deep breath and offers me a tight smile. “We were close growing up. He watched out for my brother and me back in the days.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say the same pointless words that have been thrown my way since Tric’s body was brought back. The two men share a head nod between them and soon the gate starts to open.
“Be careful with our vice prez,” he says, stopping us from moving forward. “Tric was his pride and joy. The man hasn't been the same since we got the news.”
My throat tightens, imagining the man’s pain. Tric was my friend and as close to a brother as Zane is. Despite the turmoil that happened with him and his father, I knew Tric had forgiven the man, and still thought highly of him. It never mattered to him that his blood was linked to a motorcycle club or the stigma that followed such a tie. Tric believed they were good people, worth defending, and worth coming home to.
They let us pass and we continue on up the short drive. Rows of bikes are parked outside a building that looks more like a fortress. There are zero windows in the front and only one main door. Brick surrounds the sides, creating yet another barrier. A separate building, similar in size and shape to a pole barn, is off to the side and a few people walk in and out from there to the main building. When the door opens, chatter and music leak out.
“Let’s get this over with so we can head home.” I gesture to the door. Zane nods his head and we both open our doors and get out.
He follows me inside the door where, once again, we’re stopped. This time by an older gentleman with a cane and graying hair that peeks out under his black bandana. His leather cut looks weathered and well-worn, like it’s seen years of use on the road. His name patch reads Randy.
“Newcomers don’t get a free pass around here, son. What’s your business?” he asks.
Before we can answer, Austin makes an appearance next to him. “They’re here to see Jester, Mark.”
“Mark?” Zane questions and nods toward the patch. “How did you get Randy from Mark?”
The old man shares a smirk with Austin. “It's what the ladies used to call me back in the day. Randy Mark.”
Zane’s smile grows wider and he looks at the man like he’s his hero. My eyes meet Austin’s and he’s shaking his head. “Come with me.” He ushers us farther into the clubhouse.
The space is huge, way larger on the inside than it appears from the outside. The front looks deceptively like just a regular bar, complete with pool tables, darts, and seating areas. A haze hangs in the air, a mix of tobacco and marijuana.
“Have a drink. I’ll get Abel,” he says and directs us to the bar.
Zane sits and I follow after, keeping my back to the bar. After years of experience, I’ve learned to be vigilant in any situation.
“Seems kind of empty, doesn’t it?” Zane mutters to me, and I tilt my head in agreement. Judging by all the bikes out front, I expected this place to be packed, wall to wall with bodies.
“Most are still sleeping off their hangovers,” a silky voice joins our conversation. Zane’s mouth drops open and I glance back. A gorgeous blonde hands us two beers. I take in her black ripped T-shirt with the club’s logo on the front, her jean shorts, and sleeve of colorful tattoos on her arm.
“Are you a member?” Zane asks, his eyes looking her up and down suggestively.
The girl eyes him back, a small smile on her painted red lips. “They couldn’t handle me. Name’s Ari, and my father is the Prez.”
Zane’s smile is hesitant now. “Nice to meet you, Ma’am.”
Ari’s head tilts back and she laughs. “Boy, I’ve never seen someone turn their tune so fast.”
“No disrespect, but I’d rather not be shot for flirting. I’m too young to die and too many ladies I still have to meet,” Zane quips, and Ari laughs again before shrugging.
“No harm, no foul. What about you?” she asks me. My eyes find hers and I give her a small smile.
“I prefer my balls where they’re at.”
Zane scoffs. “His balls have been missing for eight years. They already belong in the clutches of another woman.”
“Mmm, she couldn’t handle the military lifestyle?” Ari asks, her brow arches in question.
For some reason her words scrape at my insides. I’ve gone years trying not to think about Lyric and suddenly, within a few days, all I do is remember every single thing about her.
“She would have,” I answer, feeling the need to defend the woman who still holds my heart.
