Long Ride The Slayers MC #3) (9 page)

I take out my cell phone and check the time. It’s nearly ten in the morning. I can get up to Canyon Ridge, get Tina to sign the papers and be back well before the cookout tonight.

It would really be something to be able to tell Angel the good news on a happy day like this.

“Don’t move the truck just yet,” I tell Gryff. “You and me are taking a ride.”

He doesn’t look surprised. “Canyon Ridge?”

I nod.

“Yup. Canyon Ridge, brother. Let me go tell my Ol’ lady.” I don’t wait for a reply before stalking off in the direction of the main part of the carnival where I know she’ll be.

“Wait for me!” Gryff jogs to catch up. “I gotta tell Uno he’s in the tank before we leave. I’m not missing the look on that motherfucker’s face for nothin’ when he hears.”

CHAPTER NINE

DAWSON

Canyon Ridge is up in the mountains and a little more secluded than Riverdale. Families that come from this area usually don’t stray far and have roots that stretch back to when the mines were active.

Coal mines were the lifeline of this place and when they closed down some time ago, it really hit the area hard. But, the people here take pride in their homes, and even though they may not be much to look at, they’re neat enough and in decent shape.

Whenever you have a depressed town that doesn’t have much to offer its young people, they usually start to look for it in other things. Drugs are the answer more times than not, and Canyon Ridge has a small handful of sober homes within its borders.

Gryff knows exactly which one to drive to, pulling up in front of an old white farmhouse-style home with a large wooden sign near the driveway that says “Sutton House.”

It’s early enough in the day where the residents are out at work.

As part of the terms of living in a place like this, all of the tenants must have and maintain a job during the day and abide by a strict curfew among other things. The lack of cars in the small parking area doesn’t give me much hope for finding Tina here.

“She here?” I ask Gryff as he scans the collection of automobiles.

He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s got a blue RAV 4. It’s not here. She must have left for work already.”

He confirms my suspicion.

“And where is that?” I wonder.

Gryff puts the truck back into gear and we pull out onto the empty road. Traffic doesn’t seem to be a concern here in Canyon Ridge. I’ll bet at the peak of rush hour you’d never even know it.

“Diner downtown. They got a real good cherry cobbler,” Gryff reports.

With this being such a small town, their downtown district is actually only a couple of blocks away and is no bigger than a single street. A few more cars pass now that we’ve entered the heart of the village, all driving to what appears to be the epicenter.

A small strip of stores that includes the Diner in the middle.

My stomach gives an unsolicited grumble as we park close enough to see the customers eating through the glass windows, loud enough for Gryff to hear it.

“You read my mind, D. Lunch time.” The driver kills the engine and hops out of the cab of the truck before I even have a chance to tell him we’re here for business and
not
pleasure.

He doesn’t even wait for me and disappears into the building through the large metal framed glass door.

By the time I reach the door myself, a pair of neatly dressed old ladies join me, catching a glimpse of my leather vest and stopping short. I smile, nod, and hold the door open for them to pass through, like a gentleman.

They seem surprised, but accept the offer.

Other than a few weekend riders, Canyon Ridge doesn’t have an MC to speak of. Most of these people have never seen a true biker before and look at me like I’m some sort of endangered species as I enter the Diner.

“Two. A booth please. Oh, and can you seat us in Tina’s section please?” Gryff kisses ass to the hostess while she collects a pair of plastic covered menus to lead us.

“Sure thing. I remember you. You were here the other day, right? Had a motorcycle that day,” the thirty-something looking woman asks Gryff as we weave through the crowded dining room.

It’s funny, but for such a small town, this place sure is packed. I guess no one around here cooks for themselves?

“Told my husband about that bike when I got home from work. He used to have an old Indian himself, but sold it years ago.”

We’re led to a stop in front of an empty booth with paper placemats already set out next to utensils that are rolled up inside of white napkins. “Here ‘ya go, boys. Tina will come by to get your order in a few. We’re real busy today so your patience is appreciated.”

