Rough Ride

  I poured myself another cup of coffee and sipped at it, opening and closing cupboards, finding the women had done me right in more ways than I already knew. They set me up perfectly.

  I took the coffee with me as I wandered and found, through the other door on the wall down from the powder room, there was a nicely outfitted laundry room with washer and dryer, soaking sink, shelves and wall-mounted dryer racks.

  I mean, seriously.

  I could live here the rest of my life and be happy.

  Though it wouldn’t fit any Travises or Nashes.

  Or Hermiones.

  Just me.

  A man and me.

  I heard my phone ring and I moved out of the laundry room to the table by the door where it was sitting, deciding next up was the goodness I knew I’d discover digging through the Sephora bag that was still there.

  I set my coffee down and picked up my phone.

  The screen said Snap and seeing it my heart felt happy that he could finally be displayed on my phone for anyone to see that he was in my life and thus belonged in my phone.

  But my head felt full of ominous gray clouds.

  “Hey,” I greeted after I took the call.

  “Hey to you,” he replied. “You good?”

  I closed my eyes, opened them, and stared at the long stretch of lawn that led to the street.

  There were bushes down either side of the property. I couldn’t begin to know what they were, just that they were cut low for the winter.

  I wondered if Snap provided lawn maintenance for his tenants, and if he did, if he did that himself or if he expected them to do it as part of the rental agreement.

  “Rosalie,” he called, his tone sharper.

  Not sharper.

  Worried.

  “I’m good,” I told him, though I wasn’t sure I was considering how it felt that he’d been gone maybe a little over an hour and he was already calling me, checking on me.

  That should feel good.

  It was just my head was so messed up, I wouldn’t let it.

  “You don’t sound good,” he noted.

  “The stitches all fell out,” I shared.

  “Noticed,” he murmured.

  Of course he had.

  “I’m gonna have scars,” I told him.

  There was a beat of silence before he declared, “I’m comin’ back.”

  “Snap, don’t.”

  “Babe, you went from bein’ cute in bed and smiling eating a donut to whatever the fuck you sound like now and talking about scars. You’ve fallen into your head, it’s not a good place to be, so I’m comin’ back.”

  “I need to sort this stuff out for myself, Snapper.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  Suddenly, the big yard in front of me was blurry.

  “Sorry?” I asked back.

  “Why do you have to do it yourself?”

  I…

  Didn’t know.

  I told him what I did know.

  “I’ve relied on a man all my life, Snap.”

  “Okay, so?”

  My head jerked.

  “That’s not very strong,” I pointed out.

  “Have I ever told you why I joined Chaos?” he queried.

  I felt my shoulders straighten because he hadn’t, I knew something big was coming, and last, I bucked up so I could be prepared because I wanted so badly to know that something big.

  Precisely…why he’d joined Chaos.

  “No,” I told him.

  “I’m a quiet guy. I’ve always been that guy. First thing I did when I got my driver’s license was go to a movie by myself,” he shared.

  There was something immensely cool about that.

  There was also something immensely Snapper about that.

  Then again, it was kinda one and the same thing.

  “Was the first I did that,” he went on. “Wasn’t the last. My brother and sister, they got big personalities. They’re almost pathologically social. Just like my mom and dad. My sister, she’s crazy. Lovable, but crazy. Always getting into trouble. Fightin’ with Mom. Then lovin’ on her. My brother was the big man, sports star. Soccer. Really good at it. Earned a scholarship on it. I played tennis.”

  I felt a sudden, inappropriate-at-that-juncture giggle welling up in me and choked it back.

  But I couldn’t quite hide the disbelief in my, “You played tennis?”

  “That’s all about me. The court. The racket. The ball. My game. My strategy. It isn’t even about my opponent. He was just someone who, if he could, lobbed the ball back at me, and it was up to me to get a bead on his strategy. You are totally in your own space. You are totally in your own head. Win or lose, it’s all on you.”

  I could see this about Snap and not just the fact that, knowing this, I realized he had a tennis player’s body, if that tennis player was Boris Becker.

  “I read,” he continued. “I ride. I don’t play tennis anymore and haven’t since high school but when I did, I liked it. I got my properties and those are mine. I buy them. I manage them. Brothers might help out fixin’ them up, but the vision and the follow-through is all on me.”

  “Okay,” I said when he stopped talking.

  “But back then, whatever I got into doing, I went home to my family. I was the middle kid but I didn’t get any of that middle kid mindfuck bullshit because they were the way they were. Totally not like me but they didn’t make me feel like an outsider because I was how I was. They gave me space to be me. They came to my matches. I went to their shit. I didn’t exist among them. I was part of them as who I was, not how they wished I would be. That’s still my place. They get together a lot more than I get with them, but when I show, I’m just as much a part of my family as the rest of them. It’s just that I’m not into family game night every two weeks and they don’t give a shit I’m not. They’re happy for me to show when I want to show. They take me when I want to give them time and they leave me be when I’m not feelin’ it.”

  “That’s cool,” I said when he paused.

