Hung (Selected Sinners MC #4) (17 page)

BISCUIT

I had wondered for a large portion of my adult life if anything would ever happen to improve my way of living, thinking, or being. I eventually dismissed the thoughts, convinced the manner I lived my life was as good as I was personally able, therefore life was as good as it would ever become.

I stood in the living room gazing blankly into the bedroom. My choice of colors for the room never seemed to last more than six weeks at best, but something about the beige appealed to me. It looked calm, peaceful, and bright – without being over the top.

I nodded my head, grinned, and turned toward the kitchen. Satisfied my room was just as I wanted it, and my life wasn’t far behind, I walked to the fridge and opened it. An entire shelf of Red Bull’s looked back at me. I reached in, grabbed a yogurt and a Red Bull, and closed the door.

As I scooped the yogurt from the container and sipped the Red Bull, I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer to the man in charge.

You and I know I paint that room because it’s the only thing in my life I feel I have control over. If I can look at it and be satisfied, it must mean I’m satisfied with my life. I just want to let you know I appreciate you having Kat and I run into each other.

I ain’t always been…

Damn it, I mean ‘I’ve not’. That’s what I meant to say. ‘I’ve not’ always been the best man I could be, but I’m gonna give it an honest shake this time. I like this girl, and while I’m eatin’ my yogurt here, I just need one thing, Boss.

Help me keep from doin’ dumb shit.

That’s all I need.

Amen.

I finished the yogurt, drank the remaining red Bull, and grabbed one for the road. I stumbled out to the garage, hopped on my bike, and opened the can. As I sat silently on the bike, I slowly sipped the beverage, thinking of how Kat allowed me to feel like it was okay to just be me. Grateful for her being in my life, I began to wish she wasn’t in college, but with me, able to enjoy my life with me on a daily basis. Eight more months and I wouldn’t have to worry about her being in college.

Anxious to see what the future for us held, I finished the drink, tossed the can in the trash, and started the bike. As the engine warmed up, the exhaust echoed throughout the neighborhood. After a few moments of chuckling to myself about what my neighbors must think of me, I pulled in the clutch and shifted the bike into gear.

I inched forward, pressed the remote clipped to my fairing, and watched in the rearview mirror as the door slowly closed. After turning up the music to a dull roar, I slowly rolled into the street and stopped.

Hell, I ain’t done a burn out in longer than I can remember. 

I pulled in the clutch, revved the engine until the rev limiter stopped me, and released the clutch. As the bike’s rear tire began to smoke, the bike inched forward slowly. As the rear tire continued to screech and spin wildly, I realized as soon as it got a little traction I would lurch forward like I’d been shot out of a rocket.

Within a few seconds, the neighbor across the street stepped onto the porch, pressed his hands to his hips, and shook his head.

I released the controls with my left hand, waved, and continued to twist the throttle back.

Smoke bellowed from the rear fender.

I twisted the throttle a little further.

And, as the neighbor watched in disgust, I grinned. Working the throttle back and forth, I screeched the tire in a smoky burnout, bellowing smoke from the fender, and leaving a black mark stretching along the street the width of my neighbor’s yard.

As I continued to grin and twist the throttle, my rear tire exploded into a thousand pieces. Rubber flew from the rear of the bike down the block behind me about a hundred feet. Almost instantly the bike fell six inches to the street and the wheel began to screech on the asphalt.

I released the throttle and shook my head, knowing not only that I’d ruined the tire, but that I’d possibly damaged my wheel beyond repair.

I glanced at the neighbor as I shut off the bike. His hands were now on his knees, and he was laughing uncontrollably.

I might have known what I wanted out of life, but for me to think for one minute that I was anything more than a great big kid would have been an absolute lie. As the neighbor finally caught his breath and stood up straight, I stepped off the bike and attempted to push it back into the garage.

Pushing the nine hundred pound bike alone on the steel wheel without a tire was almost impossible.

