9. Psycho
Chapter nine
Psycho
Bobbie was a little more rational after she let me convince her to eat something. She sat cross-legged on the bed, carving into the flapjacks.
“Are you taking any meds?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Not anymore. I used to have a prescription for my anxiety, and that seemed to keep me on the level for longer periods of time. But the pills ran out two years ago. And it’s tough to get meds when you’re…” She cleared her throat and fiddled with a piece of toast. “You know, homeless.”
I sat on the bed beside her and placed my palm on the nape of her neck for comfort.
“You have a home now. We’ll work on getting you that medication, okay?”
A faint smile flickered across Bobbie’s lips. Her skin was splotchy and her eyes were still red from crying. She scratched at the towel on her head and gestured toward the bathroom with her thumb.
“I should go dry my hair and assess the damage I did with this dye job.”
I plucked a piece of bacon from the breakfast tray and held it out to her.
“Take some bacon for the road.”
She rolled her eyes and accepted it without protest anyway.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to fatten me up like a goose before the slaughter?”
I scoffed and tugged on her wrist, pulling her to stand between my knees.
“I’m not fattening you up like a goose. I’m taking care of my girl. You are never going hungry on my watch.”
A pleased blush colored Bobbie’s cheeks. Then a firm knock echoed at the door.
“Psycho, you have a visitor,” came Trooper’s voice. “She didn’t give a name, but she seemed to know all about you.”
Bobbie raised her eyebrows.
“Do I have competition for your affection? Has an old flame returned in the hopes of winning your heart back?”
I swatted her ass lightly. She yelped with a laugh and danced out of reach, ducking into the bathroom.
Trooper led me out to the parking lot where a woman waited, leaning back against a rusty sedan. I didn’t recognize her—probably somewhere in her early twenties, with peroxide blonde hair, hot pink heels, and a tight black mini skirt.
Since the clubhouse was on lockdown until further notice, we weren’t allowing visitors inside. The only people who could cross that threshold right now were members of the club and their loved ones.
“You wanted to see me?” I said as I approached.
The woman extended her hand, gold bangles clattering on her wrist.
“Hi, it’s great to finally put a face to the name. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I frowned. The back of my neck prickled with uneasiness. Something felt…wrong.
“And you are…?” I prompted.
The woman’s smile turned icy.
“Courtney Chase.”
An expectant pause lingered in the air. I shook my head with a shrug.
“Do we know each other?”
“Actually, I’m a friend of a friend,” she replied, rummaging around in her pink leather purse. “He told me to stop by and say hello.”
I heard a metallic click.
Gun.
Lunging at Courtney, I grabbed her arm and grappled for the—
“Holy shit,” I rasped.
She didn’t have a pistol. She had a fucking pipe bomb.
In a flash, Trooper was at my side, helping me wrestle Courtney to the ground. I stripped the pipe bomb out of her hands, maintaining pressure on the switch that she had tripped. Courtney shrieked in fury, her face twisted with rage.
“Let me guess,” I said, breathing hard. “Huxley put you up to this.”
“I volunteered,” she shot back. “None of you would recognize me, so I could catch you off guard.”
I tested the weight of the pipe bomb in my hand. It was sickening to think about the damage it would do if Courtney had actually succeeded in setting it off.
“You were really prepared to kill someone?” I said. “For Huxley, of all people?”
Courtney jutted her chin out with defiance while Trooper kept her pinned to the pavement.
“I started writing letters to him in jail,” she said. “We fell in love. When his wife left him, he promised to break out of prison and marry me. Then we would run away and live happily ever after.”
“Oh, boy,” Trooper groaned. “You bought that hook, line, and sinker, didn’t you?”
But I didn’t say anything. Courtney had waited a long time for the man she loved. And she would do anything to secure their happy ending. I might not understand why she aligned herself with a man like Huxley, but I understood what it was like to do crazy things for love.
I crouched down in front of Courtney and retrieved my phone from my back pocket.
“It’s a tragedy to keep lovers separated,” I said. “I’m sure Sheriff Whitfield will get you and Huxley back together again. And he can take this bomb off my hands.”
Courtney cracked under pressure in no time. She told the cops that Huxley had been hiding out in an RV park on the edge of town ever since his jailbreak.
I watched from a distance as the cops swarmed the place. Courtney was handcuffed in the back of Sheriff Whitfield’s cruiser. When Huxley spotted her, he flushed five different shades of red with the realization that she was his downfall.
I wish you could see the look on your face, I thought.
