Page 90 of Absinthe Dreams
“What’s the plan?” I asked.
“Sober up as best we can, find some sunglasses, and we carry ol’ boy out in about a half an hour. Then it’s a procession out to the ol’ family graveyard for a graveside short service. Then we go home.”
I nodded wearily and said, “That last part. God, I need that last part.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
I took a large swallow of coffee and asked, “Do I wanna remember all of last night?”
Chainsaw shook his head grimly. “I mean, it’s a funeral, so no, just based on that fact alone.”
I laughed at the dark humor of it. I couldn’t help myself.
We rallied as best we could, the lot of us, and stood to either side as they carried Cypress out to the waiting hearse. Usually, his empty bike would be part of the procession, towed on atrailer, riderless, but it was still part of an active crime scene, and like his cut, they wouldn’t let us have it.
We rode at a slow clip behind everyone else, as was Chainsaw’s position, and followed the hearse for miles through swamp and treelined roads, over one-lane bridges, and out to where a small plot of maybe five or six oven tombs and an obelisk or two stood out in the swamp on a patch of higher ground.
We gathered as the men brought their brother to an open grave and slid him in, casket and all. His name, birth, and death date had already been added to the slab that was waiting to seal him in.
His father, mother, and his nephew, Tate, were all there before we even arrived, and his mother wept brokenly into his father’s shoulder as her baby boy was slid into his final resting place.
Words were said, poems were read, and a song was sung. There wasn’t a dry eye. Certainly, neither of mine was, and with a final parting prayer from his father, we were let go.
Chainsaw held my hand, and kept me steady as I navigated through the tall grass back to the front entrance to the little graveyard and the gap in the low stone wall serving as an entrance and exit.
We rode back to the club, and saluted as we passed by, and then it was done. We were all free to go to wherever we called home.
I held on to Chainsaw as we wound our way through surface streets back to the Garden District, and I was antsy to get there. I was worried about a tick hitching a ride from the tall grass along my bare legs and didn’t think that Chainsaw would mind checking me.
We pulled up outside the house and put up with a modicum of Charlie screaming at us for not coming home the night before.
I shooed him out the door and let him complain from outside it, turning around to let Chainsaw undo the hook and eye at the top of my zipper and peel me out of the dress.
“I need to get in the shower, and if you’re alright with it, I need you to check me for ticks.”
He chuckled and said, “Took the thought right out of my head, baby. Let’s go get cleaned up.”
The very first thing I did inside the bathroom was load my toothbrush with paste and begin the arduous task of scrubbing whatever whole entire ass I had in my mouth from the night before,out.
Chainsaw moved around me, getting the shower going and warmed up, before stripping out of his clothes carefully.
He took up his toothbrush and shooed me into the shower while he brushed his teeth. I wet my hair and washed the sorrow and the sex from the night before down the drain. By the time he got in, I was already on the second wash of my hair with the more expensive brand of shampoo I tended to use.
I honestly didn’t think there was any dirt left in my hair from the first wash, but for some reason, I just didn’t feel like I was ever going to getclean. Part of that was the things coming back to me from the night before.
In the moment, with my inhibitions at an all-time low from the amount of absinthe in my system, I honestly think I would have let that rando whip his cock out and shove it in me, but for the fact that Chainsaw had stopped him – which I was eternally grateful for, mind you.
I think, to be honest, it bothered me more that itdidn’tbother me, the group of men watching and timing us – cheering and passing bets between them when I’d come for my lover.
It was definitely ranked in the top spot for thewildest nights ever had by Genesis.
Chainsaw and I wound up kissing and luxuriating in not only the hot spray but each other’s arms. We kissed and touched, and that all too familiar fire started to collect low in my belly.
It was only natural that, upon drying off and my hair going up into a fresh towel, we found ourselves migrating into the bedroom.
“Lie down on your stomach,” he ordered, and he didn’t have to tell me twice.
I rolled over onto my stomach, and he picked up my foot, resting the top of my toes against his chest as he put pressure into my arch. I groaned, dropping my forehead into the pillows in front of my face.
