Creed pokes his head inside my office. “Dad, everyone should be here in a few minutes. I’m going to turn the music on now and start the fire outside.”
“Do you have enough snacks and drinks?”
“I think so. They’re mostly coming over to talk.”
“If you need anything, I’ll be here doing the books.”
Creed laughs.
“Watch out, or I’ll make you do it, Mister Straight-A Student.”
“I can help if you want. Ledger has been teaching me a bit of accounting.”
That’s a good thing in theory. I just can’t see my son being the nerd of the club. “You interested in becoming an accountant?”
“Absolutely not. It gives me a headache even thinking about it. I want to design bikes like Rogue. But someday when you’re ready to retire, I want to be ready to take over as the club prez.”
“You know this isn’t a monarchy. The job doesn’t just get passed down to my son.”
“That’s why I’m learning everything I can to be a good prez. Including accounting so that auditing the books doesn’t take me six years.”
It’s not quite that long, even if it feels like it. “Good plan.”
“Unlike you, I plan to have a ‘fine’ old lady on the back of my bike when I do it.”
“Creed, life isn’t that simple.”
He glances down at where his tattoo is under his sleeve. “I know.”
The death of his friend is hitting him hard…I need to stop these drug dealers NOW. “Wanna talk about it?”
“That’s what I’m going to do with my friends.” Creed starts to turn away, but stops. “Thanks, Dad.”
I give him a chin lift when words fail me. That boy is the best part of my life.
And the most irritating. Other than these books.
***
An hour later, when I’m in the thick of it, there’s a knock on my office door.
Wire opens the door. “Creed said you were in here. Thought you might like a beer to distract you from working.”
“Thanks.” I take the cold bottle he holds out.
The name Wire doesn’t fit my brother at all, yet we still use the moniker he got when he was a kid because he was so thin.
“How is Rykka doing with all this?” Wire’s daughter has been friends with Creed practically since birth.
Wire sinks down on the couch on the side of my office. “Quiet. My old lady keeps saying that she’s just fine. It’s taking her a while to process it, but I don’t like how quiet she’s gotten. My little girl usually tells me everything. I hate that she’s gotten quiet with me. But at least she’s talking to her friends. Thanks for letting the kids do this somewhere safe. The idea of them drinking in the forest…”
I cringe at the thought. “No way are our kids that stupid.” Even as I say those words, I know how easy it is to miss the signs of drug use.
No one would have thought Berzerker’s kid would have died of an overdose. I click on the security cameras in the backyard.
Everyone knows they’re there, so we aren’t invading the kids’ privacy…much. The six of them: Rykka and Journey are on the couch closest to the firepit wrapped in a blanket Creed brought out for them—my boy is thoughtful making sure the girls are warm—Kross has his boots perched on the edge of the firepit, Haze is on the picnic table with a beer in hand—out of the group he looks the saddest—Creed is perched on the deck railing, nursing a beer smiling, while Grim had to be the rebel and throw a blanket on the cold wood to sit on. There’s no way that kid isn’t freezing, but Grim looks completely calm.
This is exactly what the kids needed.
