Reprise (12 page)

Knuckles got quiet and looked down at his hands. He knew the convo should end there, but Mal wasn’t as experienced with discussing prison life with a con.

“I’m so sorry. That must have been hard. I mean, how horrible for the family but...for you, too.”

Tiny nodded, eyes on the beer bottle between his hands. “It was fucking stupid, is what it was. I should have pulled off and bedded down but there was a snow storm coming. I wanted to get home before it hit.”

The table got very quiet, and it only ended when the waitress arrived with their burgers. They were huge, as advertised, the kind that came cut in half so they were easier to eat. Knuckles
oohed
and
ahhed
over his meal to fill the silence.

Tiny dug into his own plate, aware of the woman next to him. Knuckles shifted conversation onto something simpler, and it seemed neither of them needed him to participate. Which was good.

He’d stupidly decided being sick wasn’t going to alter him in any way. He’d do his own thing until he couldn’t anymore; go out swinging, so to speak. But seeing Mal, revisiting that accident which, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about for
years
, suddenly he had a need to atone for...everything.

Which was stupid. How could he make all this up to Mallory? It had been years ago, they’d both established their lives without each other. Going back over all that now? Just ripping open a wound with scars that had already healed.

And the accident? Both women had died. Never had a chance in that rusted out old Nissan Micra, no match for anything else on the road, much less a fully loaded semi-trailer. They were dead, and if their families were still around...yeah. How did a guy make that all better? He’d said sorry, many times over.
Sorry
didn’t do shit.

Fuck cancer. Guilt was going to do him in, slowly, and just as painfully.

The meal ended pleasantly. Knuckles hung back while Tiny walked Mallory back to her vehicle, but what Tiny thought he was accomplishing with that was a mystery.

She paused after unlocking the door, turning his way and leaning against the truck, hands at her sides. Relaxed. Realizing how gorgeous she still was, he had to wonder what she saw when she looked at
him
. He knew he looked different. He felt a century older at least. Did it show on his face, anywhere at all?

“I’m really sorry about your dad,” she said quietly, face soft. Eyes gentle. “He was...well. You know how good your parents were to me. I loved them to bits, I really did. But after you...left, it was too painful to stay close.”

That was it. As close as he’d let her get to bringing up all that shit he’d pulled. “I get it. And so did they. Trust me. I bore the blame for all of it from them, too. And rightfully. I did wrong. I was a scared shitless little prick. You were so much stronger than me, always had been. I should have been a better man for you. And...I’m sorry.”

Her eyes were wide now, lips slightly parted in shock. it was shit he should have said to her years ago, but he didn’t. Too late, but at least it’d been said.

He put a hand to her hip, beating back the thrill of her warmth, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She was still in shock so she let him do it.

She smelled good. Not the same, no. She wasn’t wearing perfume like she used to, so maybe this was shampoo or something. Her hair was still so gloriously thick. He wondered what it felt like now, but it wasn’t his place.

To prevent himself from doing something incredibly stupid he backed away and then walked off, not waiting for an answer.

“Man. I can stay at a hotel if you want—” Knuckles said when Tiny was close enough to hear his muttered confidence.

“Shut it. Get in the truck.”

Chapter Ten

“Poles are still good, so are the runners. It’s just the boards. They weren’t pressure-treated like everything else.” Knuckles kicked at the bottom of a fence board. It broke off at the bottom runner where the nearest nail was, diagnosis confirmed.

Tiny glared at the pile of green pressure-treated boards stacked next to the fence. His dad had apparently ordered this load weeks ago, to be delivered today. The invoice was pinned to a board in the kitchen over the old-fashioned wall mounted phone.  Like the old man would have had the juice to fix the fence.

The funeral would be in two days. Cremation would take place in Montrose tomorrow, ashes delivered the next morning for the early afternoon service. He had two days to kill in Cleary.

Work was a good way to kill time, and maybe it’d help the house get sold faster. Get that asshole real estate agent off his back. Not that Tiny had talked to him yet, but there were four unreturned phone calls on his machine just from the day before.

Less than twenty-four hours after his father had been found dead, that prick had started calling to see what was going on. Tiny put the estate lawyer onto him. He didn’t want to deal with fucking questions. But he
could
get a bit of improvement done on the place.

“Your old man had tools?” Knuckles asked.

Tiny nodded, fishing keys out of his pockets. “Yeah, in the garage.”

The place had the same cold, motor oil smell he remembered from childhood. No vehicle, the garage was too full for the truck. But the table saw, lathe, and various other tools of his weekend warrior trade were likely worth more than the vehicles they’d owned.

“Chop saw, good. That’ll help. I see a couple drills.” Knuckles was picking over the work bench while Tiny stood in the center of that space, overcome with his own brain. Of all the things to get to him, it was the memory of
hours
spent sitting out here watching his dad build or fix or put some project together.

