Even still, the mere thought of it sends nervous energy rippling through me, and my heart is threatening to stop dead in my chest. I’ve never been overly bold or forward when it comes to men, but I know if I don’t speak up and say something now, the moment will go by the boards. I might never have the chance with him again and that stirs something in me that I haven’t felt in a really, really long time.
“So, listen,” I start. “I-I don’t do this like ever, but I’m off here in a few. Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?”
He looks stunned and falls silent for a minute before looking down into his glass of beer again. I can see his mind working and would give anything to be in his brain and know what he’s thinking. My heart is racing, and I slip my hands into my pockets to keep him from seeing just how hard they’re shaking. I swallow hard, trying to bite back the waves of nausea washing through me as I wait for him to answer. I get the idea though that he’s trying to find a way to let me down easy.
“That’s okay,” I say. “It was just a thought. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not into. I totally under—”
“I’d love to go have a nightcap with you. It’s been a far better night than I expected it to be when I walked into your bar,” he says. “I’d really love to, Fallon, but I should actually get home.”
The sting of rejection makes me physically wince like I’ve been struck and I recoil. It’s been a really long time since I’ve put myself out there to a man like that and to get smacked down… hurts. It hurts a lot. He looks at me with an incredulous expression on his face that quickly shifts to one of horror.
“No, no,” he says. “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that I just—”
“No, it’s all right. I was being too forward. Too presumptuous.”
“Believe me, there is nothing I would rather do than go home with you right now,” he tells me. “It’s just that we’re burying my friend tomorrow. Our club president.”
The lance of guilt that pierces my heart leaves me feeling breathless. Here I am with my feelings hurt thinking he was rejecting me, when he has a funeral to go to. I don’t think I could feel like a bigger asshole if I tried.
“I’m so sorry, Blake. I didn’t know.”
He flashes me a wry smile. “There’s no way you could’ve. No need for you to apologize,” he says. “Just know that if it were any other night, I’d be taking you up on that nightcap in a heartbeat.”
I nod, understanding but still feeling guilty for presuming. He reaches over and lays his hand over mine, squeezing it gently. I look up, feeling the heat burning in my face.
“Rain check?” he asks.
I nod. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot,” I respond. “You going to be okay to drive?”
He nods. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Despite my best efforts to be otherwise, I’m still sober as a goddamn judge.”
He gives me a gentle smile as he gets off the stool and heads out of the bar, leaving me to wonder if I’ll ever see him again. If he’ll ever actually get around to cashing in that rain check.
Chapter Seven
Volt
The day is bright and warm as we waited in the parking lot of the funeral home where they prepared Prophet’s body. The mood is solemn and sober and as I look out over the parking lot, it’s a sea of black and chrome that glitters in the sun. I know we’re here to say our goodbyes to Prophet, but I can’t seem to get Fallon out of my head. Last night was amazing and it has me feeling better than I should be feeling right now.
“Where’s your head at, brother?”
I turn to look at our newest prospect, Adam. He’s a good guy. Twenty-eight years old and after serving eight years in the Army infantry and spending most of his tour in Iraq, he rotated home a couple of years ago. And like the rest of us, he came home to a world that he didn’t understand—and didn’t understand him. He’s got anger issues like a lot of us, but he’s putting in the work to handle his business. He was raised Catholic, so he leans heavily on his faith as well—you’ll never see him without his crucifix and rosary.
He stands about five-ten, which makes him one of the shorter Pharaohs, and he’s got a lean build. He runs about ten miles a day still though, keeping with his military discipline. Same with his short black hair, cut military short, and has blue eyes I know the girls swoon over. He and I bonded over a shared love of comic books, video games, and science fiction. We’ve spent a lot of nights playing games and watching movies together. I like hanging out with him, and I guess I’d consider him my best friend.
“Head’s here,” I say. “Just thinking about Prophet, Beaker, and Axle. This is their day. It’s our day to honor them.”
“You ain’t been the same since the day they were killed,” he says softly. “How are you handling it?”
I shrug. “Gettin’ through it.”
He nod but frowns. “I overheard Spyder talkin’ to Cosmo. Heard him say you were feelin’ guilty about—”
“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on conversations like that.”
“It’s not like I was trying to. They were in the clubhouse when I was cleaning and were just talking about it.”
I have to bite back the simmering anger inside of me. I know Spyder was talking to Cosmo about it because he’s worried about me. I know I haven’t done anything that would exactly alleviate that concern. But still, I wish he hadn’t spoken to Cosmo or anybody else in Leadership about it. It’s my problem. It’s my burden to bear. The last thing I want is for the guys to think I’m fucked in the head. Well, any more than they already know I am anyway.
