Page 62 of Scar

Tally should have known Simone wouldn’t let that be it. “Mark’s…not entirely wrong. I mean, I’mnotin love with him. But,” she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fuck, I feelpossessiveover him, maybe? I know I care about him, but, fuck, Si, it’s like I’m missing a piece of myself with him gone. I have this itchy feeling under my skin that won’t go away. Ihave tofind him. I have to prove to my dad that he’s wrong about him.”

Simone was silent for a long time. So long that Tally started to get up to pace again, simply because she couldnotsit still another moment.

But when Simone spoke, it was not a question or statement that Tally was expecting. “What’s that?”

Tally stopped pacing. “What’s what?”

Simone got off of the bed. She wandered over to Tally’s bookshelf in the corner of her room. While she preferred audiobooks, she did have certain copies of braille books that she loved. Like theHarry Potterseries and a set of braille encyclopedias that her mom had found at a yard sale when Tally had still been in high school.

She had no idea what Simone could need off of or be questioning on her bookshelf.

Simone walked back over to her. Tally smelled leather. Confused, because she certainly didn’t own anything leather, she held her hand out for it.

The warm, grainy material molded to her grip. Whatever it was was folded, maybe a shirt or a jacket. Her thumb brushed against something soft. She placed her other hand on it, tracing her fingers along the repetitive thread. It was a patch. Multiple patches, but the embroidery wasn’t thick enough that she could read it.

“What does it say?” she asked, her voice low. This was his. Her mystery man’s. He’d hidden this in her bedroom. Why?

Simone cleared her throat. “Tally, that’s a cut. Like from a motorcycle gang.”

A motorcycle gang? She lifted the leather to her nose, inhaling the woodsy scent. She could tell from the feel of the leather that it was worn a lot, but like her mystery man, there was no additional scent. Maybe something tangy, like metal, but no cologne, no shampoo, no deodorant. Nothing that described the wearer.

“Um,” Simone hesitated. “The name on it is ‘Scar’. Under it, it says ‘Enforcer’.”

Scar. It wasn’t his real name. She didn’t know much about biker clubs, but she knew that they liked nicknames. Monikers, like the military. The name though, Scar, it fit him, her mystery man. Wasn’t very original, given what she knew of the blemishes on his face and neck, but it fit him.

Tally opened up the leather. This was the first real thing she had of his. Yes, she still had his laptop and backpack, but those weresupplies. This cut, it was personal. It washis.

“What else is on it?” she asked. “I can feel other patches.”

There was a tenseness in Simone’s voice. “Tally, if he’s a gangster?—”

“What else?” she pressed, needing to know.

Simone sighed, relenting. “Next to his name and title, there’s a small circle with the word ‘Original’ in it. There’s, uh, also a Pride Rainbow on the right breast pocket.” She felt Simone lean closer. “It says ‘Ally’ on the rainbow.” Simone moved around to the back. “I think these are called ‘rockers’. I remember from binge-watchingSons of Anarchywhen I was pregnant with Amelia. The top one says ‘Via Dae—’” Simone paused. “Um, this is Latin, I think. I’m not sure I’m pronouncing it correctly. ‘Via Dae-moan-ia’, maybe? Then there’s a demon skull with two rifles crossing behind it. On the bottom, it says ‘Mount Grove, PA’.”

Tally’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “How far away is that?”

“Wait, you’re not considering going there, are you?” The shock in Simone’s words made her voice pitch higher.

“I have to,” Tally told her. She held up the cut as if to show Simone. “These people, whoever they are, theyknowhim.” Tally had to remember she knew his name now, oraname at least. “I mean, Scar. They know Scar. They can tell me about him. If I am right about him.”

“Tally, they’rebikers?—”

Tally pulled her phone out of her back pocket. Despite her anxious night and not sleeping, she’d thankfully remembered to put pants on before her friends came over. She instructed her phone to search theVia Daemoniain Mount Grove, Pennsylvania.

Her phone started reading off things, mostly from the club’s website. They were a club of veterans and ninety-nine percenters. Tally didn’t know what that meant but listened as her phone continued to list facts about the motorcycle club. They owned several businesses in the small town, including a kids’ consignment store and aHarley-Davidsonshop. They supported many charities, both local and national.

Though her phone had more to say, Tally shut down the program.

“Well,” Simone hedged, “they don’t sound like completelyawfulpeople.”

No. In fact, they sounded likegoodpeople. Another search to explain what a ninety-nine percenter club was and Tally was even more convinced. They sounded nothing like the infamousHells Angelsor the TV show Simone had mentioned. Tally had only listened to an episode or two over the years.

“I’m going.”

She had to know. She had to learn the truth. Her hands tightened on the cut,Scar’scut. With determination running through her, that itchy feeling she’d had since the moment Scar had been taken from her apartment vanished.

“Wait!” Simone stepped in front of her. “Tally, you’re not thinking clearly?—”

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