17. Chapter 17
seventeen
H eavy was surprised by the invites he got to stay with brothers during the upcoming snowstorm.
Being from the temperate, Pacific coast of Washington state, he’d spent only one winter over here in Eastern Washington, and it had been a relatively easy one. He had yet to experience a true plains blizzard. But these folks took the incoming storm very seriously.
T-Bear invited him to his duplex, next door to Moke’s place. But Heavy knew how small the duplexes were, and he’d sat on T and Manda’s lumpy sofa. He didn’t wanna sleep on it if he could help it.
The clubhouse was having plumbing problems—a- fucking -gain—or he would’ve just moved in there for the duration, no doubt with Bouncer as company, since the old biker lived in a mobile home. The locals said they were not great in bad winter weather, with shit like water pipes and doors freezing.
Cooler called as he was packing up his shit at the apartment, meaning to just move over to the gym and eat what he could cook on his tiny camp stove and whip up in his Ninja blender. Work out, sleep, read and do whatever the rest of the time.
“Hey,” he said, figuring the brother was going to ask for his help with something, which he’d be glad to give. He could push a car that had slid, or some shit like that.
“Heavy,” Cooler said jovially. “Brother, thinkin’ about that shitty apartment you’re in. Why don’t you come and stay with us? We got room, and got a generator, so we’ll have lights. Get your stuff together and come on over.”
“Uh… thanks,” Heavy said slowly. “I figured I’d just camp at the gym.”
“You got a generator?” Cooler demanded. “‘Cause I can tell you from experience, the power’s gonna go. High winds, brother, an’ we got a lot of above ground power lines left around here. Freeze your balls off waitin’ for the crews to get it back on, ‘cause there’s gonna be snowdrifts neck deep out there, if we get as much snow as they’re saying.”
“Oh,” Heavy said, feeling like a city slicker. “I thought… the power probably stayed on, here close to the main street. Y’know, for the grocery store, and shit.”
“They got back-up generators, brother. Switch over automatically, and run on propane or gas if the power goes out. Listen, turn the water on in your kitchen and bathroom sinks, and leave it run just a little bit, so maybe your pipes won’t freeze. Get on over to your gym and do the same thing, then lock up and get over here before the roads get too bad. I seen the lights of the snowplows out on the main road, so you should still be good to get here. Just drive slow.”
“Right. Okay,” Heavy agreed, not quite sure how he’d gotten here.
He shrugged mentally. Cooler was a native of the area, so he knew a helluva lot more about blizzards than Heavy did. And that tip about running water was a good one. ‘Cause he didn’t know much about plumbing, either, but he knew that if pipes froze, they had to be replaced. And that shit took time and money, neither of which he could afford to waste at the gym
He’d finished up there, and was driving slowly through the nearly blinding snowstorm, the wind buffeting his pickup truck on the thankfully recently plowed roads, toward Cooler’s house, before he remembered that in Cooler’s house also lived Cooler’s family.
Including his wife RaeAnn, who was sweet, his son Connor, who was an awesome kid, and his daughter Cassie, who… kinda made him want to cuss and laugh at the same time. And to whom he owed an apology to, for puttin’ the hurt in those pretty blue eyes at the Christmas party. Even if it meant she got the wrong idea, and started chasing him again. With that hot, new adult look of hers that made it hard for a guy to remember she was a daughter of the club, and thus hands-off.
Well, one thing he could say, he definitely wasn’t gonna be bored at Cooler’s place.
Stick called as he was parking the truck next to what he thought–hoped–was the curb in front of Cooler’s house.
“Sara’s little house is available if he need a place. Webb and Velvet well be staying in the farmhouse with us.”
“Thanks,” Heavy said. “That’s real nice, but I just made it to Cooler’s, and I’m done drivin’ in this shit. My first blizzard, and I am not in favor.”
Stick chuckled. “None of us are, brother. Glad you’re safe. Later.”
Heavy grinned wryly to himself as he slid out of the truck, bags in hand. Safe… yeah, maybe. Guess it depended on how a guy defined the word.
