Page 122 of Kings Fear No One
I get up off the sofa and go splash water on my face in the bathroom to finish waking myself up. Thankfully, there’s leftovers from last night—she made some kind of creamy chicken casserole that’s got green bits of vegetables in it but tastes fucking amazing. Even better when I warm it up in the oven.
To think I survived as long as I did off frozen burritos. I survived as long as I did off the slop I’d been force fed at the Chosen Saints compound for years.
Gruel and flimsy slices of bologna and whatever cheese they had on hand. More than once that cheese had mold on it. As desperate as many of us were, our stomachs aching from hunger, we’d scraped it off and ate it anyway.
People don’t think about the kind of things they’d do in the most inhumane situations.
I finish up the meal courtesy of Teysha with a head full of thoughts about her. How much I’d rather be spending a cozy night at home watching TV with her than about to head out to this bachelor party.
I take my truck to the saloon just as the festivities are underway. The music’s already booming a block away, and the Tits on Heels are offering body shots out of their belly buttons. Bush and Mudd are four beers deep. Johnny Flanagan’s as sour faced as ever, bitching and moaning at the bar counter to Mick, the only person patient enough to listen.
Mace is at a table with Cash and Silver, babysitting a bottle of beer that he’s hardly touched.
“Look who finally shows up,” Silver says.
I pull out a chair to crash down in. “You asshats are lucky I showed up at all.”
Silver chuckles. “I told Mace the same thing. When you hit forty, you don’t party like you used to.”
“I seem to remember you and Tom would go all night,” Cash says.
“That was years ago. Before the gray. Before the divorce.”
“How’s that working out?”
Silver busies himself with watching two club girls climb on top of a table to writhe to the hard rock music playing. “Better now. Not so good at first. The kids are adjusting.”
“I meant you,” Cash says. “How’re you holding up?”
“You sure you want to talk about my divorce when Mace is getting married? It’s his night.”
Mace shrugs off the comment, finally drinking from his beer. He’s been people-watching too, scanning the bar to take in the scene. “You know better than anyone, Silver, I don’t give a fuck. I never needed some party to marry Syd.”
“We really should be talking about Ghost.”
The conversation swings in my direction. The others look over at me expectantly, like they’re waiting on some sage words of wisdom or some shit. Some game changing piece of advice for Mace and Cash. I’m the only married man at the table.
My shoulders lift up in a half-interested shrug. “What the fuck do you expect me to say?”
“Tell us what you’ve learned.” Cash smirks.
I think on it for a second, stroking my beard. I go with what first comes to mind. In a roundabout way, it’s advice Mace gave that I’ve discovered firsthand to be true. “Make sure she understands she’s wanted. That she’s valued. Make her feel that way.”
“Smart man,” Silver adds. “Too bad Rachel and I stopped wanting each other.”
More beers are passed around the table—Cash orders another coke instead—and, if possible, the music’s dialed up even louder.
The party really kicks off.
The club girls dance on the bar counter. Different club members toss back shots and play rounds of poker. Cigarette and cigar smoke haze the air. A fight almost breaks out between Tate and Johnny Flanagan. Tate’s got him by the front of his shirt before Silver gets in and talks him off the ledge like the fatherly figure he is for the club.
Ozzie shows up, announcing his arrival. “Who’s ready to get this party crackin’?!”
Cash tries to hold off his laugh, but it winds up spilling out anyway. “Look around you, Oz. Everything’s already in full swing.”
“It ain’t a party ’til DJ Ozzie Oz is in the house. What’s this old school shit we’ve got playing? Time for something from the twenty-first century.”
Mace and I share a he’s incorrigible kind of shake of our heads, but neither of us expect anything different from Ozzie. He’s the class clown of the MC for a reason.