Within a few seconds of my huffing, puffing, and shoving, the bike began to float easily along the pavement. I glanced over my shoulder. The neighbor was bent over, his hands against my saddlebags, pushing for all he was worth. Within a few minutes, the bike was parked safely in my garage.

“Appreciate it. I’m Dalton Biskette,” I said as I extended my right hand.

He chuckled as he reached for my hand, “Quite a show. I’m Randy Devlon. Hell, you’ve lived here for ten years and we’ve never met.”

He had an average build, roughly six feet tall, with salt and pepper hair that seemed to be out of place for what I would guess to be a man in his latter thirties. Dressed in designer jeans and an untucked dress shirt with loafers, he looked like a desk jockey. .

“Ain’t never been much on mingling with people I don’t know. Appreciate your help, though, I really do,” I said as I released his hand and gazed down at my bike.

“I understand. You know, you’ll never know anyone if you don’t mingle. I guess that’s another way to look at it,” he shrugged.

“Well, stop by sometime, we can have a beer,” I said as I glanced in his direction.

“I’ll do that,” he nodded, “Nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” I grinned.

As he turned and walked away, I realized I had lived across the street from him for the ten year period he’d indicated without meeting him. Feeling almost guilty, I turned toward the house and walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge, opened it, and stared down at the can.

I was in a half-assed relationship with a woman, for once in my life had no desire to be with another, and had actually met one of my neighbors.

What the fuck was my life becoming?

I turned toward the door leading into the garage and opened it. My bike sat on the rear wheel, which was clearly ruined. I tipped the can up and drank half of it. I gazed at the bike. I drank the remainder.

I tilted my head back and stared up at the ceiling of the garage.

You’ve got a sense of humor, don’t you?

I tossed the can in the trash can beside the door, stepped into the garage and gazed out toward the street. Pieces of tire littered the block for a hundred feet in front of my house.

If anyone was going to keep me from doing dumb shit, it wasn’t going to be God, it was going to be me.

Well, this new way of living is going to take some getting used, to, that’s for sure.

KAT

Having a friend you truly trust and can count on regardless of what type of situation your life presents is invaluable. Jennifer was that type of friend for me. We didn’t always agree with each other, but I always knew she would be truthful with me about her opinions when so many others might not. As we sat at the coffee shop on College Road and waited for our drinks, she began to look nervous.

“So what’s the deal, Kat? Why are we meeting
here
?” she said as she looked around at the various hipsters drinking their mocha-choka-lattes.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged.

“Kat!” the barista hollered.

“I’ll be right back,” I said as I stood from my overstuffed chair.

I walked to the bar, picked up our two smoothies, and walked back to where we were seated. After handing Jennifer her drink, I sat down and stared at my cup. It resembled a milkshake. I sucked on the straw until some of the frozen beverage escaped into my mouth.

Holy shit, this is good.

I nodded my head and raised my cup, “Holy shit, this is good.”

“So…” she said as she studied her cup of frozen beverage.

Talking to Jennifer about it would be easier than talking to Biscuit or my parents. I figured if nothing else, discussing it with her would provide me with a little experience. Beginning the conversation, however, is always the hardest part.

“I’m pregnant,” I sighed.

“Excuse me? I thought you said you were pregnant,” she responded.

I nodded my head, “I am.”

She leaned forward in her seat - almost off the front edge. She lowered her hands between her knees as her eyes widened drastically.

“Holy shit, what are you going to do?” she asked, “What’s Biscuit or whatever his name is going to say?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. And before you go ballistic, let me finish,” I said.

“Okay,” she sighed.

“It’s Kyle’s. From when he came over and all but raped me that night after he got arrested. Remember me telling you about that?” I asked.

“Oh my God,” she gasped as she covered her mouth.

“What are you going to do?” she whispered.

I gazed down at the floor and began to explain my intentions. “I’ve already told Kyle. I’m going to do the only thing I can do. We’re getting back together. I’m not going to raise this baby in a fatherless home. I can’t do that to him or her. We’ll just have to work out our differences.”