But, it was anticipation as much as the cold that lengthened his stride, up the drifting over walk to the Carson’s front door.
Heavy had never been to Cooler’s home before, so he was curious. He could see a woman’s touch in the furnishings, from the cozy, soft-looking, blankets draped over the ends of the big, leather sofa to the throw pillows stacked ready to get comfy on the sofa, chairs or even the carpet.
The smells coming out of the kitchen were pure heaven–beef stew, and oh man, was that homemade bread? He nearly groaned aloud.
He was relieved by RaeAnn’s warm greeting when he showed up at the front door, glad Cooler hadn’t forced him on her, or something. Con was happy to see him, but that was a given, he was into getting strong for sports and Heavy was used to the tinge of hero-worship in the teen’s gaze, although he did not take it for granted.
Cassie, he noted, was super busy with things that involved her not being able to look in his direction. That was all right, he could wait.
Cooler, of course, could not. As he and Heavy brought the beers they’d selected from the beer fridge to the table, he frowned at his daughter, who was setting out little plates at each place, to go with big soup bowls.
“You gonna say hello to our guest?” Cooler asked.
“Mac, honey, could you come bring the soup tureen to the table?” Rae called in a sweet voice.
Mac moved away, leaving Heavy facing Cassie, who finally looked at him across the table. Her expression was cool, and he would’ve believed that, if it hadn’t been for the flush on her soft cheeks.
“Hello,” she said in a flat voice.
Heavy grinned at her, he couldn’t help it. “Cassie. Good to see you.” And it sure was. She looked damn good in a kitten-soft, black turtleneck and black tights with a longish, black-and-almost-white, plaid flannel cowgirl shirt over it, snug on her little waist with a fancy black western belt, and those fuzzy boot-things chicks liked on her feet.
She raised one brow behind the screen of her flirty bangs. “Hmm. Well, have a seat. “
“Thanks. Can I help put anything on?” The old ladies always liked it when he offered to help in the clubhouse kitchen. Some of them looked shocked as hell, but in a nice way.
“No thanks,” she said, still cool as ice water. “We’ve got it.”
Cooler set down a big, blue-and-white pot thing, a tureen, Rae had called it, in the middle of the table, with the handle of a utensil sticking out, and that heavenly smell wafting out.
“Soup’s on,” he announced.
“And here’s the bread.” RaeAnn set down a plate of thick slices of bread with flecks of stuff that looked great. “And butter. Con, grab the plate of sliced cheese from the fridge. Oh, and I forgot the pickles and veggies.”
“I’ll get them,” Cassie said, her voice warming about fifty degrees. “You sit, Rae.”
“The men have beer,” Rae said, still standing. “Con, you have your soda. Cassie, what d’you want, honey?”
Cassie muttered her answer on her way to the refrigerator, but Heavy had real good hearing, and he caught it. “Whiskey, and make it a double.”
RaeAnn shot her a look of dismay, and Heavy reached up and scratched the back of his neck, trying not laugh. “Soup sure smells great,” he said.
“Rae made it from scratch." Cooler stood to take the lid off of the pot, and pick up the ladle within. “Beef noodle. Heavy, hand me your bowl.”
“My grandma’s recipe,” Rae told Heavy. “I hope you like it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” he said fervently, handing his soup bowl to Cooler. His mouth was watering, and his belly was growling loud enough that he was glad they had country music playing quietly on a speaker up on the wall. He hoped that big soup pot on the stove was almost full, so he could have seconds without embarrassing himself.
Rae sat by her son, leaving the chair next to Heavy open.
Thus, when Cassie returned to the table, her hands full of plates, she paused for an instant. Heavy noted it, even if no one else did. Yep, fun times.
“Take one of those for you?” he asked her, holding out his hand for a plate.
She held out the plate of veggies and dip without looking at him, and then sat, slapping the pickle dish on the table before her place. She scooched her chair in and away from him at the same time.
“Plenty of room here,” he said mildly, handing the veggies off to her dad, and reaching for the bread.
“Oh, I don’t want you worrying I’m in your space,” Cassie said sweetly, and picked up her water glass.
