CHAPTER TWO THIS LIFE

Rebel—

The overhead garage doors rumble as they roll up. The fresh morning breeze trails over my skin, and the fragrant scent of the blooms on the honeysuckle vine climbing the chain-link fence hits my nose. I check the blue sky for any signs of the rainstorm that left puddles in the streets this morning, but it promises to be another beautiful May morning. Mother’s Day is coming up in two weeks, and I make a mental note to order Mom’s favorite cake.

Traffic is already busy on Highway 31 with people heading to work.

Daisy sits her five-month-old butt down next to me, her cute little pit bull face stares up at me as she leans against my leg.

I bend and scratch behind her ear, yawning. “Yes, my good girl. Let’s feed you.”

Scooping her up, I carry her across my father’s garage to a tool bench against the back wall and open an upper cabinet. I keep her food down here, not wanting to lug the big bag up the stairs to the little apartment above the shop. I get a stainless bowl, flip the lid on the rolling plastic bin, and scoop a measured portion of food.

My father’s old garage has been here off Highway 31 since before I was born. I’ve been coming here since I was old enough to remember. Dad has always had a pit bull. When I was little, he had Toby, and now I have Toby’s great-granddaughter, Daisy. And she’s a sweetie.

Setting her bowl down, she eagerly digs in.

“Looks like Chris is running late again, girl.”

There’s a ’66 Dodge Charger in bay two. It belongs to Butcher, Dad’s old president. He’s been bringing his classic cars for oil changes and tune ups since I was a little girl. Now that Dad has relinquished control of the garage to me, Butcher doesn’t trust anyone else with them. I’m proud of that fact. I earned it.

Butcher was the first man to trust me to work on his car. He let me work on his Ford pickup and eventually on his bike. Butcher’s been like a grandfather to me, and I love him to death.

I make a pot of coffee, and fifteen minutes later, I’m bent over the side, finishing his car, when the sound of a vehicle turning in draws my attention to the side lot.

A man in a pickup truck parks and climbs out.

“Can I help you?” I ask, wiping my hands on a rag and stuffing it in my overall pocket. I take in his blue scrubs, and know immediately he must work at the hospital across the highway.

“My engine light came on. Is there a mechanic around?”

“Yes, sir. Me.” I grab the code reader and head toward his truck. “Let’s take a look.”

“You?” he asks as another car pulls in.

“Yes, sir.”

“Um, you look busy.” He glances toward the Charger. “Is there someone else who can help me?”

I quirk a brow. “I’m the only mechanic here at the moment. Is that a problem for you?”

“Uh—” He shifts, his attention drawn to our newest employee, Chris, who’s just getting out of his car.

“Hey, Rebel. Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, good. He can help me.”

“He works in billing. But if the job requirement is having two heads instead of one that actually knows how to work on cars, then have at it.” I turn and walk toward the garage. “Chris. Go help this man fix his car.”

Chris looks at me puzzled. “Uh, Rebel, I know nothing about fixing cars.”

“This man doesn’t care. He’s just happy you have a dick.” I lean under the hood of Butcher’s car.

Boots crunch the gravel as Chris walks toward the man’s truck with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.

I feel a little bad putting him on the spot, especially with it only being his third week on the job. But my sympathy for Chris isn’t as strong as my desire to teach this prick customer a lesson.

“Can you help me?” the man asks him. “My engine light came on.”

“Uh, not really. I can do an oil change and rotate tires, but that’s the extent of my car knowledge. Now, Rebel there, she knows cars. She grew up with a wrench in her hand. You won’t find a better mechanic in town. So, whatever you said, I’d go fucking apologize.”

“I don’t believe this shit,” the man mutters under his breath.

I smirk, pretending to check wires on Butcher’s car that don’t need checking. This guy is either going to have to come crawling back to apologize or find somewhere else. I’m good with either outcome.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat behind me.

Straightening, I wipe my hands on a towel. “Did Chris get it worked out for you?”

He shakes his head. “Could you look at it for me?”

“And?” I tilt my head.

“And I’m already going to be late for my shift, so what do I need to do to have you look at it?”

“An apology would be nice.” I smile at the way he fidgets in front of me.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“For?”

“For assuming anything. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Probably. I’m just watching you squirm first.” I lift my chin toward the car. “Let’s check it out.” I hook up the reader and turn the ignition to the on position without actually starting the car. A code lights my screen.

“The emissions system is the most likely culprit,” I explain.

“What does that mean?”