She leaves us with our menus and returns to the front door to seat the next group.

“You’re just a regular celebrity around here, aren’t ya?” I bust his balls as I peruse the two-page menu.

Gryff laughs it off. “What can I say? I’ve got a magnetic personality.”

There’s nothing extraordinary on the printed pages, so I decide to stick with the tried and true classics.

Gryff, on the other hand looks as if he’s studying a goddamned textbook. Leave it to him to turn this into an ordeal. This is your typical run of the mill diner, a real greasy spoon. I’m sure they don’t have the kind of crap he likes to eat.

None of that Tofu and bean sprout shit here. Today, he’s gonna have to eat like a man and suck it up.

“What’ll it be, boys?” A yellow uniform steps up next to me at the end of the table and the voice is oddly familiar yet foreign at the same time.

I don’t know
what
I expect as I begin to look up at her, but I’m surprised none the less.

Our waitress is staring down at the white pad in her hand, pen at the ready, eager to hear our order. She

She’s just as slender and thin as Angel, yet broader in the shoulders like her mom Lillian. Her hair is the same dirty blonde with golden little pieces thrown in like Angel’s although it’s pulled back tight in a high ponytail. Her eyes are cast down upon the empty order pad, but once they lift, I can see that they are nearly identical to my Ol’ lady’s. Deep amber circles with just a hint of green flecks and long dark eyelashes.

Her eyes look alert but definitely aged, with small little lines creasing around the corners. She’s only a couple of years older than Angel, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. If it weren’t for the uncanny resemblance to Angel and even Sasha, paired with the white name tag that actually says Tina on it, I would think we have the wrong person.

But, I know we don’t. I know this is her, and it’s just the evidence of her old life that’s showing itself on her skin. Even her hands are the hands of a junkie, er, former junkie supposedly.

The naked eye of your ordinary person wouldn’t be able to pick up on what I’m registering, but I know where to look, having been around these types my whole life.

Her fingers are trembling just the smallest bit, holding tight to the pad and pen to grip onto something and mask the tremors that she’ll have to live with for quite some time if they even ever go away completely.

The uniform she’s wearing, the one that matches the rest of the waitresses buzzing around, has short sleeves, yet she’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt underneath, no doubt to cover up the scars of tracks left from years of shooting up. It’s warm outside. It’s even hotter in here with the grills running nonstop in the kitchen. She must be sweatin’ her ass off wearing those layers, but it’s nothing compared to the discomfort of having people notice and stare at the deep purple and red lines that mar her peaches and cream skin.

“Hey! Gryff, right? You were at my table the other day, too,” she notices my V.P. and those sunken eyes light up.

For a moment, a pang runs through me, having seen that type of reaction before. It’s the look of surprise that Angel gets when she sees me for the first time in a while. It’s also the expression Sasha makes any time she gets something she wants.

Suddenly, this situation becomes more real than it had been before. I had been studying Tina looking for similarities to Angel, but failed to realize that she also shares many things in common with Sasha, her
daughter
.

It had never occurred to me in all the time I’ve spent with Sasha and come to love her as my own, that the little twinkle in her eye or the pout she puts on when she’s trying to charm you into something, or even the way she does something as simple as yawn could be something other than just her own.

“You remember me?” Gryff asks hopefully.

Oh. Shit.

This is
not
in the plan.

“Of course I remember you. Hang on,” she dramatically closes her eyes and presses her forefinger to her temple. “Grilled chicken sandwich on toast. Extra tomato. A salad on the side, but you’ll eventually call me over and ask for fries anyway, so I think I’ll just bring them the first time today.” She smiles and opens one eye, peeking to see his reaction. “Oh, and a sweet tea with no lemon.”

Tina begins to blush as Gryff laughs. “That’s right, darlin’. And don’t forget the cherry cobbler for dessert.”

Tina begins to write nervously on her pad, avoiding Gryff’s eyes. “Of course. Wouldn’t be a meal without cobbler. And for you?”

