Page 96 of The Deals We Make

But even as I think it, the sacrifice already feels too big.

Switch places his hand on my shoulder as I pull myself together. “Thank you, brothers.” My voice is low; it’s filled with raw emotion.

“Let us know what you decide. Meeting adjourned,” King says.

“You want to get out of here?” Switch asks me quietly.

I nod.

Without a further word, Switch basically leads me to my bike via the spot where we hang our riding jackets, like a toddler who needs settling.

“Why didn’t you tell me this is what?—?”

“Get on your bike,” Switch says as we stride across the clubhouse lot. He’s grinning. “It’s a beautiful day for a ride.”

“It’s minus four.”

“Another reason you shouldn’t go to California. Warm weather makes you soft.” He revs the engine of his bike so I can’t say anything in retaliation. “You lead.”

I climb on my bike and pull out.

Switch stays to my side, ever so slightly behind. The ride immediately lifts the feeling of a foot on my chest. It blows off the overwhelm of what just happened. Riding in this weather is like meditation. You’re so busy trying not to think about how you’re freezing and trying to ignore the sting of the cold through any exposed bits of skin, that your mind stops racing.

And it’s bliss.

We ride down the shore. The place I’ve lived my whole life.

It takes us a little over an hour, but we ride all the way to Atlantic City in a blessed silence. And Switch does nothing except follow. Sometimes we ride side by side. As we pull upto intersections, he’ll drop behind me and follow me however I turn.

We pull up on a side street along the boardwalk, not too far from the huge Ferris wheel that sits on the pier. In the middle of summer, you can’t move because there are so many people, but on this crisp winter day, it’s almost deserted. We walk to the sound of the surf and the rare occasional gull, and eventually, I stop and lean on the railing as I look out toward the horizon.

“What are you thinking?” Switch asks.

“That that was one of the grandest fucking gestures I’ve seen at the club.”

“Yeah. It was unanimous, you know. Don’t remember if anyone told you that in the moment. But it was the easiest yes.”

The water is so churned up, it looks murky. I think about what Calista and I talked about at the clubhouse. That there isn’t a way for us.

Given what just happened, it’s a lot easier for me to move to her than for her to uproot her entire business. She can’t make all the people who work for her move here. And I didn’t think I’d be allowed to go. Not without there being conditions. And, frankly, the Los Angeles chapter of the Iron Outlaws is one of the most violent chapters, with over thirty percent of the members behind bars and rife with internal politics.

Pretty certain those people aren’t my people.

“Now I know that I have a choice to be an Outlaw, I want to stay.”

“But you’re going, aren’t you?” Switch says.

I nod because that’s my gut reaction. “I want to stay, but not as much as I want to keep Calista in my life.”

29

CALISTA

This morning, I took Mom shopping and bought her a new laptop. We set it up together, and she asked me questions about my life in California. I installed her banking app, connected it to her phone, and showed her and Melanie how it all worked. We transferred all her bills, paid the long overdue ones, and the water that was close to being cut off.

Her machine is so much more powerful than she needs, and there was a part of me that wishes she was still more mentally agile so I could show her. But I kept it as simple as I could, so as not to unnecessarily overwhelm her.

After everything we went through, she was most excited about being able to watch movies on a larger and clearer display. So, I set her up with a bunch of online offerings that I signed up for with my credit card. I’m not sure Mom even noticed.