Page 49 of Forty

My brain swirls like it always does, but the loops are lazy and slow. I’m used to riding the ups and downs, but the past hour or so has been one hell of a crazy rollercoaster ride of emotion. It broke my noggin.

My eyes fall on Forty’s desk. There are a dozen books lined up by size on the hutch. Frederick Forsythe.Ben-Hur. No pictures. The walls are bare. There’s nothing on his chest of drawers but a wrench. It’s the kind of room that some would say “needs a woman’s touch.”

I think Forty Nowicki needs a woman’s touch.

I don’t know what love is. I’m probably as wrong about it as I am about most things. But here’s what it feels like to me.

When I was fourteen, I had a bonfire in me, crackling and bright, the kind you dance and laugh around. The kind you get lost staring into. When I was seventeen, Forty left, and the fire was doused by a downpour of freezing rain. There wasn’t an ember left smoldering. Not one.

But still, a long time later, there’s a place where the fire was. It’s a good place for a fire. It’s been waiting all this time. There’s no love now, but you know what? There should be.

I’m no catch, but I’m worth more than fifty G’s.

This is a barren room. It needs warming.

I yawn so wide it cracks my jaw. I grab the comforter and pull it over me like a taco.

Vaguely, I realize it’s nuts to ignore a clear threat from Heavy Ruth. But I’m a goldfish. The danger left, I’ve swum around my bowl a few times, and the fear has already floated off into the babbling in my mind.

My lower back aches, my boobs are sore, and I’m exceptionally horny, so it’s probably almost that time of the month. Do I have tampons? Maybe I shoved them in Carlo’s messenger bag when I packed. What did I do with the bag?

I left a bucket of dirty mop water in the middle of the kitchen. Lou’s gonna be pissed.

I haven’t been to monster truck in years. I miss monster truck.

My brain misfires and meanders, and I pick at the loose stitching at the corner of the pillowcase.

This isn’t going to be easy. Spitting in the eye of an entire MC. Rekindling a fire from nothing. But I love lost causes.

After all, I am one.

7

FORTY

It’s ten at night when I arrive back in the clubhouse from a fruitless day of searching for Rab Daugherty. I sent the boys out with their assignments in the morning, and I took the local VFWs. You can’t roll into those places swinging your dick, so I spent the day slowly nursing light beers and chatting up old timers.

I met some guys who knew Twitch. Ran into a few vets I know from the hospital.

No leads.

None of the other brothers had much luck, either. Gus found a dude who never paid up after he lost to him in a race back in ’97, but other than that, day one was a bust. I’m not that concerned. The message about the bounty is out. Now, we wait. Make ourselves visible. Twenty large is a great motivator.

I come back to one hell of a spread. People are still keeping close, the place is packed, and the old ladies have been trying to outdo each other in the kitchen. There’s a whole buffet laid out: bar-b-q, all the sides, oysters, casseroles. I make myself a plate and force myself to take a seat at one of the long tables.

My feet want to make a beeline for Nevaeh. She’s gonna be spittin’ mad at this point. No doubt she’s trashed my room. Maybe hurt herself doing it.

I half rise before I realize what I’m doing and force myself to plant my ass back down. She’s a grown woman. Wash is on it. He would’ve texted me if something happened. She’s fine.

Danielle sashays up with a beer, and I take it with a nod. She squeezes in next to me, and clinks her bottle to mine. Danielle’s a second cousin on my dad’s side. She used to babysit me when Mom was still around.

“So, it true you’ve got Nevaeh Ellis stashed upstairs?” Danielle was one who sent me pics after I left for Basic.

I shrug and chomp down on some pit beef.

“You should bring her down here. We can have dinner and a show.”

Starla and Angel are nearby, listening in. They take their cues from the older sweetbutts like Danielle.

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