“I’ll prob’ly be in yours before this is over,” Heavy said, taking a chunk of bread and handing the plate off to Cooler.
She choked on her water, and had to slap her paper napkin to her mouth, coughing..
“I meant, ‘cause we’re all stuck inside,” he added helpfully, and took a big bite of tender, fragrant bread. Man, it was good. Practically melted in his mouth.
He hadn’t had this much fun in… well, in a long time, Heavy decided.
Lunch was awesome, and he got his second helping of bread and soup, regretfully declining a third. Then RaeAnn pulled out a plate of homemade brownies, which Heavy also declined.
But it got Cassie to talk to him, finally. She looked over at him, holding her own brownie close to her lips. “You never eat sweets. You don’t like them?”
They were all relaxed and comfortable, and he figured what the hell, may as well be honest.
“No. I, uh… I used to be fat. In middle school, and first part of high school. And I’m not talking pudgy. I was fat. Till this great coach at the high school got me into lifting, and it turned out there was something I was good at. Not algebra, for sure,” he said, grinning.
Con laughed at this. “Yeah, like why do we even need that, right?”
“‘Cause you may choose a career that’ll use math, like mine,” his father said.
Cassie had set her brownie down, untouched. “That must’ve been shitty for you,” she said quietly. “So, sugar was part of, uh, that?”
“Yeah, I’m just one of those people who can’t stop once I start. So, I just don’t start. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy your treat, though.”
She blinked. “Oh. Rae’s brownies are great, but I don’t really want it that much. I guess I eat sweets out of habit sometimes.”
“We all do that,” RaeAnn said wryly. “ And I have friends who also say sugar triggers a binge.”
“Guess we all have our triggers, right?” Cooler said. “But damn, brother, you got more than those trophies of yours to be proud of, don’t you?.”
“Yeah,” Con said, nodding earnestly. “I mean, I’ve never been, uh, fat but it must’ve been crap at school. Kids are mean.”
“Yeah, they can be,” Heavy agreed. “Lot of good ones, though, right?”
“Yeah, I’m on a mentor team at CHS,” Con said. “We get paired with younger kids who don’t have friends, and have lunch with them, shit like that.”
“Nice,” Heavy said. “Bet you’re good at that. What kinds of stuff do you do together?”
Con shrugged, but his smile was pleased. “I guess. I’m teaching Skip, that’s my frosh, how to dribble a soccer ball. And how to get bullies to leave you alone.”
Cooler reached over and ruffled his son’s already messy blond hair. “That’s your mama’s boy. Makin’ me proud.”
Con gave him a look of horror, Rae giggled into her hands, and Cooler threw his hands up. “I didn’t mean you’re a mama’s boy, I meant you’re acting more like her than me at your age. I woulda taught him how to throw the first punch or some shit, an’ got us both in trouble.”
“Okay, then. Words are powerful, dad, use with care. ” Con said loftily.
The adults all laughed uproariously at this, and the teen grinned smugly.
“Smartass,” Cooler said, wiping his eyes, when he could speak again.
“Oh, he’s your son too, Mac Carson,” RaeAnn told him mirthfully.
Heavy looked over and caught Cassie’s eye, and they both started laughing all over again. He couldn’t recall when he’d enjoyed a meal more, and the pretty blonde relaxed and giggling at his side was a big part of the reason.
He realized he’d been gazing into her laughing eyes a bit too long when Con shoved back his chair. “ I’m gonna see if the game is on.”
“Hold on,” Cooler said. “Satellite dish is covered with snow and ice, and we’re not climbing any ladder to try and clear it off. And, you forget to say something to your mom?”
Con slumped back in his chair with a groan. “Oh, man, I forgot about that–the dish, I mean. And, thanks for lunch, mom. Uh, great bread.”
“You forgot about the blizzard?” Cassie asked. “Maybe you’d like to go out and shoot a few hoops in the driveway.”
“Yeah, and you should go jogging like you’re always talking about and never do,” her brother shot back, giving her a dark look.
Heavy watched as Cooler and his wife exchanged a look of wry humor.