A week after Huxley’s arrest, October arrived and the clubhouse had been transformed with decorations for Halloween—pumpkins, floating bats, orange and black streamers, and a skeleton in the corner, dressed in biker gear, with sunglasses and a beer in hand.
“Who wants candy?” I announced when I walked in the door.
Mia and Casey swarmed around me with grasping, sticky hands.
Tucked into the crook of my arm, I had a giant green bucket in the shape of Frankenstein’s head, filled with all kinds of candy.
I deposited treats into their waiting palms until candy spilled through their fingers as they raced off with their loot.
“You owe me something,” Bruiser declared, holding his hand out. He pressed a bag of frozen peas to his black eye. The swelling had gone down by now, but it was still a vicious purple. “We have three more weeks of toilet-scrubbing duty.”
I slapped a king-sized candy bar into his palm.
“Will that make you stop bitching about it?”
Bruiser grunted and tore open the wrapper, biting into the chocolate.
“Probably not. You clearly feel guilty, and I plan to use that to my advantage as long as possible.”
I shook my head and flicked a Tootsie Roll at him.
Then I did a double-take when I spotted Bobbie standing behind the bar. She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers in a little wave, as if she had been waiting for me to notice her.
“What about a sweet treat for your sweetheart?” she asked.
During the past week, Bobbie had been finding her place within the clubhouse dynamic. She was quiet at first, hanging back, observant.
Until Ironside roped her into helping him barbecue some ribs, and she just blossomed after that.
Her hair was a brilliant tropical ocean blue, and she had chopped off roughly six inches. Now, it bounced and bobbed around her chin in waves. And it made her look lighter, happier.
“Who the hell put my girlfriend to work?” I demanded.
“Jesus, don’t bite our heads off,” Bruiser grumbled. He gestured at Bobbie with his candy bar. “It was her idea. She wanted to do it.”
Bobbie grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a bar stool, motioning for me to sit.
“Relax. Bruiser is right.”
I grimaced.
“Don’t say that. He’s insufferable when you admit that he’s right.”
Bobbie breathed a faint laugh and propped her elbows on the bar, resting her chin in her hand. She reached over and selected a ghost-shaped mint from my bucket, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth.
“Pretty Boy mentioned that you don’t have a regular bartender at the moment,” she said. “So, I offered to fill in. I've done bartending before—I know the gig. Since there are so many people to talk to, I never get bored. And…it gives me something to do. I like being useful."
She folded the mint wrapper again and again with fidgeting fingers. I put my hand over hers to stop her restless movement.
“You don’t have to be useful to belong here, Bobbie,” I said.
“I know,” she said softly. “But I want to pull my weight and play my part like everybody else. Ironside cooks. Pretty Boy leads. Bruiser provides protection.”
I set my bucket of candy aside as I considered what she was saying.
“That sounds…permanent. Are you thinking about staying for good?”
Bobbie held my gaze as she bit her lip.
“I’d like to try. It scares the shit out of me that I’ll screw it all up—”
“You won’t,” I cut in.
“I might." She sighed and tossed the folded wrapper in the garbage. Squaring her shoulders, she drummed her fingers on the bar. “But I’m…I’m going to do my best to fix things instead of running away.”
I stretched my hand out, palm up, exposing my scar.
“Well, maybe I could help. I’m good at fixing things.”
Bobbie placed her hand in mine.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Then the door opened, and I expected another biker or two to file in, looking for a drink and a bite to eat. Instead, Fire Chief Barrett Kent crossed the threshold, wearing a standard dark blue uniform. Bobbie waved him over.
"Hey! I thought you were too busy to drop by."
She stood on tiptoe to hug him, and he patted her back.
"I can only stay for a few minutes. I'm still on call. But I appreciated the invitation, so I thought I'd say hi."
"You two know each other?" I asked, glancing between them.
Bobbie delivered a playful right hook to Barrett's shoulder.
"Chief has been looking out for me ever since my first winter in Juniper Creek. He makes the best hot cocoa."
Barrett crossed his arms, fixing her with a stern look.
"I've also pulled more than a few strings for her when she goes snooping around town for information."
Bobbie tugged at her earlobe self-consciously. She slid an arm around my shoulders, leaning against me.
"Chief, this is Arrow, the friend I told you about. Better known around here as Psycho."
Suddenly, I found myself the target of Barrett's assessing gaze. I'd met some intimidating men during my lifetime, but half of them were bullies, and the other half were just blowing smoke. Few men know how to handle authority responsibly, leading with a level head.
