“See that? The guy in that photo is Henry Lawrence — Gerald and Wanda’s son. He was one of ours.”
“I didn’t see him at the liquor store,” Cherry says.
“No, but the lady, Anya, pushed past you there,” I point out, and I see recognition in Cherry’s face. “The two of them got hitched a few years back. Real happy couple, both of ‘em.” I smile, remembering the wedding party the two of them had, and it seemed like a lifetime ago.
“The cops brought Henry in a few years ago as a suspect in a robbery. Claimed he was an accomplice of a couple of strangers from out of town who hit a convenience store off the interstate. He just happened to be patrolling in the area, and they took him in.” I pause, my lips tight for a moment. “He died while the police had him. Official story was he was resisting, tried to jump the cops in transit. Everyone who knows Henry knew he couldn’t hurt a fly, but those fuckers…”
Cherry is paying rapt attention, and I lean forward, clasping my hands together.
“Anya was inconsolable for the longest time. She was a nurse back then, but after Henry died, she took his place in the club. Still rides his bike and wears his kutte to this day. Nowadays, she’s our medic. She’ll be making sure those workers back at the liquor store are well taken care of on their way to the hospital. I wouldn’t put it above the cops around here to try and make sure they don’t pull through so they can’t testify to anything in court. As if most of the judges aren’t bought.”
Cherry is quiet for a long time, a thoughtful expression on her features. As I watch her, I realize that while I’ve grown so hard over the years, developed such a thick skin to resist all the constant repression the people of the town face while just trying to scrape by... Cherry hasn’t lost one iota of the youthful energy she had the day she left. She’s as vigorous as she is gorgeous, like a bolt of lightning trying to surge through her old hometown and hitting resistance she wasn’t expecting to find.
I have to admit, jaded as I am, it’s a little inspiring to see. A lot inspiring, actually.
“To say Dad didn’t approve of what you all were doing is putting it lightly,” Cherry says with a small smile. “Especially after the name ‘union Club’ started cropping up.”
“He always was a straight arrow,” I say with a laugh, shaking my head. “And to be honest, I don’t blame him. It’s a scary thing to see an MC crop up in your front yard, I can understand that.”
“These people really seem to value you, though,” Cherry admits, glancing back to the kitchen, where the smell of fresh coffee has started to waft from. “Hell, maybe…” she pauses, obviously uncomfortable getting her thought out. She opens her mouth to continue, and I suspect I know what she’s going to say, but she lets the words die in her mouth as Wanda comes shuffling into the room with a broad smile on her face.
“Here we are. I hope neither of you wanted decaf.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile, taking the coffee and feeling invigorated by the smell alone as Wanda hands Cherry her mug.
“Now let me tell you, dearie,” Wanda tells Cherry with a grandmotherly smile, “I don’t know how long you’ve been in town, but if you’re riding with Leon here, why, you couldn’t be in better hands.”
“It sounds like it,” Cherry says with a nervous laugh. I can’t help but grin. She seems a little uncomfortable around older people. I forget that living in a city like she has can let you stick to your own age group pretty exclusively.
She and Wanda exchange some brief small-talk about where she’s from and where she’s lived, and while she does, I find myself surprised by an old, familiar feeling in my chest.
I only knew Cherry for the shortest of times when she was in town, sure. But seeing her again has been like seeing the ghost of an old friend. Maybe she just reminds me of the life I used to see in Bayonne, before the bosses had a chance to really dig their claws in. But the more I watch her mannerisms, the way she unconsciously plays with a lock of her hair, the way she talks...I don’t know. I feel like I’m talking to an old sweetheart. I find a smile playing across my face involuntarily, and I’m only snapped back to reality when I feel a hand on my shoulder suddenly.
I jerk my attention up to see Gerald giving me a knowing smile, and I feel color in my face as I give a quiet scoff and focus on my coffee again. I shouldn’t get distracted like this, anyway. We may be out of the frying pan for now, but as the saying goes —
As if on cue, all four of us nearly jump as a loud pounding sound knocks at the door.