Despite the warmth of the house, Heavy felt a chill as if he were standing outside looking in, like one of those Nat Geo wildlife scientists, observing a family unit of creatures in the wild, but knowing he could not interact, no matter how fascinating and inviting they appeared. He'd never had this kind of warm interplay at home. He wasn't sure his family had ever even sat around a table at the same time.
"That's fair," Cassie said peaceably, rising from her chair. "I’ll help clear."
Heavy looked over, grateful for the sound of her husky voice, breaking him out of whatever the hell moment he’d been locked in. When their eyes met, he gave her a crooked smile, and then lifted a hand, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the tension there. He was fine.
“Thanks, hon,” Rae said, rising as well. “Guys, just hand us your bowls and plates. Too crowded for everyone to get up.”
“How’s your soccer team look for next season?” Heavy asked Connor as he helped pass dirty dishes, and set the left-over bread and cheese where Cassie could easily reach it.
Con’s eyes lit up, and he started to tell Heavy about which positions they were covered well for, which ones they needed deeper coverage. Heavy was interested, so he listened.
Cassie brought the guys some ice water on a return trip from the fridge.
“Thanks,” Heavy said, charmed by the small courtesy.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, and for the first time, it seemed like she meant it.
RaeAnn and Cassie decided there was no point in loading the dishwasher with their lunch dishes, as it might be part way through a cycle when the power went out. The decision was wise, as they’d just finished drying the last dish when the lights flickered and went out, along with the digital clocks on the kitchen appliances.
Little Big Town kept singing, as the small speaker on the island was battery powered. In the quiet, Rae reached over and turned the volume down a notch. The moaning of the wind seemed much louder, without the noises of the kitchen appliances to muffle it.
“Well, time to fire up the generator,” Cooler said, rubbing his hands together.
Heavy stood with him and Con. “You can show me how to run one,” he said. “Since it looks like I’ll be getting one for the gym.”
The three of them bundled up and went out to the garage, where three vehicles were parked side-by-side, Cooler’s pickup in the single bay, a pearl Buick SUV he guessed was Rae’s and Cassie’s little Camry in the double. Cooler’s Harley sat neatly covered in a back corner to wait out the prairie winter.
The moan of the wind was louder here, and it was a lot colder too. Gray light filtered in through the heavy snow, and pale lights shone at intervals from small battery-operated motion-sensor lights set around on the garage perimeter stud walls.
“Why is your garage door part-way up?” Heavy asked Cooler, mystified as to why snow had been allowed to drift in under the single door, which was open nearly three feet high, behind the truck.
“‘Cause you can’t run a generator in a closed garage, and I was worried these cheap garage doors would freeze shut, and we’d have to thaw the track before we could run this thing. Already dropped to twenty degrees F, and likely to go colder tonight.”
Cooler and Con showed Heavy the workings of a propane generator, then the Carsons trailed extension cords into the kitchen to hook up the fridge, and a power strip for small electronics like the coffee maker, phone chargers and laptops.
While they did that, Heavy shoveled snow back out into the driveway, although he figured that wouldn’t last long, the way the wind was howling around the place, and sifting the tiny, powdery flakes in under the garage door. He set the shovel aside and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.
He looked around him curiously, at the kind of shit a family stored in their garage. Shelves of supplies to wash and do minor repairs to vehicles, he knew those. But then shelves of boxes labeled ‘Spring’, ‘Fall’, in neat black marker, and shelf after shelf of ‘Xmas’ boxes of varying sizes? Those he did not get.
And there, a couple of boxes labeled ‘Cassie’ with big caps, one in hot pink, one bright green. He squinted and made out smaller letters reading ‘summer clothes’. Now those he understood just fine. Those little tops and tiny cutoffs that chicks ran around in when it was hot, oh, yeah. On that ass and those legs of hers–
The door from the house opened, and Cooler stepped back down into the garage. “Okay, if you’ll help me hook up the freezer here, brother, we’ll be set.”
Heavy blew out a breath that steamed in the frosty air. “You bet.”
He was a guest here. He needed to behave like one even if he had to go out and stick his head in a snowbank to do it.
Both his damn heads–his big one and his little one.