I’M SITTING AT THElong, battered table in the club’s back room the next night, a half-eaten piece of garlic bread in one hand and laughter bubbling up every few seconds. The air isthick with the smell of sautéed onions, sweet tomato sauce, and the faint tang of beer. Around me, the other club members are teasing each other, passing a huge bowl of spaghetti back and forth and trading stories about near-misses and angry cops.
To me, this place is home. The clatter of plates, the low rumble of voices, the way everyone looks out for each other. I lift my piece of bread and sink my teeth into it, the garlic and butter and crust all mixing in perfect, greasy harmony. I laugh at something Tate just said about nearly getting run off the road by some asshole with a badge, and then I hear Chief’s gruff voice.
“Stop chewing like an animal, Mischief!”
He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and even though his expression is firm, I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. I chew deliberately slow then, letting the garlic drip down my chin. “Still mad because I scared off your booty call?” I grin at him, giving my best cocky look.
Chief’s eyebrows shoot up. “Careful, girly.”
I roll my eyes theatrically and pick up a stray strand of spaghetti, slurping it into my mouth. Travis, smothering a chuckle, nudges me in the ribs. “Enough.”
We fall back into the chatter around the table. The night drags on, and finally we break off, each to our own corners of the compound. I am staying here tonight, but Travis is going home. He said it’s important I stick to my weekends with Chief, for a while at least. I agree with him, so I make my way up to my room, with its bright pink walls and memories in every corner.
I lie there in the dim glow of the single hanging bulb, absently tracing the initials I carved into the wooden headboard years ago: “V + T.” I miss Mom with a constant ache, I hate not being able to see her. I worry about Jeremy out there, and I know that soon, I’m going to have to face him. I twist onto my side, then flop onto my back. Nothing helps.
I pull on my hoodie and pad barefoot down the creaky stairs, each step a reminder of how quiet this place can get when everyone is asleep. At the bottom, I step outside onto the porch. The night air is cool, heavy with crickets and the faint smell of gasoline. There’s Chief, sitting on the porch rail, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. I slip onto the rail beside him. He glances at me, but doesn’t turn all the way.
“You beat me here,” I say softly. “This is my thinking spot.”
He chuckles. “Not anymore, kid.”
A small laugh.
He inhales deeply, smoke curling upward. “Why are you out here all by yourself?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “Got too much on my mind.”
“Because of your momma?” His voice catches on her name.
I nod, though he can’t see me. “I miss her. I worry about Jeremy. And I hate what happened between us...”
He flicks ash onto the ground. I scoot closer, our shoulders touching. “Don’t worry a single second about what happened with us, kid. It’s done. As for your momma, I get that. I can’t get her face out of my head.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. He smells like leather, tobacco, and something else—something that’s always made me feel safe. “Why not?”
His voice is low. “Because I keep seeing the way she looked when...when I got there. Fuckin’ killed me seeing her like that.”
My eyes burn. “Can you tell me more about the two of you? Please.”
He shifts and I turn my body slightly, so I can see him.
“I loved her from the first fuckin’ day I laid eyes on her. She had this fire in her eyes, like she was daring the whole world to push her around. She was so fuckin’ strong, brave, beautiful. There hasn’t been another soul like her, until you.”
I laugh. “Well, that can’t be good for the world.”
He chuckles. “It’s exactly the kind of thing the world needs.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Do you ever wish you had other kids?” The words come out quietly, gently.
He flinches, like I struck a chord he’d buried deep. I swallow. “Dad?”
He shakes his head, dismissing the thought. “No, I got my girl. You know you’re my number one girl, don’t ya?”
I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I know. You tell me every year.”
He chuckles, a rough sound in the night. “You scare the shit out of me, Mischief. You’re too much like me. Good thing you got so much of her in you, because if you didn’t, I’d have to lock you down and throw away the key.”
“What does Demon want from you?”