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I put my arms around her and looked deep into her eyes. “Like this?”
She smiled. “Yeah. Like this.”
“Sounds like a song that should make you feel happy, not sad.”
“It should,” she said softly.
“So why doesn’t it?”
“That’s the thing. I need constant validation from you looking at me because everything around here reminds me of what some people think about me.”
“Skip’s out. Sara’s moved. And she apologized to you.”
“I changed my hair. I still felt like less. Skip’s now gone, Sara’s now gone, but I can’t shake the feeling like as long as I’m around these people that know what was what with Skip, how I had an abortion, how I kept getting my hopes up and letting them use me, and kinda used them too by trying to find something they didn’t have it in them to give… like they’re still judging me. I feel like… I need a fresh start. But I can’t have a fresh start unless I give you up and I won’t give you up as long as you’ll have me. I just… feel a little hopeless.”
I held her face. I said nothing, so she continued.
“Like… I don’t belong, like I’ll bring you down in everyone’s eyes. I feel like we’ll have this cloud over us forever. No matter what, I’ll always be on the outside. I don’t fit with the club sweet butts. I don’t fit with the old ladies who are trying real hard to overlook my past. But still, I don’t… fit.”
“Baby.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve done everything to make me feel better, to give me this family. They’re doing great accepting me after everything, but it’s me. It’s me that can’t shake it.”
“Give it time. Give it a chance. If it doesn’t work, and you really feel like you gave it an honest try, we’ll leave.”
“We’ll what?”
“Go.”
“No.” She shook her head sharply. “I will not be that girl. That girl who wants her guy to give up his club. There’s only one road from there and it’s the road to Jesse hatin’ Gia’s guts because she so wasn’t worth it.”
She tried to get up. I stopped her.
“We’ll move out of the clubhouse. Try. See if it helps.”
She bit her lip.
“Give it six months. If it doesn’t work, we’ll leave.”
“I’m not letting you give up your MC because I can’t deal.”
“I won’t give up my MC. I’ll go nomad.”
“You what? Nomad? No. You can’t.”
“I’m happy to keep movin’, baby, until we find a slice that feels like our heaven. This town isn’t my hometown. I moved here a year ago; I’m not attached. Yeah, these are my brothers, but they can be my brothers even if I don’t live here.”
“Jesse…”
“Listen, G. I’ll be nomad while you focus on your music. We could pick a charter anywhere North or South Dakota. Or, stay nomadic. You wanna move to Los Angeles and focus on your music, we do that and I come back for rallies, parties, whenever I feel the need to connect or whenever my club needs me. We wanna step outside that, I could put in enough good will to get them to agree to let me start my own chapter or support club somewhere.”
“Baby, I won’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not askin’ me. You’re not gonna stay in a place that you can’t find your way to feelin’ right about. That’s a one-way road to bitterness against me and I am not the guy who wants anything to do with disappointing the woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with. You are worth it.”
She sighed. “I don’t want you to regret this. Regret… me.”
“We’ll get our own place. Give it six months, give it an honest try, and go from there. Yeah?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
***
It was the next night. We’d gone to see the apartment above the Chinese food place. We were taking it.
It was only a five-minute drive from Gigi’s job, three minutes from the garage and clubhouse. It was cheap and it wasn’t a great apartment, but we could move in on the weekend and get my girl the space she needed from her past, from her regrets. There was also easy access to the best Chinese food in town.
It had one bedroom, a small kitchen, a big living room, back deck, and lots of windows, including a skylight in the bedroom. It worked for me. The owner didn’t push us for a lease either, so it made sense. I handed him six months’ rent in cash. In six months, we were either buying land and building a place here in Aberdeen or I was going nomad and seeing where life took us.
We arrived back at the clubhouse and when Gigi’s helmet came off her head, she muttered, “Fuck my life.”
I watched the car door open on a shitty old car that looked a fuck of a lot like the shit box still parked out back that Gigi drove in. Note to self: Get that piece of shit towed to the scrapyard.
