Motorcycle Man
Page 85
Well that fully explained Naomi and made me think even less of her which was quite a feat.
“What path was the Club on?” I asked quietly and Tack focused on me.
Then he rolled to my side and put his hands to my pits, pulling me up further in the bed before he shifted up beside me, rolled again, to his back so I was on top, chest to chest.
He lifted a hand, pulled the side of my hair back and continued talking.
“The Club ran drugs, babe,” he said quietly, my body locked and I stared at him. “Not sales. Safe transport. And doin’ that, they did all that went with it. The path got darker and darker, the Club got deeper and deeper and I didn’t like it even before my Mom called and told me Kimmy was f**ked up.”
Right, okay, first things first.
“Tell me about Kimmy,” I urged.
Tack pulled in breath through his nostrils and I already knew the end was not a happy one. I still braced when he prepared by sifting his fingers through my hair and then pulling it away from my face again and burying his hand in it before he continued.
“You live our life, unless you develop a tough skin, that shit’ll eat you alive. I thought Kimmy had a tough skin. She was hard, seen it all, done it all by the age of twelve. Least that was the way she acted. I was wrong. She had a soft spot. I just didn’t see it so I sure as f**k didn’t protect it.”
Oh God.
I closed my eyes, Tack’s hand slid to my jaw and I opened them.
“Yeah,” he whispered, “you’re gettin’ it, babe.”
“That’s why you like mine,” I deduced in a return whisper.
“And that’s why I’ll bust my balls to protect it.”
Oh God.
“Go on,” I kept whispering.
He drew in another breath and then did as I asked.
“I left her behind but unlike my brother, I didn’t leave her. She mighta seemed hard but we were tight. She could be funny and we held together in a house that felt like a boat tossed in a storm all the f**kin’ time. She got it when I took off, she even told me to get the f**k out. But, soon’s I could, I reconnected with both of them but mostly Kimmy. And soon after that, I started to send her money in hopes she’d find her own way out. Brought her out to Colorado when I married Naomi. Brought them both out when Rush was born. Naomi was pregnant with Tabby, nearly to term when Mom called. Told me Kimmy was hooked on shit, totally f**ked up, stealin’, lyin’, turnin’ tricks.”
I held my breath at this news trying not to look like I was holding my breath but Tack was back in his zone, a seriously bad zone, and thus didn’t notice it.
“So I went back to California to sort her shit out. What I found, babe, was pissed at my Mom for not tellin’ me sooner. She wasn’t a mess, she f**kin’ defined it. So we talked, or I talked and she shouted. Saw no way to clear her of that shit unless I intervened and took matters into my own hands. Should not have done that. Should never have done that. Should have put her in a hospital. Too late now, I did it. I locked her in a room with me while she detoxed. It was not pretty. Screamin’, fightin’, scratchin’, pukin’, gettin’ the shakes, Christ, those f**kin’ shakes. Like seizures. Whacked. And it did not work. Up for seventy-two hours, dealin’ with her shit, I passed out. She had a stash, junkies are f**kin’ geniuses when it comes to hidin’ their stash, took it, I woke up, she wasn’t movin’ and that was that. She did it with me right in the room. Me right there. My little sister killed herself and I was five feet away, f**kin’ sleeping.”
I closed my eyes but slid my hand up his chest so I could again curl my fingers around his neck and this time I did it tight.
I opened them when Tack stated, “Put Kimmy into the ground on a Friday. Hightailed my ass back to Colorado because Tabby came into the world that Sunday.”
That would mark a man.
That would definitely mark a man.
And that marked my man.
His eyes focused on mine and his hand slid back into my hair, his fingers twisting in it and his words were soft when he said, “The Russians got you, didn’t even think, I got to you, put my hand to your throat. I needed that pulse, babe, so I went for it. Shy shared what went down last night with that ass**le and his bat, also didn’t think, put my hand to your throat. It was not meant to hurt you or alarm you. It was done so I could assure myself you were alive.”
