and in Shasta, they still react to every tiny new thing as if it’s an emergency to be brainstormed.
Upstairs, I rest Carina on my bed and look around the small room we share. I felt safe in this house, surrounded by warm, fun people that became my friends. Leaving seems scary. Bronco’s people are strangers, but so were Max’s friends a year ago.
And the reality is I enjoyed Topanga and Lowell. Bronco’s sisters and Rooster were okay last night too. I know Barbie’s rough around the edges. Still, I think she’ll probably be nicer once she realizes I’m not messing with her family.
As terrified as I suddenly feel to start over again in Elko, I’m strong enough to make a happy life there. Last year, I wouldn’t have been. I’m closer now with my sister and mom. I have actual friends, like Shelby, who build me up.
I’m not as strong as I want to be, and I know I’m still a work in progress. However, after spending a decade of my life going through the motions, I feel alive now. I plan to be a better mother, daughter, and friend. And I’ll open my heart to the man I believe is my deepest love.
BRONCO
Our meeting at the Village is scheduled for tomorrow, but I bring six guys with me today. A handful of other Executioners encircle a bus belonging to the Volkshalberd in the Dollar Star parking lot. While the cult rarely physically messes with the club, they’ve been stockpiling weapons recently. I don’t trust us getting out alive if we don’t hold a little insurance in our hands.
The usual suspects join me today, including founding members Akron, Drummer, and Lowell. Anders comes along too since his size scares most people. Hoagie is faster on the draw than his bulky build implies. Conor brings up the rear because I want him prepared for when he runs shit one day. Wyatt hangs back at the Dollar Star with his dad, so I don’t need to worry about the dipshit’s temper turning a simple meeting into a shooting war.
The Village is surrounded by trees and rusty fencing. The security gate is watched by two late-teen boys with guns I doubt they’ve been properly trained to use. I’ve heard rumors of several older cult members dying last winter during a flu outbreak. Yet I spot the elderly “woman guide” Hester alive and well as we pull into the dirt parking lot.
I climb off my Harley and scan the area for signs of trouble. A dozen people linger in the area, carrying baskets of supplies. I also notice a few kids looking a week past needing a bath. There are a few heavily pregnant women and several men with rifles strapped to their backs.
“Mister Parrish!” Gunther calls out from the distance. The “male guide” is the good cop for the leadership. Hester plays the bad cop role. I don’t know why they think this still works, but it probably has to do with the lack of TV viewing in the Village. If they watched more movies and shows, they’d know people caught on to that tactic decades ago.
“We thought you were coming tomorrow,” Hester says, stroking the many long braids resting down her shoulders.
“I didn’t trust you not to ambush me,” I say, skipping the smile since I know as the bad cop she won’t mimic any pleasantries.
“We only want harmony,” Gunther says, finally arriving at where Hester stands.
They both wear makeshift clothes, reimagined from cheap items they found in town. Everyone in the Village wears brown, red, and blue. I don’t know why. I’ve never cared enough to ask about their belief system. It doesn’t matter if they worship a Christian god or a dried-up piece of shit. Their views aren’t my problem. Cutting into the club’s income is all I care about.
“I heard your people are selling weed out on the road.”
“We dabble in many entrepreneurial endeavors,” Gunther says, stroking his gray beard.
“Free country, isn’t it?” Hester adds.
“This isn’t a country. It’s Elko, and nothing’s free in this town. The Executioners control distribution here. You know that. It’s why you pay us to sell your booze and that hallucinogenic tea shit. If you want to get into the pot business, you need to provide the club with a slice. It’s always been that way.”
“And if we want to change the terms?” Hester asks while Gunther waves off her comment.
“We understand your concern, Mister Parrish.”
I know the “Mister Parrish” stuff isn’t about respect.