Chapter 7 Callie
SEVEN
CALLIE
Laura was riding shotgun, with a red rope of licorice dangling from her mouth.
She had on a pair of oversized sunglasses and her feet up on the dash.
Maxwell was in the backseat with his head out the window.
From the outside, it seemed as though we were on a fun road trip, one where the AC had died in my car and my best friend kept telling me to let my hair down.
It was tied back into a low bun so no annoying pieces would hit my face while I was driving.
It took two days for me to notify my employers and clear the time off work.
Considering I had just taken three days for the funeral, none of them were very pleased with the idea of me taking even more time.
Jacks told me he wasn’t holding my chair or space.
Mr. Meyers from the law office told me he wouldn’t fire me, but I would need to get in touch with them by midweek to discuss my return.
The trip took four hours, but we’d left late, so by the time we rolled into Rose Ridge it was already evening, with purple and orange streaking across the sky.
The stagnant air was still thick and sticky as I climbed out of the car and stretched.
It felt so strange to be back so soon, considering this was the most I’d seen my hometown in the last seven years.
Out of habit, I looked around for any motorcycle members or menacing glares.
Wes had promised a war when I arrived, and I wasn’t sure what form that would take.
“This is the motel?” Laura looked it up and down as she pushed her sunglasses into her hair.
It was as wild as a thistle patch, with strands sticking up.
I smiled, grabbing Max’s leash. I had forgotten she grew up rich, and while her parents didn’t fund her lifestyle now, she was accustomed to a very different way of living than what I had grown up with.
“Yep. Only one in town.” I walked toward the office and prepared myself for the scent of homemade soap.
Gerald, the owner, liked to sell it in the office, like a gift shop.
Last time I had arrived, the elderly man with graying hair and a round belly had greeted me with a smile.
This time, as the bell dinged and we pushed through the door, his smile was replaced with a frown.
My gut sank.
Without even hearing a word, I already knew what he was about to say.
“Sorry, ladies. No vacancy.”
Laura scoffed, thinking it was a joke.
“Your sign says vacancy, and there’s not a single car in the parking lot.”
Gerald busied himself with brochures, fixing and straightening them.
“Private party booked all the rooms.”
Translation: Wes had told him not to rent a room to me.
There was already someone watching the motel, or us. Fuck, he’d probably had us followed. Wes had likely investigated why Gerald had allowed members of the Death Raiders to party here, as well, which would give the motel owner extra incentive not to help me.
“Okay. Thanks anyway, Gerald.” I turned away, taking Max with me.
Laura chased after me, right on my heels with her hands held wide. “Wait, you’re just going to leave? He’s lying, Callie. He doesn’t have a private party, that’s bullshit. He must have a room available.”
Tugging on the car door, I loaded Max and then reclaimed my seat in the driver’s side. Laura reluctantly followed, slumping into the passenger seat.
“You’re not surprised. Why?”
The engine came to life as I turned the ignition over. There had to be a vacation rental or something else in town. Laura was already scrolling on her phone as I pulled out of the parking lot, veering toward the river. Tourists loved the river.
“Anything?” I looked over at my best friend, while also stealing a peek into my rearview mirror. No motorcycles yet.
“None that have a vacancy.” She swiped some more, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Okay, this one might work, let me call.”
Ten minutes later we were parked on the side of the road, letting Max relieve himself in a patch of weeds.
Laura was fuming, and I was trying to come to terms with my new reality.
“Five places, Callie. Five.”
She was referencing the number of places that had turned us down. Not because they were full, or even because of my dog. They had all given the same cryptic reason, which all led back to Wes.
Private party booked through the rest of the summer.
That was bullshit, and Laura knew it. I knew it. Max knew it.
We all fucking knew it.
“You wanted to know why I wasn’t surprised…this is why. These guys run this town. You can’t argue with it or fight against it.”
Laura kept her head down, hands tethered to her hips. The silence was interrupted by a chorus of crickets in the tall grass off in the distance.
“The next town is like fifteen miles away. I mean, it’s going to have to work, so let’s go.”
My temper was usually mild, and I didn’t try to cling to things I couldn’t change.
