Page 61 of Running from Drac
“You can’t keep putting that off, Eddie. You should tell her.”
That’s all it takes. All the hot air boiling below my flesh ignites, and everything in me just explodes.
“I don’t need another fucking lecture, Rich. I just got a fucking earful from my dad, who’s second guessing starting the motorcycle club with us now. He says he doesn’t want to start it with a bunch of hot-head kids that don’t know how to hold their tempers. He doesn’t want it to turn one percent. He wants a clean club.”
“You know that won’t fucking happen if we join, Eddie. There’s no way in hell we could start a clean motorcycle club; trouble follows us everywhere we go. The idea of it makes me want to vomit,” he exclaims, laughing hysterically.
“Yeah, I know. Me too. Anyway, you need to call Parr and get your name added to Wesley’s list. First thing Monday morning, we’re going to go bail his ass out.”
“Sounds good. I hope your dad changes his mind about the club; it’s the only thing I’ve had to look forward to these last few weeks. Even bought myself a bike a couple days ago.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, got a screaming deal from this dude that was selling one online. He’s got a few other ones for sale, all of them in great working condition.”
“What’s he selling them for?”
“Cheap. Real Cheap. Says he’s done with the club life and wants to settle down with his daughter and girlfriend. Guess he used to be a cop too, or maybe he still is, I’m not too sure. The man just wants to find peace.”
“What’s the guy’s name?”
“Oliver, but his club calls him Cipher. He’s part of the Hands of Justice LEMC. I guess he’s like their president or something.”
“Never thought I’d see the day where I’d consider buying a bike from a cop.”
Rich laughs. “He’s cool, man. He used to be part of a one percent club; he was undercover, but he says they still felt like family to him. People like us don’t bother him as long as we stay out of trouble. I’ll text you his number. I just signed up to get my motorcycle license, and the class is in two months. You should sign up too.”
My thoughts return to that morning I spent riding my dad’s bike, the freedom I felt on the open road, the peace that grippedmy soul and never left. Rich is right; this club is something we all need, even Wesley.
“Maybe I’ll buy Wesley a bike too? It’ll give him something to look forward to when he gets out.”
There’s a short pause before Rich says, “You can’t just keep dipping into your savings, Eddie. What about your plans to buy that plot of land and buy Old Man Peterson out of business?”
“The business can wait a bit. This is more important. We need a foundation, Rich, one that we can cultivate and grow into something big. I’ve dreamed about the Elm Street Riders MC ever since we joked about it that night after I broke up with Amber.”
Rich is usually a man of very few words, but tonight his tongue is loose and out of control. “Then it’s settled. Buy yourself a bike from Cipher, we’ll get our licenses to ride, then we’ll start a club. We need this, Eddie. Like you said, Wesley needs something to look forward to when he gets out. Hopefully, before your wedding.”
“If I even have a wedding.”
“Stop talking like that, Eddie. You’re going to have a damn wedding, even if I have to drag you down that aisle myself. Stop putting negative vibes into it.”
“This coming from the man who hates everything.”
He chuckles. “Just be happy I don’t hate you, too. Anyway, I’m gonna let you go. I was already half asleep when you called, and I have to get to work early tomorrow; somebody has to fill in for Wesley’s shift.”
“Shit, I didn’t even think about that.”
“Good thing I do most of the thinking for us,” Rich jokes. “Anyway, try to get some sleep, bro, you fucking need it.”
“Night.”
The phone goes dead, and the heaviness of everything sits like an anvil on my chest. With the pressure building, the forcecrushes my rib cage like it might split open from the inside out. Nothing feels right. The whole night has been a blur of chaos and bad decisions, and I can’t stop thinking that Wesley getting arrested is more than just bad timing; it’s a sign… a warning… an omen carved into the night. I feel it echoing through every bone in my body. If this is just the surface of what’s to come, I hate to see what’s in store for me next.
My phone chimes twice. The first is a text message from Rich with the number of the guy selling the motorcycles; the other is from Amber… she’s worried.
I stare at her name on my screen for a long time. Part of me wants to ignore it, and let it sit unanswered like everything else I’ve been avoiding. But I can’t. Even though every instinct screams at me to leave it alone.
She picks up after two rings, her voice low and cautious. “Are you okay?”
