Satan's Revenge (6 page)

Just as I’m finishing eating, I hear my cell phone ring from where I left it on the counter last night. I hurry over to glance at the screen and flip it open.

“Hey, Liz!” I say, glad to hear from Flint’s old lady.

“Hey girl,” she responds. “Now I’m not saying you’re going to forget, but I know you’ve been busy at the hospital, so I wanted to remind you about our planning meeting today.”

I wince. I had forgotten. The Sons’ annual fair to raise money for the Foundation for Muscular Dystrophy is coming up and the old ladies always spearhead the organizing.

“Well, I’m not saying I had forgotten, but thank you for reminding me,” I reply.

I hear her turn her phone away from her face as she laughs.

“Oh, good. So I’ll see you at my place at 4,” she says.

“Yup, see you then,” I promise. Well, I don’t have the whole day off, but at least it’s for a good cause. I know Liz’s sister has the disease, so it’s very near to her heart.

I take the dogs for a walk after I clear up my dishes, and when I get back, there’s no sign of Marcus’s car. Maybe he’s dropping off that application at the hospital like he said he was going to. It is strange that he would spend so much money on food and alcohol last night, but maybe he just wanted to show he was grateful.

Even as I think that, I still have an uneasy feeling in my stomach about him. Maybe it’s just that he’s involved with whatever Drifter doesn’t want to tell me about from his past? I shouldn’t let that color my thoughts of him, though I don’t always like the way he talks to Drifter.

After a quick shower, I head over to Liz’s. She lives in a much larger house about ten minutes away. I see a couple cars and a few bikes out front already. Some of the old ladies ride bikes themselves. I’ve ridden a bunch, but don’t yet have one of my own. I park on the street, and as I walk up the front steps, I can already hear voices inside.

I knock softly as I open the unlocked door, knowing Liz is expecting me. The house is built for entertaining, as the house of the president of the Sons’ national headquarters should be, and needs to be.

I follow the voices across shiny hardwood floors and into the kitchen. The ladies are gathered around the large kitchen island while Liz hands out glasses of what looks like sangria. With these women, even a planning meeting is going to be fun.

They all turn as I enter and excitedly greet me, the ones with glasses already raising them with a cheer. I break out into a huge smile as Tina, Bethany, Danielle, Lauren and Cherish take turns giving me hugs.

“Thank god you’re here!” Tina says dramatically. “We haven’t seen you in months, ever since you started working at that hospital!”

“I know, it’s been crazy!” I reply. “But after I put my time in, I’ll be able to choose better shifts.”

“Well, it’s good to see you,” Cherish says, smiling shyly. I rub her arm. Some of the other old ladies weren’t sure about her after she moved on so quickly from Drifter to Hollywood when I entered the picture, but I made a point of including her so that they’d know I didn’t harbor any ill will. It’s true we did start off on the wrong foot, but now we’ve grown to be close friends.

“Here, try this,” Liz says, pushing a glass of sangria into my hand. “I call it ‘Sangria-Plus.’”

“Why?” I ask, and then take a sip, my lips puckering immediately. “Jesus, what’s in this?”

“You’re tasting the ‘plus,’” Liz says, smiling mysteriously.

“Liz, we can’t get too drunk! We’re all driving home, not to mention this is a charity meeting!” Tina says, laughing.

“If anyone gets drunk, I’ll just get a prospect to drive you home,” Liz says.

I smile. Liz is wonderful to the people she loves, but if you cross her, watch out. The prospects are all terrified of her.

After about an hour of chatting—it’s tough to get moving when we have so much gossip and club business to talk about—we finally sit down around Liz’s large dining room table. Everyone has been put in charge of some aspect, but since I wasn’t here last year, they’ve labeled me a “floater,” meaning I’m supposed to help out whoever needs it.

We run through the various elements—music, games, food and drink vendors, tents, raffle and silent auction items—and I’m thoroughly impressed by the women’s thoroughness and attention to detail. Liz asks me to work with Cherish on the food and drink. She was there last year, but as a sweet butt, so she has the least experience next to me.

After a while, everyone’s brains are fried, and we retreat to the living room. Liz grabs a seat next to me on the long, suede couch.

“So, I hear Drifter’s brother is in town,” she says quietly.