He swallowed hard, hearing how his inhale shuddered in his chest. Clearing his throat he moved past the work bench to an old metal section of storage lockers bolted to the opposite wall. It was where his old man kept nails and screws.

“Yep, three-inch decking screws. We’re in luck.”

“New set of bits here.”

Knuckles kept rambling on, but Tiny’s eyes were now fixed downward, not believing what he was seeing. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“What’s up?”

Tiny turned around. “About nine hundred feet of fucking wood laminate flooring. Enough to do the living room, bedrooms and hallway.”

“Isn’t that what the real estate guy wanted?”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

And yet, it was so like his old man.
“If you’re here you can work.”

“Should we do that first? I think that’ll get the faster return. Then that shit can start showing people the house.”

Tiny nodded. “Yeah. Probably.”

“The chop saw will make it go faster. You ever put that stuff in?”

Tiny studied the man standing next to him. In most instances, Knuckles was a wild card. Loyal, absolutely, but a lot nuts. He’d just done a hit for the fucking mob a few days ago, and he was now debating which home improvement project to tackle to garner Tiny’s mother the best return on their home equity.

“I’ve done it a couple times. Back when I was helping a contractor with finishing work. It’s not as involved as real hardwood.”

“I’ve seen it on TV,” Knuckles offered, pulling on his beard with a fist.

“You really up to all this?”

Knuckles shrugged. “Jayce said he didn’t need us, right? What else we gonna do?”

That was another excellent pair of points. When the funeral date had been set Tiny called his Prez with the news. Jayce told him and Knuckles to stay put. There was a simple protection run scheduled the next day, nothing they were needed for. Just escorting a group through Bakersfield—a group not friendly enough with G-Town for that particular gutter trash to mind their manners despite their great relationship with the Sachettis. Don Sachetti needed these guys in Bakersfield for a day, so the Red Rebels would make sure that nothing bad happened to them. Whoever they were.

But in the meantime, Tiny and Knuckles were in the flooring installation business.

The carpet wasn’t glued down, thank Christ. The nail strips gave up the beige deep-piled shit without a fight, and they had the living room, hallway and bedrooms cleared by lunchtime. The refuse was dumped on the front lawn, and Tiny wiped the sweat from his forehead. For November it was pretty warm, but that was the way it was in Colorado. It could be snowing the next day.

Knuckles peeled off his T-shirt with a groan, tossing it to the grass and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. “Man. I can’t take this working for a living shit. I ain’t built for manual labor.”

Tiny chuckled and grabbed an offered cigarette, letting Knuckles light it for him before replying. As he did he took in the string bean. Yeah, the kid was strong but his ribs showed, his elbows and shoulders were knobby. He was certainly
not
built for hard labor.

“You’re too delicate,” Tiny agreed, parking his ass on the steps in front of the door. Just to rest up.

“Then why the fuck are
you
breathing hard?”

“I’m old,” he admitted as Knuckles sat next to him, one step lower.

“So, I gotta ask.” Knuckles said after an amiable pause. “With Mallory. You keep saying you were an asshole to her. But...what did you do?”

Tiny took a hard inhale, the kind that still burned his lungs even after a lifetime of smoking, then shook his head. “I left her. She needed me at a bad point, and I walked away.”

“Why’d you do that?”

Tiny swallowed hard. He had no good answers.

-oOo-

The doctor’s office was flooded with a throbbing, science-fiction sound that Harlon knew was the heartbeat of a baby. But his full attention was on the tiny screen on the far side of the examining table. The doctor had a weird hand-held vacuum-looking thing that he was running back and forth over Mallory’s belly, which was well on its way to giving their baby a luxurious and roomy home.

The wand hit one spot and suddenly it was there, full side view. Legs, and arm, giant head. Even the umbilical cord was visible. All gray smudges on a black background, but definitely a baby.

Mallory’s hand tightened on his when she saw it, too, and she held her breath.

“Holy sh—” he caught himself. “Holy cow. Look at that.”

“It’s our baby,” she breathed, and he had to check to see if she was okay. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and her lip was trembling. “Oh wow. Look at that.”

He kissed her temple, closing his eyes, his chest feeling so tight it hurt. Yeah, it was a living thing now. More than when her belly had gotten hard and started to swell outward, more than the little flutters that she was sure were the kicks of their child. He hadn’t believed it until he was seeing this.

He’d been on the road, taking as many trips as he could until the time was getting close for Mallory to deliver. He was saving cash like crazy, and his dad was helping him look for a house for them. Mallory didn’t know about it yet, he didn’t want her stressing over it. He wanted to do it and move her in, no worry or work for her.

