Page 17 of Vapor's Blaze

When we’re all settled down at the table, it feels almost homely. I’d say almost like when things were normal, but honestly, I don’t ever remember things being normal in my childhood. All my childhood memories are a bit of a blur. I remember me and my mom, and I vaguely remember Tracker being with us until my dad took him. But the period when Hark was born was a blank. I guess it’s because it was not long after that, that mom died of an overdose. For some reason I got sent to our maternal grandparents and my brothers stayed with my dad’s folks. I ended up joining them when I was fourteen after my Grandpa Cooper died.

I’d asked my brothers about all this, Hark remembered even less than I did, and Tracker got pissed whenever I spoke of our childhood. I guess, like me, he still carried the trauma. So as far as we were all concerned, the past was the past.

I glance over at the empty chair wondering what it would be like if Vapor was sitting in it. How my brothers would react. Would they be happy for me or would they be at each other’s throats. I like to think that if they gave him a chance, Vapor might grow on them like he has me, I know we’ve only known one another for a short while, but already I feel close to him. Maybe one day my brothers will have girlfriends or wives of their own sat around the table as well. I don’t know why, but the image of small children running around pops in my head. I like everything about that idea. We had a fucked up childhood, but maybe we can all make our own happy families when we have kids, to erase all the past trauma.

Hark, ever the observant sibling, asks, “How is it we all ended up having breakfast together? That’s never happened before.”

“This is just us having family time,” Tracker responds quietly.

“Without Gramps?” Hark says with one raised eyebrow.

I stop in mid bite with my fork in the air. “Is bringing Hark your way of getting out of having the talk you promised me?”

“No way. I thought it would be a good idea for Hark to hear what happened. You know, kind of use it as a learning experience.”

“That’s a good idea,” I say, because it is. I am relieved he’s not trying to worm out of it. “Come on then. Out with it. Why are you working at the Savage Legion’s bar?”

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, I fucked up and now I’m paying the price.”

Hark and I remain silent, giving Tracker time to get his story out.”

“End of last year I did a very stupid thing. Squirrely and me allowed Scrapper to talk us into breaking into the Savage Legion’s bar after hours. He said that if we could vandalize it enough so they would have to shut down, it might cost them enough money that their business folded. Less income from the bar means less money for the Savage Legion to buy guns and bullets to fight us with.”

Hark snorts a laugh. “The Savage Legion doesn’t attack the Hellfire Hounds anyway, they’re a bunch of pussies.”

“I didn’t say they did,” Tracker replies grimly. “King is hell bent on starting a gang war with the Legion. Obviously, his strategy was to starve them of weapons and resources while ensuring that we have more than enough to get the job done.”

When neither of us respond, he continues. “The thing is, when you put the stupidest person in the driver’s seat everything always goes wrong. Squirrely got jumpy right off the bat and accidentally broke their bartender’s arm, and Scrapper ran off leaving me holding the bag. The bartender is a real nice lady, and I hate that she got injured.”

Hark and I are just staring at him. Our younger brother seems a lot less shocked by what Tracker is saying than I am, and I wonder if he already knew part of the story.

“Long story short,” Tracker adds hastily. “There was property and people damaged and they caught us red-handed. They gave me a choice. I could either work in their bar and pay off the damages as well as their bartender’s medical bill, or they were gonna call the police and have me arrested. Since I didn’t want to wind up in jail, I took them up on their generous offer of letting me work off the debt.”

I spat out, “How long do they expect you to work there for free? That’s what I wanna know. It’s been, what? Six months?”

Tracker shovels a spoonful of eggs into his mouth, chews and swallows before answering me. “I paid off my debt a month ago.”

My mouth falls open in shock. “Say what? Why would you still be there if the debt is paid off?”

A short silence spins out between the three of us. I break it by asking, “Does our grandfather know that you’re there, volunteering your time every night?”

Hark is the one who speaks up. “Of course not. Nobody knows this little secret. Not one single soul in the whole world.”

Tracker nods. “Hark’s right. Life is difficult when your club president and your grandfather are the same person. The thing that’s keeping me there is I got close to the bartender we injured. Her name is Mel, and she gets me.”

I stammer, “Are you trying to tell us that you’re getting married?”

Tracker snorts a laugh, “Not hardly. We barely know each other but I’m not giving her up.”

We’ve all stopped eating the marvelous breakfast I made and are just staring at each other.

Finally Hark speaks up again. “Your club president isn’t going to like that. If she comes to the club to be with you, and she’s still working at the Legion’s bar he’ll see her as a spy.”

“She’s not just a bartender, she’s also the head girl at their clubhouse,” Tracker says.

“Shit!” Hark exclaims.

My head jerks around to look at my younger brother, who is just putting together the pieces of puzzle much quicker than I am. “If you’re not careful Gramps will give her a dirt nap.” Hark adds.

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