“Oh my god, Liz, you know everything,” I laugh.

“Hey, the president’s old lady has to,” she smiles. “You keep that in mind.”

I sip my sangria. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that Drifter is being groomed to take over a leadership position in the club.

“So, is he as hot as Drifter?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No one is as hot as Drifter,” I point out with a grin, recalling our steamy session this morning. “But they do look a lot alike.”

“Mmhm,” she murmurs, wanting more information.

“Flint brought Drifter from Oregon with him, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Liz confirms. “Flint was the VP of the Oregon chapter, and he helped make a lot of good changes, so they asked him to come into the national chapter, and he brought Drifter along.”

“Did he ever meet Marcus back in Oregon?”

“Well, we had just gotten married when he met Drifter, I think, so it was a while ago, but I can’t remember. They were foster kids, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Drifter doesn’t like to talk about that time of his life too much, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t push him too hard, that’s the surest way to make a man shut down,” Liz advises me. “Oh my god, I can just remember meeting Drifter when he was in high school.”

“What?” I squeal. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me before!”

“I honestly didn’t think of it until you brought up Oregon! He was so different then.”

“How? What was he like?” I ask, my eyes widening, excited to get a glimpse of him as a kid. I’ve never even seen a photo.

“Well, I remember he was tall, maybe not as tall as he is now, but certainly for a high school kid. But too thin for his height. And serious. Didn’t seem too comfortable with himself—probably didn’t realize how fuckin’ cute he was!”

I smile at this image of the teenage Drifter, still awkward in his body and unsure of himself.

“Ooo, ladies, I want to get home before this storm hits,” Danielle pipes, looking at the TV, which is turned on at low volume.

“What storm?” I ask.

“Supposed to be a big thunderstorm hitting tonight, though it looks like they’re saying it’s coming faster than they thought originally.”

We all agree it’s better to be safe than sorry and decide to head home, especially since Bethany and Tina are on their bikes. I’m glad I only had a half a glass of that sangria. We quickly help Liz clean up a little, then stream toward the door. I say a quick good bye to Cherish, with the promise that we’ll get together to talk about the food for the fair.

As I hop in my car, the clouds above darken ominously. I think with concern about Drifter, out on the open road. Maybe he’s already inside, wherever he is.

I turn the radio on to lessen my anxiety, and hum along to some Otis Redding. As I pull up to a stoplight, I hear my cell ringing in my purse on the passenger seat and lean over to answer it. It’s a number I don’t know. I put it on speaker and lay it in my lap.

“Hello?”

“Hey Violet, it’s Hollywood,” his voice answers.

“Oh, hey, I just saw Cherish. Wait…is everything OK with Drifter?” My stomach knots in fear that he’s calling to tell me something bad happened on the run.

“Everything’s fine with Drifter. It’s his brother I’m calling about.”

“Marcus? What do you mean?”

“I’m down at The Tease,” he says, referring to a strip club that the Sons own. And from what I’ve heard, the name is pretty inaccurate, since the dancers take it all off. “Marcus is wasted, making a scene. I’d call one of the prospects to take him home, but it’d probably be best if Flint didn’t hear about it. You know, keep it unofficial.”

“Yeah, I got you. I’ll be right over.”

I hang up, get into the left lane and put on my blinker. Just as I turn toward The Tease, a big fat raindrop falls onto my windshield. And just like that, the heavens open up and the sound of the rain hitting my car is so loud that I can’t hear the radio. I flip on my headlights and squint as I make my way toward The Tease. I try not to focus too much on my annoyance at Marcus.

About fifteen minutes later, I pull into the parking lot, getting as close as I can to the awning. I run inside, but still manage to get pretty soaked in the five feet that I had to traverse.

Hollywood is waiting for me just inside the door, arms crossed, looking annoyed.

“Hey. Thanks for calling me. What’s going on?” I ask, skipping the small talk.

“I’m filling in for a bouncer, and some guy comes in and starts throwing money around, which is fine of course, but then he gets wasted and starts grabbing at the dancers. They get pissed, and when I come over he starts yelling that he’s Drifter’s brother and we better treat him like it. I heard his brother was in town, and they look alike, so I believed him. Look, I don’t want to have to beat the shit out of him, but you’ve gotta get him out of here or I’m not going to be able to help myself.”

