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“Don’t be?” I repeat incredulously. “You can’t tell me how to feel.” I search for Bethany. She and Frankie are making their way over to us. “Why are you even here?” I say quickly, before Bethany reaches us.
“I was invited,” he replies, but he doesn’t get another word out before Bethany slides in across from me with Frankie next to her.
The next hour is pure torture. Sugar lightens the mood when she brings everyone their orders. When it comes to Priest, he gets strong black coffee and a traditional bacon and egg breakfast with hash browns. Straight up, nothing fancy. Even I can’t help but giggle at her analysis of the big man beside me.
The rest of the time, he jumps into the conversation like he’s been part of this crew forever, which I have to admit is kind of cool. It’s the touching I’m struggling with. His arm stretches behind me when he sits back to sip his coffee. His leg brushes mine, and I can feel his searing heat.
Bethany is oblivious. She’s wrapped up in the tour talk. That’s when I realize why Priest has been silent for the past week.
“I’d much rather Frankie be on a stage than chasing criminals all over the state. Frankie mentioned that this one pulled a gun on you,” Bethany comments.
I whip my head around to meet the eyes I’ve been avoiding for the past hour. “You’re a bounty hunter!” I cry.
He grins. That’s right. He grins and shrugs like it’s the most natural career for someone to have.
“Yeah. Among other things,” Priest says, lifting the recently refilled mug to his lips, which only accentuates that full mouth, reminding me of all the places it’s touched. I lick my lips and refocus.
“Other things?” I almost choke on the words when his fingertips graze over my thigh.
“I do whatever the club needs. We all work together. When Risk asked me to jump in to help set up for Frankie today, I did it. Never know what comes next. I like it that way.”
“I don’t know how you keep it all together and still find time to volunteer at the youth center,” Frankie says with admiration. “Those kids love you. They hang on every word you say.”
“Been there awhile. Got to know a lot of them. I can relate. Makes it easier to get the word across,” Priest tells us.
“What do you do at the shelter?” I ask. It’s clear I know nothing about Priest. This makes me feel sad. Bounty hunter, brother to his boys, youth center volunteer… What else am I missing?
“I’m sort of like a big brother. I help kids talk stuff out before they act out. Hopefully, I get them to make better choices,” Priest says nonchalantly. “Nothing major. Most of the work comes from Steady’s real brother. He runs the place. He’s got the hard shit, like making payments on the place, feeding these kids, making sure they stay clean and out of trouble.”
“I hear different, man. From what I’ve been told, you’ve turned a lot of kids around. That kid, Ronnie, he looks at you and wants to be you. Heard him telling the counselor that when he grows up, he’s going to help people like you do. That’s a big jump from being a petty drug dealer,” Frankie says.
“Ronnie’s not a drug dealer. He’s a kid who needed to eat, and a drug dealer got his hooks into him. These kids are surviving. They don’t know any other way because they can’t see past getting a meal in their stomachs today to see them through to tomorrow. I’ve been there. I get it. Things are so shitty, it’s easier to drink to forget about it or whatever poison you fall into.” Priest’s expression makes me want to cry. It’s like he’s reliving those horrible moments of his past all over again.
“Been there, buddy,” Frankie admits. “Still recovering from that hell. That’s why when Demon asked me to spend time with you and those kids, I wanted in. I hope to get as good at it as you are.”
“You’re a rock star, man. You’re in,” Priest says with a laugh.
“Yeah, but you’re real. You tell them like it is, and they want that. They respect you,” Frankie counters.
“Thanks, but you’re going to figure out really soon it’s as much for you as it is for them. Those kids give me purpose. They remind me of where I was and how far I’ve come. I had my own brand of intervention. His name was Guard. Maybe, just maybe, I can stop some kid from living most of his life screwing up. It took me a long time to find a new road,” Priest says, his face somber. There’s a history, and from what I’m hearing, he’s had a rough go of it.
I want to know everything. I want to hear Priest’s story. I’m still miffed that he hasn’t called me since that night, but I’m willing to listen if he’ll share himself with me.
Bethany switches gears and moves to wedding talk. Somehow, I get bamboozled into cake taste testing. I’m not fighting it too hard. An afternoon with fifteen kinds of cake and coffee doesn’t seem like a tough gig for a maid of honor.
“Next Sunday at three,” she confirms.
“Got it in my calendar.” I shake my phone at her once I finish tapping in the address. “I’ll meet you there.”
When Frankie and Bethany get up to leave, I assume Priest is going to get up too. I can’t get out of the booth with him wedged in close to me. Bethany waves goodbye and leaves arm in arm with her beau.
“Feel like taking a walk?” Priest asks.
I should make my excuses and leave, but I like this side of Priest. His openness is refreshing, and I want to know all there is about him. I nod and let him take my hand as he guides me out of the booth. He drops a few bills on the table, leaving a generous tip, before we leave.
As we walk down the street, I notice that people are staring at us. I guess to any onlooker, we would make an odd couple. Priest is covered in tattoos, wearing his biker cut and black motorcycle boots, and I’m the girl next door.
My hand jerks when he intertwines his fingers with mine. I’m liking it too much. This feels safe and warm. Priest just keeps walking, completely ignoring everyone else around us, and crosses the street that leads to the closest park. I know it well. Sometimes when I get overwhelmed with work, I like to come out here and sit. It helps clear my thoughts.
