Page 72 of Reaper
“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?” I say.
“First, identify yourself,” Tank says.
“Excuse me?”
“He wants to know who you are, lady,” says the one named Mayhem. “It’s supposed to be a question, except he didn’t really say it as one. Tank’s not in a good mood. I don’t know if he’s ever been in one. I’ve never seen him in one.”
“My good moods only happen when you’re not around, Mayhem,” Tank replies.
“Well, I’d like to be around to see you in one sometime. Bianca says you have a nice smile, and, since you’re a heavier guy, I bet you’ve got a nice laugh, too. I’ll bet your belly jiggles.”
“Tank, meet Adriana. Adriana, meet Tank. They’re my brothers in the Twisted Devils MC,” Reaper says, mercifully cutting in, as there’s a vein twitching in Tank’s forehead that looks like it signals either a massive coronary or an incoming physical assault.
“Why did they try to kill us?” I say.
“No offense, Adriana, but if we wanted to kill you, there’s a million better ways we could’ve done it rather than giving you the opportunity to punch us in the face or knee Diesel in the balls. Even if that last part was pretty great. Diesel, you should’ve seen the look on your face. Your eyes, they got so big… It was like you’d turned into a bullfrog,” Mayhem says.
“Ribbit,” Diesel says, grinning. “And fuck you for enjoying my testicular pain.”
“I’ll give you more if someone doesn’t tell me why you assholes put a bag over my head, ziptied me, and fucking attacked me,” I say.
“Reaper, you want to tell your…” Tank pauses and raises an eyebrow at Reaper.
“She’s with me. That’s what’s important,” Reaper says. I nod and shrug and appreciate his vagueness — because with everything that’s happened between us, we haven’t even had time to sit down and talk about what ‘this’ is, other than he’s mine and no one is taking him away from me. “Adriana, what you just witnessed is me getting off easy.”
“No, I’ve witnessed that, and this was nothing like that,” I say.
Diesel whistles and winks at Reaper. “So she’s that important, huh?”
“Yes, we’ve had sex. What are you — five?” I say. Then, I turn my attention back to Reaper. “I’ll repeat my original question: what the fuck just happened?”
Tank clears his throat, and when I open my mouth to tell him I don’t want an answer from him, I want an answer from Reaper; he raises a bushy eyebrow at me, a frown crosses his thickly bearded face, and suddenly, I realize maybe I’d better be quiet for a second and hear him out. “Reaper’s actions warranted punishment. Abandoning the brotherhood the way he did, with no notice, no warning, and doing so to brothers who risked their own lives to pull him out of the shit in Boise, it was a fucking disgrace. There were some who advocated for harsher punishment. There were others — fools who have a fondness for you, Reaper — who put their asses on the line to mitigate your punishment.”
Mayhem leans in towards me and whispers. “Tank’s talking about himself.”
I look back at Mayhem and blink once, slowly. “Really? I didn’t pick up on that.”
“It was subtle, I know. But if you had been in church when this came up, you would’ve picked up on it.”
“Thank you for the clarification, Mayhem,” I say, wondering, if I’m going to become more a part of Reaper’s life —and what the hell am I even thinking, wondering about that, and why am I even imagining myself, right now, as being a part of his life in the future when I don’t even know if I’m going to live through tomorrow— do I need to start keeping stickers or coloring books around for Mayhem?
“You’re welcome.”
“Rabid wanted your head. The vote was close. If it hadn’t been for me, Hunter, and Goldie — who I fucking pulled aside and made a fucking promise that I’d go to a yoga class with him, fucking hot yoga, which has me even more fucking worried, because, what the fuck makes it hot, is it a sexual thing? — you’d be dead.”
Reaper casts a hurt look at Diesel and Mayhem. “You two both voted to kill me?”
“After the shit we went through to save your ass, and the way you just fucking ran off, all because Vanessa died, fuck, yes I’m fucking pissed at you,” Diesel says.
Mayhem leans in again. “Diesel used to be married. His wife, she died when — ”
I cut him off. “ — I get it. And… are you well, Mayhem?”
“Very. Thanks for asking, though. It’s considerate of you, considering I threw a bag over your head and you punched me in the face. You throw a solid punch, by the way.”
“Why’d you vote to kill the man I lo — the man I like?” I say, wincing at how poorly I cover up that word. The other bikers — except for Mayhem, who seems oblivious — give me a curious look, then look at Reaper. Reaper smiles, and his brilliant eyes grin.
“It wasn’t cause I don’t like him. I like him. But I just looked at the facts of the case and judged based on that. It wasn’t personal,” Mayhem says.
