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The parking lot behind Libby’s school is still full of cars when I arrive. Bright lights illuminate everything. I glide into a spot near one of the doors and hurry inside.
No one’s in the lobby outside the auditorium yet. I stop and pull my phone out. I might be conflicted and need time to think but before I left, Dex asked me to text him when I arrived at the school.
Inside the auditorium, thunderous applause, shouts and whistles erupt. Smiling to myself, I tap out my text.
Me: Made it for the curtain call.
He responds within seconds.
Dex: Good. Let me know when you get home.
The doors to the auditorium burst open and people pour into the hallway. Perfect timing.
I hurry to the cafeteria to wait for Libby.
I’ll have to worry about Dex tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DEX
The way I left things with Emily last night isn’t sitting right with me. Not wanting to make things worse, I crashed at the clubhouse.
Murphy pounds on my door at an ungodly hour considering how late it was when I got in. “Church in ten!”
I groan and roll out of bed, scrubbing my hands over my face.
Eight minutes later, I’m at the table with most of my brothers, waiting for a few stragglers. Rooster walks in and slaps my shoulder as he passes by.
When everyone’s seated, Rock starts the meeting. “We need people to go out and chat with the support club.”
By we, I think he means anyone but him.
“Spoke to Eraser this morning,” Murphy says. “They’re at the track all day.”
I lift my hand. “I’ll go.”
“Good,” Murphy says. “I guess Griff wants to talk to you.”
“He’s got my number.”
Murphy shrugs.
Teller also raises his hand. “It’s a nice day. I’m up for it.”
Rooster and Jigsaw also agree to join us.
Rock grits his teeth. “Wrath and I will be visiting Loco. We’re not sharing details, obviously, but I want him to understand we won’t come running if he needs us in the next few weeks.”
“I’ll join you for that, Rock,” Grinder volunteers.
Z takes over, thanking Grinder, then glancing around the table. “Let’s get our business stuff in order.” He points at Rooster. “You’re good to go, right?”
“All I need is my laptop,” Rooster agrees.
Sparky fidgets in his seat and Stash elbows him.
“Hustler, you got the laundromat covered?” Z asks.
“Yup. All set.”
“All right,” Rock says. “Let’s show our faces where we need to, so nothing’s hanging over our heads while we’re away.”
“Boss, I don’t know,” Sparky starts in.
I thought he’d made peace with his attendance for this ride. Apparently not.
“My plants—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Rock cuts him off. “You’re going.”
“But,” he whines, “I just saw Priest at Teller’s wedding. It’s not like I haven’t paid my respects—”
“It’s not about Priest. We’re paying our respects to Digger,” Wrath reminds him.
Sparky’s face screws into a scowl.
“Sparky,” Rock says in a tone much more patient than he’d use with the rest of us, “do I ever force you to go on a run if it’s not necessary?”
“Well, no,” he says.
At least he got that answer right. Not that I’m intimately acquainted with how other MCs run things, but from the ones I’ve been around, I don’t think Sparky would’ve kept his patch—or continued breathing—for long with another club.
“Come on,” Teller cajoles. “You had a blast down in Florida.”
“And Texas,” Rooster adds. “You’re a core part of how Shelby and I met, brother.”
“That’s true,” Sparky says slowly. “But that was for fun. And Shelby was a rainbow of light to bring into the club. A funeral…that’s so many chances for dark energy to hitch a ride home with us.”
Rooster lifts his eyebrows to signal he’s now tapping out of the conversation.
“You’re not worried about the bad karma of skipping a brother’s funeral?” I ask.
Horror widens Sparky’s eyes. “Fine,” he grumbles.
“Anyone else?” Rock asks in a tone that clearly says keep your mouth shut. “All right, everyone’s free to go.”
Murphy nods at me. “I’ll meet you out front. I need to run home real quick.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Sparky throws me a disappointed puppy face as he slinks out of the room.
Rock catches it and shakes his head. I make my way over to Rock’s end of the table.
“Thanks for the karmic push,” he says with a wry tilt to his mouth.
“He’s getting worse,” I say quietly.
“That’s why I want him on this ride,” Rock answers in an equally lowered voice. “We’ve let him isolate himself for too long.”
It’s only my concern for Sparky that makes me ask Rock, “You think maybe it’s time for him to see a shrink or something?”
In most MCs that would be seen as a sign of weakness, and no one would dare suggest it to another brother. But Rock isn’t close-minded and wants what’s best for all of us.
“Believe me, I’ve thought about it,” he answers. “But it’ll be harder to get him to therapy than it’ll be to get him on the road.”
