Page 5 of Bullet
Chapter Two
Bullet
The sound of shattering glass sent my Calico cat, Chatterbox, skittering out of the kitchen, mewling as he went.
“Sorry, Box,” I grumbled out loud, wincing at the shattered pieces of coffee mug now scattered across my kitchen counter. Very little had managed to abate my anger since Seth and Vil explained to me what it meant that I was being ghosted.
Used and discarded? Who the fuck did I look like?
I opened the cabinet under the sink that held a pull-out trash can and pulled it up to the countertop so I could swipe all the broken glass in. In my rage, I accidentally slammed the mug down on the countertop and destroyed it, fortunately before I had poured my morning coffee in at least. My head throbbed, thanks to the amount of liquor I drank at Hoppa’s the night before, trying to wash away my frustrations. Coffee was certainly needed if I was going to get through an entire Monday without crashing.
Carefully, I pulled down another coffee mug, and Chatterbox peeked his head around the corner to see if I’d calmed down. I stopped preparing my coffee long enough to pull down a bag of his fish-shaped treats and the second I did, he came traipsing back into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter. I sprinkled a few of the pieces on the countertop and then when he walked up to nibble them, I scratched the top of his head.
“Sorry, buddy.”
While Chatterbox worked on his treats, I finished pouring coffee, skipping the cream to really help knock the edge of my hangover off, and carried the mug into the living room. I used my phone to play some calming, ambient lo-fi music, and forced myself to relax in the calmness of the morning. Eventually, Chatterbox made his way over from the kitchen and up into my lap, and the call of snuggles was enough to draw out the shyer of my cats, a spotted Bengal named Jingle. He walked from the hallway toward the back bedrooms and hopped up onto the couch and curled up next to me.
With only one free hand, I had to alternate between petting each feline, which was fine for Jingle, but every time I stopped petting Chatterbox, he let out a series of loud, disgruntled meows.
“You are such a brat,” I chided. “Your brother doesn’t scream about it.”
Chatterbox’s only response was to lean heavily into my hand as I switched back to petting him, and with Jingle curled up and purring at my side, I continued to stroke Chatterbox to keep him quiet.
I stayed like that for about an hour, letting my cats and the warm coffee soothe my soul, and made my peace with putting Celia behind me. Next time someone tried to set me up, whether it was the President of the motorcycle club or not, I would be sure to decline. My mom, the judge handling my case, and now Celia. All they’d done was let me down, and I was too old to continue being taken advantage of.
If it was just me and my furry friends for the rest of my life, so be it. I wasn’t about to be treated like an idiot.
At exactly seven-thirty AM, my alarm went off on my phone, coaxing me to get up and start my day. Thanks to learning I’d been shiested, I hadn’t gotten much sleep and was up well ahead of my alarm, but the blaring disturbed the cats, who both got up and walked off to go find a quieter corner to curl up in, which meant I could get up and do what was left to do before leaving for Hoppa’s. I packed up my laptop, did another pass through the kitchen to make sure all the glass was cleaned up, filled up the boys’ dishes for them to eat later, grabbed my helmet, keys, and wallet, and left the house.
Eight in the morning was considered pretty damn early for my brood. No one, not even Nick, got to the Taphouse that early, mainly because they didn’t need to. The Taphouse didn’t open to the general public until three PM, and even then, the bulk of the crowd didn’t start to arrive until well after five. Those of us who had “desk” jobs as officers could come in as late as eleven AM and still get done what we needed to get done for the day.
I, however, liked to work without distractions.
A true, blue early-bird, I preferred to get to the club as early as possible so that I was already done working by the time everyone else started showing up. Nick had gotten sick of me bothering him to let me in and eventually had a set of keys made for me. His kids were the only other club members with keys to the building, so with them gone it was just Nick and me.
Once I was inside and back in the warehouse, I used my phone once again to connect to the sound system and play more of the lo-fi music, and then pulled out my books and got to work. Thankfully, my job was pretty easy. The money was a mess when I first joined the Steel Knights, but I’d kept a tight leash since then. People did what they were supposed to so I could track the money effectively, so my daily tasks mostly involved reconciling purchases and tracking payables and receivables. Easy.
Just like any other day, I was working on the books, and hours had passed without my noticing. I hadn’t even looked at a clock until I heard the warehouse door opening, and I looked up to see Nick walking in. His face was back to being shaven and it looked like he’d trimmed his growing hair, too, though the grays were still present.
“Morning,” I said.
He nodded at me. “Good morning. Early as usual.”
“You know me,” I replied, turning my attention back to my books.
Nick kicked around the warehouse doing different things that I didn’t really have much interest in, but eventually, he came to sit down across from me at the table. “How we lookin’ over there?”
“Not bad at all. Last quarter was really good. Bucky’s really running ’em in,” I said. “I imagine we’re going to stick with this new business venture then?”
“We’d be dumb not to,” Nick said. “Although, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a hair uncomfortable with him doing border runs without Taylor.”
“You should talk to Bullseye about taking his place,” I suggested. “He’s stealthy and pretty charismatic, like Bucky.”
He smiled. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ve always liked that decision-making quality in you, Bullet.”
“Thanks?”
He chuckled before his face faded to seriousness again. “How much did we lose when Taylor fell out?”