Ari’s eyes bore into mine and I take a drink of my beer. I hope she knows I’m not an option, and it has nothing to do with worrying about disrespect to her father, unlike Zane. It's because I haven’t allowed anyone to get to know me past face value for eight years. I don’t want the connection with anyone else that I had with Lyric. It kills me that I’ve been with other women, cold, emotionless, sexual releases. None of it meant more than a physical need, and I’m ashamed to admit that I purposefully chose women who looked nothing like Lyric, and I hated myself more afterward. Thinking about her with someone else and how I would feel if she was doing the same ate at me constantly, but I knew it was likely. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Men would have to be blind not to try and get to know her. And once they did, they would have discovered what I had. Lyric’s heart, her personality, the way she cares about others is just as perfect.
Ari walks away and Zane whistles under his breath. “You never listen.” He shakes his head before tossing back his beer. “You went to the tree, didn’t you?”
I shrug. “I didn’t believe it. I had to see it with my own eyes.”
“Yeah, and how did that go?”
“Felt like shit,” I answer, bringing my own glass to my lips. “I wanted to get out of there so bad, I felt like I was doing her a favor. I didn’t realize how much I actually hurt her.”
“Colt,” Zane says, his eyes narrowing. “Are you serious right now? You two were inseparable. That girl loved you. I honestly thought you were going to get married after graduation, go to college, then have that Southern charm home with a few dogs and kids. I saw the way you looked at each other, we all did.”
His eyes fall to the table and I sense the change in his mood. “You never reached out to her?” I ask. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did after all of these years.
“What was I supposed to say? I hurt her too.” He shrugs, lips tightening into a straight line.
“It’s my fault,” I tell him, his eyes jump to mine. “I messed up.”
He blows out a breath. “Guess all we can hope for is that she is happy, healthy, and living her best life out there.”
“Yeah,” I agree, before throwing back the rest of my beer. Lyric does deserve her happily ever after. That thought makes my chest squeeze in pain even as I think it. I wanted more than anything to give that to her. It should have been our life by now, but I fucked up.
“I see Ari took care of you.” Austin is in front of us again, motioning us with his fingers. “Follow me.”
We move from the bar and follow the man toward a narrow hallway. From there, it turns into another room that almost looks like the common place in an apartment complex. Doors line one wall and there is a set of stairs that goes up to another floor. On the other side of the building, I find a set of heavier looking doors. The club’s patch symbol hangs above it, a board held in the skull’s mouth reads CHURCH. Austin leads us over and I glance back at Zane who shrugs.
“Are we allowed in there, sir?” I ask, not wanting to commit a faux pas and disrespect the club.
Austin glances at me. “I’m wearing a patch that says President, right?”
Zane and I both nod our heads agreeing with him. Austin pushes open the door with one hand. “Go on in then.”
I step in the room and hesitate when I see the man at the table, sitting alone. He glances up at us and everything inside me hurts. The man has Tric’s eyes, the same serious expression, and even the same black hair. Tric looked so much like his father that it physically hurts to see this older version of the man Tric should have been.
Abel Wilder stands and moves toward me. I hold out my hand, and he takes it before bringing me in for a hug. The man’s frame shudders and he makes a choked-up sound. When he pulls back, I can see he’s barely holding in tears while he gives the same handshake and hug to Zane.
“Have a seat, boys,” he utters gruffly, pointing at the table. “Just not at the head. That's Prez’s seat.” We sit and face the man who raised our best friend. The father he spoke so highly of despite their differences in lifestyle choices.
“Sorry it took me so long to reach out. And that Austin had to go for me.”
“You missed his funeral,” I reply, my tone flat with no emotion. I want to be angry at him, but seeing him now, the man looks broken.
Abel meets my eyes. “I did. I couldn’t imagine seeing my son like that for the last time. I don’t want to remember him in a box, not smiling, not moving. You know Tric. He was life and laughter.”
Tears sting my eyes and my throat pinches painfully. “We did know him, sir. With all due respect, if he didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. But Tric trusted me with his last wishes and I promised him.”
The man nods, his eyes falling to the table. “Did he want you to tell me how horrible of a father I was because I sent him away? Did he hate me?”
Zane’s hand grips the edge of the table. “Tric never hated anyone. He was a good man and a kickass soldier.”
