CHAPTER 4 #2
The screen from my phone casts a ghostly glow from where it rests on the nightstand, buzzing in steady pulses.
I flip it over. Deeds’s name is split down the middle by a crack on the screen.
I close my eyes for a moment and forcibly pull myself together.
After three deep, cleansing breaths, I answer, bracing for the difficult conversation ahead.
“Hey.” My voice is ragged and hollow, tinged with remnants of the nightmare.
Heavy rock music thumps in the background on his end, bass rattling through the speaker like a pulse. His voice cuts through, low and clear. “Hey, baby. How did it go?” There’s a scrape and a heavy thud, the sound of a door slamming, making the song a steady hum in the background.
I picture Deeds sitting in his room at the clubhouse, sprawled out on the old black suede couch—the leather worn to gray patches—boots kicked up on the coffee table, waiting to hear my answer.
I plop back into my pillow and stare up at the ceiling, wishing it would open up and swallow me whole. “Not well.”
“What happened?”
I push my hair out of my face, exhaling a deep breath as I let the words fall. “He didn’t recognize me.”
Silence stretches between us, tense and heavy. “Come again?”
“He looked me straight in the eye and asked me if we’d met before. Like I looked familiar, but he couldn’t place me.” My stomach is a void filled with snakes; it writhes, as this truth gnaws at me.
“Bullshit.” Deeds’s voice is sharp, clipped.
A bitter laugh escapes me, rough and raw. “It’s true.”
A pause, then softer, “It’s gotta be the head injury.”
I blink and pop up on an elbow. I tap the screen, put it on speaker, and stare down at it. “What head injury?” Then I remember the scar, that jagged line across his temple.
There’s a long pause that makes me want to reach through the phone and shake him. “Didn’t you read his file?”
“No, I couldn’t.” It’s a confession that when it comes to Finn, I’m not handling shit like I should.
“Jesus, Gypsy.” There’s a sound like sandpaper being brushed against brick. He’s scratching at his beard. Then the heavy clop of his boots as he begins to pace. “It’s the reason he left the Army. Medically discharged. Courtesy of his time overseas.”
“How bad could it be? He’s walking, talking… seems fine. I mean, he’s their Road Captain, for hell’s sake, and runs a successful business.” I try to keep my voice steady, but the words sound defensive even to my own ears.
“I don’t know. I could have Bones hack into his records and send you a copy.
The file we have on him is pretty thin. Guy’s low-key, off the grid mostly.
Doesn’t use credit much, limited trackable spending except for utilities and small shit.
Has a few rental properties that he reports on his taxes, as well as the strip club.
Cell phone and bank account data, but there’s nothin’ much goin’ on there.
He’s pullin’ cash from the club, splittin’ it with the HOCs. ”
I grit my teeth, frustration prickling up my spine. “So what do I do? Because I’m not about to latch on to him and go down memory lane if he doesn’t know who the hell I am.”
“No man forgets a girl like you, Gypsy,” he says, his voice almost reverent. “He’s just fucked in the head—like Taz. Could be the injury. PTSD. Hell, from what I hear, all the HOCs are fucked up.”
It’s not lost on me that the man other bikers have dubbed “Sonny Psycho” is calling other bikers crazy.
I let out a snort, a grim smile tugging at my lips. “Pot, kettle.”
His laugh is rough, amused. “Touché.”
The pacing stops, fabric rustles, and the sound of papers being flipped comes through the line.
He curses under his breath, and then the sound of footsteps resumes.
A tiger in a cage, full of restless energy, until his mind works through whatever problem is stressing him out.
“I didn’t think—Jesus. Shit always goes sideways, and it’s never how you can predict. ”
“I guess I made less of an impression on him than I thought. Maybe I was just some girl crushing on an older guy out of my league.” I let out a sigh as I flop back onto the bed. “Maybe it was all in my head.”
“Don’t do that,” he growls. “Don’t let this guy’s inability to remember you drag you back to that place, baby. Self-doubt is the fuckin’ enemy. You know that.”
“I’m trying, but holy shit, Deeds, hearing him ask me like that was a fucking punch to the chest.”
