“Do you think there is more than one of them?”
“It has to be, they’re happening all over the city. Oh, honey are you okay?” she shuffles closer when my face drops at the thought.
“I’m fine,” I wave her off. She’s not convinced quickly but I smile and hand over some old shoes of dad’s for the goodwill box.
My mind is racing, but not because of what Dana said. If there is a whole group of them, what is Noah going to do? I mean, he said he’s going to make the guy who attacked me pay, but how will he know who he is if there are more of them? I really don’t want him getting into trouble over me.
When we’re finished Dana tells me we need to get it over in one go, rip the band aid off, so we load up her car and take everything to a local Salvation Army. They’re grateful for the donations and Dana chats with them as I watch them put the boxes behind their counter.
It’s another step in the cycle of grief. Seeing his things go on to help others less fortunate. Dad would like that. He was always giving to charity and looking out for people.
It’s hard, seeing his things go, knowing I’m never going to see them again. But like Dana says, they’re only things. I’ve kept the important items, pictures, his watch and signed baseball collection. I’ll never let those go, but this is really hard.
“You okay, honey?” Dana comes over, she hands me a tissue which I use to wipe my eyes and nose, nodding but not having the words to respond. “Let’s go home, listen to some nineties love songs and bake cupcakes.”
“That sounds like a horrendous afternoon.”
“Sooohorrendous,” she over-exaggerates the word and links my arm tugging me back to her car.
The house smells of vanilla and chocolate and we made good use of the cherries topping off the frosting with them.
“Only problem is, who is going eat them?”
“Not my fat ass. We can take them to work tomorrow. Do you have a container?” She goes looking and pauses, staring at the back door. “New locks?”
“Oh, um. Yeah.”
“What’s that uncertainty for?” she side-eyes me in that way Dana does when she knows I’m hiding something from her.
I don’t want to lie and use my attack as an excuse, that wouldn’t sit right. The only reason I went to that biker bar at their club was because Dana is interested in one of the men and he never showed.
How will she take it that the actualPresidentchanged my locks? Among other things.
Dana is my best friend and I kind of need to talk to someone about it.
“Okay so, something happened.”
“Something like what?”
“Remember I lost dad’s bracelet?”
“Yeah,” her anxiety at my initial statement changes to curiosity.
“When I couldn’t find it, I figured the only other place it could be was Raven’s bar.”
“Oh… Ohhh.” Her mouth hangs open
“And um, I might have ran into Noah… I mean Nero.”
“Nero, the President?” she asks incredulously. “Wait a second,” she holds up a hand. “Did you call him Noah?”
“Well, that’s kinda how I know him.”
“Girl you better sit your ass down and tell me what the hell is going on and how you’ve managed to get yourself on a first name basis with the President of a motorcycle club.”
She punctuates that by pointing at me, then the chair. It’s not like I don’t get where she is coming from. Who am I kidding, this sounds really bad.
“Well, it all started when a patient needed a ride.”
