Page 106 of American Hellhound
He didn’t want to leave her; every cramping muscle and aching bone a physical manifestation of his reluctance; he wanted to fly back to her, magnetized. But she was with Jackie and Nell, and he trusted those old ladies. He did. And Duane wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
But still.
“Okay,” he said, the moment they stepped outside the clubhouse. “You met her. Satisfied?”
“Not by a long shot,” Duane said with a snort. He walked slow, still carrying his drink, a king surveying his domain. “But it’ll do for now.” He took a sip and ambled along the edge of the parking lot, far enough from the crowds at the fires that they wouldn’t be overheard.
Quieter, he said, “Sheispretty. I get it, you know. Young, and firm, and doesn’t know any better about anything. Looks at you like you hung the damn moon.”
That wasn’t even the half of it, but Ghost kept silent.
“That bitch you had before,” Duane continued, sneering. ‘She never would look me in the goddamn eye. This one’s at least got the balls to do that, I’ll give her credit there.” His head turned toward Ghost, smiling in the dark. “And nice tits, too.”
Ghost sighed. “She’s a nice girl.”
“Ain’t they all.”
“No, she really is. And you were trying to scare her.”
“Of course I was.” He didn’t sound remorseful. “Damn it, Ken,” he said without heat. “This isn’t some pussy weekend club. If she’s with you, she’s gonna be scared sometimes.”
“I know that,” Ghost muttered.
“We’re a one-percenter club. We aretheone-percenter club, on two sides of the Atlantic. We got that way through a lotta work, a lotta force. A lot of bloodshed. When you were still shitting in diapers, I was building this thing, making it strong. When you were in the Army, too.”
Duane Teague: the only man in the world who’d resent you for military service.
“I’ve heard this story,” Ghost reminded him.
“Then actually listen to it for once. This is a brotherhood. Brother sacrifices for brother. If we don’t look out for each other, no one will.
“Women, now. They’re not brothers. They don’t care about the club, not like we do. And all it takes is one.” He held up a finger. “One pissed-off old lady who wants to stick it to her man, one word in a cop’s ear, and we’ve got a raid on our hands.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“With good reason.”
There were rumors, whispers really, about Duane in the early days, before Ghost had even prospected. Stories about a woman with dark hair, and a Texas drawl, and Duane brought to his knees, begging. Ghost wasn’t sure he believed those stories, but in his limited experience, paranoia was born of circumstance.
“You don’t know this girl,” Duane said. “Don’t be stupid enough to trust her.” It was said more seriously, something almost like care in his voice. Sometimes, Ghost thought his uncle might love him. A little.
“What do you want me to do? Fuck groupies from now ‘til forever?”
“It’d be considerably cheaper.”
“I haven’t woken up with a hangover in weeks,” Ghost said, and realized as he said it that it was true. “I’m doing better now that I’m with her, not worse.”
Duane studied him a moment. “Hmm. Not a better Lean Dog, though.”
And that was the crux of the problem: Duane didn’t see men, only Dogs.
~*~
When Hound’s wife, Nell, offered her a cigarette, Maggie accepted it. She didn’t think of herself as someone with a habit, but paired with the whiskey, she felt relaxed for the moment. The party raged around them, but the two old ladies ignored it; Maggie was following their lead.
“My first party,” Nell said, exhaling smoke, “there wasn’t even a clubhouse. Just a shed.” She laughed. “Duane was still a kid. Butfine.”
Jackie chuckled. “You still think that.”
