Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,1
a limb and we’d wait until you were able to ride again.”
“In that case, what do you mean, talk about my future?”
Drummer leans back, linking his hands behind his head. “I can understand what it’s like to lose something so important to you, Road. You’ve been competing in off-road Enduro competitions for years and did fuckin’ well. Now, suddenly, you’ve lost that. I can well understand your frustration. It’s turning you into a man I’ve not seen before. You’re on a short fuse, liable to blow if someone looks at you wrong. When you do, it’s ugly.”
I can’t dispute that. Take Peg’s observation back in the clubroom and Drummer’s opening comment, they’d both been correct. It’s easier, and safer walking with a stick, but hell, I could have punched them for just suggesting it, throwing their concern back in their faces. Since I’d returned to the clubhouse after my too long stay in the hospital and rehab, I can’t settle. My loss is fucking with my head.
“Brothers, old ladies, even the fuckin’ kids are wary of speaking to you, Road.”
His pointing it out makes me feel contrite. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and do better.”
Again his eyes settle on me, and I can’t read what he’s thinking. Does he want me to leave, after all? I know I’ve become an ogre to live with, but I’ve got a good excuse. Surely, they’d cut me some slack? Then, perhaps they don’t think the loss of everything I ever wanted accounts to much.
Drummer makes me wait until I start fidgeting before he speaks again. “I think you could do with a change of scenery.”
What? He is sending me away? “Drum, look, I’m sorry. This has been hard to get my head around, okay? I’ll watch what I say, try to keep my temper. Hell if I can’t, I’ll stay in my room. But please…” I break off, not wanting to beg to my prez, but how else can I plead for him not to send me away? I’ve gotten used to living at the compound, love my brothers, love the whole damn extended network of old ladies and kids. They’re my family. And family should make allowances, shouldn’t they?
I suppose I’ve taken too much for granted—that everyone will have my back when needed. That’s unfair, they have had my back. It’s more that I’ve not shown I’ve appreciated it. That my prez is talking to me this way means I’ve overextended, stretched their compassion to the limits. Drummer never proposes anything lightly. If he’s suggested something, he means it. Maybe the best I can hope for is that if he sends me away, he’ll let me come back.
Deliberately, I make my voice less combative and calmer. “Do you mean like Heart?” A few years back, after his wife had been killed, Heart’s grief had made him obnoxious and a liability to the club. Drummer had sent him out on the road for six months. He was the proof of such a solution working. He’d used that time to get his head on straight and had returned a changed and better version of himself. In part that might have been down to the woman he’d come back with. Perhaps Drummer thinks he’s hit on a winning formula and wants to repeat that experiment.
“No, not like Heart. Nothing of the sort.” Unlinking his hands, Drummer now props his elbows on the desk. “I need something sorted, you’ve got an unease inside you. You need something, a purpose. Am I right?”
I’m not sure where he’s going with this, or if the destination is something I’m going to welcome. But I’ll play along. “I lost something, Prez. Two things make me get up in the morning. The club, and my racing. Now half of my reason to live has been taken away.”
“Can’t replace that, Road. Wouldn’t know how. But a few weeks off doing work for the club might be just what you need to settle that emptiness inside you.”
I can’t tell him he’s wrong. “What are you thinking, Prez?”
“I’ve got a problem,” he starts, sitting back once again and stroking his beard.
There’s not been anything he’s raised at church that I can think of. Businesses are running smoothly right now, and there are no known enemies on the horizon. As far as I know, things are relatively quiet. So, I’m intrigued. “What problem?” I prompt.
“Utah.”
“Utah?” I scrunch up my face. I know nothing at all about that state, and can’t remember it being mentioned.