"Yep! It's at the fairgrounds and the fair has been going on all day. We can go walk around and people watch until it's time forthe rodeo to start. Besides, the fair food here is some of the best," she says.
"Okay. Let me grab my things." I head down to the basement and grab my over-the-shoulder bag. I text Cass to let him know I'm heading out, and I meet the girls upstairs.
This is going to be a fucking blast, I just know it.
Chapter Seventeen
Cass
Lilly has been planning our wedding, getting everything ready for us to say I do in the same place that my parents did. Something about that makes mefeel. It’s an odd sensation, the way that a simple gesture can dig inside of you so deep and drag out emotions that you weren’t sure you could feel. Emotions that are hard to identify, and harder to comprehend, much less communicate.
Something about Oklahoma, it’s home. And every time I’m here, I feel powerful and steady andgood. No matter what I’m doing, there’s an energy on the ground here for me that makes me feel more alive and more dominant than anywhere else in the world.
Not only do I feel more powerful, it’s almost a sense of invincibility. Sitting at this table, the one that I helped build and the first place that I learned what it was to be a Hound, with my dad and the men that helped raise me along with every new face that has come through since is indescribable. Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. It’s this feeling.
“We still have one loose end to tie up regarding the pond matter,” Brock says, drawing my attention.
“Barry’s son isn’t letting this issue go. He followed right into his dad’s footsteps and is running for some city official position. He’s pushing for this unsolved case to be looked into. He’s mentioned it a few times at the campaigns and is drawing some serious attention,” Clayton says, rolling his eyes.
“If he disappears, it’ll be too convenient and draw more attention than we’re bargaining for. We want all of this to go away quietly. Since the fire at the District Attorney’s office destroyed evidence and we were able to get away, barely, we need to keep as little eyes on us as possible,” I add, trying to be the sounding board. This isn’t the eighties anymore. You can’t just make people disappear without a whole lot of eyes on you, literally. There are cameras outside every business and home in town. It’s a wonder we weren’t caught on any clear enough to be identified.
Both the DA’s office and the pond shack went up in flames the same night, drawing more attention than we bargained for but they ruled the one at the DA’s office an electrical fire. Bad wiring in an old building gone too long unattended. There was speculation, but the fire marshal was adamant that was the cause and the two were unrelated.
“What’s his name?” Scott asks, looking a little lost and out of the loop.
“BJ Harlow. Barry Junior,” Brock says.
“He’s been making a fuss about his dad’s disappearance for years but now that they found his car, he’s even more adamant about solving this case,” Clayton says.
“We’re going to just have to sit back and wait it out. There’s nothing he can do without evidence, and that has been destroyed. Unless there’s a patsy, we don’t have a choice but to just let it die down,” I chime in.
Brock’s ears perk up at my comment.
“Let me see what I can do,” he says.
Clayton gives him a curious stare, and his eyes widen. “I like the way you think, brother,” he says to Brock with a smile. A secret conversation happening between the two of them before our eyes, none of us the wiser of what just occurred. If they’ve got solutions to our problems, sign me up.
I don't need to have my hand in it for it to work out for us, so long as it works out for us.
It sounds like Clayton and Brock have everything sorted out for the most part, so Scott and I will just wait around until we have a verdict. I'm ready to tie this shit up and be done with it. I don't want the Hounds to be branded with these crimes. It took years for us to earn the respect we have here and this could shatter it like a thin glass in an instant. Not that the clubs would lose respect for us, but the town. The people in the society. It's hard enough being a biker in a community that fears what they don't understand, the last thing we need is for them to think we're running some kind of hit man business out of the fucking clubhouse. Because let's face it, that's what they would think.
"Brock and Clayton are up to something. Something good, I think," Scott says.
"I think they know what they're doing, so we can sit this one out until they need help,ifthey need it," I say, my voice still thick with sleep.
"I think you're right, brother," he agrees.
Lilly and the ol' ladies are all at the rodeo today. Maybe we'll pop up there since there isn't much for us to do right now. Our hands are tied until we hear something back from Brock and Clayton.
I send out a text to the guys and tell them we're heading to the county fair. We ride down the backroads I grew up on until we reach the fairgrounds. There are hardly any spots available topark, so we make our own parking spot closer to the gate than is allowed. No one says a word to us, though.
We walk inside the gates and there's a dust tornado whipping past us as the aroma of fried fair food wafts through the air. My stomach grumbles as the aromas combine, smelling like sweet deep-fried deliciousness. The sun is starting to set, and the temperature is slowly dropping.
Scott, Digger, Snapper, Aaron, and Junk are walking with me as we make our way through the crowded midway.
Digger stops at one of the gaming tents, a sucker for the darts game. We all pause and stare idly as he pays the man, throws a few darts at balloons, then repeat that same process three times in a row. He finally concedes and takes his consultation prize of the larger medium stuffed plushies.
It's a green triceratops with a pink bow in between the ears. As soon as he rejoins the group, Junk grabs his arm.