“There could be an exhaust leak or a problem with the catalytic converter.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“Or it could be a sensor. Sometimes they can trip easily. Something as simple as a gas cap that needs tightening can set them off.”

He gestures to his truck. “So, which is it?”

I go to the gas cap and check it, so I can eliminate that straight off. It tightens a bit, and I walk over and check the dash. The engine light is still illuminated, but after about five seconds, it goes off. I look up and smile at the man. “Bingo.”

“You’re kidding me. That’s all it was?”

“Yep. No expensive repair. It must be your lucky day.”

“Guess so. What do I owe you?”

“No charge.”

He looks a little sheepish. “Thanks. And hey, sorry about throwing the attitude on you. Really.”

“Next time you need work?” I nod to his truck. “Come back.”

“I will. Thanks again.” He extends his hand, and we shake, then he climbs in his vehicle and I watch him drive away.

Moving to Butcher’s car, I close the hood and cross to the shop’s phone to call and tell him it’s ready. Before I can punch in the numbers, I hear the familiar rumble of motorcycles. They slow, and two bikes pull in. I recognize them immediately and hang the phone up.

They park and dismount with Daisy trotting over, her tail wagging.

My father squats to give her some attention, cupping her jaw and scratching behind her ears. She jumps up and licks his face.

I chuckle. “Be careful. She’ll lick you to death.”

He glances up, and it’s then I see there’s no amusement in his expression. Something’s happened. I know it immediately, and everything inside me stills, my smile slipping away.

“What is it?” The words come out in a whisper, and my gaze shifts from my father to his VP, Ghost. But whatever it is, Ghost isn’t giving it away.

My father finishes petting Daisy and stands, his knees cracking. He’s dragging this out, and it’s making me nervous as hell. He walks toward me and wraps his arms around me. Oh, God, it must be really bad. I wish he’d just say it already.

His lips press a kiss to my temple, and he squeezes me. Then he whispers against my ear. “Butcher’s gone, honey.”

“What?” I clutch at him, frowning, but he holds me so tight I can’t pull back and look at his face.

“He passed away early this morning.”

“How? What happened?” My mind is reeling. “I don’t understand.”

“It was a stroke. I’m sorry, honey. I know how much he meant to you. None of us expected this, which makes it that much harder.” His words are a scratchy whisper filled with emotion.

My arms tighten around my father, and my eyes sting with tears. “He can’t be gone. I just finished his car.”

Dad rubs his hand up and down my back. “Stacy’s meeting with the funeral home this morning.”

“Oh, God, how is Stacy?” They loved each other so much. I can’t imagine how she must be feeling having lost her husband.

“She’s trying to be strong,” Ghost quietly adds.

“Are the other chapters coming in? I mean, I know he wasn’t president anymore, but he served the club for so long.” I pull from my father’s grasp.

“Yeah, we’re expecting a big turnout. All the chapters are sending members. The entire crew from California is coming.” His jaw tightens, reminding me how he’s always had tension with their president.

“The entire club?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah, their president and VP used to be members of Alabama, once upon a time.” Ghost scratches his chin.

“Must have been a long time ago.” I furrow my brows.

“Yeah, back when I was a prospect.” He seems to drift off in thought, but then his gaze connects with mine. “You stay away from the California crew. Okay?”

I don’t usually take well to being told what to do, living up to the name my parents gave me, but I can tell this is important to him. Clearly there’s some bad blood. “Okay, Daddy.”

Ghost strolls over to Butcher’s car, his arms folded. “This was his pride and joy. I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

I step closer, staring at the pretty car Butcher was so proud of. “You’re right. This was definitely his baby. I was so proud he trusted me with it.”

Ghost slings his arm around my shoulders and drags me against his side, pressing a kiss to my hair. “You and him were close. Always have been.”

I nod, sorrow washing over me in waves.

Dad steps up and puts a hand on the roof. “He believed in you, just like I do.”

I turn and bury my face in my father’s chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. He holds me, letting me cry.

“Hey. How about you close up shop and go for a ride with your ol’ man, honey? I need the wind in my face right now.”

I pull back, wipe my eyes, and nod. “That sounds perfect. Let me grab my helmet.”

We ride for a couple of hours and then stop for lunch at a brewery in Avondale and eat outside. We’re just finishing up and Dad’s paying the check when his phone rings.

He glances at the screen and puts it to his ear. “Stacy, how are you?” He listens for a minute, then replies. “We’re on our way, honey. Hang tight.”

When he disconnects, Ghost frowns. “Problems?”

“Roselawn is giving her a hard time about us showing up with bikes and colors.”

