Page 31 of War's Witch
“Hell yeah, it was. Now we have to grow up and be seriousmen with Ol’ Ladies to look after.” He chuckles but I feel his sentiment through the phone.
Locke’s words linger.Our women are our lives.He’s not wrong. I thought I had my one and only, the kind you carve your soul around, but she was taken from me. Now, though, standing here with the desert heat pressing down, I know that I have another chance.
And fuck me, I’m not about to let it slip through my fingers twice. I’ll dig in and give it everything I’ve got, even if it means getting on my knees and begging Cleo to see this through with me.
Fuck me, I want this all with her. Every laugh, every smile, and every tear that comes with happiness.
I clear my throat, pushing down the emotion this call is dredging up.
“What’s the call about?”
He sighs. “Got a job for you while you are down there. A friend of Lottie’s is having some shit with her husband, and needs a way to get away. Think you can rope the Rugged Skulls into helping?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think they will definitely help. Got the vibe from them that they are not the type of club to let women and kids get hurt, ya know? I will reach out to Racer, the Pres here, on behalf of Tote.”
“Golden, man. My woman will be happy, and I will pass it along to Pres that you are asking the Rugged Skulls to help get her clear of that cunt.”
“On it.”
“How are things going with your woman?” I can hear the humor in his voice.
I grind my teeth, thinking about our last interaction that is still fucking fresh on my mind.
“Fucking slowly— this woman is like a fortress unless I amtouching her. She is like putty in my hands when we fuck, but then we talk and she tells me that she doesn’t want anything serious with me. Not even wanting to fucking try but, Locke, brother, I know she can feel this pull between us.”
I expect him to laugh at me, call me ‘pussy whipped’ but he doesn’t.
“Women are complicated, but that usually means that they have had to deal with shitty men in their lives. They are not born complicated; they were made that way by men who did not deserve them or who hurt them. Force her to sit and talk to you, brother. Bring her food—women love fucking food; do not let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Food. I can bring her food. Okay, got it. Shit, I am so out of my league here. It has been years since I had to date or fucking woo a chick. Lilian was my last date. Cleo means something to me, so I need to do what I can before I walk away.”
“You’ve got this, brother. Keep me posted on the girl.” With that, he hangs up.
I drive around for a few hours, waiting for Cleo to be finished at the studio. My mind goes to the past and the future.
My past is a good one; despite losing my wife, we had a good life. The dark years that followed are a blur—random jobs in nameless towns, faces I never bothered to learn, drifting from place to place.
Through it all, my nomad patch kept me alive. It gave me something to live for, a reason to put one foot in front of the other, even when there were nights I’d have traded the world for a ticket off this planet, just to see Lilian again.
Now I find myself back in the present, waiting for Cleo to leave the studio. I stop at a diner and shut off my bike before removing my helmet and walking inside.
“Take a seat, and I will be right with you,” a woman calls out.
“I need to order to-go.”
“Be right there, honey.”
I walk over to the counter and take a seat on one of the stools.
The diner is cozy, with red leather booths running from the back to the front. I’m sitting at the counter, and there are more booths along the back wall on this side. White shiny brickwork lines some of the walls, but the main wall from front to back is red brick with photos and some artwork on it.
“What can I get you, honey?” I bring my gaze to the older lady standing in front of me.
Her long white hair is in a bun at the top of her head, her purple lips adding a touch of youth to her, along with the purple eyeshadow she wears.
“I need to say sorry to my girl with food,” I start.
She huffs.
