Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2) (18 page)

Journey

I
’ve never been one to suffer from
depression, but the uncertainty with Donovan leaves me in a funk. I go through
the motions with work and home. I make sure to keep up a brave face for Otto
and my family. Even hiding my depression well, I feel suffocated by it. Even
grocery shopping proves exhausting.

Arriving home before everyone else, I
carry bags inside alone. I left work early after claiming to be sick. That’s
how pathetic I’ve become. Now that my love life is making me miss work, I’m
officially annoyed with myself.

“Hey, eyebrows!” Zeb calls out in a rough
voice from down the driveway.

A part of me is just fine ignoring the
old coot. Another part knows Zeb won’t go away until he gets what he came for.

“What do you want?”

Zeb finishes walking up the drive until
he’s standing next to me and the SUV.

“You need a haircut,” he says, catching
his breath.

“And you need to mind your own fricking
business, Grandpa.”

Narrowing his blue eyes, he mutters,
“Your big mouth is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I have a helluva left hook, and I’ve
wanted to punch you since I saw you in the Mart that day. Now are we throwing
down or did you want to discuss something more than my hair?”

“I heard you’re still dating that cop.”

“Did you hear that at the salon with
the gossipy broads?”

“I’m surprised you keep a man with your
mouth. Do you brush your hair for him?”

“I’m not warning you again,” I say,
cracking my knuckles.

“I always wanted a grandson. Guess I
got one after all.”

I lift my fist, but Zeb only laughs. “I
came by for advice. You’re the smart sister, aren’t you? That’s what people
say. The short hair one is a snitch. The good looking one is a bitch. The one
with the eyebrows is smart.”

Exhaling, I wonder what Donovan’s doing
right now. Is he thinking about me and would he help me hide this old bastard’s
body?

“What did you want?” I ask.

“Your mama’s birthday is coming up
soon. What kind of thing should I get her?”

“If you want to make her happy, you’d
sit down and have a real meal with her. No yelling or jerk comments. Just talk
to her like she’s someone you give a crap about.”

“Boy, that sure sounds more complicated
than I was imagining. Ain’t there anything I can put in a box and wrap up for
her?”

“No.”

“I’m still not happy about her marrying
that thug.”

“Dude, let it go!” I nearly scream.
“How old are you that you’re still nursing grudges from decades ago? Shouldn’t
you be putting your shit in order and working on your bucket list? If I was
about to keel over at any moment, I think I might want to let some shit go and
be happy. Then again, I’m not a grumpy old fricker.”

“You have a nasty mouth like your
father.”

“Thank you.”

When I turn away from him, Zeb asks,
“Did you ever hear the story behind your name?”

“Sure, Mom wanted a ‘J’ name, and she
liked the band Journey.”

“Is that what your mama told you?” he
says, grinning like an idiot. “Truth is I’m the reason you got that name. Wanna
hear how?”

Though Zeb is annoying, he’s better
than sitting alone in the house with only the pets to keep me company.

“Sure.”

“See, like you said, Christine was
looking for a name that started with a ‘J’ in honor of that thug daddy of
yours. She couldn't decide on one. She’d come to my house and go through names.
I’d dozed off hearing her and your grandma squawking about one damn stupid name
after another. Then one afternoon, I had a dream about Christine giving birth.
The baby looked just like that Journey singer. Hell, you even had a mullet.
When I told her about my dream, she just smiled. You know how your mama smiles
real sweet when she thinks someone is stupid?”

Nodding, I sigh. “Thanks for the killer
name. Now you need to find a way to sit down and have a civilized meal with
your daughter. If you think you can’t handle your mouth around me and the
girls, then meet Christine for lunch one day. Just the two of you can sit down
and reminisce about when she thought you hung the moon. You know, before she
saw how normal people are. So do you think you could handle that?”

“Probably not, but it’s worth a try if
you think that’s what she wants for her birthday.”

“That is what I think. Now, I’m going
inside to put this shit away.”

“Aren't you going to invite me in?”

“I would, but my dad will be over soon,
and he doesn’t like you. Bye, now.”

