Page 37 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

I’m actually surprised to see we’re not the only bikers here. Up about ten spots ahead of us, I spy the flaming red, corkscrew hair of a woman I know without a doubt has to be Caitlin Brennan-Ellis, the old lady of Duke Ellis, the president of the Brimstone Lords, and I highly doubt they’re the only ones here. Those women run in packs and those Lords men have trouble sayingnoto any one of them.

Slowly, the line moves up until we reach the gate, flashing our tickets to get them scanned, and we roll inside. The Lords were too far ahead of us to find them now. We’re directed to an area set up for tents and campers.

It’s warm out today, but I have a portable air conditioner for the pop-up, which we get set up as soon as we pick the perfect spot according to the women. Once we got that out of the way, I drop my arm around Aja’s shoulder to begin a weekend of exploration.

Canopy tents set up along the perimeter of the campground offer up the usual tie-dye shit. Shirts, hats, towels, and blankets. There’re like fifty of those. Aja spies a vendor she wants to check out. We get there and it’s full of crocheted halter tops with fringe and beading.

“Get whatever you like.” I pick up a blanket that uses all oranges, tans, and browns. The thing looks straight out of the 1970s.

Aja cocks her head pointing those gorgeous but narrowed eyes at me. “Cut, I earn my own money.”

“You gonna let me buy you a car?”

“No,” she answers way too quickly.

I grasp her chin, tipping it up in order for her to see the seriousness on my face. “Then get.Whatever. You want.”

She nods dipping her head and her eyelids before pushing up onto her toes to press a soft kiss to my cheek. Swear to God she’s going to learn. Aja’s not alone anymore. She has me to look after her now. I work the garage, the growhouse and I go on runs for the club. My overhead has been low foryears. My bike and my truck. That’s it. I can afford to give her a good life, the life she deserves as reparations for the one she’s led up ’till now.

The next thing I know, the shopkeeper wearing braided pigtails that hang down to almost her elbows, the top of her head covered by a crochet skull cap, sidles up next to me. “Do you like it? I have several colors.”

“No,” I say bluntly. The woman’s face falls, and yeah, I could’ve been a bit nicer. To not appear like such an ass, I point over my shoulder to Aja across the small tent. “She’s the one you need to impress. I’m just the bank.”

She chuckles uncomfortably as she moves away from me, but she does it moving over to Aja. There is a bonus to all this hippy shit. The woman’s clearly not wearing a bra under that thin tank top. Her tits aren’t as round as Aja’s, but they bounce as she walks. Although I’m not down with touching any tits but Aja’s, that doesn’t mean I’m blind to their existence.

After about ten minutes of standing around, watching other festival patrons walk by with drinks and desserts on sticks, Aja calls me over to the checkout. “Ready to lighten your wallet, Cut?”

I shake my head, laughing as I pull my wallet from my pocket. “Let’s do this.”

The woman rings up Aja’s purchases and I hand over my card. She bags up everything and we leave. We end up at a vendor who sells incense and essential oils—whatever the fuck that is—where she lightens my wallet some more. We buy crystals—oh, excuse me,healingcrystals—to reset my chakras or some shit. I tuned out pretty much after the first word out of the dude’s mouth.

The moment we’re out of there, Aja pulls me over to some sketch artist and I’m done. “You want a sketch, I need beer and a good fucking first. Then, I’m down for whatever.”

“That’s all it takes?”

I shrug. “I’m a man of simple needs.”

“Who do you want to fuck you? Is that part of the ‘down for whatever’?”

That woman. I’d shake some sense into her if she weren’t so damn cute. I stare at her drolly.

“But you’ll get a sketch done after?” she asks.

“Already said I would. Then we’ll check out the music.”

“Cutter, I think you’re the best bad decision I’ve ever made.”

Before she knows what hit her, she’s in my arms taking my kiss. “No, baby. I’m the best bad decision I ever made for you.”

“Touché,” she whispers right before planting another hot and heavy one on me. Right. We need to get back to the pop-up stat. She’s getting fucked every which way from Sunday once I get her alone. I grab her hand, sling her plethora of bags over my shoulder, and set off speed-walking, practically dragging her behind me to keep up, while she laughs the entire way.

It’s dark out by the time we’ve finally worn each other out. She has her head resting on my chest as she draws invisible doodles there with her finger.

“Thought my brothers were assholes for getting caught up with women,” I tell her, breaking the silence. It just feels right to give her this, a part of me, right now.

“I know.”

“We had a good life. Booze. Pussies. An unlimited supply. We lived free.”

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