Because of all that work he’d missed the other doctor’s visits, but his mom was stepping in to help when Mallory would let her. And to his surprise, Mallory had taken his mother’s offer with a lot of relief.

She was scared, and he was fucking terrified.

“Can you see if it’s a boy or a girl?”

The doctor shook his head, taking the wand from Mal’s stomach. The swishing sound stopped immediately, and he handed Mallory some paper towels to wipe the goop from her stomach. Harlon took the towels and did it himself, catching Mallory’s grin when he did but he ignored it.

“Baby’s not in the right position today. Maybe next time. Do you want to know?”

Mallory nodded, and Harlon held his tongue. He liked the idea of it being a surprise, but Mallory wanted to know what to expect. She’d called him old-fashioned the last time they argued about it. Not argued, not really. He couldn’t get too mad at her. He always felt more protective towards her than anything else, and maybe it lessened her worth or something but he just wanted her to be happy.

“But everything looks good. That heartbeat is strong, and Mommy’s very healthy.”

Mallory smiled at him now and took his hand. He had the towels in the separate hand so he stilled, looking into her dark eyes. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

Harlon swallowed, glancing at the doctor who was doing his best to look busy with other things.

“Of course. I’ll come with you whenever I can.”

Mallory smiled again, biting her lip.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, then laughed and wiped at her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m hungry, like always.”

Harlon had to grin. “Then we’ll go get lunch. But that’s all that’s wrong?”

“Yeah. That’s all.”

“Okay, let’s go eat.”

-oOo-

Tiny shrugged, realizing Knuckles was still waiting for the answer. “I don’t know. I was excited about the baby. I was in love with Mal and...yeah.”

He was saved from having to answer the next question by a loud rumble, and his ears perked at the approaching roar of straight pipes. Three or four, he’d guess.

He stood and so did Knuckles, right as a group of four bikes turned the corner and deliberately slowed, their pipes burping loudly as they passed his folk’s place. All four riders were looking at them, and while there was no outright hostility in the look, something made the back of Tiny’s neck go cold.

They kept the eye contact until it would have meant running their wheels into a curb then pulled off loudly, throttles revving, and were gone.

“What the fuck?” Knuckles mumbled, having read the same name from the kuttes that Tiny did. “Did you know about this?”

Tiny shook his head. “Nah. I haven’t been home much, but...shit. That’s weird.”

Knuckles’ whistle was low. “Dirty Rats in the hometown all of a sudden. I wonder if they have a clubhouse here or if they’re passing through.”

Tiny’s brow was furrowed so tight it was giving him a headache. “We’re pretty far off the highway here. If they’re not living here they got business here somewhere.”

“Weird that they rolled by, like they knew we were here.”

Houses to both sides were quiet. Across the street, ditto. But he had a very uneasy feeling about the neighbors all of a sudden.

“Better keep an eye out for anyone questionable hanging around.”

Tiny nodded his agreement. “And I’ll call it in to Jayce. What with the way things are between us and the Rats, I’m starting to wish we’d packed a little heavier.”

-oOo-

Figuring out how the laminate flooring worked and getting into a groove took a few hours. Once they were on a bit of a roll with their system there was another grumbling cacophony outside the house, but this one stopped right out front.

Tiny moved to the front door, which stood open to let some breeze through the screened window. Then he had to grin.

“You gotta be kidding me.” With a laugh he shoved the screen door open and stood on the stoop, arms crossed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

In front of the cluster of bikes parked diagonally at the curb, Jayce pulled off his helmet with a smile and made his way across the grass up the lawn. “Told you we’d be here.”

“You were running protection today.”

“Already done,” Tank piped up, falling into place at Jayce’s right like that was the only spot he knew to stand in. “Came right here. Sent the women to the hotel with Tims and Rusty. Even Trinny’s coming in tomorrow for the funeral.”

The tickle in his throat was likely from dust.

That was the thing people might not get about a club like this; it didn’t matter that Harlon Senior was only Tiny’s father. He’d raised one of them so that made him the uncle to the entire club and their families. The fact that Trinny was travelling made his heart cramp. He’d always liked Trinny, and when she walked out on Jayce it had felt personal, even to Tiny. If Jayce was a brother then his wife was a sister, and she’d turned her back on all of them.

But she was coming out for this.

“What are we up to here?” Jayce went on, pulling his riding gloves off.

“They rode their bikes to Colorado in November!” Knuckles cried, inserting himself in the conversation by physical means. He accepted the fist-clasp from Jayce then gave Tiny the stink eye.

“They had to worry about two days of forecast. I had no idea how long we’d be gone,” Tiny defended himself, and Knuckles scoffed. Then he answered his boss. “We just wrapped up a day of laminate flooring installation.”

“What the fuck?”