Page 78 of Enemy
The air I inhale smells almost choking, yet sweet, and I meet Brigid’s gaze at last. “Maybe you could send her a dream about me? Come up with a spell that’s good for such things?”
She swallows and squeezes my hand. “If you have something that belongs to this person, I could try. There is a ritual I could do for you. But you have to help me understand why they are so important.”
My bones turn into rock, and I can almost feel the chair giving in under my weight as my heart sinks deeper into my chest, pumping blood at a frantic pace. “I’m… not good at this kind of stuff. I don’t know why she’s so important, but whenever I think about never getting to touch her again, it’s like a fucking life sentence. I can’t live like that. I never thought anyone could be like this with me. She just gets me for real. Like she’s the bike, and I’m gasoline, you know? We belong together.”
“Bring me something from your motorcycle as well then.” She knows she’s asking for a lot. Every guy’s bike is their sacred vehicle. But that only makes me feel she understands how serious I am. I’d give her Smokey and let her drown it in the lake if that meant Clyde coming back to me.
“I’ve got her T-shirt. I’ll bring it.” It’s men’s, but girls wear men’s T-shirts all the time. It shouldn’t be too suspicious.
Brigid nods. “You can’t send any more messages or call. She might still choose to pull away from you, and you will have to accept that. But if you feel there has been amisunderstanding, that you didn’t get closure, you should write her a letter. Ink on paper. It needs to be tangible. I can check it for you if you’d like,” she adds, because yeah, she knows my spelling is shit. The things I need to say to Clyde though? No one else can see them. They’re too private, too telling. They’d make her tell the whole truth to Prophet, and I can’t—
A loud knocking makes me jerk my head up in time to see my prez enter. I’m surprised he didn’t wait for Brigid’s invitation, but one look at his somber features shuts me up. He meets my gaze.
“The other chapter of the Butchers has arrived.”
“Fuck.” I get up, because this means I’ll be needed for a meeting at the clubhouse.
“Wait! Road?” Brigid picks up the elongated bone with a frown. “This one I cannot decipher. It’s from a rooster. Maybe it’s something you know about her that will be helpful to you. Does she own chickens? This is close to her heart and means a lot to her.”
I bite my cheek hard. The chicken I whittled for Clyde.
“No idea,” I mumble or my voice might crack.
If it’s important, I must still have a chance.
Chapter 30
Clyde
Mylipsformsmiles.I nod, pat shoulders, and clink my bottle with others, but my heart isn’t in it. It stayed in that damn motel room, squashed by Road’s boots, and nothing’s felt right since.
With the Bend chapter of the Butchers here, I can’t allow myself the solitude I need, so I withdraw deep into my head while my body moves around and says all the right cliché things, a puppet meant to keep up the illusion that nothing changed, that I don’t feel desperately lonely and so depressed I would run right back to that lying bastard if I heard his voice again.
I don’t allow myself any of that. The calls and messages kept coming, so I switched off my secret phone to keep him from luring me back in. Maybe I should have also left the damn thing at home, but on the one day I chose to do that, the emptiness in my pocket was so distracting I ended up pissing over my own shoe.
Now it’s back, and while carrying it around among my club brothers feels like handling radioactive waste, the comfort of being able to reach down my pocket and stroke its plastic surface brings too much relief to give up on it.
If only he’d given me a good reason for killing Roy, I would have gobbled it up like a fish enticed by a fresh worm. I would let that hook pierce me and get pulled back in by Road.
But since he couldn’t give me that, there’s no way I can justify running to him just because I’m lonely. Just because I miss him. Just because every day without his presence is torture. I didn’t even realize how deep in with him I was until it hit me.
“How much?” Puck asks me out of the blue, holding out his baseball cap as though he’s part of some fundraiser. At least he’s not annoyed by my confused expression and gives me a crooked smile. “For the fight, Clyde. We’ll have some fights by the garages. Old-school, bare knuckles. I’m taking bets. How much you in for? Big Tom and Kalash are up first.” He points to the two men enjoying a drink together like they’re not going to punch each other’s teeth out soon.
Big Tom is a member from our chapter. Tall, broad, with a massive belly, and fists like two steins of beer. Kalash is the VP of the Bend chapter, and while smaller, he’s a mean motherfucker with pupils like two black holes and under-eye bags that make him look as if he hasn’t slept for days. He got his nickname while he was still a prospect. The chapter went on a trip to retrieve drugs from all the way down in Tijuana, and he apparently used a Kalashnikov to mow down several cartel members unhappy about the deal.
I used to think it was a cool story. Now I just want to be back home, staring at the TV while I drink enough coffee to keep me from falling asleep and dreaming about Road stringing me up on the same crane where he murdered Roy.
When did I become such a mess of a human being?
Cigarette smoke swirls through the air, blurring the glow of ambient lights and neon signs advertising booze. Its odor is choking me, and I can’t breathe as I throw a ten-dollar bill into the hat, just so Puck leaves. I should root for our guy, but I can’t enjoy the friendly rivalry between chapters tonight.
Maybe I should volunteer for a fight to get myself beaten unconscious? At least then my brain would stop fucking with me.
I exchange some words with Puck, but it feels like an interaction through a sheet of plastic. He has no idea how far gone I am. I’ve already betrayed them all by what I’ve done with Road, and keeping his secret is the last straw. If my uncle knew, he would shoot me like a rabid dog.
I always thought that once I joined, my loyalty to the Butchers would be the North star in my life. Road shot it down, and it’s nowhere to be seen. I don’t know who I am without it. And without Road.
Huge boots emerge at the edge of my vision, and I lift my head to see a skeleton riding a hog. As my gaze moves up the T-shirt, I realize Kalash approached me when I was so deep in my miserable thoughts I forgot I’m not alone in the stuffy bar crowded by bikers and hangarounds.
