Crunch caught my eye from the other side of the field, and walked over to where I stood. "Man, you look as bad as I do."
He was right. He was covered head to toe in dirt. But he was standing there with a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face, and that made me smile.
"You look like you're having fun," I said.
"It ain't bad, you know? I could get used to this." He stopped and dropped the spool of barbed wire he was carrying for the fencing. "Look at Mac and April over there. I don't think Mac has been this happy in ages."
"The country is good for kids."
"Yeah," he said. "It's not just that, though." He kicked up a dirt clod with his boot. "It's just that- I'm grateful for what you did for us, for April and Mac."
"Not a thing," I said. That was exactly the opposite of what it was.
"No, I want you to know-" he stopped. "I don't know that I would have done the same as you, if the tables were turned. I probably would have shot first and then asked questions later."
I shrugged. “Maybe, but I doubt it. You’d have done the same, I think.”
"Sometimes I wonder if I have it in me anymore," he said. "I'm tired of all the shit, you know?"
Did I ever know. I was exhausted.
"Does your dad know what's going on?" he asked.
"I told him some of it."
"I feel bad," he said. "Putting him in danger by being here."
"We don't know that we're even in danger."
Crunch laughed, the sound harsh. "We're in danger. I'm sure of it."
“We’ll get in touch with Blaze. As soon as we can.”
“You think we can trust him? He’s the Veep,” Crunch said. “He and Mad Dog, they have to be tight, right?”
“I know Blaze,” I said. Or I used to know Blaze. “Blaze will be with us. I know he’s not okay with this play by Mad Dog. He doesn't want this kind of life, all the cartel trouble."
I thought about the conversation we’d had right before the cartel vote.
~ ~ ~
I walked up to Blaze, sitting back behind the clubhouse in his usual place, the garage. The mechanics bench was where Blaze was at his best. The guy could tool the nastiest knucklehead back into existence. When he was with his wrenches, we usually left him alone. He preferred it that way. He’d hang out by himself when he wanted to get away from all the club chaos. Nights like this, two in the morning on a party night, we should be shithoused or buried in pussy. But lately Blaze had been more and more detached from the club.
At first, I cut him some slack since he was all about Dani, this college student up at Stanford, and I could remember how it felt to be crazy that way about someone. Of course, my point of reference was high school, so it was hard to compare. I mean, high school hormones make you fucking batshit, right? I couldn’t imagine feeling that swept up in someone now. I was a goddamned adult. And Blaze was acting like a fucking adolescent.
So maybe I wasn’t cutting him that much slack, actually.
Blaze was sitting back, his head against the wall, eyes closed. I wasn't sure he was awake but when he saw me, he looked up.
I turned a bucket over, took a seat on top of it.
"Rough night?" Blaze asked.
"Not bad," I said. "You just get back from seeing Dani?" All that fucking riding up to Stanford wasn't good for him. Or the club.
He shook his head. "She's back here now, at my place. Not at Stanford. Graduated last week."
That's right. I was a shithead, forgetting that. Had he invited me to her graduation? Fuck. I couldn't remember. Everything had been a haze lately, drugs and pussy and booze. No, I'd remember if he'd invited me. I hadn't seen him here a hell of a lot lately. Not like I used to, back when we were tight.
"Sorry, man," I said. "I didn't realize she was back in town."
I sat there in silence, digging the toe of my boot into the cement. Dani was a nice girl, don’t get me wrong, but when you start to get so wrapped up in a piece of ass that you forget where your priorities lie, that’s a big fucking problem. And I was worried that Blaze had forgotten his priorities.
“You ever think about having a family?” Blaze asked, his eyes still half-closed.
“Used to,” I said. “Not anymore.” Once, though. A long time ago. There was this girl, back then...
“Because of the club?”
That ship had sailed for me.
I shrugged. "I don’t know. It’s not like you’re ever going to get the white picket fence and shit, doing this.”
“You think you can have both?”
“I don’t know, man,” I said. “People in the club have families, keep them separate.”
“You think it’s possible to keep them separate?” Blaze’s eyes were open now, but he was staring off into the distance. I wasn’t comfortable with wherever the fuck this conversation was headed.
“You having some kind of personal crisis or some shit?” I asked.
Blaze was silent for a while, and when he spoke, I didn’t believe him. “Of course not. It’s not like I’d ever leave the club.”