It wasn’t long before Bones’s truck rolled into a small Western-esque town. The sign we passed on our way in read “Welcome to Sagebrush, Nevada. Population 6,237.” Bones drove down Main Street while I had my nose pressed to the window as I greedily took in the sights. We passed a cute little town hall, a library, and a post office that had an honest-to-Bob horse-hitching post in front of it. I rubbed my hands together and wiggled in my seat with glee. If I saw a horse today, there was absolutely zero chance of me leaving town before I got to pet it, earn its trust, and braid its mane. Zero chance.
Bones pointed out Misty’s, a mom-and-pop diner, and a few other shops. There was a school and suburban area on the other side of town, but we weren’t heading in that direction today. Sagebrush was kind of like the cute little small towns I’d seen on TV, with a hint of modern-day suburbia sprinkled in. During my two years on the run from the Callahan family, I had stuck to big cities so I could be as inconspicuous as possible, but I’d always wanted to live in a cute town like Stars Hollow inGillmore Girls.
Whenever Uncle Roark wasn’t around, my guard Dave let me watch TV and movies rented from the library so he wouldn’t have to deal with me. I never got to play with other children, go to school, date, or do any of the other normal things people do as they grow up. Instead, I watched them do it on TV and lived vicariously through television programs, movies, and the books I was able to read once I learned how.
They taught me all I know, or knew, about the world outside of the basement before I ran away. If it wasn’t for some oldSesame StreetDVDs and a VHS collection ofReading Rainbowtapes, I probably never would have learned how to read. Days Dave came in with his blue canvas bag full of books, CDs, and DVDs from the library were the highlight of my sad little life.
Dave wasn’t exactly friendly, and he never moved to stop Uncle Roark’s brutality, so I knew he wasn’t a good person. But the small kindness he gave me in those blue bags, in the Netflix profile he “accidentally” left open for me after vicious sessions under Uncle Roark’s knife…was enough to help me hold on to my humanity. It gave me a window, however small, into the world. Gave me hope.
I learned a lot in the two years I’d been on my own, though. I’ve always been a curious kitten, and I’m excited to learn as much as possible every day. Thanks to my time in the basement, I’d never take learning new things for granted.Dave may have fostered my love of learning, but he also smacked me when I annoyed him and pretended not to see Uncle Roark brutalizing a helpless child. On the one hand, I hated him; on the other, I felt an annoying sense of gratitude toward the bastard. It was confusing and overwhelming, so I shoved the thought away and started paying more attention to the town I was touring.
Sagebrush reminded me of Stars Hollow if Stars Hollow was the home of John Wayne and was run by a biker gang instead of cheesy New England townsfolk and the spunky Gillmore girls. There was a grocery store kind of like Doose’s, and instead of Miss Patty’s dance studio, there was a bar called Crow’s Landing. I saw nary a twinkly fairy light or a gazebo, but Sagebrush was relatively clean looking, if sandy. Good enough for me.
Just as we reached the outskirts of town, Bones pulled into a parking lot. We faced a building with what looked like multiple garage doors, and the sign out front said “Rusty’s Garage.” Across the street was what appeared to be a run-down hardware store.
“Who’s Rusty?” I asked as I hopped out of Bones’s truck.
“He was a Crow, like me. He was one of the OG Los Cuervos. Died a long time ago, but no one has the heart to remove his name from the sign. It’d be like tampering with his legacy.”
“So the MC owns it?”
“Si, and I run it. Come inside, and we can check on Sheila.”
I let out a squeal and clapped my hands. “Every girl deserves to be pampered! I can’t wait to see her. I bet she’sglowing!”
Bones led the way, and I followed him into the garage. Stepping out of the dry heat of the Nevada summer day and into the blissfully frosty air of the office had me sighing in delight. Looking around, I saw pictures of antique cars and motorcycles lining the walls. Bones walked over to say hello to a woman I had never seen before who was seated at a desk by the far wall. I walked over to a little waiting area for customers, zeroing in on an old black-and-white photograph on the wall.
Four young men in cuffed jeans and leather jackets, cigarettes dangling from their lips, were grouped in front of their motorcycles. The one on the far left was looking at the guy to his left, squinting a smile like the picture was taken on a sunny day. The man beside him had his arm around the guy to his left, who looked like he might have been talking when the picture was taken. Maybe he was telling a joke? The last guy, on the far right, had his arms crossed and was looking straight at the camera. He wasn’t smiling, but the ease at which he stood with the others and the proximity of everyone gave me the impression they were all buddies. At the bottom of the picture, written in scrawling longhand, were the words “Los Cuervos MC 1966.”
“The one on the far right is Priest’s grandpa, Gavin. Rusty was the guy on the far left.” Bones’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Come, chica loca.” He gestured to the woman who sat at the desk, observing me with wary hazel eyes. She looked to be in her mid-sixties, but I was a notoriously bad judge of age, so I could be ten years off in either direction. Her soft white hair was pulled back into a low bun on the nape of her neck. Her coral lipstick and a cardigan sweater gave her the classic look of an elderly librarian.
“Rose,” Bones said, “I just brought Girl here to check on her van. Girl, this is Rose. She’s Knuckles’s ole lady. He’s been out of town, but I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”
Rose murmured a polite “hello,” and I smiled and waved. A gentle nudge on the small of my back from Bones had me turn to the door leading to the garage bays.
Two of the three bays were unoccupied, and in the last bay was Sheila. She looked so shiny. Even her hubcaps gleamed! I threw myself onto her hood to give her a hug.Delightedly, I noticed that Bones hadn’t fixed the small dent on Sheila’s hood. The imperfection remained, looking like a dimple and expressing my van’s character. I was so glad Bones had seen it for what it was instead of thinking it was just a flaw to fix.
“Sheila! I’ve missed you so much! You look absolutely radiant! Has Bones taken good care of you? He better have been a gentleman, or I’ll shove a tire iron up his—”
Bones chuckled. “Of course I have. Sheila and I are good friends now.”
I gasped and looked Sheila over. “You saucy minx, I see you! Bones’s truck better watch out for you! Once you go van, you don’t go back. Just saying.”
Bones winked at me.Sheila’s right. I think I like this guy too.
I noticed a blue plastic tarp blocking the view of Sheila’s driver’s side. “What’s the tarp for?” I went to peek beneath it when Bones’s hand reached out to stop me.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Bones admonished. “That’s a surprise. I wanted you to see for yourself that Sheila is happy here and why it’s taking so long. We’re giving Sheila…” He hesitated, trying to think of the right words to explain his master plan. “A makeover. Just some paint on the driver’s side and some upgrades on the interior. It’ll take a few more weeks for her to be ready, but it’ll be worth the wait.” I jumped onto Bones, who caught me with a bewildered expression as my arms wrapped around his torso in a hug.
“Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to us,” I gushed. “No one has ever taken the time to make Sheila feel special. I’m glad you see it, that you seeher.” Bones patted my shoulder awkwardly as I tried to wrestle my pesky feelings back into submission.
In an effort to take the spotlight off my awkwardness, I changed the subject. “Have you always been in the van bedazzling business?”
Bones snorted back a laugh. “This will be my first bedazzling, chica loca. I started as a mechanic here at Rusty’s back in high school andworked my way up in the club and the garage until I made it to where I am today.”
“Oh wow, that’s awesome.”
“My real passion is in restoration projects and custom artwork. Look around the clubhouse lot sometime, and you may see some of my work.”
