Page 57 of Monk
Standing on the porch outside the clubhouse, I light my smoke and take a deep drag, then exhale a thick plume, and watch it drift up into the sky. The door opens behind me and Prophet steps out. He leans against the railing and lights his own cigarette. He takes a drag and blows it out, never taking his eyes from mine.
“She gave me her word that she’d forget anything she saw out at the mill today,” he says.
I nod. “And you believe her?”
“Any reason I shouldn’t?”
“Nah. She’s always been true to her word,” I reply.
“That’s the vibe I got from her. Seems like a good woman in there,” he says.
I frown. “Better than that.”
“So, why are you being a dick?”
I take a drag and look out over the yard of our compound, giving myself a minute to organize my thoughts. Max is busy wiping down the chrome with a chamois, diligently cleaning off any water spots, and I start to think that I probably shouldn’t have snapped at him like I did. Over in the garage, a couple of the guys are working on their bikes, their music blaring.
“I don’t want her mixed up in this bullshit. The last thing I want to do is drag her into it,” I say.
Prophet nods. “Shouldn’t that be her decision to make?”
“No. It shouldn’t.”
He takes another drag, his eyes still on me. “You know there’s clubs out there a whole hell of a lot worse than we are. What we do ain’t half as bad as some of the other clubs around.”
“I know that. But we’re still dealing weed.”
“Weed’s legal in this state.”
I laugh softly. “Not in the quantities we’re selling.”
“Be that as it may, we’re selling a legal substance.”
I draw from my cigarette. “The guns aren’t.”
“That’s true.”
A stab of guilt ripples through me. “Neither is killing a federal agent.”
“You didn’t kill him.”
I shrug. “Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but I might as well have. Telling the Bastards who he was—”
“You protected the club. If you hadn’t, we’d all be in deep shit right now,” Prophet cuts me off. “And for that, I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not feelin’ very proud of anything right now.”
Prophet steps closer to me, his eyes boring into mine. “Listen to me, some decisions suck and there are no good choices. You know that. You had to make those kinds of choices in Afghanistan, and just as you did there, you chose to protect your brothers here. There’s no shame in that.”
I nod, knowing that he’s right. Sometimes, you’re fucked if you do, fucked if you don’t. The decision I made was as much to cover my own ass as it was to protect the club. Knowing a man is going to lose his life—if he hasn’t already—doesn’t mean I feel very good about the decision, though.
“Anyway, all the other bullshit aside, for reasons that are beyond me, that woman in there is crazy about you, kid,” Prophet says.
“She should get over that. I’m no good for her. She deserves better,” I reply.
“That’s what I told her.”
“Well, you weren’t lyin’ then.” I smirk at him.
