“Did you try talking this over with Zeb at all?”
Zeb never gave me the impression he was the kind of guy to talk about feelings.
“No…”
“Okay,” Rana says, trying to force enthusiasm. “I get it. Your body, your choice. But… I just don’t think Zeb was as bad as you think.”
I respect her opinion on this one, but Rana has no clue what I’ve seen on this little road trip with Zeb. I’ve watched people die right in front of me. There might still be people after Zeb. Rana might think he’s a regular bad guy, but she doesn’t understand that he kills people like it’s nothing.
“What if I told you that he… killed someone?”
“Didn’t you text me that he was in the army?”
“That’s not what I mean,” I say with less confidence than I expect. I can’t confess murder to a lawyer, but the two scenarios are totally different, right?
“Men have been killing to protect the people they love and care about since the beginning of time,” Rana says. “If you can’t accept who Zeb is, I can’t force you. But… A lot of women would love a guy who would do anything to keep them safe.”
“It’s not that I don’t want that.”
“Right,” Rana says. “Come on, let’s get your stuff. I don’t mean to make you second guess yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Oske
Oklahoma
Iinvested $75,000 in repairing The Fire Spot and reopening just in time for the summer. I expected a rush of tourists pouring across the country, but absolutely nothing went according to my plan. The Route 66 highway and all the nearby towns along the route have a reliable influx of tourists each summer. I grew up working at motels, casinos, and gas stations along the highway ever since I was twelve years old. It’s easy to get a job as a kid if you lie your ass off, work hard and seem desperate enough.
I know the highway, and when I told Wyatt that I could only make back $26,000 on my investment, he thought my primary motivation for badgering him was my own desperate need for a bail out. First, I never asked him for a bail out. I just didn’t decline his offer to pay off the rest of my debts. He’s not a saint, if you were thinking that. Wyatt stands to gain plenty from our exchange.
Specifically, information. There’s major drama going on with the Shaw family and I’m stuck in the middle of something thatI accidentally got caught up in while working on construction for The Fire Spot. Cody Hollingsworth stopped by with a truck full of lumber on his way to Boston and we had a few drinks together. Like most of these bikers, he’s pretty easy to loosen up with beer and weed. Cody told me alotabout what’s going on with Tylee, including something he saw that he’s been too scared to tell Wyatt.
He is pretty sure that Tylee is planning to dump the kids with Selma Sinclair and run off with some guy – he wouldn’t tell me who, so I don’t know if he even knows the guy or if it’s typical dude-paranoia. Cody also wouldn’t tell me why he has those suspicions, but he insisted that we couldn’t believe anything that Selma said. He also said that Tylee was an entitled brat who needed to be beaten, but I sincerely hope that was just a drunken rant and not a serious comment on how he felt the bikers should handle their affairs.
Wyatt doesn’t believe Selma could be involved, but I sent my brothers out to Selma’s place to investigate. I hope they don’t screw up this time, because if they do, I will send them off to live with Owen again. They like staying close to the rez these days, which is new for them. I like to think it’s my tenderness, but it’s probably related to the weed money they get doing petty errands for the Barbarians.
The choices those bikers make scare the crap out of me. So does Selma Sinclair.
That woman is a problem on her own, but I stay out of the way as much as possible when dealing with the older generation of biker chicks. They’re a crazy, tough crowd, and I don’t want to get into altercations with any woman who has been throwing hands since Nixon was in office.
I’m just lucky that Tylee Shaw Sinclair still trusts me, although if Wyatt presses me about those stupid divorce papers, she won’t trust me long enough for me to pinpoint her exactlocation and more importantly, where she brought the kids. This Selma tip gives me something to work with when I next talk to Tylee. Maybe I can get her to give the kids up willingly. If she’s going to leave them behind, I don’t see why it makes a difference if they’re with Selma or with their father.
Isaac is a good dad. I’m no fan of the bikers, but every time he came to the Fire Spot to drink, he would show me pictures of those kids on his phone until he passed out. Yes, I would sometimes lift a twenty dollar bill or two out of his wallet during those vulnerable moments, but that doesn’t make them any less touching.
I understand that the Rebel Barbarians are a bunch of brutish, abundantly stupid men. But what Tylee’s doing just isn’t fair to her kids. I open up The Fire Spot at around 11 a.m. each day to prepare for the first wave of nonexistent tourists. Cody told me rumors about where they went too. They’re scared, he says. Everybody in the country is scared.
I’m not sure if I believe him. Maybe they’re broke. I would believe that. But I don’t think white people in this country are scared at all of the beast they created.Whatever.
The loud, sputtering sound of a motorcycle outside takes my mind off of all the stupid biker drama. With all the shit going on these days, I put my pistol into my pocket and walk outside to see who just parked at the bar minutes after opening. The sleek, black chrome bike stops neatly in front of where I parked my brand new white car.
A short figure dressed all in black steps off of it and takes her helmet off.It’s really her.
“Hello,” she says, setting the helmet on the motorcycle seat. “Long time no see.”
I can’t believe this.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her. My voice shakes and if I even knew a little bit who would be waiting for me outside that door, I would have tucked a cigarette behind my ear.