“It’ll never work Kat. I hate to say it, but you and I both know it won’t work. He’s mean, abusive, and violent. He’s a douchebag, I’m sorry. He needs help, and it’s not help you can provide,” she paused and sat up in her chair.

I raised my hand and held it between us, “Please. Don’t say that. I’ve decided it’s what’s right. And, no matter how difficult it is, I’m going to do it. For the baby. Maybe he’ll change once the baby is born.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “But I doubt it. I’m sorry, but I hate him. You’re better than that. And what about your parents? Told them yet?”

I shifted my gaze from her toward the floor. As my eyes went unfocused, I began to speak, “Well, that’s an entirely different issue. My father will be pissed. Truthfully, he’ll probably be glad it’s Kyle’s and not Biscuit’s. He doesn’t know how violent Kyle was, by the way.”

“And Biscuit?” she asked.

“Dalton. His name is Dalton,” I said as I shifted my eyes to meet hers, “Here’s what sucks. I love him, Jen. I really do. I know it’s going to seem weird to you, but I love Dalton, and I’m going to be with Kyle, and I can’t…I can’t…”

And that was it. The pain in my heart was unbelievable.

I began to blubber, crying uncontrollably. The thought of Dalton not being in my life was one I didn’t want to think of, but it was all I could think about. Being with Kyle was going to be torturous at best, but it was what had to happen, like it or not, for the baby.

“Kat, it’ll all be fine. It will,” Jen said as she placed her hand on my knee.

I continued to cry, alternating my eyes from the floor to Jen, “I’ll never…I’ll never be able…”

“I won’t be able to…see him…and it’s going…it’s going to hurt,” I blubbered.

I was a lot of things, but one thing I wasn’t was a cheater. If I was going to be with Kyle, there was no way I could ever see Dalton again – or talk to him. It wouldn’t be fair to Kyle, me, the relationship, or the baby. I was going to have to cut ties to him in any and all respects. Realizing it caused me pain that was over and above any pain Kyle ever caused me.

Because my heart belonged to Dalton.

BISCUIT

It’s never too late to change.
I’d heard people say that phrase, from time to time, for my entire life. I’d heard it so many times I had actually begun to believe it. Like almost everything else do-gooders say, it was false. Luxuries most men and women of this earth are afforded don’t apply to me. The rules don’t apply to me.

Because I am a Sinner.

Sinner Forever, Forever a Sinner.

She glanced down at her feet, crying. I didn’t know whether to hug her, tell her to kick rocks, or stare up at the sky and scream. I felt like life was a great big lie. For the first time in my life I cared for a woman - actually liked her - yet keeping her was out of my control.

What upset me more than anything was my knowing the child was going to be brought up in an environment no different than the one I grew up in. A life exposed to violence between his or her parent’s would do to the child what was done to me. Nothing good would come of an upbringing in such an environment. In fact, it would cause permanent damage to the child, and its ability to discern right from wrong – regarding violence – when it was an adult.

“So that’s it? The decision’s made?” I asked as I kicked my boot against the grass, digging a small hole with my foot as I did so.

She nodded her head and wiped the tears from her eyes, “I’m sorry. I can’t…”

She turned away.

“And we’re not going to talk to each other?” I shrugged as I shifted my eyes upward.

She turned to face me and wiped the tears from her face, “I’m sorry…”

I’d never been in love, and I knew nothing about it. I couldn’t say whether what I felt for Kat was love or something else, but I knew the pain I felt from thinking about never seeing her or talking to her again was greater than any pain I had ever felt in my life – and I had my fair share of pain in my days.

“Alright. I’ll respect that. Kat,” I paused not quite knowing what to say, especially if it was going to be my last words with her.

“Yeah,” she said.

Her voice was dry and full of emotion.

I raised my hand to my beard and caressed it in my hand, “What we had was real. I want you to know that.”

“I love you, Dalton,” she said.

And she turned and walked away.