I hear raucous laughter coming from inside the club. My head snaps around and I see Marcus leaning on the edge of the stage. He grabs a topless dancer by the leg and she angrily tries to shake him off.

“Yup, that’s him,” I confirm.

I make my way through the tables and chairs to where Marcus is sitting. It’s a Saturday, but it’s still pretty early and the weather is terrible, so the club isn’t that full. I reach his table and lay a hand on his shoulder. He jerks back and stares at me, blurry-eyed. I wonder if alcohol’s the only thing he’s been abusing today.

“Marcus, it’s me, Violet. I’m here to take you home.”

“Ohhhh, Violet,” he slurs, then looks me up and down. “I didn’t wanna say, but you could work here, ya know? You’ve got the body for it.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I reply drily.

“Don’t tell Drifter,” he adds, giving me a sloppy wink.

“Oh, I won’t. Come on, it’s time to go.”

“No, I want to stay!” he says, taking a handful of singles out of his pocket and throwing them onto the stage. The dancer smiles begrudgingly at him.

“Marcus, we have to go…hey, I cooked a great meal for you,” I lie.

“Yeah?” he asks. “What is it?”

“Um, it’s…pork…pork chops, and applesauce, and potatoes…”

“I could eat,” he reasons.

“Great, well we better go before it gets cold!”

“Alright, lemme just finish this beer.”

I wince as he chugs the half-empty beer bottle on the table, as though he needs it. I turn to leave, but he stands and leans over the stage again.

“Baby! Give me a kiss goodbye!” he demands, yelling at the dancer.

“Marcus! Come on, you’re not supposed to touch them.”

“Fine! Not even hot,” he mutters, finally making his way to the front.

“Sorry,” I mouth to the dancer, and she shrugs resignedly at me.

Hollywood glares at Marcus as I catch up to him and we pass through the front door. Marcus wanders out into the pelting rain and I guide him to the back seat of my car. He looks unsteady enough that it might just be best for him to lie down.

I don’t have to suggest the idea to him. As soon as I open the door, he pitches forward and lands on the back seat. I push his legs in and close the door, then hurry over to the driver’s side. I’m thoroughly soaked as I slide the keys into the ignition.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Marcus murmurs, almost tauntingly, as I pull out of the parking lot.

“Are you talking about Drifter? What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap at him. I’m thoroughly fed up with Marcus at this point, and nasty little hints about Drifter are more than I can take.

“You all think he’s so great,” he says louder, laughing a little now, “but he’s a liar. He’ll turn on you as soon as you give him a chance.”

“That’s not true,” I say, trying to remain calm.

“He did it to me. His own brother. Can’t trust him.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I could’ve had a different life!” he sputters.

“Marcus, where’d all that money come from that you were throwing at that girl?” I ask, trying both to change the subject and to get a little information from him while he’s drunk.

“Secret…” he says. I wait for him to elaborate, but all I hear is heavy breathing, and when I look back, he’s asleep.

I sigh and clench the wheel a little tighter. I want to ignore what Marcus is saying, but it’s tough with Drifter not telling me his side of the story.

We pull into the driveway, and I have never been so thankful that we have a garage. I do not want to run through this storm again. I pull in and close the door behind me. I glance into the back seat, where Marcus is still passed out. I frown at him. There’s no way I can carry him inside, so I guess I’ll just leave him in the car. I roll down the windows and turn the car off.

I get out and open the door to the house. The dogs are waiting for me and jump up, glad to see me, but anxious because of the weather. Scout particularly doesn’t like storms, and from the ways he’s acting I think the thunder’s about to hit us, though his dog ears have probably already heard it. I leave the door to the garage about halfway open so it doesn’t get too stuffy and call the dogs into kitchen with me. I grab a couple treats from the cupboard under the sink and they follow me into the living room.

I sit on the carpeted floor and they sit next to me, awaiting their snack. I hand one to each of them, and they take them gently in their mouths. They lie down next to me to munch on their treats, and I curl up next to them.

The first distant peal of thunder sounds and Scout whimpers. I wrap an arm around him as I wonder how Drifter is doing. I find his relationship with Marcus confusing, and I just want to know what happened between them. I lean my head down onto Kalb’s ribcage. He picks his head up to look at me, then lays it back down.