Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos Book 5) Page 3

  “I like that you’ll be my first.”

  She laughs. “You’re too much. You know that? I’ll see you at noon.”

  Her laughter is still ringing in my ear as I rise from the bed. She’s loosening up, and I like what I see. She told me her marriage had been dead in the water for years, but she stayed for her daughter. I asked her what made things come to a head and she danced around the answer like Carl Mayweather. She could keep her secrets for now. God knows I have enough of my own. I shrug on my cut and leave the dorm room I’ve been crashing in. It’s a Monday, and things are slow.

  The car garage is being held down by prospects, and my shift at the weed dispensary won’t kick in until tomorrow morning. The club is silent. There are a few older members posted at the bar and playing dominoes at a table against the far wall. I nod a greeting, and they return the gesture. I like how well the Kings of Chaos take care of their retired members. The most basic rule states: If you can’t ride, you can’t hold a patch, but these men have paid their dues and paved our way. How could we kick them out because arthritis or some other ailment has set in? We can’t.

  So, they serve as advisors, hang out and tend the club in our absences. It keeps everyone happy, the boys more grounded, and our family unit tight. It’d be hard to stay in a club that kicked your grandpa out when he got too old. I step out into the sunlight and admire the crisp blue sky with thin clouds. It’s the perfect day for a ride.

  I pull the bike into a parking lot outside of the restaurant the GPS guided me too. Just a walk from the beach, the small building is tucked away beside a coffee shop and across the street from a Barber. The men in uniform remind me that Oceanside is very much a military town, it being just outside the base, Camp Pendleton. I’ve driven around the area a lot on my bike. California has the best weather and winding roads for a biker lifestyle. We don’t have to pack our machines away from a few months for a cage when the snow hits or worry about salt eating away our bikes. I’m originally from the Mid-West, so I know all about cold. The memories try to rush in, and I slam the door shut before they can claw at my insides with their sharp claws. Today is about the future, not the past. I spot her lounging in front of the coffee shop in a blue plastic chair. She smiles at me shyly over the rim of her coffee cup. The off the shoulder white dress makes her sienna colored skin glow. Her hair tumbles down around her oval shaped face, and the gray sun hat and oversized sunglasses work for her.

  I want to see her big brown eyes so I can read her. I climb from the bike and walk over to meet her. She’s not taller than five foot eight inches, but she has legs for days. I want to hike up her dress and see if her thighs are as thick as I hope they are. I fight back the urge to lick my lips. Suddenly I’m ravenous for more than burritos.

  “You look beautiful, Blanche.”

  “Thank you. You’re pretty handsome yourself. Aren’t you hot in all that, though?”

  “I’m used to it. I’d prefer the heat over road rash all over my body if I laid my bike down.”

  She cringes. “You make a habit of that?”

  “Smart ass. Of course, I don’t. But safety now prevents tragedy later.”

  “I like that. You ready to hop in line before the lunch rush descends? I figured we could take our food over toward the beach so we can avoid the crowd that’ll descend in here.”

  “Sounds good to me. Lead on. I’m the beginner here.”

  “I can’t help but think people would move for you way quicker than they ever would for me.”

  “Fer me?” I say.

  “Hey. I thought we were friends. You start bagging on my accent, and I’m gonna have to let you go.”

  “No, it’s cute. I haven’t heard that accent in a long time. Maybe since I came from back home.”

  “Where’s home?” she asks.

  “Indiana.”

  “Wow, I never would’ve guessed.”

  “I’m a long way from where I grew up.”

  “By choice?”

  “Oh yeah, there’s nothing back there for me.”

  I can feel her piercing gaze on me, despite the dark sunglasses. I hold my breath as I wait for her to ask. She doesn’t, and we step into the line rapidly forming in the small shop.

  “Okay, recommendations?”

  “You can’t go wrong because everything is good, but since it’s your first time we have to have pickled carrots, and either the California Burrito which is Carne Asada, French fries, guacamole, and salsa or the Adobada Burrito which is marinated pork with red chile sauce and Guac. Those are two of the more popular.”

  In the end, we both get a California Burrito with a Cola. We sit at a table, munching on addicting pickled carrots while they make our order fresh. The tiny snacks have just enough crunch and flavor to keep you shoving them in your mouth. She doesn’t hold back on eating, which I like. I can’t stand a girl who lives on salad alone and worries about every single calorie. I get being healthy, but you can go overboard, and this is California. So I’ve seen it all when it comes to diets.

  “They should bottle these things and sell them in stores.” I wag the finely cut carrot, and she laughs.

  “Right? They’re sitting on a gold mine.”

  “How did you find this place?”

  “When we first moved here, my ex-husband and I had a habit of finding all the must eat foodie spots. It was a habit we really enjoyed until his job got too demanding. Then my daughter and I made it one of our things to do.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Now I have a place near downtown. You’ll forgive me if I don’t go into too much detail. We don’t know each other well enough for that.”

  Her words are a sign. “What happened to you?”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Most people don’t think like that. I do because I need to. You, I wouldn’t expect it from.”

