Page 34 of The Lies We Tell
I nod. “Fair deal. Let me get my shit together.”
We arrange to head out at ten p.m. Spark heads to Vex’s closet to get the tech we need. King wants a tracker on the truck so we know when they come close. Vex is going to program some kind of alert so we know when they’re in Jersey.
“You really worried about them from a club perspective?” I ask King when it’s the two of us. I need to feel out how far he’s willing to go to help Briar without ever asking.
King sits down in the big chair at the head of the table. He still appears uncomfortable in it because it took losing his father to be in a position to claim it. When King’s father had lied to the club to save Clutch’s father, he set about a chain of events that would lead to his own demise. I know King would have preferred to earn the seat any other way but that. He lights a cigarette, then shakes his head.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe they’re small fry, the girl you freed a one-off. Our good deed is done, and we move on. Or maybe they’re big, bring police attention with them. I don’t want another group to fight. The Los Reyes shit recently was enough. We don’t need another reason to watch over our shoulder.”
The group that killed King’s father also killed his mother and attempted to kill his twin sister, Gwen, until the club had figured out what was going on.
“I’ve got a sister,” I say, before I can stop the words. Now I have to roll with it as if it’s no big deal. “Can’t help but think about her and want to know she’s safe from these jackasses.”
King nods. “I understand that feeling. Having Gwen back has put things into perspective.”
“You guys getting along after her being gone for so long?” I ask. It changes the subject. Puts the spotlight on King instead of me. Then maybe I can get out of this room before I get asked any questions.
King huffs and draws on his cigarette. “You see Clutch?” he gestures around the room.
I look around in case it’s a trick question. “No.”
He flops back in the chair. “Yeah, me neither. Told me he was taking the day to do something with Gwen, seeing as it’s her day off, which I’m pretty sure is code for stay-at-home fucking. And if you tell me they’re consenting adults, I might just punch you in the face.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Older brothers, huh? Wait, are you the oldest?”
“Yeah, by minutes. Before midnight for me, just after midnight for her. We’re twins with different birth dates.”
“You two have the twin thing?”
King looks thoughtful for a moment. “When we were kids? All the time. Once, she was at a party and I was out with Dad, and I swear I could taste the ice cream she was eating. And there are moments while we were apart when I felt things, almost like I was experiencing a life that wasn’t mine. Think she did too. And now that she’s back, I can’t really explain it, but there’s a peace to it.” He smiles softly to himself, like he’s recalling good memories.
I let him for a moment. Because I felt that same sense of peace once I got Rae out of Dad’s clutches.
“You cool with what happened? How it all went down in the past?” These are the kind of things Phillip, the battalion’s military chaplain, would ask me in the quiet moments. He’d ask how I was processing things when we were in the field. I believe he’s why I came home a better man, while Spark brought home fractured pieces of himself.
“Intellectually, yeah. Dad never made a wrong decision. Always had things under control. But what he did to avoid the death of his friend brought about the death of Mom, himself, and nearly Gwen.”
“Would you have done the same?” I ask. I can’t help but ask the question. I want to know my fate. “Was there any room for absolution in the chaos?”
King shakes his head. “Lesson learned. I’ll kill any motherfucker who screws me or the club.”
“You don’t believe in the concept of a redemption arc?”
“You’re losing me, preacher.”
I wish I could tell him who I really am. I want to stand up and set him straight and show him why I’m a rock-solid choice for this MC in spite of what I do. Instead, I explain, “In storytelling, there’s often a redemption arc. The person who is perceived as bad in some way goes through a transformation to become a force of good. I gotta believe we’re all at some point in our own redemption arc.”
King blows a plume of smoke into the air. “That’s because of all that God stuff you believe in. Bet there’s a billion quotes in the Bible about that shit, right?”
“I have brushed away your offences like a cloud, your sins like a mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you. Isaiah 44:22.” It’s the best I can do as I feel a wave of sorrow, an emotion I’m highly unused to, flood through me. I want to use my own words, not the words from a Bible that King doesn’t believe in but is expecting from me.
King grins. “See. That’s my point. It’s gotta be bullshit, right? You do everything wrong in your life, and at the eleventh hour, you ask some mystical man on a cloud to forgive you, and he replies, ‘Sure, let me wipe the slate clean for you because deep down you’re a good person.’ Me? I’d let them ’fess that shit, then put a bullet between their eyes and watch them fall off that damn cloud. Hopefully you can watch where they end up in hell. Like, lying there while crows peck at their eyeballs or something.”
My brain attempts to focus on his words as my gut processes the fact there is no redemption arc for me. “That’s pretty specific.”
He takes a final drag on his cigarette. “Maybe. But I’ll say this ... there’s something really fucked up about how cyclical everything that has happened is.”
“You believe in karma?”
