“I think it’s time that we vote on adding another patch to our ranks.”
Holy shit.
“Blade has proved himself to be loyal to this club. Trainer, as his sponsor, do you approve?”
“I do.”
“Then, we vote. All in favor?”
Once again, everyone approved. I felt the unmistakable feeling of something significant sliding into place for me. I was a Patch, an Outlaw Soul. These were my brothers and sisters now.
“Motion passed,” Ryder clapped me on the back. “Welcome to the club.”
Everyone raised their beers before drinking in unison. It was their way of welcoming me, and I grinned. This was my future. I took the jacket that Trainer pulled out of a duffle bag that I hadn’t noticed was sitting in the chair beside him and pulled it on. It was a perfect fit, and my chest swelled with pride knowing that the Outlaw Souls patch was displayed on the back.
The meeting broke up soon after that, with Trainer, our Road Captain, planning out a ride for us all to take tomorrow afternoon. Apparently, it was tradition when a new member was voted in. I could see the jealousy in Axel’s face when the meeting broke up and I came outside to tell him the news, but I knew he’d get over it. It sucked to be the only Prospect, but I was sure he’d be voted in soon enough. Outlaw Souls were good about rewarding people that paid their dues.
I was flying high for the rest of the evening, and a group of us stayed to drink for a couple of hours, celebrating. When the party finally broke up around one-thirty, I rode home. For some reason, when I got there, I thought of Kat. The only thing that was missing from this evening was finishing it between her legs.
I stripped as I walked into the bedroom, tossing clothes around carelessly, and fell across the bed with no grace whatsoever. Pulling my phone out of my discarded pants at the foot of the bed, I fired off a quick text to her. I wanted her to know that I was thinking about her even though I wouldn’t be available to see her tomorrow.
Just before I passed out for the night, I thought about this being the first time I ever wanted to share good news with a woman. Kat was definitely going to be the first person to ride on the back of my bike now that I was an Outlaw Soul.
Fifteen
Kat
I woke up late on Sunday, past noon. I had slept like a rock, practically passing out as soon as I got out of the shower. Now, my hair was a matted mess from being wet when I fell asleep, and my body was achy from running around the crowded bar. I stretched and yawned as I got out of bed, snatching up my jeans where I’d shoved my tips into my pockets the night before. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I counted out the bills, finding that I’d earned about six hundred dollars.
Not too bad for one night’s work.
I pulled a shoebox off the top shelf in my closet and added the tip money to the cash already in there. I had over four-thousand dollars now, probably enough to buy a nice used bike. I smiled to myself. I would start shopping around for one this week.
I’d slept in a t-shirt and pair of panties, but now I pulled on a pair of pajama pants. I was sticking around the house today, so it didn’t really matter what I wore. I might as well be comfortable. Going to the kitchen, I saw grey clouds through the window and thought of Blade. If it rained, his ride would be miserable. Even with a helmet and jacket, he’d be soaked.
I brewed myself a cup of coffee while grabbing a container of leftover Chinese food from the fridge. I ate the chow mein cold while leaning against the kitchen counter, thinking about the way my mother and I would spend our Sundays when she was alive.
She’d found religion in the last five years of her life and always insisted on going to the church’s early service. I knew she wanted me to go with her, but I’d never been interested, usually sleeping in until she got home. I regretted that now. Whether or not I wanted to listen to a sermon and sing songs, or whatever they did at her church, I should’ve gone just to spend that time with her. Because it was important to her.
I threw my empty takeout container into the trash, thinking about the big meals she always made after getting home from church. I’d help her with that, at least. She insisted that Sunday afternoons were a time for family, and home cooking was a big part of that. Jason and Lexie always came over, and the four of us would spend hours at the kitchen table. My mom would playfully tease Jason about giving her grandchildren, and I’d always promise to bring home a man with a big appetite sometime, even though we all knew I didn’t do serious relationships often. It was just a part of our routine.
After my mom had died, Jason and Lexie tried to keep the tradition going, even offering to come over and cook the food with me, despite that Jason was terrible at it. But I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t the same without her, and it felt like a mockery.
I drank two cups of coffee while I was lost in my memories. I told myself that the weather was making me melancholy, but I knew better. Something needed to change.
Sundays are for family. Okay, Mom.
I walked to her room, my bare feet making the floor creak in the hall. When I went into her room this time, I forced myself to do something, anything productive. Grabbing the comforter in both hands, I yanked it off the bed, followed by the sheets. When the mattress was bare, I went to the window and took down the curtains, adding them to the pile on the floor.
It was crazy the way that these simple acts loosened a knot in the center of my chest that I hadn’t even realized was there. It felt like a purge, and I was shocked that I wanted to keep going. Whipping open the closet, I pulled all the clothes off the hangers, not stopping until they were all bare. It wasn’t until I turned and saw all the fabric piled up on the floor that I realized I was crying.
I hated that. Crying made me feel stupid and weak, but there was nothing to be done about it. This was long-overdue, and I had a feeling that I would never be able to get through it without tears. In the end, it might make me feel better to finally cry. I had refused to allow myself to do it before now.
I spent all afternoon in that room, emptying the dresser and pulling everything out from under the bed. I got rid of almost everything, bagging up the clothes to be donated and throwing away anything else that I didn’t want to keep. By the end of the day, I was standing in the middle of a room with a bare bed and an empty dresser.
Nothing in here reminded me of my mom anymore, and I felt a twinge of guilt at the relief that gave me. I didn’t want to forget her, which would be impossible, anyway, but I couldn’t stand living in a house haunted by my memories of her anymore. It was making me miserable.
There was a knock on my front door, and I grabbed two of the bags for donation, dragging them with me down the hall. I was sweaty, and my messy hair was pulled into a bun at the top of my head, but I didn’t care. I knew who was on the other side of the door, and I wasn’t looking to impress him.
