Phoenix
One Week Later
With a beer in my left hand, my phone in my right, and my ass on a couch at the Gray Reapers’ headquarters, life felt... OK.
I checked my phone for probably the millionth time that day. No new text messages. Of course not. Why would there be?Keep hoping for that number to pop up, buddy.
I sipped my Blue Moon as Cole sat in a chair across from me, his arms crossed, his brows furrowed, but not reading or looking at anything in particular. I didn’t envy him in the slightest—at least the asshole in my position in the Black Reapers was someone I could ignore for the rest of my life if I could manage it. He had to deal with family being on the other side of that MC coin forever.
“You feeling all right?”
Cole had spoken, but he had not looked at me. So, at first, I ignored him and just casually sipped on my beer.
“Phoenix.”
“Oh, shit, um, yeah, I’m fine.”
“How’s Jess?”
Way to get right to it.
“Not great,” I said. “Why do you ask?”
Cole leaned forward, exhaled, and stood up.
“I was just hoping to have some good news these days,” he said, forcing a smile that seemed anything but pleasant. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Just grasping for straws right now.”
You and me both,I thought. Cole left the room, heading outside to a late afternoon. The sun had reached the bottom of the skyline, but not yet dipped below, giving us maybe another hour of light. The golden light glistened off our bikes, creating an effect that I would have taken more time to admire if not for all of the thoughts rushing through my head.
My phone buzzed.
It wasn’t Jess.
But it was someone who could prove equally important.
* * *
It had been one week ago that I had found myself outside of the Black Reapers’ headquarters and seen everyone except the one person I cared to see.
Now, it was the exact opposite.
“My son,” Father Marcellus said as he spread his arms for a hug. “It is good to see you. And you look good for what happened last week.”
“Good to see you too, Marc,” I said. “It didn’t look good right after. But I think we dodged the worst of it.”
“Unfortunately, I am all too aware,” Father Marcellus said as he led me to two chairs outside the clubhouse.
It was a relatively serene night. Rain was expected later in the evening, but not until well past midnight, a point at which even I would have at least returned to Ashton, if not gone to bed entirely. The sound of motorcycles was nowhere to be heard, not even in the distance. It felt like the world hit pause whenever I got to see the good chaplain, and tonight was no different.
“I grow weary of having to bury so many bodies over such senseless violence.”
His face showed his words, too. He had more gray hair on his crown than before, and the bags under his eyes looked like they had doubled in size.
“But what is even worse, I know that it is not truly senseless. I am not going to be the priest who says turn away from evil, because evil wants good to turn a blind eye. We must stand up against the Fallen Saints, but I know it comes with the heaviest of prices.”
He sighed.
“Please tell me there was some semblance of hope in the dialogue the two Reaper clubs had. Please tell me that there was at least something that could bring the two of you back to the table.”
