Page 26 of The Vows We Keep
I’m grateful Camelot took me in, helped me out with a place to live when I needed it, as thanks for saving his life.
Otherwise, I would likely have been a homeless minor. But he cleaned it up for me with ultimate discretion, I could never explain to the rest of the club why I’m here.
Because I was young, he didn’t even fully entrust me with the truth of how he did it until I was older.
I’m the dirty secret no one understands.
The Iron Outlaws give me an avenue to ease the beasts that rage at times. Fighting with my fists, killing those who deserve it, enough structure that I don’t descend into negative spirals.
They even tolerate me when I’m an annoying dick because my mouth runs ahead of me, when I lose my filter and say the shittiest things.
I finish getting cleaned up, wrap a towel around my waist, and step into my room. It’s a fucking disaster. My laptop is open, and I realize I didn’t finish wrapping up the accounts for this month because I couldn’t find two receipts. They’re probably at home ... somewhere. I’m pretty sure I tried to look for them here but found some dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen instead. And once I was in the kitchen, Halo was talking about the game, which made me decide to look up the next few matches, but there was an email from one of the club’s suppliers.
I always leave a half-finished trail behind me.
There’s laundry. Two piles. Dirty and clean. I meant to fold them and put them away, but the clean pile is now dwindling as I pull things from it to wear. I’ve tried setting a weekly reminder on my phone to do shit, but then I’d just switch it off when it beeped.
Maybe I should get one of the girls to do my laundry and put it away.
I’m sure splitting my time between two places, the clubhouse and my home, makes things even harder for me. I leave behind things I need at one place as I head to another. Once, I lived at the clubhouse permanently. Moved in six days after my sister was killed, when I was still a kid myself. I was the only prospect allowed to have a room here. Camelot vetoed every single person who tried to complain. When anybody said a word, he would tell them he didn’t give a shit what they thought.
When Camelot’s dad, King’s grandfather, passed away, he owned two properties. Camelot gave me the smaller one of the two. Just like that. He gave me a fucking house. And if anybody ever wondered why my loyalty to the man was so great, it was because of that. It’s why I’ll always do whatever King needs. I feel like I owe it to the man who looked after me to look after his son, even if his son doesn’t know why.
I stare at the mess. I can’t bring Catalina back in here with it looking like this.
I toss the dirty clothes into a large basket, then tug the sheets off the bed. Think I fucked Penny in them two days ago, and no way is Catalina sleeping in that.
I toss them onto the laundry pile.
Piles get tackled one at a time. Financial papers get shoved into folders, cables get organized, I pair up my shoes and line them beneath my bed, which ... shit, my sneakers have a hole in them. I should buy some new ones. Should have done it at Christmas when all the sales were on. Why are all the big sales clustered around Thanksgiving and Christmas? Why not give us a sale in March for no reason?
I open my phone to check if there are any sales.
Shit, I’m meant to be tidying.
I get back to it.
Halo is with Catalina, and I suddenly feel territorial as fuck. Halo with his long flowing hair like the hero of some old-school romance books Mom used to read. I wonder if she still reads them.
Halo, the good guy, the veteran, the sensible one. I need to get her away from him.
I pull on some clean clothes ... jeans, a black T-shirt, my cut.
I need to go to the tattoo studio. We’re closed today, but I have some drawings to catch up on for a loyal client coming in this week. Now I’m regretting agreeing to an appointment—usually I make them walk in and take their chances. But he’s flying in from out of town just for this.
Urgh.
My brain is on fire right now. Stressful situations can make it worse.
I’m pretty certain getting a shot of truth serum is enough to make anyone feel like a space cadet.
Halo.
Catalina.
I add my belt and pull on my black boots and head out of my room.
Clutch is talking to Neva by the bar. Talking is too polite a word. Clutch asks a question, and Neva replies in a hiss like a trapped cat. Halo has Catalina seated next to him at the long table in King’s office. Our church. Her back is to me.