  “The Devil hides behind guises. Once you understand that, your outlook on life changes.”

  “And was your ex-husband the devil?”

  “Hell found its way in his heart and made its home there when I wasn’t looking.” Her voice is soft, and her body is tense. “Listen, Freeze. I don’t know what exactly you’re looking for, but I can tell you this. I’m not able to give it to you. Every day is a battle. I’m rediscovering who I am, and that requires all my concentration.”

  “Hey,” I reach out and over the hands in her lap with mine, “the only thing I want from you is your company. We can keep it light, casual, and string free. I’m not even sure how long I’ll be here, so this suits me fine. You show me the foodie spots. I’ll help you laugh, it’ll be good, yeah?”

  She frowns. “What are you getting out of it?”

  “Good food, a new friendship, and the lay of the land.”

  She purses her lips.

  “I won’t lie. I’m attracted to you, Blanche. If this goes there with us, I’ll welcome it, but we can keep it where you’d be comfortable.”

  She frowns. “I don’t sleep around.”

  “I never said you did.”

  “No, but me, you and your groupies make for an awfully crowded bed, don’t it?” She arches a brow and I smile in appreciation of her sassiness.

  I laugh. “If we go there, I’ll keep it exclusive.”

  “If,” she repeats firmly.

  “If,” I agree.

  Our order number is called, and the intensity fades. “I’ll get it.” I grab our bags, and we leave the crowded space.

  “I’m sad to say it’s been awhile since I was last at the beach.”

  “It almost becomes a novelty when you live here. You overlook it, get too busy or too bothered to brave the traffic, crowds, and clean up that comes from a trip to the sandy shores.”

  We cross the street at the corner and step onto the cement path that leads down toward the shoreline.

 
“A bit further down, they have an area where we can sit.”

  I follow her, admiring the flex of the muscles in her calves and the subtle sway of her hips. There’s a natural vibe I don’t see too often. I can’t say if it’s her personally or age related. A lot of the girls around the club are younger, and trying way too hard to be noticed.

  We take a seat at a cement area, staggered to have a sort of bleacher effect. Silence falls as we tuck into our food. The flavors explode in my mouth, and I moan in appreciation. The spices of the Carne Asada are on point, and the salsa is out of this world. She nods her head.

  “Good right?” she asks.

  “Really good.”

  No words are exchanged as we polish off our food.

  “Thanks for bringing me here. I’m amazed I’ve never heard of it before.”

  “Any time you want to play foodie, I’m game. I’ve missed this more than I realized.”

  “I’ll take up on that. Tell me more about you.”

  “What’s there to tell?” she asks with a shrug.

  “Plenty.”

  “I’ll answer a question if you agree to do the same and if it gets too personal we back off, no hard feelings?” she proposes.

  “I can do that,” I say.

  “Good, you first. What’s a Nomad?”

  I laugh. If I gave her the real answer, she’d leave and never look back. “It just means I don’t have a permanent home. I go where I’m needed in my organization. We have a lot of different chapters. Which is like…home bases.”

  “Ooh, wow. So you travel a lot?”

  “I do.”

  “Doesn’t it get old?”

  “A few years ago, I would’ve said no. Now with thirty approaching… I’d like to set down some roots, actually own a home, all that good stuff.”

  “Where would you settle?”

  “That’s the question I’m trying to answer. How long were you married?”

  She flinches. “Twenty years. He was older and established. We married before I even got out of college.”

  “Wow. You don’t hear that much.”

  “Honey I’m as Southern as sweet tea, we tend to be a bit old-fashioned.”

  I snicker. There are moments when her personality bursts through like rays of sunshine through a cloud. I want to see that version of her all the time.

  “It’s true. My town is backward by today’s standard, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  I try to place her accent. “Where’s home?”

  “A tiny blip on the map in Tennessee.”

  Her aversion is peaking my curiosity. “You know if you belong to the witness protection program I might not be the best guy to hang out with.”

  “What?” She bursts into a fit of laughter. “I somehow doubt you’d care one, and two, no I’m not.”

  “That sounds like what someone in the witness protection program would say.” I wink.

  “Stop it.” She places a hand to her belly. “You make me laugh in a way I haven’t in a long time.”

  “That’s why you should keep me around.”

  “You know I’m too old for you, right?”

  “Funny, I felt like it was just the right age gap. Besides, it’s no strings attached, so what are you worried about?” I ask playfully. “You and I are going to have fun, Blanche. In and out of bed, because what we have between us won’t be contained outside of the bedroom for too long.”

  She licks her lips and presses her thighs together.

  “Let me see those beautiful browns. No one is here, but us.”

  She removes her sunglasses, and I relax.

  “Much better. I think it’s your turn to ask a question.”

  “How long have you been with your…organization?”

  “The motorcycle club? I’ve been with the Kings of Chaos for nearly ten years now.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone wants a family. Sometimes the one we make for ourselves just happen to look differently from the status quo. Why California, my peach?”

  “That’s Georgia, and because my ex-husband got a job here.”

