His Old Lady - Debra Kayn Page 0,8
a better mood than when she'd arrived.
She'd always worked at the lounge where the locals and tourists hung out. Business was hectic and loud and full of drama that kept her busy. After going from server to head waitress, she wasn't sure standing behind a cash register, pushing groceries for minimum wage, would be worth checking for a job. The tips she received in the food industry was where the real money was at.
Getting in her car, she glanced over toward the row of motorcycles. Priest, the president of Tarkio, stood in her view, rubbing his jaw and looking straight at her. She huffed in the privacy of her vehicle. Sometime over the years, Priest stopped caring about her. It was as if Uncle Walker going to prison meant she was no longer a part of the family.
They all forgot about her.
Curley had been the only one who came and checked up on her when she'd lived with Grandma June. He'd also taken her to visitations at the prison until she turned twenty-one and started going by herself.
She started the engine and raised her hand in farewell to Priest. He lifted his chin, never turning his back to her, but watching her put the car in reverse. For all she knew, he wanted to make sure she left the clubhouse.
Putting the car in drive, she stopped at the street and looked both ways. At a break in traffic, she pulled out and headed toward the interstate to go home.
Home wasn't exactly the word she'd use for where she lived. To her, it was still Grandma June's house, even though the deed was now in her name.
The house should've gone to Uncle Walker, not her. But Curley thought it was best if Grandma June put the house in Faye's name after the arrest and before the incarceration. It had to do with the prison taking assets and him being afraid she wouldn't have a place to live if the will wasn't changed and something happened to Grandma June.
Being a kid, she hadn't understood at the time, but she was thankful for his insight when Grandma June passed away.
Uncle Walker had nine years left out of a twenty-five-year sentence for killing two men. The article claimed it was a gang war because the victims were Cusclan Motorcycle Club members.
No one ever talked about Uncle Walker's crimes. It wasn't until she'd entered ninth grade and learned how to use the microfiche at the library that she found the records.
She was young when Tarkio Motorcycle Club was a part of her everyday life, but she wasn't stupid. Her uncle lived and breathed the brotherhood. If he'd killed—and the court system proved he had—then, he'd done it for Tarkio.
Each member, including Curley, were just as much responsible for the deaths as Uncle Walker.
She looked over her shoulder and switched lanes, spotting a motorcycle rider behind her, motioning an arm in the air for her to pull over. Recognizing Curley, she had the urge to keep going.
Anytime they were together, any conversation turned into a war. Most of the time, she felt like it was Tarkio Motorcycle Club that had the part of Curley she wanted as his old lady. He was quick to run whenever the phone rang, and she couldn't do anything to entice him to her house. He partied at the clubhouse, yet refused to spend time with her.
She hit the back of her head against the headrest and blew air out of her tight lips. He frustrated her. Somehow, he always gave her a glimmer of hope that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and those signs he gave off, kept her hanging on.
When he touched her, she could see how he reacted. He could feel how she trembled. She'd swear he was obsessed with her but for him always leaving.
If he'd only spend time with her instead of with the motorcycle club, and let go of that damn control he held onto so fiercely.
One day, he'd realize she wasn't a young girl anymore. She had a lifetime of love to give him, and maybe, just maybe, she would be the best he'd ever had if he allowed himself to act on his feelings.
She exited the highway and pulled over into a small gravel patch at the side of the road. The noise of his Harley filtered in through her open window before shutting off.
Putting the car in park and taking her foot off the brake, she watched him