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She pursed her lips. “Dealing with my brother is never fun these days, but I guess it was okay.”
She talked about her trip for a few minutes, and we joked about a few other things. Then she turned inquisitive eyes toward me. “So what has your brain going a million miles an hour, and wanting to speak to me at almost midnight on a Saturday night?”
“How do you know my mind is going crazy?”
“Candy, you and I are very much alike. I recognize the signs that you have something going on and want to discuss it.”
I nodded. “Alright, you are correct, and I might be totally out of line for even coming to you, but I was trying to figure out how to help a friend, and you might be able to help.”
“Because I have money?” she asked bluntly.
I chuckled uneasily. “Maybe, but you also know business matters, and I want your opinion.”
“Alright, what is this about?”
“You know the tavern, right?” She nodded. “Well, it’s up for sale.”
“Are you saying you want to buy the tavern?”
“No, I have a”—I paused, wondering what to call him—“a friend interested in buying the tavern, but I inspected it and found some major structural issues.”
“Okay.”
“I’m trying to figure out a way to help him purchase it and get it fixed up, but he told me he doesn’t have all the money.”
She stared at me for a few seconds. “Are you asking me to help your friend and invest in the tavern?”
I took a deep breath. “No, not at all. I’m asking you if you think it would be smart for me to do that.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MICHAEL
Candy vanished, and I wasn’t sure if that was because of something I did or not. I was pretty sure it had to do with the fact that I had taken her fast and dirty in the hallway upstairs. If it weren’t, why wouldn’t she at least say goodbye? Maybe she would come back later around closing.
Except she didn’t, and after I sent her a message, I didn’t get a reply. She’s asleep, man. She left your ass after you took advantage of her, and she hustled home and climbed into her big soft bed all alone.
I would want to kill myself if I had caused just one tear to touch her skin.
I ensured the place was locked up and then turned off the lights before heading up the stairs. A little part of me hoped she might be curled up in my bed, but my room was empty when I walked in. I looked around the room, wondering what she might see as she did.
Not fucking much! A queen bed with a navy-blue comforter that had seen better days. My closet was open, and boots and sneakers spilled into the room. My clothes were all dark and not much to look at. I had a small bookcase with a couple of books I had either read or planned to read one day. Beside that was a dresser. On that were a couple of photos—all of them were from my club days.
I whipped my shirt off, tossed it toward the hamper in the corner of the room, then went to shower. When I returned a few minutes later, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my phone to see if I had gotten a reply while I was in the bathroom, but there was nothing.
I stared at my phone for a while. Ever since I left the club, my phone had been very quiet. Before, it constantly vibrated to let me know I had messages or calls from other members. It now only rang occasionally, most of that for tavern business. My texts weren’t much better, although a couple of the club guys occasionally reached out to bullshit with me.
I set my phone on the small battered wooden nightstand and picked up the picture beside it. I lay back on the bed and stared at it. Steve Sheller stood beside me. He was dead now after a motorcycle accident on the highway. Frank Potts was in the photo too. He took over as president after Steve died. Milt Wright was our treasurer, and Randolph was an enforcer like I had been. Frank, Milt, and Randolph were all incarcerated, and the last guy in the picture was Ryan Vigilante, who was dead.
Out of all of them, I missed Ryan the most. We hit it off immediately when he joined our charter, and I appreciated his intelligence and calm demeanor when things got tough. I wondered if he would have gotten out if he had been able. I had a feeling that he would have done that for Cara, only the club wanted Cara, so I don’t know that he would have been allowed to leave after all.
I set the picture down and turned off my light. As I lay in the dark, I thought more about Ryan. After he died, they shipped his body off to family out west. There hadn’t even been a memorial service for him here. I would have liked to have attended one. Not that I got off on funerals; I hated them, but it was a big deal, and having a funeral and the two-day basher was a tradition for someone who died wearing the patch.
There was little doubt that when I left the earth, my service would be small, and there would be no big party to celebrate all the bad shit I had done in my life. I rolled to my side, trying to shed thoughts of death, and instead focused on the tavern and what I could do to become the owner.
* * *
Sunday was the one morning I didn’t roll out of bed and start working the minute my feet touched the ground. I let myself sleep in and usually woke up around noon when there was constant noise from the staff preparing lunch under me in the kitchen.