This made sense. So much of it, it was sad at the same time it was beautiful.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“My sister’s addiction, I steer clear of any ‘a that shit so I do not smoke pot, my choice, personal. Others do, I don’t judge. You wanna try that shit, that’s your choice too and I won’t judge that either. But you wanna try it, you do it only with me around so I can look after you.”
“I don’t want to try it,” I assured him and he nodded.
Then he declared, “Outside pot, drugs do not touch Chaos.”
I licked my lips before I asked hesitantly, “So I take it they veered off that dark path?”
“No, they did not. I came back with a fire in my belly to get my Club clear of that shit, stop makin’ it easy for people to take the escape my sister took and make certain I did not become the man my father was. But I was smart enough to bank it. I bided my time. I built up the garage and the stores. I recruited brothers who saw things my way and we planned. The monetary success of the stores and garage had to cover the Club so their lifestyles didn’t change too much when we pulled our shit off that dark path. I got enough support, I took over. It was hostile. We lost some brothers, they renounced the Club, took off, started to do their own thing. And it was unpopular in factions outside the Club. We were good at what we did and the people we worked with weren’t real happy we were no longer going to provide that service. Shit got ugly, lost a brother to it, but we got clear. And one of the suppliers we worked for was the Russian mob.”
I gasped. “You lost a brother?”
“Yeah.”
“As in, he died?” I whispered.
“Bowin’ out of safe transport of narcotics is not the same as handin’ in your resignation.”
Too true.
“The Russians?”
“Yeah. I still am not popular with them. And there’s another reason why Arlo and High are about showin’ you respect. They like the money but they also like the rush. Danger is a drug and they’re hooked. They are the last of the brothers who are still tryin’ to get us back in. They got ties to the Russians to keep that avenue open for us should they get me out. What they didn’t expect was that the Russians would pick up someone connected to Chaos. You and me were new, the Russians didn’t want you and had no clue who you were. Even so, that shit doesn’t fly with Chaos. Collateral damage, no matter how that comes about, is unacceptable. Kids, women, not just old ladies but you just bein’ the garage’s office manager, was steppin’ over a line and that line is not drawn in the sand, babe. Not for Chaos. That line is fixed in cement.”
“What path was the Club on?” I asked quietly and Tack focused on me.
Then he rolled to my side and put his hands to my pits, pulling me up further in the bed before he shifted up beside me, rolled again, to his back so I was on top, chest to chest.
He lifted a hand, pulled the side of my hair back and continued talking.
“The Club ran drugs, babe,” he said quietly, my body locked and I stared at him. “Not sales. Safe transport. And doin’ that, they did all that went with it. The path got darker and darker, the Club got deeper and deeper and I didn’t like it even before my Mom called and told me Kimmy was f**ked up.”
Right, okay, first things first.
“Tell me about Kimmy,” I urged.
Tack pulled in breath through his nostrils and I already knew the end was not a happy one. I still braced when he prepared by sifting his fingers through my hair and then pulling it away from my face again and burying his hand in it before he continued.
“You live our life, unless you develop a tough skin, that shit’ll eat you alive. I thought Kimmy had a tough skin. She was hard, seen it all, done it all by the age of twelve. Least that was the way she acted. I was wrong. She had a soft spot. I just didn’t see it so I sure as f**k didn’t protect it.”
Oh God.
I closed my eyes, Tack’s hand slid to my jaw and I opened them.
“Yeah,” he whispered, “you’re gettin’ it, babe.”
“That’s why you like mine,” I deduced in a return whisper.
“And that’s why I’ll bust my balls to protect it.”
Oh God.
“Go on,” I kept whispering.
He drew in another breath and then did as I asked.
“I left her behind but unlike my brother, I didn’t leave her. She mighta seemed hard but we were tight. She could be funny and we held together in a house that felt like a boat tossed in a storm all the f**kin’ time. She got it when I took off, she even told me to get the f**k out. But, soon’s I could, I reconnected with both of them but mostly Kimmy. And soon after that, I started to send her money in hopes she’d find her own way out. Brought her out to Colorado when I married Naomi. Brought them both out when Rush was born. Naomi was pregnant with Tabby, nearly to term when Mom called. Told me Kimmy was hooked on shit, totally f**ked up, stealin’, lyin’, turnin’ tricks.”
