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“I’m here to relax from Devils’ business,” I say and hope my poker face is holding.
Joker is in his early to mid-thirties with bushy hair and a bushy beard. Coupled with his boot cut jeans verging on bell bottoms and a plaid shirt he looks like someone straight from the seventies. But as friendly as he tries to sound and with all the smiles he keeps cracking, his dark, almost black eyes are always sharp and steady and never actually friendly. He’s definitely someone who could be a leader. I should’ve seen it from the start. But he fooled me with his fake friendliness and unkempt appearance in the beginning. I think all that is part of whatever game he’s playing.
“So you’re unhappy with them too?” he asks. “Like your friends and most of the West Coast?”
He laughs like he made a great joke. Neither I nor Karma join in. She no longer has a blank look in her eyes. She’s very interested in this conversation.
“It’s been a long, rough year. I’m not complaining though. I haven’t seen this much action since I joined. And I joined for the action, if you know what I mean.”
Joker laughs, but Karma pierces me with her cool green eyes.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she says.
“Killing… he means killing,” Joker says amid chuckles. “That’s what they do and that’s what they’ve been doing double time lately.”
He’s doing that thing where he’s trying to appear easy going. But I can see right through him now. It’s all in his eyes. They’re angry and cold and unforgiving.
“Double time, huh?” I say. “More like triple or quadruple, don’t you think? But what’s it to you?”
He ignores my question and turns to Karma, still chuckling. “How have you not heard of the war of all wars? Most of the West Coast MCs are settling scores with Devil’s Nightmare MC. Everyone’s out for their blood where ever they can get it.”
“I wouldn’t say everyone,” I say. “But close.”
“We’ve been out east all summer, burying a brother,” she says and glances at me, but doesn’t hold eye-contact. I don’t think she knows about the war. Or she’s a very good actress.
“That’s a long ass funeral,” I hear myself say.
“He was a good man. We miss him a lot.” she says quietly and looks down at the skull ring on her finger.
“What’s your story?” Joker asks. “Forsaken Outlaws MC. I never heard of you before today. Or yesterday, more like.”
“And you’ve heard of all the MCs?” she asks. That’s a question I really want an answer to as well.
He leans back in his chair holding up his hands. “Fine. You don’t want to answer any questions. Got it.”
“We keep to ourselves and we don’t look for trouble. We’re looking for justice, not blood.” She rises and picks up her riding jacket from the back of her chair. “It’s been a long night. I’m going to sleep.”
“No, come on, stay awhile longer,” Joker whines. “I promise I won’t ask any more questions. We can just keep talking about the Devils and their war.”
He gives me a sharp glance that feels like being touched by a blade.
“We’re looking for justice, not war,” she says. “If it doesn’t concern us, we don’t need to know.”
The way she glances at me again, knowingly and kind of fearfully, tells me she has heard about the war and wants to stay well clear of it. I hope I’m right about that. But either way, I’m sure Hawk will let us know if her MC’s a problem soon.
She shakes the other two Forsaken sleeping at the table and after a few groggy complaints they follow her out of the bar. The momentary flash of bright sunlight as the bar door opens practically splits my head open.
“Is that why you’re still up… because you want to talk about the war?” I ask once the door shuts behind her.
“Hey, you guys showed up here, to my current home as it were,” he says, throwing his hands up in surrender again. “Don’t I got the right to get to know my guests?”
He’s really interested in this topic. Whenever he’s interested in something he talks more than normal. That’s one of his tells. I think. Or maybe I’m just wanting to see that because I’m fall down tired and got nothing to show for hanging out here for the last three days. Except a renewed taste for the dark side. Especially now that Ariel wants to walk down that way with me.
“And where’s your real home?” I ask. He’s ignoring my questions, I’m ignoring his. But maybe he’ll still let something slip.
“Around,” he says. “Here and there.”
“You’re not in an MC?” I ask, flashing a pointed look at the back of his cut.
