Page 1 of Lack of In-between
One
Wolf
Paul Bailey sighed as he turned back to the party. Colleen was already walking off, which was fine, their conversation was over. Just because he and his ex-wife could be friends didn’t mean she was his favorite person. Her arrival had been a surprise, and once they’d finished chatting, she’d apologized for coming out uninvited, but he’d agreed with her, the information she brought him couldn’t wait.
Their daughter had just turned twelve and was struggling with nearly everything in her life right now. School, volleyball, the divorce—Erika couldn’t seem to find a path through the changes, and he’d had to watch her painfully floundering more often than not. A suspension from school, though? That was new and troublesome. Paul would meet Colleen at the school Monday morning to talk to the vice principal and see what kind of light he could shed on the situation.
Paul, or Wolf as the men who surrounded him called him, scanned the crowd. The Borderline Freaks MC, the motorcycle club of which he was a member, was throwing its annual pig roast, celebrating the anniversary of the chapter’s charter. The evening was still in the first, milder stages of the party, the part where kids ran around underfoot and outsiders dotted the ranks of the members. Those hangarounds might one day become an FNG, or fucking new guy, then move up to probie, and eventually member. It was the path many of the men who wore the patch had taken, including Wolf.
He couldn’t find the face he’d hoped for, so he looked through the throngs of people again, slower, intent on each woman until he’d eliminated all of them. Not a one was the redheaded firecracker with soft curves he was certain had been here a moment ago. Rose Bronson, a waitress at a local diner, friend to his brother Blade’s old lady, and the woman he was hoping to continue to woo tonight.Goddammit.
Blade’s old lady stood, and he watched her greet Blade wordlessly, then follow the man around the clubhouse towards the parking lot. They were apparently bugging out early, which was annoying. Not that he begrudged his brother having found his match in Jenn, but he’d wanted to pry info on Rose out of her.
With a shake of his head, he stalked towards Monk, whose head was bent over his phone as it so often was these days. Monk’s current obsession was texting a war widow he’d met while on a BFMC run a couple of years ago. Something in the woman had resonated with him, and Monk had kept tabs on her since, even meeting with her at her husband’s grave. Wolf and Neptune had a running bet going on how long it’d take their brother to grow a pair and ask the woman out. So far, all their expected time frames had been well exceeded, and Monk wasn’t pushing any boundaries.Yet.
“Brother.” He greeted Monk and got a quick grin and head nod in response. “How’s Amanda today?”
That smile turned upside down, and Monk scowled. “Why do you assume I’m texting Amanda?”
“Aren’t you?” Head tipped to one side, he waited.
“Well, yeah. But that didn’t answer the question, man.” Monk’s chin lifted, and he seemed genuinely annoyed.
“Brother.” Wolf clapped a hand on Monk’s shoulder, digging his thumb in deep enough to feel, but not enough to trigger the brachial nerve cluster. “While you’ve set the land-speed record for a tortoise race in romance, when you’re grinnin’ like a fool at that damn phone, odds are it’s Amanda on the receiving end of whatever you’re tappin’ out.” He shrugged then lifted a hand, rubbing fingers and thumb together. “I’m all about that easy money, and you’re a sure bet.”
Monk relaxed slightly and raised a shoulder in embarrassment. “Pegged me. Fuck you, brother. It’s disconcerting how much you see.”
“It’s why y’all keep me around, and you know it.” He gestured towards the clubhouse and the parking lot beyond. “Blade already skip out and head home?”
“Yeah, had something to do at home.” Monk’s grin returned, quirked to the side with wicked humor. “Someone to do, I mean. He’s happy. Never thought I’d see him like this again. Glad for him, you know?”
“Yeah, it’s good. I don’t think any of us expected him to bounce back so fast.”
Monk’s face twisted. “Fast is a relative term. Man went through hell after wrecking out.”
“He did. No argument from me there. Good thing you were there to help him through.”
“We all helped him, wasn’t just me.” Monk’s phone dinged, and his entire expression lightened as he glanced at the device. “Amanda wants to go riding. I’m gonna bail, brother.”
“With good reason, my friend. Go make that pretty lady smile.” He lifted a hand, and Monk gripped his wrist, pulling him in for a one-armed clinch. “Ride safe.”
“Always do.”
Monk was walking away before Wolf remembered he’d been going to ask about Rose.Dammit.
An hour later and the vibe of the party was beginning to change as families left and single women turned up looking for a good time. It said a lot about the Borderline Freaks as a whole that women in general felt safe enough to come and play. Wolf scanned the available fresh faces and sighed. None of them were what he was looking for, through no fault of their own. Too young and he’d find himself doing a mental calculation of the age difference, not only between him and the chick rubbing up on him, but between them and his daughter.I’m getting old. A flash of red in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he snapped his head around to stare at the woman hanging off Neptune’s arm, head back, laughing. Not Rose.Dammit.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he traced the outline of the key ring holding his bike and house keys. Each side of the flat disc was engraved with a short phrase, scratched into the metal with the tip of a knife.
He’d sat at the counter of the diner and watched Rose wrestle with the tiny thing for more than an hour, not knowing what she was doing. In between customers, she’d retreated to a tiny booth and resumed her efforts, head down, flaming hair falling around her face in curtains as she unfolded a tiny pocketknife and tapped or poked at the metal laid flat on the table. When it appeared next to his plate mixed in with his change, he’d nearly missed it, the surface catching his attention because it was different from the coins. He’d flipped it back and forth between his fingers as he walked away, reading the front and back again and again.
Ride free.
Be safe.
One was part of a mantra he had tattooed along the underside of one arm: Ride free or die.
The other felt like a plea, something a woman would say to her partner before he rolled away balanced on twos. Something he’d never gotten from anyone but his brothers before. Colleen hadn’t worried about him on the bike, their marriage dead in the water long before he’d joined the club.