“So flip it off. Shut it down. Remain in control. They’re your emotions. You can either let them run wild or get a handle on them and try to understand the why of it.”
“Fuck! I’m trying to. But sometimes you can’t see past it, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. But you need to.”
Grinding my teeth, I take a few deep inhales. I force the darkness from my thoughts—the frustration and pain out of my body, pushing it away with a metaphysical forcefield.
“That’s it. Just breathe,” he says.
I roll my eyes and start over.
When my breath steadies, he asks, “So you didn’t say anything to contradict him?” The rock in my stomach solidifies at his words. At his complete lack of interest in my feelings.
“No.”
The rigidness of my tone must go unnoticed because he says, “Good, that’s good.”
“What was I supposed to say? That I was the girl he asked to wait for him, and then disappeared on? That we nearly—” My voice catches, and I stop myself before I say too much. “Hell no. I wasn’t about to lay my heart out on a platter and watch him toss it to the floor and stomp on it.”
“We pivot, then.” His tone is pure business—cold and calculating. “Use another HOC to pull you in. But there’s a risk he’ll figure it out later.”
I grab the phone so tightly that the ache from the dream comes to fruition. “I thought you might say that and figured it was the best way to move forward.”
The flick of a lighter, then a deep inhale comes through the line. “I thought I’d be killing two birds with one stone,” he murmurs.
“I regret ever telling you that.”
He chuckles darkly. “What? It’s cute.”
“Shut up. Maybe it was once, but I’m not that girl anymore. And he’s definitely not that guy.”
“No? But you still care for him. He’s always been The Man …” He emphasizes this with sarcasm.
“Deeds,” I growl.
Another stretch of silence. I hear the click, click, click of his lighter as he flips it open and shut. He takes another deep drag on his cigarette. “He’s always been between us.”
My chest tightens. “What are you talking about?”
Click, click, click.
I expel a lengthy sigh and grit out, “Just say it.”
“It’s why you’d never let me in. Never let me be someone you could trust and lean on fully. And I get why—”
My pulse quickens. “You don’t think I trust you—”
“In a way, yeah. Mostly, but not fully.”
Twisting my fingers in the sheet, I clench the fabric tightly. “That’s insane. How can you honestly think that?”
“You never really gave us… fuck… you know, a shot. A real shot. We fucked. Became fuck buddies or whatever, but you shied away from anything more—acted like you didn’t notice when shit changed on my end—played dumb.
Like you didn’t see the way I wanted you.
” There’s a curtness he’s trying—and failing—to hide.
“Are you kidding me right now? Because the way I remember it, there was me, and there were all the other women you could never say no to. Every time I needed a break, you had some other girl in your lap or in your bed. That’s the reason we never became more.”
Silence hangs heavy on the line. Finally, his voice drops, almost too soft to hear. “Maybe at first, yeah. But not later. Not when we got close.”
“What?”
“At first, you were just out of a fucked-up situation. You wanted freedom and space, so I gave you that. I wanted you, but you didn’t want any man except for him.
Fuck, it’s like you were looking over your shoulder every chance you got.
Looking for him. I figured I’d never measure up unless I allowed you time to get over him.
You were a flight risk, and I didn’t want to get attached until you weren’t. ”
“Stop with the fucking bird references. You know I hate that.” A fresh wave of bitterness claws its way up my chest. Of all days to hash this out, of course, he wants to do this today.
He goes quiet. Finally, he sighs. “I figured time would change things. But all it did was let you close yourself off more. You hardened up. Like caring about anyone made you vulnerable, and you weren’t gonna let that happen.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t play a part in that. You crafted me into a chess piece—to turn the tides for the club and connect you to powerful people.”
“Maybe. But I wanted you strong. Strong enough to decide who was worthy of you. Strong enough to never need anyone. Powerful in your own right. Able to defend yourself and be self-sufficient. It wasn’t all about the club.
” He pauses. “The other women were just to see if you’d care.
To see if you’d react. I thought you’d speak up, but you didn’t.
Because the real you was locked away, and the performer stepped forward. ”
I close my eyes, the memories of some of my darkest days spiraling through my mind. “How can you say that? You act like I’ve been some emotionless doll.”
