Diesel Page 4

  I flip the paper over and show him how I’ve written my information down on the back with a sharpie I bummed off of some guy on the bus. “That’s my number. I’ve got my phone on me at all times if you need to reach me. And I’m staying at the Streetlight Inn for a day until my bus is headed back home. I know you don’t think you’re going to change your mind, but, well, you know...”

  He gently takes the picture out of my hand and walks into the apartment. He doesn’t shut the door behind him but disappears into a room just out of view from the outside. It takes me a long moment of staring before I realize that I’m looking directly past Diesel, who still stands right in front of me, blocking the majority of the apartment.

  I spin away, hiding the tears, fighting back the sorrow. I sigh it all out in one wavering breath that shakes my entire body. I look down at the parking lot, the trash cans, the entrance to the bar – I try my best to take it all in, to remember every part of this place. This will be Tyler’s grave: the place I will need to bury him if only in my mind. I make mental notes of the smells, the tastes, the weather. Everything feels so incredibly normal for a death that feels otherworldly.

  “You know how to get back to wherever you’re from?” I hear Diesel ask with a cough.

  It’s oddly comforting – knowing that he, at least, cares I make it out of this neighborhood alive.

  I regain my composure before turning to him. “No. I took the bus here, and then I took another one to get to this place. Do you know how to get back to the 23 bus line stop?”

  “Yeah,” he replies with quick directions. “You’re gonna want to go before it gets dark. This place looks decent in daylight, but it’s a whole other story after the sun goes down.”

  I nod solemnly, understanding the warning. “It already looks like hell to me,” I say as I begin to walk towards the stairs that head back down to the bar.

  “Most men I know would describe it like that. It’s not a place for girls like you – that’s for sure.”

  “Girls like me?” I ask, pausing to peer back at him, though I know I shouldn’t be stunned. I’m sure he sees me as this prissy little girl with no sense of the world he lives in. I’ve learned a lot in the time I’ve been here, but it’s only a piece of the puzzle.

  “Good girls.” The smile on his face vanishes. He turns to go back into the apartment, but I catch his attention again.

  “Is he okay? My brother? Living here, I can assume that what he’s into is not exactly keeping him out of harm’s way, you know? I just want to know that I’m not leaving him for the wolves,” I say, the words almost coming out as a whisper.

  Diesel’s lips curl almost viciously, but his voice is smoother, strangely reassuring. “He’s living with me. I’m keeping him safe. That’s all you need to know.”

  “I’m not sure if I trust that – no offense.”

  “None taken. But don’t worry about Tyler; I’ve got his back.”

  I look him over once again. This is my brother’s keeper, I try to tell myself. He’ll keep him safe. At least he says so. He’s Tyler’s new family. You’ve done everything you could to make this work. Go home. Go back to work. There’s nothing left for you here.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Diesel walks fully into the apartment and closes the door. I stand around for a moment to listen, hoping to hear voices on the other side, but there’s just silence.

  It’s hard not to look back when you’re leaving everything behind. It’s hard not to run in the opposite direction your head is pulling you towards. It’s hard to say goodbye knowing that it will most likely be the last time you hear the voice of someone you care about. It’s hard to say goodbye when the thing you leave behind is your own blood, the one person in the world who understood you the most.

  Chapter Four

  Diesel

  “Is she gone?” Tyler asks as I close the door behind me.

  “What does it matter to you?” I snarl back, annoyed to have to play any role in that shit out there.

  “It matters because I don’t want her around here. I don’t want her following me.”

  “That was a pretty shitty-ass thing for you to do, you know that, kid? I knew you were a snotty little punk with an attitude problem, but I didn’t know how fucking low you were until I saw you dismiss your own sister like that.”

  “And what would you have me do? Tell her the truth about why I’m here?” He reaches out his arms, spanning nearly the length of his tiny bedroom.

  “About why you’re here? About why I am being your fucking sponsor? There are much worse places you could end up, son. You best thank your damn stars that you ended up with me and not out there with—”

  “I don’t need your fucking reminders of the shit I am in, Diesel. Spare me the lecture. It’s bad enough having to do that to my own sister.”

  “Yeah. You’re a real piece of work.”

  There’s fire in his eyes. I’ve hit a nerve, and I can guess what he’s got to say before he even takes a step too close to me.

  “Don’t talk to me about my sister, you slimy jackass. You pull that shit on girls in the club, not innocent civilians minding their damn business.”

  “Innocent? I wasn’t kissing her alone. She was certainly letting me do what I was doing.” I lick my lips slightly. There’s the hint of the chalky taste of fresh lipstick still there. Just for good measure, to really mess with the guy, I slyly add, “If you hadn’t interrupted us, I would’ve had little Blanche on her back, on my bed, in fifteen minutes flat. That’s how easy it would have been.”