“How do you plan to fix that?” I ask.

Ghost grins as he and my father stand to leave. “With money, darlin’. Come on. Watch and learn.”

We head across town, and I hang on to my father’s back as the bike leans into the turn, and we pass through wrought-iron gates. There’s a building on the left, and we park in a spot and dismount. I follow dad and Ghost through the doors and we meet Stacy in the entryway. She’s in her late sixties, but her hair is still bottle blonde. She’s a true old biker broad, but underneath the crass jokes and crude language, she has a heart of gold, supporting many charities, especially those involving food banks and animal rescue.

“Thanks for coming, Shades.” She hugs him, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“No problem, darlin’.” He pats her back. “You okay?”

“Yes. They say they have rules. No motorcycles allowed. But this is where Butcher’s parents are buried. He and I have brought flowers to their grave many times, and we always rode up here on his bike. I think they don’t like the idea of a hundred bikers descending on the place.”

“Then I’m gonna make them like the idea. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

She points to the office, and my father leads the way.

I put my arm around Stacy, and she leans into me. “How are you, Rebel?”

“I’m fine. It’s you we’re all worried about.”

“I miss him so much. I can’t believe this is happening.”

I hug her tight. “We’ll get through this together. The entire club is here for you.”

She squeezes my hand. “I’m so thankful for that.”

“The club is family. Where’s Victoria?” I look around for their daughter.

“She went to the restroom to calm down. You know how she is. She was ready to go across the desk and choke that little suit-wearing geek with his fake smile.”

“Let’s get some coffee while Dad sorts this out.” I lead her to the visitor’s lounge and fill us both a cup, then we sit. I take one sip and grimace. The coffee is hot, but awful. I’m not even sure cream and sugar can save it. Looking over at Stacy, I try to fill the silence. “I was about to call Butcher this morning and tell him his car was ready. Then Dad pulled up and gave me the news. I can’t believe it. Was he sick?”

She shakes her head. “Not really, but he’s battled high-blood-pressure for years. I had to get after him to take his pills.”

I reach for her hand. “He had a good life, and I know he loved you so much. You were his everything.”

She breaks into tears. “Thank you, Rebel. You’re sweet to say that.”

“It’s true.”

She nods. “The ambulance took him out this morning, but he was pronounced dead when they reached the emergency room. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him goodbye, or that I loved him.”

“He knew. You know that, right?”

“I suppose so. God, the house will be so empty without him.”

Victoria finds us and approaches. “Hey, Rebel.”

I stand and give her a hug. She’s older than me by a dozen years, with two kids of her own. “How are you, Vic?”

“Hanging in. Is your dad here?”

I nod. “He’s in there now.”

“That little son-of-a-bitch was so condescending, Rebel.”

“Dad will take care of him.”

“I don’t hear any yelling,” she says.

That’s not how my father operates. He deals more in leverage and consequences. Some might say the carrot and the stick. No one ever wants to get on his bad side. He never backs down. The only time I ever heard he did was to his father-in-law, but Undertaker was the president of the New Orleans chapter, and although he is my grandfather and he loves me to death, I know he can be a scary dude.

“That’s not my father’s way, Vic. He lets the silence fill the space until you back down and give him what he wants.”

Just then Ghost appears in the doorway and jerks his chin. “Come on, ladies. It’s all arranged.”

Stacy stares at the carpet, twisting the handkerchief in her hands.

“We’ll be right out, Ghost. Give us a minute.” I put my arm around her, and Ghost nods.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I thought we had more time. We were planning to go to the Grand Canyon. We’d talked about it for years. This was the summer we were finally going to do it.”

Her words tear my heart out, and I struggle to find the right thing to say. “Maybe you and Vic and the kids could go as a tribute to him. I bet he’d like that.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Still, she hesitates, and I give her time.

“Can I tell you something, Rebel?”

“Sure. Anything.”

She covers my hand. “He always loved you, honey. He thought of you as if you were his own granddaughter.”

“I loved him. So much, Stacy.”

She wipes her tears. “It’s hard for me to leave him here. I feel like I should stay where his body is. I suppose that sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all.” I squeeze her hand. “Hey…”

She makes a questioning frown.

“Close your eyes. Imagine Butcher is standing here. What would he say to you? You don’t have to tell me. Just breathe and listen with your heart.”

We sit for a minute, and finally, she opens her eyes and looks at me. She smiles and brushes a tear away. “Okay. We can go now.”

I pat her hand and lead her into the sunshine.

I can’t imagine losing a love like that. Maybe someday I’ll find a love like they shared.