Page 69 of Steel

He turns toward the casket, reaches over to the boombox someone set up on a chair beside it, and presses play. The beginning strains of “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd blast out of the small speakers, and broken cries from people around me join in. Wraith steps up and places his hand on the casket, bowing his head for a minute before stepping back and giving a nod for him to start being lowered. Then he turns back to us, lifts his hand in the air, and twirls his index finger. All around us, in every direction, bikes come to life. Engines are revved as pipes growl for our brother in a send-off.

“God forgives, Mavericks don’t. Dirty ‘til we die,” Wraith roars.

“God forgives, Mavericks don’t. Dirty ‘til we die,” we bellow behind him.

It’d be fucking nice if I don’t have to attend another one of these anytime soon, but with the way my gut has been rolling lately and the way the darkness has been building around the club, I have a terrible feeling that we’re going to see more bloodshed.

“Daddy, will you stop and get something to drink?”

I glance in the rear-view mirror. “Can you wait ‘til we get home, Lyric?” She pops her bottom lip out, and I sigh. “Yeah, I’ll stop at the next gas station. Gotta get gas anyway.”

“Love you,” she sings.

Chuckling, I roll my eyes and focus back on the road. “Love you too, Princess.”

“You really shouldn’t spoil her so much. It’s not like I can get her stuff anytime she asks.”

Heather’s bitchy tone has my fingers curling tighter around the steering wheel. If I’m not mistaken, it also sounded like there was a bit of jealousy hidden in there. Not surprising considering it’s not the first time she’s shown signs of it toward our daughter.

“My daughter, Heather. You don’t tell me what I can and cannot buy her,” I reply quietly.

“Our daughter,” she growls. “You always seem to forget that. She’s mine too. I get a say in what you do with her.”

I peer up to the rear-view to check on Lyric and find her head down, but the way she’s wringing her hands in her lap informs me that she is listening very closely to everything her mother is saying.

“Not doin’ this with her in here. Got something to talk about, we’ll do it when she’s not around. Understood?”

The hardness in my voice can’t be mistaken. I’m fucking pissed. Heather knows damn well that shit like this doesn’t go down in front of our daughter. I’ve never let it happen before, so I don’t know why she thinks she’s going to get away with it now.

Does she think she’s fucking special because she got to go to Bozo’s funeral with me? She’s not. I didn’t ask her to come, and I sure in the hell didn’t want her there. She refuses to go the fuck away even though she’s got to know her presence makes me fucking nauseous.

Up ahead, a sign points us to the next gas station, so I switch lanes and flip on the turn signal when I get close enough.

Once I finish filling up the Bronco, I hang the pump up and head toward the store. A muffled familiar ringtone sounds out, and I pause, thinking it’s mine. I go to reach for it in my pocket, but when it doesn’t ring again, I shrug and continue inside.

The couple standing in line in front of me are arguing animatedly about something fucking pointless, and two teenagers are horseplaying around off to the side while they wait for their father to finish paying.

It’s always amazed me how life seems to go on for others after life has ended for someone else. Of course, those others are strangers, but to me, it just feels fucking weird.

When I get back to the Bronco, I go to hand Lyric her drink only to find her with her head leaned to the side, fast asleep. With a sigh, I climb in, sitting Lyric’s drink in the backseat next to her.

“Did you get me something?”

I glance over at Heather, something in her tone sounding off. “No. You didn’t ask.”

Heather’s fidgeting, and her eyes bounce around, landing anywhere except on me.

She better fucking not have.

Reaching over, I grip her chin tightly and turn her face toward mine. Her eyes still seem clear. “Why are you fidgetin’?”

With a snarl, she jerks away from me. “I’m not fucking doing drugs.” Finally, her shoulders sag. “I’m just jumpy from today. Can we get going so I can get home?”

“Thank you for keepin’ up with Lyric today. It was a huge help,” I tell her reluctantly.

Heather smiles at me, but there’s something about it that has my skin pulling tight against me. “You don’t have to thank me for that, babe. She’s our daughter, which means she’s both our responsibilities. We’re a family.”

My skin grows tighter.

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