  I feel the blow to my cheek. It’s all too familiar. I get punched at least once a week in my line of business, and Tyler’s doesn’t have enough spin or strength to make it memorable. I use my tongue to scrape the corner of my lips where he’s managed to only slightly cut into me. It takes a lot of effort on my part not to pummel the kid into the ground, but I resist.

  I deserved it.

  He rages at me. “Don’t. Talk. About. Her. AGAIN. You don’t deserve Blanche. You’re fucking scum compared to her.”

  “That’s probably true, but I wouldn’t have answered the goddamn door had you have been in the fucking house where you were supposed to be! Did you forget the rules you agreed to? You don’t go anywhere without my permission. I don’t care if you just want to check the fucking weather – you ask me before you step foot outside this apartment.”

  I feel the blood returning to my veins. I was pissed when I first heard the door slam while I was in the shower. But now, now that all that shit went down, I am livid.

  “Do you remember what happened the last time you walked outside without me knowing? You got us both into a ton of shit that I had to explain away. I’m not doing that again, Tyler. You’re not worth the damn effort to keep alive.”

  “Then let me go!” he screams like a teenager on a hormone trip. “Why y’all have me still is beyond me. I can’t get what you need if you keep me locked up like a fucking prisoner.”

  “You’re not trying hard enough, Tyler. You know as well as I do that all it takes to get you out of this mess is a freaking phone call to your buddies.”

  “It’s not that easy,” he murmurs, looking away, back towards his bedroom.

  “You better make it easy because my hospitality is running real thin here, friend. And when it does run out, you’re on your own. For good. I’m not gonna be around to save your cursed ass. Eventually, we all gotta meet our end.”

  “And tonight? Is it going to be tonight?” Tyler asks the question that I know has been on his mind for weeks. Kid was too chickenshit to ask it before now.

  “It should be – after you ran out without my permission, created a mess with your sister, and dared to punch me. I should do it myself.” I feign a smile as I add, “But you know how much I hate messes.”

  “Dammit.” He slumps into the small, faded lounge chair in the living room. “I just want this mess to go away. I should never have—”

  “No. You fucking shoul
dn’t have done any of that shit. And now you gotta pay for it like a man. If not, you’ll die like a worm.”

  I grab my coat off the hook nearest the door. It’s too early to leave for the meeting, but I’d rather not spend any more time with the little shit today, especially if he is going to mope and cry about his lot in life. Some men have no sense of taking responsibility for their stupid actions.

  “Give me your key,” I command Tyler.

  “My key?” he asks, trying to look innocent.

  “Yeah, whatever you used to get back into the apartment. Give it back to me; I’m not having you sneak out again, especially not with the club roaming around the bar tonight.”

  “Diesel… come on. I only left because you were in the bath—”

  I’ve had enough of this kid getting chummy with me.

  I shout back, “Shut the hell up and do what I say or I swear to God…”

  Tyler shuffles back to his room and opens the top drawer of the small dresser I managed to fit into the space. The metal key rustles around with the rest of the junk he’s managed to collect over the last month or so.

  When he comes back, he silently hands it to me and heads off towards the kitchen to sulk. I hear the chair slide across the floor and a beer opening. Punk couldn’t buy his own liquor, but he’ll gladly drink mine…

  The Bonebag MC meets bi-monthly at our headquarters, the old Thompson Warehouse located on McGuire Lane. Unless you’re in the know, you’d never notice. The riders come in at different times so not to be spotted in a pack. The gate opens when each man is verified through a video security system. And once inside the lot, members are only allowed to walk their bikes rather than rev.

  These aren’t new rules. They’ve been in practice for the three out of the four years I’ve been a member. Knux, our current president, put them in place after the last leader was ambushed from the outside by the Devil Riders MC. Fifteen of our best men went down, and the business that kept us afloat went up in smoke.

  Knux was the lone survivor of that night. He made sure that every part of our security changed from that day on. The cameras showed up days later. The fence was installed by our suppliers from Mexico. A new security team was trained.

  He may be a shitty leader with no sense of how to run a business or cross territory lines for gain, but I’ll give Knux this: he sure as hell knows how to keep his men secure, even in spite of the hazards that come with the business.

  Tonight, however, something is up. I press the call button, typing in my code, but a few minutes go by, and no one answers on the other side. There’s no static voice asking me my name or the code. The small camera secured inside of the box stays completely still, despite me being slightly too tall for the closed circuit picture.

  I press the button again and again until the black gate lifts all on its own without the confirmation. As the gates close behind me, I breathe an unintentional and brief sigh of relief and pull my bike to my designated spot near the front of the building.

  To my surprise, there’s already a line of cycles parked in their places. It’s not unusual for guys to hang around headquarters, especially not the big dogs, but for all of them to be here? My haunches raise as I stroll through the building doors and into the meeting hall. The double doors slam behind me, marking my entrance.

