Page 94 of Misguided
THIRTY-TWO
Mel
“Heya.” I knock softly on King’s door, letting myself in.
“Hey, sweetheart.” King motions for Hooch to vacate the seat in front of his desk. “Take a load off.”
“What you two doin’?” There are papers spread from one end of his desk to the other, a jumbo cup of coffee perched dangerously on the corner.
King slumps back in his chair, regarding me with a smile as he laces his fingers over his stomach. “Tryin’ to get you lot out of the shit. All of us, really.”
“Impossible task, isn’t it?”
“Feels like it some days,” Hooch says on a sigh as he settles a shoulder against the wall.
I saw Daddy try and fail to steer the club away from the illegal side of things, to sway the balance toward the positive, rather than the negative.
It’s a pipedream at best. A madman’s vision.
“It’s all matter of perspective.” King winks, nabbing a scrap of paper and scribbling the word IMPOSSIBLE across it in large lettering. He spins it to face us, then draws a line down between the M and P, adding an apostrophe between the I and M.
I’M/POSSIBLE.
“I have no idea how you keep so positive all the time.” I smile, taking the sheet of paper from him and staring at the newly formed words.
“I do my best,” he says, his face falling as he stares off at nothing in particular. “Helps to remind myself what the alternate is.”
“Yeah.” I forget he had a breakdown a couple of years ago. The weight of the job got to him, the pressure he put on himself to be perfect immense. He cracked, waved the white flag in spectacular fashion by holing up for days on end without seeing anyone except his old lady, Elena.
Is that what’ll become of me if I admit the unease that still swirls in the pit of my gut, even as I sit here now? Will I shut the world out, search for my answers in the comforting dark of a room closed off from everyone and everything?
Is it bad that I like how that sounds?
“Talk to us,” King says quietly. “You’ve got a funny look.”
“What look?” I frown.
“Not one that belongs to a person who’s happy to be home,” Hooch says.
“You look angry,” King adds. “Like a woman scorned.”
“Know it well, do you?” I tease.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve met Elena.”
True. She’s one of the most complex, high-maintenance women I’ve ever met, and yet, he loves her. He danced with the devil for a chance with her—wears the scars to prove it. If that’s not true love, then what is?
Both men watch me as I fidget in the seat, unsure now that I’m in his presence how to broach the subject of Dog with my overly protective little brother.
“What’s up, sis?” Hooch asks, dipping his chin with a frown. “What did you need us for?”
“You,” I answer. “I wanted to see you.” I glance to King for courage, and then spit the words out before I get a chance to choke on them. “I’m not riding back with you today.”
Hooch slowly rolls his head back, regarding me down the length of his nose as his frown deepens. “Why?”
“Dog’s offered to take me hunting,” I say, cringing in preparation for the lecture I’m no doubt about to receive.
“Has he now?” King leans back, elbow still propped on the arm of his chair as looks to Hooch and strokes his beard with a cocky smirk.