“Pleasure’s all mine, darlin’.” Morpheus tips his head respectfully before looking past them to where Crazy Train is helping Cleo off his bike. “Train! Been a minute, brother.”
“Too long,” Crazy Train calls out, that unhinged grin of his making an appearance. “You remember my ol’ lady, Cleo?”
“How could I forget?” Morpheus winks at the purple-haired woman. “Pebbles, you’re looking beautiful as always.”
Cleo laughs, tucking herself against Crazy Train’s side. “You’re such a charmer, Morph.”
Morpheus smirks, then claps his hands together. “Chief’s waiting for you inside. But first, I figure you’ll want to take care of...” His eyes shift to the small wooden box Demi clutches against her chest.
Her face falls slightly, and Klutch tightens his arm around her waist.
I step forward. “Let’s get the bikes unpacked and then head down to the water.”
Demi’s lips lift in a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”
I give her a nod. I barely know the kid, but I know what it’s like to lose a parent. Even if hers was a deadbeat gambler who gothimself killed owing the wrong people money, the man was still her father.
Five minutes later, we’ve unloaded our gear, and Morpheus leads us around the side of the clubhouse toward the beach.
“This is incredible,” Cleo breathes as we step onto the sand. “You lucky bastards have your own private beach.”
She ain’t wrong.
The clubhouse backs up directly onto pristine white sand, with the Atlantic Ocean stretching out blue-green toward the horizon.
A deck wraps around the back of the building, complete with string lights and what looks like a pretty decent sound system.
It’s a helluva lot different from the industrial warehouse we have back in St. Louis.
“It’s a tough life, but someone’s gotta live it,” Morpheus says with a smirk, sliding on a pair of mirrored sunglasses despite the late afternoon sun already hanging low in the sky.
I glance up at the palm trees lining the property, noting the Christmas lights wrapped around their trunks. A large wreath hangs on the back door of the clubhouse, a splash of red and green against the weathered wood.
A Florida Christmas.
It’s a little fucking weird.
We follow Morpheus down to the water’s edge, where the waves are gently lapping against the shore. It’s November, but it’s still warm enough that I’m starting to sweat in my cut and jeans. Too bad it’s too cold to strip down to my boxers and dive into the Atlantic.
I hang back with Morpheus as Klutch walks with Demi to the water. Crazy Train and Cleo trail a few steps behind them.
“How’s the kid holding up?” Morpheus asks quietly, keeping his eyes on Demi.
“Which one? The girl or Klutch?”
He snorts. “Both, I guess.”
I shrug, scratching at my beard. “Klutch seems pretty gone on her. As for the girl, I just met her a couple of days ago, but she seems strong. Had to be, growing up with a father like that.”
He grunts in agreement, and we watch as Demi opens the small wooden box and carefully removes the plastic bag holding her father’s ashes.
We fall silent as Demi wades into the water, Klutch right beside her. She says something too quiet for us to hear, then pulls open the bag and lets the ashes fall into the ocean.
I’ve been through this ritual too many times in my life.
Parents. Brothers. Friends.
Every one of them leaves a hole that never quite goes away.