She turns her attention to me, although I can tell she’s glancing over at Gryff every few seconds from the corner of her eye, checking to make sure he’s still watching her.

I forget why we’re really here for a moment. I forget that this woman has caused immeasurable hurt to my Ol’ lady, to Lillian, her mother, and even to Sasha, the little innocent girl who I would die to protect. I forget all these things as I watch Tina try to hide the smile that clearly comes doesn’t come naturally.

You can tell by a woman’s cheeks, by the way her lips move if she knows how to smile, if she’s been happy enough to show it on her face. I can clearly tell that this woman doesn’t usually smile.

I don’t know why, but it’s some consolation to me that after everything she’s done she hasn’t been able to find happiness. Maybe it’s self-righteous of me to think that but I don’t fuckin’ care. I’m the one who has to help pick up some of the pieces. I think I have a right to feel a little vindication in this.

But, then, the man in me, the one Angel’s helped to bring out, feels sad almost that this woman lives life without knowing some of the peace and joy that I’ve been able to find thanks to her sister. Thanks to her daughter.

Doesn’t everyone deserve that?

“Uhm. I’ll take what he’s having. But hold the salad. I’m not a fuckin’ rabbit.” I hand over the menu without being able to look at her while my mind is swimming in these kinds of thoughts.

“Comin’ right up, boys.” There’s almost a little song to her voice as she strings the words together and bounces off.

Gryffs eyes follow her like magnets.

“Get your goddamned eyes off her ass before I stab you with this fork.” I’m not joking as I hold up the utensil for effect.

~*~

“I’ll take this whenever you boys are ready,” Tina sets down a long and narrow slip of paper, face down on the cluttered table, before moving to stack the empty dishes.

In the time we’ve been here, the lunch crowd has waned, leaving only a few stragglers behind, and the place has become quiet besides the low music playing through the wall speakers.

“You got a minute, darlin’?” There’s no better time to do this.

She’s taken by surprise, but answers anyway. “Uhm, sure. I’ve got a break coming up.”

I nod to Gryff and he takes the check. “I’ll just go take care of this with the cashier while you two talk.”

Wow. Give the man a hand. Normally, Gryff is a nosy son of a bitch who would glue his ass down and watch something like this play out. Color me shocked that he’s got some respect for the situation and is gonna give us our privacy.

I’m not kidding myself, though. I highly doubt he’s doing this out of respect for me. We’re close enough where he thinks
my
business is
his
business. I’m thinkin’ it has more to do with Tina.

Great.

My VP is suddenly gonna finally develop a sense of propriety and it’s because of my Ol’ lady’s junkie sister. Let me just add this to the ever-mounting pile of shit that I don’t need to fuckin’ deal with right now.

“Was everything okay with the sandwich? The cobbler? I—I can get my manager if something was wrong.” She seems nervous.

I hold up my palm to halt her. “Everything was fine. Relax.” I reach into the inside pocket of my cut and withdraw the papers that I had folded in thirds and tucked there before we left Riverdale.

The stiff white pages crinkle as I move them. Tina’s eyes fall on them and her brow furrows in thought.

“You probably know we’re not from around here. And I’m guessing this place doesn’t get too many visitors passin’ through on the regular. Well, I’m not exactly passin’ through either. Came here for a reason.” Once the papers are flattened on the table, I use my fingertips to push them forward close to her side, opposite me.

Nodding to her, I signal for her to take them.

She hesitates, looking around the room while fidgeting, before finally accepting the forms and turning them so she can read the neatly typed words on the legal documents.

I watch her reading, breaking every couple of minutes to sip the cooling coffee she’s poured only minutes ago. Her lips move slightly as if she’s forming the words she’s reading along the page, and her eyes dart back and forth, left to right, line by line. The first page is done, flipping back behind the last and folded up at the staple mark in the corner.

She doesn’t make a sound although her small lips are moving as if she’s speaking the words aloud to herself.

By the time she reaches the bottom of the second page, a long tear begins to well in her eye. Followed by another. Her eyes become glassy and the edges of her lids begin to show signs of redness.