Zeb grunts, but I see him grinning.
He’s a pretty sneaky bastard, and I wish he could spend five minutes around the
family without making everyone crazy. Despite his big stupid mouth, Zeb remains
vastly superior to my grandmother. I spotted the old bat at the grocery store
earlier. She spotted me too and threw a soda can at my SUV as she drove away.

In these kinds of special moments, I
have no trouble understanding why Christine left town. I’m more surprised she’d
ever come back.

Donovan

T
he only way Moe and Mae’s Grill’s stays
in business is because of its loyal regulars. No one is bringing families to
this hole in the wall. The place has no specials, and it’s too small for
get-togethers. The Grill is where people stop for good food and no
conversation.

Located outside of Tumbling Rock, Moe
and Mae’s Grill doesn’t draw cops, and people mind their own business. For this
reason, I suggest to Court that we meet his two club recruits at the diner.

“Who’s the second guy?” I ask, joining
Court at a small table in the back.

“He was a member of our brother club in
Deacon. Nothing left of them now. Half are dead. Other half are in prison. This
guy is the only one to get parole so far.”

“I remember when the sheriff’s
department rounded those guys up. Man, did they have an arsenal at the ready.”

“We told them you guys were coming, but
they didn’t do anything except dig their graves. A bunch of fucking showoffs.
I’m not sure about this guy, Floyd. I didn’t deal with the Deacon guys much.
Both Emmett and he are iffy, but they’re under forty, and that’s a demographic
our club is lacking.”

“Demographic?”

Court smirks. “Justice is rubbing off
on me. She said I ought to treat the club as a business and think about what
kind of employees we want.”

“So if this is an interview, what are
you looking for from them?”

“We need young guys, but we can’t have
them trying to run the show. I need to get a feel for them. If they want to
push me around, what are they going to try with old guys like Joe?”

I reflect on the Rawkfist MC’s
geriatric president and how he needed to choose a successor soon. “If you’ll be
president one day, you should vet your future troops.”

“I don’t want to be president,” Court
says immediately.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like calling the
shots.”

“Right now, this very second, that
might be true. I wouldn’t put it past you to be a bossy fucker in a decade or
so. Like you said, Justice is rubbing off on you.”

A smiling Court flips me off before
glancing around the empty diner. Even the cook isn’t visible when we arrived,
though he finally wanders out to take our order.

“Where are Moe and Mae?” Court asks me
while we wait.

“I don’t know. I come here to eat, not
ask questions.”

“Of course, you’d never ask.”

Before he can give me shit about
Journey, we hear an approaching Harley. Not long afterward, a car desperately
in need of a tune-up pulls up. I look at Court checking his phone. He plays the
disinterested badass well.

The first guy walks in with a woman and
kid at his side. Tall and skinny, he’s wearing a ratty red shirt with grease
stains and blue jeans missing the knees. Glancing around, he’s nervous as hell.
His anxiety rubs off on me, and I’m glad I brought my personal firearm. While
violence seems unlikely, I’d rather shoot first than die last.

“Floyd,” Court says as if the guy might
not spot us in the empty diner. “You gotta order from the cook. Have your woman
and kid eat near the door. They can have whatever they want on my dime, but we
need to talk in private.”

The guy tugs at his thin blond
ponytail. He’s still nervous, but Court’s easygoing demeanor calms him down
some. The woman looks enough like Floyd to be his sister, but I don’t think
they’re related. In some parts of West Virginia, everyone looks alike. The joke
is they’re inbred from generations back. In reality, their families could all
be traced back to the same parts of Europe and shared features rather than
genetics.

The woman and her toddler sit at a
little table at the front. Floyd fumbles with a menu, trying to figure out what
the place sells. I’ve always admired Moe and Mae’s willingness to make shit
tricky for their customers. They almost dare people to eat here.

“Who’s the guy outside?” Floyd says,
finally joining us.

“I don’t know. I’m not outside,” Court
replies like a smartass. I fight a smile because his woman has tainted his once
nice guy demeanor. “Are your people solid now?”

Floyd looks at where Court gestures to
the woman and cranky child. “Yeah. Thanks for the grub. Our car broke down a
while back, and we’ve been short on cash after fixing it.”