  A small group of heads huddled together turn in my direction.

  “Did I get the meeting time wrong? We said seven o’clock, right?” It’s always seven. It’s the best time of the night to have these things. It’s after the afternoon shifts are over, around the time the wives and girls are throwing down plates for dinner, and right before the drinking begins.

  “It’s not even seven yet. You’re early.” Knux steps forward from the center of the group.

  He’s a head shorter than me, at least, but what he lacks in height, he makes up in gravitas and balls. He’s the type of guy who owns a room – commands it is the better way to put it. He doesn’t take a step or say a word unless it is carefully planned and calculated to get him what he wants. It takes me a moment to readjust to this kind of presence.

  “It doesn’t look like I am, Pres. You are all here and obviously talking about something. What am I missing?”

  “Nothing that concerns you.” Knux shoots me a look that sends lightning rods down my spine. For most, this would be the time to step off, but I’m not the kind of guy to be kept out of the loop.

  “If y’all are meeting without me on purpose, that sure as fuck sounds like something I should be concerned about. Don’t play me, Knux. I’ve been around long enough to know when something is going on.”

  The group of ten men look around the room, over Knux’s shoulder, and past me. The bastards can’t even manage to look a man in the eye when he’s calling them out. This sure isn’t the shit I signed up for when I took on this leadership role. Politics is not my style, and I certainly don’t play them. When I have something to say, I say it. I don’t hide behind some shit plan.

  “It’s none of your goddamned business why we’re here or what we’re talking about, Diesel. You made your choices, and now you’re gonna have to live with the consequences.” Knux’s jaw twists as he speaks, as if he’s chewing on something that tastes nasty. He stands with his shoulders lifted tensely towards his ears. It’s a look that makes me want to deck him – if he wasn’t elected president of my club.

  “Choices?” I repeat back. “Choices? You talking about Tyler? Is this what your fake little meeting is about? Me and Tyler?”

  “Diesel,” Zane, my closest ally in the club, cuts in, “you knew what you were getting into when you took the kid on. You knew that these guys weren’t going to be happy about it, especially since he’s failed to deliver.”

  “What the hell do you expect him to do? You lock him up with me, and you don’t let him work to pay the money down. Then you demand he pays back nearly $45k in under a month? That’s bullshit. You want the kid dead.”

  “Yeah! I fucking do!” Knux suddenly roars, knocking even me backward. “The asshole stole from us! HE STOLE FROM US, DIESEL.”

  “You don’t know that,” I contend, though I am still unsure why I am defending the boy. “You got no proof that he took that cash.”

  I was the one who found Tyler on the side of the road, his bike battered into pieces and his club jacket torn. A cop friend had tipped me off – told me to hightail it there before another cop found him. I raced over just as Tyler was coming to. He claimed he had no clue what had happened. He was on his way back to the warehouse from a delivery to one of our top distributors, a guy named Andreas, when he heard a bang. The next thing he knew, I was standing over him, searching his body.

  Accidents happen. New riders like Tyler lose their bearings and go down. The night wasn’t a particularly dangerous one – a little rain and some Santa Ana winds. But he still ended in rough shape. What was more concerning was the money. All our riders are instructed to come straight home with cash on hand. We’ve got a whole system that ensures no one cheats us and that every dollar is accounted for. It’s never failed before. No rider has ever dared not to come home without their shift’s cash.

  Tyler’s, however, was missing and he couldn’t account for it. While he spent a week recovering, Knux and his dogs got suspicious. They found no tread marks that showed Tyler spinning out, and his injuries were not consistent with the others we’ve seen take a hit on the pavement. They dug and dug until they found Tyler had, apparently, made a contact for the Red Roses MC – a brand new group formed out of Irvine. The leader, Jay, was no shit to be concerned about, but when they looked up his background, they found that he didn’t just know Tyler – he was Tyler’s cellmate when he did a stint in Orange County.

  Tyler, to his credit, feigned ignorance. Even when proof came up that he had been texting the Red Roses’ president, he played stupid and said he didn’t know the guy that well. Meanwhile, the $45k that was supposed to be delivered remained missing.

  Once Tyler was re
covered, Knux went after him like hell on wheels. He was brought into the basement – the last place in the world anyone wants to be taken to. His boys tied him up to a heater and left him without food and water for days until he shriveled up and confessed. I was the only one not convinced, and I continue to be a skeptic that a kid with almost zero brains would do something so stupid and, better yet, could pull it off behind my back.

  The last night they had him, the night they planned on leaving him for dead, I vouched for him. I put myself on the line, promising that I would make him “find” the money. They gave me two weeks and then another week on top of that when he could only produce about ten percent of it. I played warden as he struggled to find any contact or connection with the cash. All the while, I knew that should he screw up, it wasn’t just his head on the line. These wolves would come after me too, even if I were in their pack.