“Fine. Keep him away from me.” Homer points to Arrow.
Arrow squints, stabbing his juice box with the straw before angrily drinking. “I don’t want—” Arrow snaps his mouth shut when he thinks better of it.
“Good. I’m glad one of you knows how to listen. One-Eye, you good?” Boomer pushes the seat where it belongs and lifts a sandy blonde brow at me.
“Yeah, Prez. Thanks.”
“Whenever you need to talk, my door is always open. No one suffers alone, okay?”
I nod. “You got it, Prez.”
“Hey, Prez?” Pulse knocks on the door and Boomer’s head swings around when he sees the doctor standing there. “Can we talk in private?” he asks, his tone serious.
Boomer begins to rub his temples. “Yeah, Pulse. We can talk. One-Eye, I need the room.”
“Sure.” I want to ask what is going on, but I know it isn’t any of my business, so I decide to swallow my question as I lift myself from the chair. “If you need anything, let me know. You know, if you need to talk too,” I offer, knowing he probably won’t take me up on my advice, but I wanted to extend the same kindness he did for me.
“Thanks, One-Eye. I might take you up on that.”
I head out the door, grabbing Homer by his cut and dragging him away from the room. He is a Nosy freaking Nancy. Pulse dips into the room and shuts the door. Boomer pulls the blinds so we can’t see what’s going on and a few of the guys share a curious look.
Boomer shares everything. He never hides what is going on, so whatever this is must be personal. Worry sets in. What if something is wrong with him or Scarlett? I don’t know what we’d do. We finally have a good thing going, a great leader, and his ol’ lady is amazing. We are growing as a club. We have a business opening up with O’Crowely, a great motorcycle shop, and customizations are coming in hot.
We have everything we have ever wanted and now I’m nervous that will be taken away if something happens to either Boomer or Scarlett.
“Take me to Bingo,” Homer demands instead of asks. “I got a good feeling about tonight.”
Arrow opens his mouth to say something smart, but I cut him off with one look. His jaw snaps closed, and he sips his damn juice box to remain quiet.
“Can’t someone else take you? Like Bane, Warden, Colt, Wolf? Literally anyone else but me?”
“I don’t want anyone else. I want you, damn it,” Homer huffs and grabs the truck keys off the hook.
His vision has taken a turn and he can’t ride his bike anymore.
“Fine. Jesus. I’m playing Bingo too.”
“If you win, I get half.”
“Bullshit, Homer.”
“The way you lot treat your elders is deplorable.”
“Yeah, well, your attitude is far from being considered elder.” I slam the door behind me and the warm air circles around me. The waves crash in the background, and I close my eyes for a minute, remembering the time I walked on the beach with Alicia and Kimmy. Kimmy picked up every shell she could find, and Alicia’s hand was small and fragile in mine.
Memories fucking hurt.
“Well. Come on. I don’t want to be late.”
I roll my eye and head toward the truck, hopping in the driver’s seat.
“Mother fucker,” Homer curses, unable to lift himself into the truck.
He always puts on a brave face, but I know his age is bothering him. He can’t do the things he used to do.
“Need help, Homer?”
“No. I don’t need your help. I’m fine,” he spits, grabbing the plastic handle above the seat and pushing his foot against the step under the side of the truck. He grunts as he tries again, and his eyes widen as he begins to fall backward. I’m already in my seat and I stretch as far as I can to snag his hand, but he is too far.
“Homer!” I shout just as a pair of hands wrap around him before he hits the pavement.
The hands lift Homer into the truck and his face is white as a sheet. Once he’s settled, I see Arrow there. They don’t say a word to one another because of pride, but Homer does give him a nod. Arrow slams the door shut and takes a step back, concern wrinkling the sides of his mouth as he frowns.
I know Arrow cares about Homer, regardless of how they bicker.
I throw the truck in reverse, stretching my arm across the back of the passenger seat and turning my head. “Good thing Arrow was there or instead of Bingo, we’d be going to the hospital.”
He snaps his lips as he buckles his seatbelt. “I guess he isn’t too much of a shitbag then,” he grumbles. My lips tilt to the side. I know he doesn’t mean that.
“Yeah, I guess he ain’t too bad.” I pull out of the parking lot with a grin on my face and head in the direction of the bingo hall. AC/DC starts playing on the radio, I turn up the volume and roll down the windows to get some fresh air in here. What I love about Atlantic City is how it isn’t humid. It always feels just right.
Homer is quiet on the ride there and when we get to the tiny bingo hall, I expect him to jump out of the truck, but he doesn’t move.
“You okay, Homer?” I jerk the truck in park and shut off the engine.
He exhales and stares at his aged hands with dark spots all over them. “Can you help me out?” he asks sadly. I know that had to take a lot out of him just to ask.
“I’d be glad to, Homer. Just stay there.” I unclick my seatbelt and jump out of the truck, slam the door, and hurry around the front.
Homer clicks the handle and swings the door open. He sags in the seat with wounded pride as I pick him up and set him on the ground.
“You good?”
“I guess,” he says, depressed.
I’m sure it isn’t easy realizing that you are unable to do certain things and might need help. “Come on, Homer. Let’s win some big money. I’ll make a bet with you.”
“What kind?” He perks up when I don’t press him further.
“If I win, you ask that sweet lady Elise out on a date. If you win, I’ll get you that water bong you’ve been wanting.”
His eyes light up and then those deep crow’s feet show as he frowns. “I don’t know if I’m ready to ask her out.”
“So you’re saying you’re going to lose? Maybe I’ll ask her out. Her silver hair is gorgeous,” I tease him.
His bottom lip puckers out as he grinds his teeth. “You’ll do no such thing.” He shuffles ahead of me, and I toss my head back and laugh. He enters through the door before me, but a hot pink flyer grabs my attention.
It’s attached to a pillar, and I walk over to see what it says.
Speed dating. See if you can find your match. Drinks. Food. And love.
Come at your own risk.
My stomach turns at the thought of dating another woman, but maybe Boomer is right.
Maybe it’s time to put my past behind me, move on from my first love, and see what the universe has in store for me.
To get what I want, I have to create my own opportunities.
I take a picture of the flyer to remember the address.
But what about Alicia?
She’s the only opportunity I want.
“You have a call on line two,” my boss tells me, peeking over his glasses. “You know how I feel about personal calls at work.”