  “Hmm. Where’s you spitfire friend?”

  “Hanging out at home. There was no way in hell she was going to let me miss this lunch date because I was entertaining her.”

  “I like her more already. You two seem close.”

  “She’s my sister in every way but blood. We grew up together. Our mothers are best friends, and we lived around the block from each other, and roomed together in college.”

  “That’s deep.” I can’t think of any person alive who’s known me for as long as these two have.

  “I’m blessed to have her. She’s the right kind of crazy.”

  “Every time I hear that phrase I know stories aren’t far behind.”

  “Maybe when you’re older I can share a few with you.”

  “Oh, we got jokes now?” I ask, genuinely amused by the woman surfacing, cautiously like a mermaid afraid of discovery, but unable to resist the lure of human interaction.

  “Maybe a few.”

  I glance down at the tiny shop, J.R’s shaved ice booth. Their containers hold a ration as big as my head. The rainbow concoction one lucky kid is walking away with is too tempting to pass up.

  “Come on, let’s go get dessert.”

  “I shouldn’t.” She frowns and her gaze becomes unfocused. She’s back in the past with a husband who as far as I can tell was an asshole who did a real number on her.

  “Hey.” I hold her chin gently between my thumb and forefinger, bringing her attention back to me. “There’s not a damn thing about you I’d change, Blanche. Come on, my treat.”

  She gives me a slow smile, so bright it lights up her entire face. “Well, if you insist.”

  I release her face and stand. “I do.” I hold out my hand. Surprise colors her face. “Hey, I’m from the Midwest, I have manners, I’m just particular about when I use them.”

  “Oh, is that how that works?” she asks.

  “Yes, can’t you tell I’m on my best behavior for you?”

  “Oh, I feel special.”

  “You should. Not many people get to see this side of me.”

  She blinks. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  “You want to know how I got my name?”

  She nods.

  “Because I keep my emotions in cheek almost all the time. I’m a quiet observer.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “I can’t even imagine you that way.”

  I laugh. I have grown men afraid of me, and she brushes off my story with a wave of her hand.

  “I was at the bar that night to shed my skin, take a break, and unwind. Then I saw you looking like a lighthouse guiding me back home, and my veneer cracked like an eggshell.”

  “How can I guide you when I’m lost in the wilderness?” she asks quietly.

  “I don’t know. You did, though, and now, here we are.”

  The line moves forward and the moment passes. When my emotions build up to the point of spilling out, fighting, fucking, and riding clear my headspace. Then this quiet-spoken woman and her sassy, smart mouth friend all but fell into my lap and made me remember how to laugh. It’s been awhile since I did that, and now I’m hooked like an addict who had their first taste of what will become their drug of choice. She reminds me of a time before my hands were stained with blood, my hands were calloused from harming others, and my head was full of gruesome scenes that would make Tarantino sick to his stomach.

  I have been at this strong arm game for so long I’ve been on auto-pilot. Like a dog they train to fight, and keep caged until it’s time for battle. The club is shifting gears, and I’m needed less. I need to adapt or leave. I been here for a while now, usually the wanderlust sets in, but I like this chapter. Th
e brothers are solid, the majority of Old Ladies are likable and fairly low maintenance, and it’s starting to feel a bit like home. It should be a relief. Instead, it makes me antsy. Things in my life tend to go pear shaped when it gets too good. That’s why the MC life was perfect. I’m never one place long enough for the demons to get me.

  I focus on the multi-flavored treat and the woman beside me. I don’t have to pretend when we’ve both clearly been touched by evil. She doesn’t make me feel strange or off. It’s a novel experience I don’t plan on losing.

  “Jagger.”

  “Hmm?” She hums around her spoon.

  “My given name is Jagger.”

  She pulls the spoon from her mouth and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Jagger.”

  ***

  I nod at the Prospect at the door as I move inside the dispensary. The place is like Fort Knox. The amount of product is potentially enough to make an idiot feel brave. It’s the chillest work environment I’ve ever been in. Half the time people are high. You have to test the product in order to recommend it, and Stone trusts us to set our own limits. I take the occasional toke, but I’m here to be more muscles than business man, so I like to stay sharp.

  “How was it?” I ask Dixie Rose as she comes out of the back.

  “Pretty good. We had a nice little rush about an hour ago. I just finished doing some restock, and we have a new strain in, fruity pebbles.”

  “What?”

  She laughs. “Dude it’s neon red and orange, it blows my mind.”

  “You try it?”

  “Come on, you know I’m getting ready to start a government job at the school.”

  “I do know that. How’s training going?” I ask looking for Tinley.

  “Good. She’s ready to run the shop for sure. She knows the products, procedures, and gives great customer services. I see a smooth transition.”

  “Where’s she at?”

  “Taking her lunch break. Tinley’s bro brought baby boy by to visit her, so I gave her an hour. She should be back in another thirty minutes. I know you can handle yourself alone.”

  “You know I hate dealing with customers.”

  She laughs. “Why? They’re too scared to be a dick to you.”

  “But not you?”