Page 119 of Lost Lyrebird

Time passes as I sink deeper into the role of a hangaround.It starts slow, just dropping in some nights to visit the clubhouse for drinks and what most there would consider a good time.Eventually, I’m deemed trustworthy enough to come around whenever I feel like it, and as I slowly become friends with some of the women atWet Tips,I bring them along with me.Mainly, so I don’t stand out as the onlynew girl.

We become the main attraction, dancing for the guys at parties, and pleasuring anyone we decide to latch on to for the night, while reveling in the highs that come with alcohol, Mary Jane, and wild nights filled with music and sex.

I push my conscience to the very back of my mind and keep it there.

Goose becomes a constant figure in my periphery.Always watching from afar as if he loves nothing more than to torture himself, and me by extension.He doesn’t say a word, stop me, or intervene.He’s my shadow, my watcher from the sidelines.He drinks or smokes the night away, and delivers condemnation by his expression alone, not saying a word but punishing me for my choices, and making every walk of shame a two-party occasion, because he’s somehow always there to see it.

I know what I do here is for the right reasons, but it doesn’t make it any less difficult.

The night terrors return, and I often wake to dreams of Goose.Either he dies like Hodge, and I play Bethany, the grieving widow sitting by the casket, or I claw at the dirt, trying to save him from the grave he’s buried in.

These vivid dreams haunt me long after waking.Keeping my mind and body busy seems to be the only way to shake them from my thoughts.

Living off little rest and stressed to the max due to all the burdens I’m trying to juggle has me on a knife’s edge.My mask, control, and patience are paper-thin and in danger of breaking.

So the next time Stone’s hand begins creeping under my skirt while he kisses my neck, I glare right back at Goose, scolding him with a look that sayslook the fuck away ifyoudon’t like it.

He never does.

He watches it all and this creates an endless cycle of misery we both must endure.

Stone talks me into joining him and some of the other HOCs at a bike rally in Reno.It’s been a while since I’ve ridden on the back of a bike for long periods, so at first, I’m a little nervous, but the trip goes off without a hitch.Getting away from the clubhouse and out on the open road does wonders to improve my mood.

He may not be the man I want to ride with, but I take pleasure where I can find it these days, which on the drive there, consists of the wind in my hair and the scenery as we pass through the desert.

We stop for one night at a KOA.As Stone and the other guys set up camp, I stretch my limbs and work to untangle my hair before rebraiding it.A couple of the old ladies and other clubpieces do the same.Then we pull together a meal out of the supplies we brought with us.I hand out waters and beers to those who want them.

A couple of people have followed in their vehicles, and when they unload the chairs and firewood, I take a seat and claim a spot around the fire pit.After the fire gets going, we spend the better part of the night listening to stories of times past from the storytellers in the group.

Goose chooses a seat on the opposite side of the fire from me.For the most part, he’s just as intrigued by the tales being vividly painted for us as I am.He’s drinking and even taking part in the conversation, corroborating events and even adding details that have been left out.

Seeing him so carefree is kind of devastating to the emotional wall I’m trying to maintain.So is his smile and laugh when they make an appearance.

“So, this jackass not only flips me off, he swerves like he’s gonna run me the fuck over.The guy’s towing a fucking fifth-wheel.He’s got his wife and kids in the truck, and the fifth-wheel’s like thirty fucking feet long, and he pulls into my lane any time I speed up to get close enough to yell at him to pull the fuck over.”Bodie is waving his arms around while he speaks, and his full beer sloshes over the rim every now and then.

Septic is enthralled and smiling.Kendra is on his lap, and she asks, “So what’d you do?”

Bodie shrugs.“I was tempted to shoot his tires out.”

Kendra gasps, “Tell me you didn’t.”

“No, I fuckin’ didn’t.What the fuck, Spice?I just told you there were kids in the fuckin’ truck.”Bodie gives Septic a look that says,is she really that dense?But to be fair, he did kind of lead us all there.

Then he says, “I followed his redneck ass until he pulled off the freeway and then chased him around the motherfuckin’ gas station until I got a hold of him.I beat him senseless where the kids couldn’t see their dad whining like a pansy-ass.”

“And it took him three fuckin’ laps around that building to catch him,” Goose supplies and Dozer confirms by holding up three fingers.

“What?”Bodie exclaims.“That fucker was fast as hell, and it had been a minute since I’ve had to run my ass off like that.Had enough of that shit in the Army to last a lifetime.And like who the fuck does cardio willingly?Dumb fucks that’s who.”

Dozer, Kendra, and a few others raise their hands.

Bodie’s drink spills as he points it at each person who raised their hand.“Dumb fucks.The lot of ya.”He intentionally shakes his bottle at them and lets drops sprinkle on a few of them.

“What the fuck, man?”Dozer swipes off the beer now on his jeans.

“You’ve been baptized in the name of… I don’t know… humanity.”

“Humanity?”