When Wes and I broke up and I decided to leave, he let me, and so did Dad.
No one tried to stop me, and that was response enough for me.
What good would it have done to get upset, yell, or scream?
None of it would have made a damn difference.
But now, I was feeling this fire build in my chest. The war Wes had mentioned was here, quiet and calm on the surface but bubbling and vivid underneath.
I should have known this would be his play.
Pushing off the side of the car, I let out a sigh. The last pieces of daylight were waning, leaving stars in their wake. The moon was just a tiny thumbnail in the sky, and the heat was finally starting to succumb to the night.
With the receding light, the fucks I gave regarding this entire situation with Wes began to lessen, as well. He was keeping me from my home, the one thing my father had left to me. Fuck the club, and fuck Wes.
“We’re going to the source.”
Laura shoved her hair up off her neck and pulled the mass into a bun.
“Damn straight we are.”
Cicadas sang a familiar tune as we drove toward Belvin Drive with our windows down.
Nostalgia tugged at my memories like phantom talons, clawing and piercing through me. We drove along the dirt path that led back to my childhood home, and my heart raced for what would come next.
I hadn’t laid eyes on the clubhouse in seven years, I hadn’t returned home one time after I left, and while I was still mourning my father’s passing, I could also feel guilt flare the tiniest bit.
I realized staying away was due to stubbornness and just being angry at the club, and when Wes joined it was the final straw for me.
Back then, my anger and bitterness felt justified.
I clung to those reasons until my fingers bled, but now, I just felt foolish.
I was the one who had missed out on nearly a decade of memories, and now I was the one who was the stranger in my own home.
As we rounded the curve in the drive, I imagined a small, dark-haired me learning to ride a rusty bike while club members watched and laughed, most of them drunk, several of them high.
My dad wasn’t even the one to physically help me; it was always Brooks or Rhodes who held on to the back of my seat and guided my old bike around.
The being-poor part was difficult too. We never had any money.
Stone Riders had been my grandpa’s creation, from what I understood, based off an era of mistrust and bad deeds from a local factory.
My dad was a big reason it had flourished and grew to the expansive size.
Seven years ago, he’d reached nearly three hundred members, scattered throughout the area.
Based on the funeral size, those numbers had held.
Growing up, the club didn’t pay the bills, at least not as far as I ever experienced.
If they did illegal things, I was never the beneficiary of any cash flow from it.
My clothes came from donation bins, and whatever Red found for me at the big box stores she went to. My shoes never fit right, and my hair was a greasy mess until I was old enough to use Google and hustle my own products.
It wasn’t until I was in high school that Dad’s club was suddenly flush with money, and I was too in love with Wes to pay it any mind or realize they’d likely started moving bigger, or better, product.
Laura gasped next to me, which brought me back to the moment.
“This is where you grew up?”
I stared at the massive structure in front of me. It wasn’t at all where I grew up.
“No. I was raised in an old two-story house that was in serious need of a renovation. This…this is something else.”
I stared at the enormous windows at the top story, at least ten feet long, and arched into a beautiful design boasting of tall ceilings and opulence.
A few feet below were oversized French doors that led out to an expansive patio, and there on the first floor was a deep inset porch that wrapped around the whole house.
The home was divided, with a nice private, covered patio and gated entry.
Off to the other side was a huge glass garage door that was currently open, showcasing a myriad of club members drinking, laughing, and even working on their motorcycles.
“This is wild,” Laura muttered, still staring.
A large fire pit with several chairs surrounding it was off to the edge of the yard, and a row of motorcycles were parked off to the right.
Gone were all the rusted cars, bikes, and junk.
The weeds were controlled, the grass cut and there were even river rocks filling some of the pathways around the house.
It looked like something you’d find on a magazine cover.
“Where do we park?”
I dug for the same confidence I felt earlier. “Wherever I fucking want. I own this place now.”
Laura gripped her thighs and let out a low whistle.
“I’ve never seen this side of you before, Callie. I’m equal parts excited and terrified.”
Feeling empowered, I pulled right up to the front, ignoring the club members gawking and staring at me.