I held my breath at this news trying not to look like I was holding my breath but Tack was back in his zone, a seriously bad zone, and thus didn’t notice it.
“So I went back to California to sort her shit out. What I found, babe, was pissed at my Mom for not tellin’ me sooner. She wasn’t a mess, she f**kin’ defined it. So we talked, or I talked and she shouted. Saw no way to clear her of that shit unless I intervened and took matters into my own hands. Should not have done that. Should never have done that. Should have put her in a hospital. Too late now, I did it. I locked her in a room with me while she detoxed. It was not pretty. Screamin’, fightin’, scratchin’, pukin’, gettin’ the shakes, Christ, those f**kin’ shakes. Like seizures. Whacked. And it did not work. Up for seventy-two hours, dealin’ with her shit, I passed out. She had a stash, junkies are f**kin’ geniuses when it comes to hidin’ their stash, took it, I woke up, she wasn’t movin’ and that was that. She did it with me right in the room. Me right there. My little sister killed herself and I was five feet away, f**kin’ sleeping.”
I closed my eyes but slid my hand up his chest so I could again curl my fingers around his neck and this time I did it tight.
I opened them when Tack stated, “Put Kimmy into the ground on a Friday. Hightailed my ass back to Colorado because Tabby came into the world that Sunday.”
That would mark a man.
That would definitely mark a man.
And that marked my man.
His eyes focused on mine and his hand slid back into my hair, his fingers twisting in it and his words were soft when he said, “The Russians got you, didn’t even think, I got to you, put my hand to your throat. I needed that pulse, babe, so I went for it. Shy shared what went down last night with that ass**le and his bat, also didn’t think, put my hand to your throat. It was not meant to hurt you or alarm you. It was done so I could assure myself you were alive.”
This made sense. So much of it, it was sad at the same time it was beautiful.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“My sister’s addiction, I steer clear of any ‘a that shit so I do not smoke pot, my choice, personal. Others do, I don’t judge. You wanna try that shit, that’s your choice too and I won’t judge that either. But you wanna try it, you do it only with me around so I can look after you.”
“I don’t want to try it,” I assured him and he nodded.
Then he declared, “Outside pot, drugs do not touch Chaos.”
I licked my lips before I asked hesitantly, “So I take it they veered off that dark path?”
“No, they did not. I came back with a fire in my belly to get my Club clear of that shit, stop makin’ it easy for people to take the escape my sister took and make certain I did not become the man my father was. But I was smart enough to bank it. I bided my time. I built up the garage and the stores. I recruited brothers who saw things my way and we planned. The monetary success of the stores and garage had to cover the Club so their lifestyles didn’t change too much when we pulled our shit off that dark path. I got enough support, I took over. It was hostile. We lost some brothers, they renounced the Club, took off, started to do their own thing. And it was unpopular in factions outside the Club. We were good at what we did and the people we worked with weren’t real happy we were no longer going to provide that service. Shit got ugly, lost a brother to it, but we got clear. And one of the suppliers we worked for was the Russian mob.”
I gasped. “You lost a brother?”
“Yeah.”
“As in, he died?” I whispered.
“Bowin’ out of safe transport of narcotics is not the same as handin’ in your resignation.”
Too true.
“The Russians?”
“Yeah. I still am not popular with them. And there’s another reason why Arlo and High are about showin’ you respect. They like the money but they also like the rush. Danger is a drug and they’re hooked. They are the last of the brothers who are still tryin’ to get us back in. They got ties to the Russians to keep that avenue open for us should they get me out. What they didn’t expect was that the Russians would pick up someone connected to Chaos. You and me were new, the Russians didn’t want you and had no clue who you were. Even so, that shit doesn’t fly with Chaos. Collateral damage, no matter how that comes about, is unacceptable. Kids, women, not just old ladies but you just bein’ the garage’s office manager, was steppin’ over a line and that line is not drawn in the sand, babe. Not for Chaos. That line is fixed in cement.”