  “I wanted more of that,” he shared. “I wanted to be around people who let me be me. I didn’t want to be in a corporate situation where it was about toeing the line or clawing to the top. I didn’t want to be in a different situation where every day was the same until you realized your life was a long line of drudgery. I wanted a family but I wanted that with freedom.”

  “That makes sense,” I noted.

  “And since I ride, since my bike is a big part of my life, since that freedom is the biggest part of me, I found a brotherhood that shared the same ideals. And the biggest part of those ideals, I give it to them and they give it to me. That ‘it’ being, I let the brothers be the brothers and all the brothers let me be me.”

  “I love that you found that, Snapper,” I said softly.

  “I do too, Rosie,” he returned. “And the point I’m makin’ with that is, if I wanna hole up in my room in the Compound and read a book, I can. Then I can walk right out and share a beer with a brother. I can be alone, but I’m never alone. Are you with me?”

  I was with him.

  And I was breathing funny.

  “Babe, are you with me?” he pushed when I said nothing.

  “I’m with you, honey,” I forced out.

  “I got somethin’ on my mind, I go to Tack. I go to High. I go to Hop or Pete. Or I go to my dad or my brother. I don’t wanna ride alone, Joke goes out with me. Or Boz. Or Hound. I can put in a kitchen but that’s not my thing, how it should look, so if I need to buy a sink that works for one of my places, Tyra helps me. Or my sister helps me. Or my mom tells me what she thinks would work.”

  “That’s all important, but what I’m saying about me at this point in my life is different than all that,” I told him carefully.

  “You think if my mom died or something ugly happened to my sister that those brothers and their women wouldn’t be all about being there for me?” he asked.

  I looked at my toes.

  “Rosalie,
” he growled.

  “They would,” I whispered.

  “It isn’t about havin’ someone to share a beer with, even when it is. It isn’t about havin’ someone to do a ride with, even when it’s that too. It’s about making the conscious decision to surround myself with good people so when life is good, I got someone to share that with, and when life turns to shit, I got someone who’ll help hold me steady.”

  Now I was deep breathing.

  “Life, Rosie,” he said gently, “is not about goin’ it alone. It’s about finding the right people to share it with who will make it better when it’s good and be there to hold you steady when it’s not.”

  “But I’m bouncing from guy to guy to guy,” I pointed out.

  “You’re living your life and you aren’t doin’ it latchin’ on to men to take care of you. You’re doin’ it and men are drifting through your life while that’s happening. They weren’t the right ones and right now, that’s good for me, because I wanna be that one. But they aren’t anything except that they were. They were in your life. And you moved on or they moved on or whatever. You wanna be with somebody, that does not make you weak, Rosie. In most cases, finding it in you to take the risk to trust your time and your heart to someone makes you strong. But in all cases, wanting to share your life with other people just makes you human.”

  “You’ve got it totally figured out,” I muttered.

  “No, Rosie, I got dick figured out,” he retorted. “Only thing I know for certain is, so far, I lucked out and made good decisions in my life, and one of them is you. The you that it doesn’t mean shit you got a scar cuttin’ ’cross your brow like it wouldn’t mean shit you put on fifty pounds like it wouldn’t mean shit you aged thirty years. You’re Rosie. And no matter what, you’ll always be beautiful.”

  My throat sounded clogged when I pushed through it, “I don’t think you need to come back anymore, Snapper.”

  “You don’t sound much better, baby,” he said softly.

  “Then you aren’t listening very closely.”

  He grew silent.

  I stared at my toes fighting against crying.

  He broke the silence.

  “Now, tell me what you got planned for your day.”

  I cleared my throat, lifted my gaze, and focused on his tidy, winter yard. “Unpacking. Calling Colombo’s. Online shopping to build a vision for my reading nook.”

  Your reading nook.

  Damn.

  “That all sounds good but not sure it’s gonna fill up your day, Rosie.”

  He wanted me to fill up my day so I had good things to do, things to stay busy with, things that would keep me from getting in my head and messing with my own damn self.

  And that was so damn Snapper.

  “I also need rugs, a dining room table, garden furniture, another seating area,” and a portable crib. I didn’t share the last. I didn’t want him freaking at this point. One of us freaking was enough. I just finished, “I think now that I’m feeling better, I’m going to consider the rest of the time off more of a vacation and relax. Check in with Mom. Just…be.”

  “That sounds like it’ll work,” he murmured.

  I drew in a deep breath.

  “You fall back into your head and it isn’t good, Rosie, you call me,” he ordered.

  “Okay, Snapper.”

  “I’ll text when I’m on my way tonight with food.”

  “Okay.”

  “Right, I’ll let you go now.”

  “Uh…Snap?”

  “Right here.”

  I drew in another deep breath then said, “Thanks, honey, for pulling me out of my head.”

  “Thanks for letting me.”

  That had me closing my eyes again, dropping my head and opening them to stare at my toes.

  “Pedicure,” I mumbled.

  “Say again?”

  “I’m going to give myself a pedicure today.”

