Page 110 of Red's Peril: Part 1

Of course, I’m used to the reactions of civilians when they meet us, but somehow, I’d expected better of her. “Worse,” I tell her through gritted teeth, picking up that she’s clearly not enamoured with my chosen way of life. I tap the patch on the front of my cut, which she’d obviously not noticed until now. “I’m the prez.”

Another night, another woman, and they’d be begging me to take them to bed, or to the nearest wall and fuck them. But it seems, not her.

“I expected better of you,” she tells me, primly, accepting her vodka and tonic from the bartender. “I thought you were a mechanic.”

“Still am.” I narrow my eyes. “I don’t remember you being this quick to judge.”

She shrugs. “People grow up.” She casts an eye at my cut again, her mouth twisting with distaste. “Well, at least some of us have to.”

I glance up at the ceiling while I gather myself. If I needed proof that instead of losing the love of my life, I’d had a happy escape, this is it. My only regret is that I wasted years measuring other women up to her.

I should just walk away, but I’ve a drink in my hand, and while I feel she’s been rude to totally dismiss my chosen way of life, I don’t. Though I don’t feel the need to explain myself to her, I can’t bring myself to leave without satisfying my curiosity.

“So how did you end up in Vegas?”

She moves from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable. “My feet are killing me. Do you mind if I sit down?”

Of course not. I shake my head, then follow her over to a table. Placing my beer on a mat, I wait for her to seat herself, then prompt her again. “Vegas is a fuckin’ long way from Illinois.”

She takes a sip of her vodka, licks her lips then puts the glass back down. “I left Illinois years ago. We,I’ve,been travelling around.”

I notice her correction. “We? A partner?”

“No. I was alone,” she says fast.

There’s something about the way she says it that has me not completely believing her. But how is it my business? I’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to replace her. I couldn’t have expected her to remain celibate all that time, nor judge her for not wanting to share information about her partners.

She’s aged well, I consider, as I take another sly glance at her. Her figure is more mature now, but at her thirty-five years she could easily pass for someone younger. Though that sense of girl-next-door innocence I’d seen all those years before has become jaded. I try to read the expression on her face. It’s hard to tell whether she’s pleased to see me or not. That she’d recognised me and remembered my name suggests I’m not a ghost lost in the past.She remembers.

Thoughts of our few nights together come into my head. There’s nothing about the way she’s aged that would stop me wanting to go there again and show her the lessons I’ve learned over the years.She cried out my name in the past. I bet I could have her screaming out now.My cock twitches, and I make sure to refrain from adjusting it.

She doesn’t seem to want to fill the silence with conversation, so I start talking instead. “I’m in a motorcycle club, not a gang. I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC. Have done for the past fifteen years. We wear the one-percenter patch, but what we do nowadays is mostly the right side of the law.” I gesture to the club still bustling around us. “The reason I’m here tonight is that my club is taking on some of the security.”

“You are?” That seems to surprise her. “You’ll be around here a lot?” Now that thought seems to worry her.

I feel annoyed. If she doesn’t want to see me, then I can stay clear. “I’ll mostly leave that to my boys, but yeah, as boss, I’ll be popping in to check how they’re doing, and if there are any problems of course.”

She bites her lip, then takes another gulp of her vodka. A large one as though she wants to drink it fast.

“I suppose you must have done well for yourself if you’re the prez.” She takes another, smaller sip, before placing her glass on the mat. “Are you married? Kids?”

“No to both questions.” I don’t add that no one has measured up to her, nor that I’ve recently decided to give up looking. But I do explain part of it. “The club takes up most of my time, I wouldn’t be able to do a relationship justice.”

As I pick up my beer and drink, it occurs to me in all the times I’ve thought about bumping into her and all the ways I’d expected it to go, I never dreamed it would feel awkward. Those few nights which I’ve never been able to forget are possibly just an embarrassment to her.

I decide to test her on it. “Do you ever regret it? Turning back? As I’ve often wondered what would have happened.”

She doesn’t ask me to clarify my meaning, she immediately understands. “We can never go back, Red. Whether I did or didn’t, life’s dealt us hands, and we’ve got to play them.”

“And what’s yours?”

“My hand?” She glances around the club much like I had a few moments ago. “I’ve no education to speak of, so I worked unskilled jobs to get by. Worked in a casino in Reno, got the hang of it, and moved here when a vacancy opened up.”

“How long have you been in Vegas?”How long have we been living side by side and I knew nothing of it?

“Only a few months.”

For some reason, I feel satisfied. Though it’s crazy talk, somehow, I’d think I should have sensed her if she’s been around.

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