“What will happen with your bike?” I ask.
He seems happy enough to change the subject, even if it’s no lighter in his mind.
“I could get it picked up and taken to a garage but there is no one better with bikes than Handlebar.”
He doesn’t miss the brief tension in my hands around the steering wheel. If he asks me about that, I’ll stop the car and leave him on the side of the road.
“I’ll give him a couple of days max.”
“That’s a little rude. Surely it’s fixed when it’s fixed.” My curiosity is peaked again.
“Last time he fixed it, he kept it for a week when he damn well could have fixed it in a day.”
“Why did he do that?”
“A lot of reasons,” he says.
“The most prominent being that he doesn’t like you.”
“Thanks,” he says.
“What?” I let out a small laugh. “You’ve pretty much already said it tonight, no one would help you out back there.”
“Handlebar wasn’t like that when I first showed up in Sussex.”
I probably know more about that than Mace. Hell, the way he was watching us as we drove away tells me everything.
“What do you think made him change?” I ask, without looking at him.
“I have a few ideas.”
I bite the tip of my tongue because the way he says that means he knows something I don’t want him to be thinking about.
“Is it because you’re a standoffish ass?” I decide to insult him instead of acknowledging what he might mean by that statement.
“We’re never gonna be best friends.”
“I thought you integrated into the club? King seems to like you, for some reason,” I add on giving him a quick look.
“King has a begrudging respect for me.”
That was a rare moment of honesty. “I’ve known King Curtis my whole life, he doesn’t do anything halfway and he certainly wouldn’t have someone around his club and family if he didn’t trust them.”
He doesn’t say anything else, his eyes go distant, like he’s thinking that through. If there is no trust between them, things aren’t going to get any easier any time soon.
It’s not my place to tell Mace to sort his shit out and make friends. If anything, I’d rather Mace and Eli didn’t start hanging out together.
“You should integrate better.”
His brow arches. “What makes you think I need anyone’s advice?”
“Someone needs to tell you to get your head out of your ass.”
“Is that so?”
“If I hadn’t been there tonight, you’d be screwed.”
“The night is still young.”