  “Call your mom and go out and get one with her.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  It did and I decided to set that up before I even called Colombo’s.

  And Snap sounded like he was smiling when he replied, “Great. Later, Scully.”

  “The truth is out there, Mulder. It’s also in here, since you just laid a ton of it on me.”

  The last thing I heard before he disconnected was him chuckling.

  I loved that.

  So much I memorized that in a way I hoped to God I’d never forget that moment and the sound of Snapper’s humor after all he’d just given me.

  Then I took my phone from my ear and called my mother.

  * * * *

  “Okay, give it to me, what’s going on with my Rosalie,” Mom ordered.

  I’d unpacked. Colombo’s knew to put me on rotation. We’d had lunch, then manis and pedis. Now we were sitting on the couch in front of the windows at Fortnum’s Used Bookstore having a latte as crafted by a crazy man who looked like serial killers never looked, but you expected them to, who made the absolute best coffee in Denver.

  And I was not surprised that my mom had read me.

  “Snapper is coming over for dinner tonight and to have a heavy conversation about what’s next for him and me,” I shared.

  “Good. And after that takes five minutes to figure out, I hope he gives you an orgasm during your first time which would round him out as utterly perfect for you,” she shot back.

  I stared at her.

  “Your father would love him,” she declared, leaned into me, and repeated with emphasis, “Love him.”

  He absolutely would.

  And that felt crazy-good.

  It was high time I laid it out.

  And as ever, I laid it out with my mother.

  “Mom, Chaos is at war with a man called Benito Valenzuela. He’s the head of a syndicate that sells drugs, runs guns, peddles flesh, and makes porno movies.”

  I watched my mom’s mouth turn down.

  “And Chaos are vigilantes,” I kept going. “Even before this war with this Benito guy cropped up, they patrolled their turf and if they found something happening they didn’t like, this being illegal activities, they didn’t…and still don’t…call the police.” I paused, studied her closely and asked, “Are you understanding me?”

  “I…uh, is this a bad thing?” she asked back.

  Seriously?

  I leaned toward her and hissed, “Mom! Snapper and his brothers are at war and they act like Chaos turf is Tombstone, they’re the Earp brothers, and they have every right to police it when it’s not Tombstone. It’s Denver. Well, parts are Englewood,” I meandered off target and then got back to it. “And Denver, and Englewood, have their own police.”

  “So they’re an outlaw biker club who are outlaws by being citizens that make people obey the law,” she said.

  That sounded almost…

  Noble.

  Damn.

  “Well…yeah,” I replied.

  “And this is bad because…?” she asked.

  “Because it’s dangerous,” I snapped.

  “And did you know this happened when you dated that Shy person?” she inquired.

  “Not really, that’s when I found out,” I told her.

  “And you didn’t end things with him when he turned out to be a vigilante?” she pushed.

  I shut up.

  She still knew my answer since I didn’t end things with Shy. He’d ended them with me.

  Thus she kept talking.

  “And, although you didn’t share the fullness of your maneuvers with Chaos against Bounty with your mother, you put your behind on the line for Chaos against your old man’s club knowing they had something planned for your old man’s club. And since that is not about Chaos turf in Denver or Englewood, but things happening on Bounty turf in Aurora, this had something to do with this war with this Benito person you also knew about.”

  “I heard Beck talking about what his brothers were getting into. And that Benito guy. And the Chaos situatio
n. And old ladies and biker groupies chat. So, not all of it, but yeah, I knew enough of it.”

  “Enough of it you approached Chaos to help out,” she surmised.

  I shut up again.

  “Because you wanted Beck to sort himself out,” she kept at me.

  “At first,” I said.

  “And when he continued to go along with his club when they were doing seriously stupid stuff that put you all in danger, you gave up on him and started to see what else was out there, even if this happened unintentionally. That something else in your face and your life and involved with this situation,” she deduced.

  I nodded.

  She nodded back and kept going.

  “I think it’s important to note that you were in danger even before you informed on your old man’s club, Rosalie. The authorities don’t like anyone enjoying ill-gotten gains, not even those who gained them consequently. This might not mean you’d be prosecuted when they’d gotten caught. What it would mean is that, if you’d bought a home with Beck’s dirty money, it would be taken from you. If you’d bought a car, it would be taken from you. If you’d had children with him, the powers that be might concern themselves with your ability to make good choices for yourself and your children, and they might consider taking them from you. And Beck made conscious decisions to put you right there. It was you who made conscious decisions to get you and him out.”

  “I know what happened, Mom,” I said carefully.

  “And in the meantime, you met Snapper, who came to mean something to you, something deep and good and important. A Snapper who is with a club at war with a man who peddles flesh and makes porn and your issue is…?” she prompted.

  “He might get hurt,” I told her.

  “Yes, and a police officer faces every shift every day with that same risk.”

  And finally we were where I needed us to be.

  “Snap is not police,” I pointed out.

  “And a soldier faces that every day when they’re deployed,” she kept on like I didn’t say anything.

  “He’s not a soldier either, Mom.”