“He didn’t hate you, Mr. Wilder. He was upset, and yeah, he resented the fact that you didn’t want him to be part of the club when he turned eighteen. He felt like he lost his family in some ways. But he didn’t hate you. Tric was too good for that. He planned to come home when he was discharged and he wanted to be part of the club,” I tell the man and slide him the envelope that holds Tric’s last wishes. Anytime we were stationed overseas or in combat zones, we were asked to redo our wills. Amongst our group of friends, we also set aside our last wishes for our family, friends and loved ones in the event we didn’t make it home alive.
Abel takes the envelope and his fingers shake slightly. I recognize the tremor in his hands after having seen it in my own father when Alex died. Inside, a piece of paper falls out, but it's the rectangular piece of fabric that matters the most. Abel’s breathing turns choppy and tears slide down his face while he looks at the patch.
“He wanted that patch because he loved you and this club. He understood the life you wanted him to have, the experiences his momma wanted of him too. He picked out the name for himself.”
“Tric-ster.” His father grips the patch while he reads the letter.
I already know what it says and I hope after reading it that this man can find peace. His son was a good guy and helluva soldier. Even in death he wanted to ease everyone around him. He wanted to make amends with his father and come home to his family.
“You boys have no idea what you’ve given me by coming here. Thank you for this. Thank you for being my son’s family for all of these years. He talked about you all the time. You were brothers to him.”
My head drops, feeling the words sink into my soul. Tric was looking out for all of us in his own way. Austin opens the door and looks around.
“Everything good?”
Abel nods at his old friend, his president. “Buy them another round on me.”
“Do you boys need a place to stay the night?” Austin glances at Zane and me.
I look at Zane who shrugs his shoulders. “We’ll hang around for a while.” Not like we had anywhere to rush off to.
Technically, I’m discharged, and once my paperwork is final, I have nowhere else to go. I don’t have a plan after the military. The only reason I made the trek from Texas to Tennessee was to take care of Tric’s final business and be at his funeral. Home isn’t what it used to be. After years of distance, I don’t feel at home when I’m at my dad’s. I don’t belong in that town.
Austin leads us back to the bar area, which is no more lively than when we arrived. Men of different ages, shapes, sizes and color hang out in the area. Their sense of camaraderie reminds me of the military. It brings back memories of deployments. Times when I had a purpose and knew what I was doing with my life.
“This place is actually pretty cool,” Zane says, his eyes glancing around.
“Yeah,” I agree with him, taking everything in on my own. Something in my chest settles here. I don’t know if it's because I feel closer to Tric or because the atmosphere is familiar, but the dull ache that's been there all day lessens.
“Where are you two heading next?” Austin asks us, while signaling for Ari to bring us two beers.
“I have an old apartment to clear out then I’m not sure. Probably finish school or something,” Zane replies, his smile dropping, replaced with a frown.
“Colt?” Austin glances at me.
I swallow the small dose of panic rising in my chest. “Haven't decided yet, sir,” I reply then take a chug of beer. Fuck. I haven't thought about much since being home and Tric dying. I knew my discharge was in the works. I just thought I’d land on my feet eventually. My decision to enlist in the Army was rushed, and everything after it was part of my job, the duty and service I signed up for. I went where they told me, lived how they instructed, and put my life on the line when missions came up. Zane, Tric and I talked about life after our service, but those dreams went up in smoke after his death. I’m unbalanced and lost in my life once again.
Austin’s eyes roam around the room, lost in thought. His own beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. “Most people see MC and they make assumptions. They tend to judge a book by its cover. But when you’re in, when you’ve earned that patch, you’re family. I would die for one of my brothers and I know they’d do the same.”
“Are you saying you don’t do illegal activities here?” Zane deadpans, with absolutely zero fear when he looks the president of the Rebels of the Undead in his eyes.
Austin makes a face that looks like a scary bear trying to smile. “I’d have to put a bullet in your brain before I tell you anything about my family. I’m just saying that sometimes there are lesser evils in this world. We don’t live by what is black and what is white, good or bad.”
I meet his eyes, and I don’t feel the mistrust that Zane does. Glancing around, all I feel is the camaraderie and family that Tric was so adamant about. Maybe finding my next chapter isn’t as far off as I felt. Maybe finding a place to belong, something to feel good about isn’t where I had intended it to be. Sometimes the best surprises are where we least expect to find them.