Page 33 of Indie
“There was nowhere else.”
I turned the engine off, stepping out into the thin drizzle as the morning cleared.
“Drive to the gates, Mam. I’ll get out there.”
“I can’t get near the gates, Luke. Just get out of the car, please.”
Luke folded his hands across his chest, light blue eyes staring at me defiantly, and for a moment he was so much like his father I forgot who I was looking at.
“J…just get out.” I stammered, a sudden pang of fear rushing at me, making me doubt myself.
When I looked back at the boy in the car, the man I thought I saw staring at me had dissolved, the boy’s eyes searching mine, confusion replacing his earlier stubbornness. I shook my head. “Just get out,” I whispered.
A little hand pushed into mine, warm against my palm, the same light-blue eyes looking up at me. She smiled happily.
“You haven’t taken us to school for ages, Mammy,” her little voice brightened up the dull morning.
Luke skulked along beside us, dragging his feet, each step scuffing another layer of leather off the toes, each stride another step closer to needing a new pair of shoes. I stood at the back of the yard, well away from the other parents, watching the kids form a line, standing patiently till the doors opened and they were ushered inside in the same formation. And then, as soon asthe big glass doors had consumed them, I left, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground, leaving chances of small talk to a minimum. Ignoring the creep of loneliness and the acknowledgement of no friends. Ignoring, at least for a few hours, that Gary had taken everything away from me.
I pulled up behind the big black and chrome bike; the engine vibrating so much I thought I could feel it through my car tyres. Indie turned slightly, watching me from over his shoulder. His bike jacket was different today, something adorning the leather. Another leather vest with an embroidered motif on the back. I couldn’t make it out at first. But as he straightened up and the deep purr of the bike stopped, I could see it more clearly. Three crowned skulls, their mouths hanging open in a hideous laugh. The words the Northern Kings MC, Newcastle Upon Tyne, written on the back.
Chapter Sixteen
I watched the little silver car roll to a stop on the curbside. The engine skipped a beat, not keeping the continuous purr, more of a sore throat and a cough. The exhaust rattled side to side; I didn’t need to look at it to know half of it was dropping off. The little silver piece of scrap came to an absolute stop, the travel of the handbrake clicking up four notches too far.
I let the bike settle to the left, just in front of Emmie’s car, watching it over my shoulder. It was still early after a night of little sleep. A night I’d spent twisting and turning, wondering whether pursuing her, this, was the right thing. Finally, I settled on being selfish, that this, her, was what I wanted.
“Thought we’d get breakfast,” I said to her, patting the seat behind me.
She looked at my hand, then looked back at me.
“I don’t have a helmet,” she answered.
“Figured you wouldn’t. Came prepared.”
I moved my leg over the bike, sliding the visor off the handlebar where I’d hung it, before moving to the pannier and pulling out a black leather bike jacket. Holding the jacket, I waited for her to slide an arm in. The leather was stiff, not worn in years, and the zip stuck just over her navel.
“Indie, I think I’m too fat for this.”
“Bollocks, are you fat.” I nipped the edges of the jacket together, holding it in one hand and pulling at the zip with another, trying not to think about where my hands were, or it was gonna be one uncomfortable ride through Northumberland.
Climbing back onto the bike, I beckoned her with my head.
“I don’t know about this, Indie,” she said, her voice muffled behind the visor of the helmet she wore.
“I promise I’m not gonna let you fall off.”
She stood a little longer, contemplating the bike, and then slowly she slid her leg over. Emmie wobbled instantly, panicking, grabbing at me. I pulled her arms around my waist and moved the bike off the kickstand, slowly centering it. Then, tapping the side of her leg, I turned the engine on, the bike fired up beneath us. Emmie’s arms tightened around me, pulling herself into my back, and before she could change her mind, I glided forward.
The bike roared, the wind battered the visor of my helmet, a chilly morning doing all it could before the autumn sun kicked its ass back to the shadows. Emmie had hugged me for the last hour, her arms wrapped firmly around me, tightening up every time we took a sharper corner, or every time I opened the throttle, driving the bike past the cagers going painfully slow in front of us.
It was nice to have someone behind me, my back almost warm through the leathers as her body snuggled against mine. I could have gone for miles. Just kept riding, till we could go no further north. Just like my cousin had done those years before. Rode north and north again with his woman on the back. The ultimate freedom. No club. No patch. No responsibility. Just the wind rushing his skin and a good woman with him. I’d been jealous then, the embers still dying now. But maybe with Emmie, I was one step closer to doing all that.
And I could leave the club behind. Leave someone else to deal with what was to come, deal with the wolf at our door. Because I didn’t think I had the stomach for it. Not that I ever had, just the ability to shut out the bad bits. To compartmentalise so well that no one could get to those bits. Not even me. Yet with that, all sense of happiness had wicked away. All sense of meaning. And I just moved from year to year, from one birthday to the next with meaningless indirection.
Until now.
I should grieve more than I was. I should let myself be consumed by it all. Like I had those first days after his diagnosis. When he was back and forwards to hospital. When I wasn’t sure if this was the end. Just a few months ago, I’d wanted to give in to that overwhelming darkness. To the muddy depths thatpulled me deeper. Until Emmie. And now I wanted to wake up the next day.