Page 34 of Rebel
"Okay. Fine," she says.
"Okay, fine?"
"Yeah. We get a room with two beds, you stay in yours and I stay in mine and all is right with the world."
If only she knew how many women had begged me to climb up into their beds with them.Begged. Sophia’s lack of interest in me only makes me want her even more, which is fucked.
We make it to the Motel 6 around seven. Not just any Motel 6; this is a specific motel run by a specific person. The place looks like any other cheap dive establishment might look, but it's not. It's a kind of safe house for people like me. Alex Draper, a regular guy well into his late fifties, owed pretty much every bookie in America money. I helped him clear a few of those debts with my fists, and I helped him clear the rest of them with a few careful words whispered into the right ears. Ever since then, Alex has been in my pocket. A Widower ever needs a place to keep his head down for a couple of days, he gets sent out to Texas on an enforced vacation.
There's an ancient-looking ’78 Honda CX500 leaning on a stand by the entranceway to the lobby. When I see it, my heart gives a kick in my chest. Its royal blue tank has been touched up, I see. In fact, the whole bike looks like it's had minor improvements made here and there. The old girl's been getting some love. I pull up beside it and park the truck, staring out of the window at a motorcycle I'd recognize anywhere, regardless of how many parts got replaced or fixed up.
"What's the matter?" Sophia asks. "You know the person who owns that bike?"
"I do. I knew the guy it belonged to before him better, though. That's my grandfather's old motorcycle."
"Yourgrandfather? Your father, the governor for Alabama, was raised by a guy who rode motorcycles? A guy likeyou?"
Her tone is very suggestive. I hate the way she says that: a guy likeyou. She's right—I'm a criminal and an all-round fuck-up these days—but, still, the more time I spend with this girl, the more I don't want her to think of me that way. "He was my grandfather on my mother's side. And no, he wasn't like me. He was just a guy who loved motorcycles. Building them. Racing them. He taught me to ride as soon I was old enough."
"Does he still live in Alabama, too?"
"Nope. Also dead." I climb out of the Hummer, slamming the door behind me. The ghosts of the past seem intent on screwing with me today. I don’t have fucking time for it. Or the energy, for that matter. I lock the truck behind me before Sophia can follow me. I head inside the motel, and Alex is sitting behind the counter, eating beans on toast from a chipped plate in front of him.Jeopardy!is playing on a small, decrepit-looking TV that's mounted to the wall. Alex Trebek flashes his pearly whites at the contestants, and Alex Draper catches sight of me and nearly chokes on his dinner.
"Rebel. Wasn't expectin' ya, son." He hammers his fist against his chest, face turning a strained shade of red.
"Yeah, flying visit. Was hoping you might be able to spot me a double room for the night."
Alex gives me that look he always used to give me when I was a kid and he was gambling away my grandfather's money—for a brief time they ran a business together, competing in races all over the country, and my pops trusted him with his winnings. He knew Alex was losing his money, but he didn’t really care. Alex was his best friend—hence how he ended up with the Honda CX500 when my grandfather croaked—and it was never about the money for him anyway. All he cared about were the bikes.
"Uh, well, yeah, son. I got the same room you normally use. I keep it free for ya. Just in case." We skip the whole credit card deposit, paperwork bullshit regular guest have to go through, and Alex tosses me the keys. When I head back outside, he follows me to the doorway, squinting out into the darkness. "That a girl you got with you?" he asks. Nosey fucker never did know when tonotask questions. I refrain from telling him to mind his own damn business, though. Against all odds, I have a soft spot for the old bastard, just like my grandfather did.
"Last time I checked," I inform him.
He nods, rubbing his calloused fingers over his two-day-old scruff. "That's good, son. Harry would be pleased. About time you found someone nice to settle down with." He squints a little harder, trying to get a better look at Sophia. "She's a beaut, too. Dark-haired. That's good. I never could picture you with a blonde."
"She's just keeping me company. She's notwithme."
Alex's twisted old mouth pulls up to one side, displaying his crooked, slightly blackened front teeth. "Then you're a mad man, son. She's made for you, I reckon. Better get on that before anyone else does."
I fight off the urge to laugh. If only he knew.
******
The room's warm, which is welcome. Sophia heads straight to the bathroom and the sound of running water whispers behind the wooden door. I sit on the edge of the bed closest to the door and get ready to make some phone calls. Cade is first on my list.
"S'up, man. You breaking for the night?"
"Yeah. I'll be arriving at Louis' place around three tomorrow. Can you call Leah and let her know we're on our way in?" Leah McPherson works for my father, the one single favor the bastard's ever done for me. She needed to get the hell out of New Mexico, permanently, and I needed to find someone who would take her on, fast. At the time, my dad was the only person I could think of to ask. He goes through housemaids quickly, too abrasive and plain fucking rude for anyone to stomach him for too long, but a sharp-tongued Southern bastard was nothing after what Leah had already been through. I figured she would cope, and she did. Has been coping for the past two years. Ever since, she's been a convenient go-between, passing on messages from my father to me and vice versa. Makes communicating with the old man a hell of a lot more pleasant.
Leah is also very good at passing on information that my father probably doesn’t want me to know.
"I'll call her right away," Cade says. And then, “Shay came in here asking who she was buying all those clothes for this morning. She was pissed, man."
"Yeah, well, Shay can be pissed all she wants."
"It's bad juju to have a woman slamming around the clubhouse."
"What do you want me to do about it? Marry the fucking girl?"
