Page 2 of Rage's Solace

Tank holds both of his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Calm the fuck down, Rage. I was only joking around, fuck man, you really need to get your dick wet and work off some of that anger.”

“My dick is doing just fine,” I snap back. Though truth be told, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sex. It seemed that lately we went from one crisis to another, and I had a hard enough time dealing with my own issues than to get someone else involved in my shit.

Thankfully, Dutch cuts in, “You want to help me on the grill?”

“Absofuckinglutely. I’m training to become a grill master. It’s my backup plan for when I get sick and tired of stitching up your hairy asses and scraping people off the pavement all night.”

I follow Dutch over to a line of gas grills. He asks, “Was last night another rough one for you.”

“Yeah, we responded to a wreck involving a mommy van and a big rig.”

Dutch frowns. “I can guess which one won when they went head-to-head.”

“Yeah, the van was mangled pretty bad. The mother died instantly and the kids just kept crying for her until their dad arrived, there was nothing we could have done for her. It was fucking horrible.”

“I seriously don’t know how you cope with that shit without losing your fucking mind, Rage.”

“I don’t. It makes me angry to see good people die. I keep it all bottled up until it comes spilling out, usually at the worst moment imaginable. I didn’t mean to get pissed at Tank, it’s just it takes time to decompress from a bad shift.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Passing me a bottle of beer from the ice bucket beside the grill, he says, “Here’s the upside. You’re asmart, capable brother with good insight into his own problems. Not everyone has that advantage.”

When he holds out his bottle, I bring mine up and clank it against his. “Damn straight. I’m the only one who fully knows how fucked up I really am.”

We both drink and talk a few more minutes until Rider and Frannie arrive with boxes of frozen burgers and packs of hot dogs. Tank and I fire up the grills and get busy cooking up the meat. Our little festival is in full swing within the hour and is rocking pretty much all day.

The club girls were wearing Savage Legion MC t-shirts because they’re helping host the event. They look on it as a badge of honor and strut around like they’re fucking queens. Makes a change from all the shit-stirring they usually do. They start bringing plates, which we fill with buns and burgers and then walk off selling them to the general public. It’s better than having dozens of people crowding the grills. Being surrounded that way would spike my anxiety, I don’t like people invading my personal space and when crowds gather, that’s sure to happen. I try and keep a handle on it, but when I have a bad night it’s harder to keep control.

I watch the club girls selling plate after plate and stuffing the money into their apron pockets. Before long, their pockets are bulging, and they have to stop by and let the club officers put it in a lock box. Dutch is our club treasurer. He’d probably be in charge of the money if he hadn’t opted to run the grill today.

After about three hours, I get relieved by Talon, so I grab a plate and head over to the bake sale to see how Ven and Amy are doing. Leaning back against Ven’s car, I eat and watch them sell a metric fuck ton of sweets. I was going to ask aboutthe cage, but then I remembered that Amy’s pregnant. Knowing how protective Ven is over her, he’s probably gonna be driving around in that box for the next few months.

Amy catches my eye. “See anything that looks good to you, Rage?”

“Are those chocolate chip cookies?” I ask. My mouth is watering at the thought of one of them, I might not be a big drinker, but chocolate is my one addiction.

“Yes, they are. It’s Meli’s recipe.” She holds one up for me to see. “Fair warning, my friend. If you take even one bite, you’re gonna be paying me to make these for the rest of your natural life.”

I reach for my wallet with one hand while throwing away my paper plate with the other. “I’ll take ‘em.”

Her face scrunches up into a delightfully confused expression. “How many do you want?”

“All of ‘em. Every single one you have left.”

Her face lights up but Ven doesn’t seem so happy about this turn of events. I see him reach out, snatch one off the table and shove it into his inside vest pocket. I laugh. Amy raises an eyebrow, “Seriously, you want them all?”

“I never joke about cookies. I’ll pay cold hard cash for every single one of them.”

She starts gathering them all up and putting them in a box.

“Yeah, I want to share them with my crew,” I say.

Her expression turns warm and adoring. “Aw, that the nicest thing I’ve heard for a while.”

Ven starts laughing.

Amy gives her old man a quizzical look, “You know something I don’t?”

“His paramedic buddies will be lucky if they get crumbs.”

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