“No, not a doll. There were times I almost felt it. But it’s been years now, Lily, since I felt anything from behind that caged heart of yours. And I needed to know.”
“I care. I cared then. It bugged the fuck out of me, seeing you with those women who used you for status.”
He exhales on a long sigh, then chuckles, flicks his lighter again. The long pull he takes on his cigarette speaks volumes. Voice strained, he says, “But not because you wanted to be in their place? Or jealous they were trying to steal your man?”
“I was. At times.”
“You could’ve put an end to it, you know? Any word from you would’ve done it.”
“Deck.”
“Fuck. Just… when this needed to be done, I thought I’d know.”
“Know wh—”
He cuts me off. “If you were his, or mine. I don’t want to dance to this tune anymore, Lily. I need to know. One way or the other. If he’s not the one, then maybe you come back to me. Maybe you finally come back whole.”
“After the job, though, first, right? Fix things for the club first? You think he’s still going to give a fuck about me when he finds out why I’m here?” A heavy pause follows, each of us clinging to our piece of the past.
“If he’s the man you thought he was…”
“He doesn’t remember me, Deck! Looked me right in the face and didn’t know who I was. So, what the fuck ever. It’s a moot point.”
I hear a thump. Then another. He’s smacking his chest like he does, his off switch. “Like I said. Two birds, one stone.”
“You’re a real asshole.”
It’s a long time before either of us speaks again, although I know he’s still there, just breathing and thinking on the other end of the line.
“You don’t have to get close to him now. No messy past, no emotions.”
I’d have to act like we never happened. He’d be my boss, so there was no escaping him entirely unless I scrapped the idea of working at the strip club altogether, since I don’t need the job to get close to the club.
“If shit goes sour, we’ll pull you out. Just say the word.”
“Your faith in me is astounding,” I say, with all the sarcasm I can muster.
“You can do this, Gypsy. We need you to do this.”
“I know. I will. It’s just a mind fuck. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it like always.”
“I’ll have Bones sweep your background and replace it with the Vegas job cover.”
“Okay.”
“Watch yourself. And call me if shit goes south.”
“I will.”
We’re both silent until he adds, “I care more about you makin’ it out whole than anythin’ else. I hope you believe that.”
Picking at some lint on the comforter, I nod. “I do.” Do I sound bitter? Yes, I fucking do. But I do know this.
“Good.” More quietly, he says, “Take your time. There’s plenty of it before we make our move. Focus on dancin’, gettin’ yourself set up. Let them warm up to you.”
Deeds doesn’t know this, but I love him as much as someone like me can. He’s the older brother I never had. The lover I miss. A little fucked up, yes, but that’s us in a nutshell.
“Remember why you’re there, Gypsy. Not only to pay back the favor you owe me, but to cripple every piece of shit who wronged you.”
His words coil through me. Bolstering me, helping me replace my mental walls. I can’t forget why I’m here. It’s not just about the debt. Or about righting the past and paying back the Thirteen Devils for what they did to me. This is about war, and the innocents caught between many forces.
Before he drops off the line, I say, “So, this is it then. I’m on my own. And I’m one of them.”
He pauses. His voice goes tight and hoarse.
“You’ll always be one of us. But yeah, you’re one of them now, too.
So be the best stripper, clubpiece, or old lady—if it comes to that—you can be.
It’s the only way this works.” His tone softens, like when he’s whispering into my ear. “But fuck, I miss you already.”
Through the melancholy, a small smile stretches across my lips. At the same time, a familiar ache starts between my thighs. “Me too.”
“When it’s done, maybe…”
“What?”
“Maybe we talk about us, yeah?”
A weighty silence is my answer. Because I don’t know what to say. In the end, I speak his name softly. “Decker.”
It’s like he doesn’t hear me at all when he says, “’Kay, baby, then I best let you go. Go do what you gotta do.”
Something shifts in my chest. The words “let you go” feel final, though I know he doesn’t mean them that way. But maybe it’s time to let go. Clinging to Deeds isn’t going to help me now.
This is more than just another job. This is something I’ve trained years for, and the outcome will affect many lives, including mine. Whether my heart survives it… that’s anyone’s guess.