Page 1 of Rage's Solace

Chapter 1

Rage

Istand in front of my bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped around my waist. The green eyes looking back at me carry a haunted edge from all the things I’ve seen and experienced in my lifetime.

My tatted-up body is still wet, and I can feel little trails of water trickling down my chest. It’s strange that when the dripping water hits one of my many scars, I can’t feel a thing. Scar tissue is numb to light touches like that. I continue with my shaving, remembering where I got each scar and tattoo. Of course, all my tatts have a special meaning, something I want to remember forever. There’s one of woman running away from a violent tornado, which represents my mother and father. The thing is, she ran out on me as well as him.

I kind of miss my full beard, for a while I had to be clean shaven so I could wear a respirator as part of my role as an EMT. If I wanted, I could grow it back, but right now I’m rocking a neatly trimmed goatee.

I rinse the razor, put it in its holder to drip dry and get on with brushing my teeth and combing my wavy, brown, shoulder-length hair, which I always wear tied back at the nape of my neck in a stubby ponytail.

Today is my day off, so I slide into my most comfortable pair of jeans and wear a white t-shirt under my cut. Taking a minute to stuff a clean uniform and work gear into a duffle bag—because a day off can easily turn into a day on for me—I head out tomeet up with my club brothers. We’re hosting a summer festival to raise money for the local women’s shelter. One of my club brothers is married to the social worker in charge of the facility and we’re hoping this will be the first of many such events. My contribution is a keg, which I’ll need to pick up along the way. Unfortunately, that means I’ll be taking my pickup truck rather than my bike.

As I’m walking out the door, something niggles at the back of my mind, making me think that I might have had another nightmare last night. If I don’t wake up, I don’t remember them but always feel a little off the next day. The anxious feeling twisting in my gut must be from that. What else could it be?

I turn, carefully lock the door to my house and stop to pet Boots, my cat, before climbing into my fire engine red pickup truck and head for town. I’ve reserved my keg, so it should just be a matter of loading it up.

Ambling down the road, I listen to my favorite country station. My club brothers always laugh about my taste in music, but you can’t beat the greats. I even like Kenny Rogers, and I find myself singing along with him and the tale of Lucille. It’s a song I can relate to, I think wryly. Then again, a broken heart is just one of a long list of bad experiences. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know if it’s the worst. Shoving those hard times out of my mind, I concentrate on the music and keeping the good vibe that I have going.

I pull in at the store and it takes no time at all to load up the keg. By the time I get to the center of town, the whole festival is just getting geared up. I’m pretty jazzed when Ven and Amy come over the moment they see me pull in. I’m happy my friend found a good woman. Amy’s taken to the biker lifestyle like afish to water. She’s not only in his property cut but she’s wearing tight fitting leather pants and a shirt that shows off her figure.

Ven teases me as he walks up, “Envy is one of the original seven deadly sins, so you’d best keep your eyes off my wife.”

I can tell he’s joking, so I flash him a feral grin. “You’re the fucking luckiest man alive when it comes to old ladies. The least you can do is let me look.”

He jumps into the back of my truck and begins maneuvering the keg out for me to grab. “Sneak a glance if you must, but no full-on staring, because that is all kinds of wrong.”

I give Amy a quick glance and wiggle my eyebrows. It was only a quick look I gave her, she’s married to my best friend and she’s having his baby—one of the reasons she’s looking a bit curvier than normal—and I absolutely wouldn’t perve on her. She busts out laughing and puts up some pretense at helping me with the keg. Ven jumps out of the truck, telling her, “No lifting.”

She takes a step back with her hands in the air. “I’m not some fragile little flower, I’m just having a baby, but if you want, I’ll leave it to the big strong men who are always dying to put their muscles to good use.” As we walk it awkwardly over to the drink station I ask, “Why do I get the feeling your woman was making fun of us just now.”

He grunts. “Because she was, apparently my displays of brute strength, are highly amusing,” he turns to me and grins, then spins around with his index finger resting on the side of the keg and shouts over to Amy, “Look, one finger!”

His old lady shakes her head, trying to keep the smile off her face. I love seeing how at ease they are with each other, but sometimes it reminds me too much of what I lost.

We heave the keg onto the stand, and I begin fitting the tap into place. Someone calls Ven’s name, and he wanders off with Amy at his side. Something’s wrong with the tap. I can’t get it to fit into the hole properly, I’m mumbling and cursing under my breath when I hear a sultry feminine voice come from behind me. “Do you need some help? I’ve never known Raymond Anderson to have a problem finding the right hole.”

I shoot Brittany a dirty look over my shoulder. I don’t think that woman is ever gonna give up in her hunt for an old man. “Don’t even try it on with me, Britt. I am not, nor have I ever been interested in you.”

She stalks to stand beside me and gives me an evil glare. “What in the hell makes you think I’m interested in you? She holds up a red party cup for me to see. “I’m just a thirsty girl looking for a drink.”

Frustrated, I slam the tap into the hole and give it a forceful turn to lock it into place. Turning to face the club girl I like the least, I gesture towards the tap. “Help yourself. But don’t let me catch you with your mouth under the spigot. Shit’s not cool.”

She makes an angry, indignant sound in the back of her throat. “I would never.”

“Liar. I’ve seen you try it at the clubhouse when you were three sheets to the wind.”

She opens her mouth to debate the allegation but apparently thinks better of it and snaps her mouth closed.

I feel a twinge of guilt speaking to her like this, but then I remember she got banned for trying to break into one of the brothers’ bikes, but she somehow begged her way back in. She’s a bad seed, and it’s just a matter of time before she pulls something that will result in a perma-ban. Until then, I just have to suffer her attempts at being social. I guess after Haze, her favorite brother, got married and now Venom is off the market, her gaze has swung to me. Maybe I should have been pissed at being third choice, but truthfully, I’d prefer to not be on her radar at all.

I hustle over to Siege, Rigs, Tank, and Dutch. The only club officer missing is Rider. Siege jerks his chin when he sees me coming. “Ven said that keg you brought was nice and cold. Good job, Rage.”

I give a shrug with one shoulder. “I made sure they kept it in their walk-in cooler. Ain’t nobody in this world likes warm beer. It tastes like piss if you ask me.”

Tank slaps me on the back good-naturedly, grabbing my shoulder. “I’m surprised you know what piss tastes like, brother.”

I shake him away angrily, I can’t help it but I’m not a touchy-feely kind of guy, “I don’t, but it tastes like piss smells to me. And don’t tell me you’ve never smelled piss before, because I know that ain’t true.”

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