Barrett had that quiet, calm presence about him. I respected him for that. And I respected him even more knowing that he had been watching over Bobbie as much as he could.
He held out his hand to me. I shook it, surprised at the strength of his grip. But he didn't let go when I expected him to.
"Bobbie has been through a lot," Barrett said. "She's tough and she's smart and she needs someone who can protect that fragile heart she's carrying around."
I nodded.
"Yes, sir. That's exactly what I intend to do."
Barrett eyed me for another moment longer before finally releasing my hand.
"I told him not to grill you," Bobbie said sympathetically. "I'm about the same age as his daughter, so he gets stuck in Overprotective Dad Mode sometimes and he can't seem to turn it off."
I said nothing, but secretly, I was grateful to Barrett for stepping in and being a father figure to her. She needed that. And I didn't mind if he wanted to grill me. I would gladly spell out every detail of the future I dreamed of building with Bobbie.
Barrett's radio crackled to life with a call for a grease fire three blocks away.
"That's my cue. I'm heading out. It was good meeting you, Arrow. I'd like to buy you a beer sometime when I'm off the clock. Bobbie, try to stay out of trouble, will you?"
"Sorry, Chief, I'm not making any promises," she said, blowing him a kiss.
Barrett chuckled and shook his head, ducking out the door.
"Are you going to let me in on these plans to stir up trouble?" I asked Bobbie. "Or are you going to keep me guessing?"
She selected a chocolate pumpkin from my bucket with a grin.
"Of course I'll keep you guessing. It's entertaining to make you wonder what my next move will be."
An ear-splitting shriek split the air and all heads turned toward the sound. Jenny stood there with an utterly horrified expression, staring at her son. Casey cackled with delight as he held up a jiggly green thing.
“It’s a gummy spider, Mama!” he said. “Uncle Psycho gave it to me!”
He stuffed it in his mouth. Twitching green legs protruded from between his lips.
Jenny gagged.
“Oh, that’s disgusting.”
“Don’t look, honey,” Hades said. “Mia got chocolate cockroaches. You can hear the crunch when she bites into them.”
Jenny choked and pressed a hand to her chest. She pointed at me.
“I will never forgive you for this. It’s absolutely vile. My precious little babies are eating bugs.”
“They’re not actually bugs,” I objected, attempting to save my skin.
Bobbie picked up the candy bucket and shook it.
"I think there are some jelly eyeballs in here, Jenny. They ooze in your mouth."
Jenny threw her hands up in dismay and fled the room.
“Nice touch,” I said to Bobbie. “Very gross.”
"Thank you. I might have made myself gag a little while saying it. Since we're on the subject of eating bugs, can I get you something to drink? Maybe tequila with a real worm at the bottom?"
“Just a beer would be good, thanks. Skip the insects, if you don't mind."
I watched Bobbie behind the bar, smooth and confident, as she popped the top off my beer, sliding a coaster underneath the bottle before setting it in front of me. I liked seeing her comfortable enough to join in the antics around here.
“Blue suits you,” I said, gesturing to her hair.
She reached up and twisted a lock around her finger.
“You think so?”
"You look happy," I said with a nod.
Bobbie’s eyes softened and she circled around the bar to stand between my legs. She slid her arms around my shoulders.
“Well, to be honest, I’m a little disappointed.”
I curved my hand around her hip, tugging her closer.
“About what?”
She sighed dramatically.
“There's this guy. I’ve liked him for years and years, but he just keeps dragging his feet. I’ve been waiting for him to put a ring on it already, you know? I guess he’s not that into me.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“The last time we talked about marriage, you were a little upset.”
“Yeah,” Bobbie hedged, tracing the stitches on my patches with her fingertip. “But we did make a pact. And I have no clue how to be a wife, but…I’d like to learn.”
I cupped the back of her head in my palm, pulling her down for a soul-searing kiss. She smiled against my lips, stroking her tongue along mine with a teasing lick.
When we came up for air, an idea dawned on me and I patted my pockets down until I found the bag of RX gaskets I picked up from the auto shop yesterday for my bike. I pulled one out, the metal shiny and brand new. Then I held my breath, slipping it on Bobbie’s finger, hoping it would fit.
“Perfect,” Bobbie declared, holding her hand out for examination. “Does this mean you’re going to take me apart on the kitchen table just like you did with that lawn mower engine?”
I laughed as I kissed her again.
“And in the shower. The bedroom. On the couch. Against the wall.”
She grinned.
“If that’s a promise, you better keep it.”
I squeezed her hips, toying with that gasket-ring on her finger.
“You know I will.”