Page 103 of Existential
FORTY-ONE
Hooch
“You want me to ride ahead to the destination anyway?” Crackers asks, hand rested on my bars.
“No,” I answer, my fingers twitching to twist the throttle. “No need. I’m hedging bets on the whole thing being a setup, and I don’t need you walkin’ in there underprepared.”
He nods solemnly, letting go. “I’ll be right behind you then.”
Times like this I’m thankful that the brothers have my back. They don’t question my decisions, they simply follow me where I lead. And right now, I don’t exactly know if that’s the right way—I’m operating on a hunch. A fucking hunch.
What if it’s wrong?
Crackers clips his helmet and starts up behind me, giving me a nod in my mirror to say he’s ready to leave. We cruise out of the parking lot of the motel as Murphy emerges from the office having settled a little extra for the damages two of the guys created last night after one too many. The old man raises his hand, holding up a single finger to indicate he’ll be right behind us.
Timmy-boy will travel back with Jo Jo once their heads are in the game. Yeah, things are urgent right now and I’d like as many men at my back as possible when the shit hits the fan, but I’m not going to ask a man to ride when his balance is still impaired from alcohol the night before.
I’m not that much of an asshole.
Usually.
The ride passes quickly, the cloud over the sun providing much needed relief considering we only stop for gas. I’ve never been happier to see the trees that constantly drop shit all over the driveway as I have now. And I’ve never felt more uneasy at the fact everything is quiet when we roll in to the yard.
I leave the bike running.
“Hey,” Beth greets with a confused frown as I come barreling in the front doors.
“Where’s Dagne?”
“She uh … she left.”
“What the fuck?” I holler loud enough to send an echo down the hall.
“She left you a note upstairs,” Beth explains, her hand shaking as she points to the staircase.
I take the risers two at a time and stride down to my room, my eyes darting over everything in quick succession the moment I step in the door. The phone King gave her sits atop the nightstand.
“Fuck, Dagne!”
It shatters as it hits the baseboard.
How the fuck am I supposed to reach her now? I twist, turn, and pace around the space trying to find her note. A slip of yellow peeks out at me from under the edge of the bedding. Tucked in to where I would have laid my head, is the notepaper I so desperately need.
My ass hits the mattress as I unfold the sheet, my chest clenching at the gentle loops of her handwriting.
It’s short, simple, and to the point. Five brief lines that cement my guilt at why she’s left. One line stinging more than the others.
If you always shut love out, you’ll never know it.
Damn it.Beth remains where I left her, Crackers now by her side, as I leap down the stairs three at a time.
“Where’s Digits?”
“With you?” Beth looks to Crackers for reassurance.
He shakes his head, lifting a hand to her face to comfort her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. The asshole cut and run from the motel while the rest of us slept. Considering I was the last to bed, his departure was more than planned, it was deliberate. All I keep thinking back to is that goddamn phone call he was on. Who was he talking to? And why?