“No problem.”

The front door opens and our second
interviewee arrives. He’s bigger than Floyd by a few inches in height and
width. His hair is covered by a red, white, and blue do-rag. He’s wearing a red
tank top and jeans that seem a size too big.

“Hey, fucker!” he says, seeing Court.

The men slap their right hands together
and shake vigorously. I notice Floyd shifts his chair away from them before
glancing at his woman and kid nearby. They have their drinks and what looks
like potato skins. I watch the kid gnaw on his food. He sees me looking and
smiles with a mouth full of potato and cheese.

“Emmett, this is Floyd. You’re both
looking to settle in Tumbling Rock.”

The two men eye one another and give
edgy head nods. I want to roll my eyes at their display. Dick wagging always
makes me embarrassed for my gender.

“You got any women in this town?” Emmett
asks after ordering a beer.

Court loses his relaxed expression.
“Aren’t there women in every fucking town?”

“I mean good women.”

“I get you’ve been locked up, and your
dick has urges, but is that your opening question?”

Emmett turns a chair around and sits
backward on it. “Now that I’m out of prison, I’m looking to go respectable.
Find a woman, settle down, have a few rugrats, tell people I pay taxes. You
know, the American dream stuff.”

“We have women here,” Court says, and I
catch his jaw twitching.

“That’s good to hear. Back in my
hometown, everyone was married off. It was slim pickings unless you wanted to
drive over to Uptown with all those diseased Barbie dolls.”

Court glances at me and I know exactly
what he’s thinking. Emmett’s mouth and the Earlham will make a dangerous mix.

After Floyd’s woman and kid get their
food, he turns to Court and asks, “What kind of money is the club bringing in
these days?”

“We aren’t here to talk business,”
Court instantly says. “We’re here to see if you make me uneasy. If I’m uneasy,
my president will be uneasy too. This is just a hello, how are you, meet and
greet. Nothing about business. Understand?”

“Be cool, man. You know me.”

“That was then,” Court says, giving me
a quick glance. “I know you were part of a crew that fucking crashed and
burned. I know you got less time than your brothers. I know you’re asking a lot
of questions about things you don’t need the answers for. I know all kinds of
shit, but I don’t know anything that makes me want to call you my brother.”

“Is this one of your brothers?” Floyd
asks, gesturing toward me. “Because I don’t see any patches on him. Seriously,
who the fuck is this guy?”

I tighten my crossed arms. “That
question falls under business talk, and Court said we aren’t doing that today.”

“Look, man, I’m not looking to start
trouble. I can tell you why I got out earlier than my brothers. They started
trouble in the joint by throwing around weight and acting like they were free
men calling the shots. I kept my head down. You know why I did that even if I
got called a coward?”

Court gives him a curt head nod, and
Floyd continues, “That lady right there. She didn’t run around on me when I got
locked up. She and I were just fucking before I went to prison. She had my kid,
but I didn’t think she was anything special. Except the other sluts like her
ran off with other men once we got locked up. Not Ellie. She stayed loyal to
me. She took care of my kid and brought him to see me in the joint. That woman
did right by me, so I want to do right by her now. That means finding a place
to live where she and my kid can be safe. If I come off too chatty, it ain’t
because I’m a punk looking to start trouble. My only concern is keeping my
woman around.”

Court nods because he wants a loyal guy
with something to lose. For me, Floyd’s words make too much fucking sense.
Journey does right by me like no one else, and I need to keep her around. Floyd
walked away from his old crew to make shit right for his woman. I need to be
willing to do anything to make things right for Journey.

The rest of our conversation involves
the men talking about what motels they’re staying at and where they can find
the best food. A broke Floyd’s more concerned about the price of everything.
Emmett only wants the best of everything.

I don’t focus on the rest of their
conversation. My mind imagines tracking down Journey and saying the same kinds
of things this man said about his woman. I don’t even sense Floyd loves his
baby mama. He only wants to reward her for being loyal. Their relationship
seems based on need rather than want, but he can easily say what needs to be
said to keep his woman satisfied.