Page 10 of Chill

Would Nanci hate me for holding on to them? I could only hope not.

With mixed emotions, I held the patch in my hands. Secretary. Plug’s role. I didn’t deserve it, but Nanci had given me an anchor to hold on to. Something that was mine.

With reverence, I sewed it carefully onto my cut. I took a deep breath and touched it. Nanci clearly had an eye turned towards rebuilding the club. If she needed support, she had mine. But shit, I was shocked as hell that Vortex had returned. The man had sworn never to step foot here again, but it seemed miracles did happen. It was even more shocking that Nanci had kept track of everyone who’d left—and of the legacies.

Making Moon and King brothers had been the correct thing too. For a year they’d gone above and beyond their duties in running the club and supporting Razor. I’d been useless, as had Inglorious. Grief had made us weak and disrespectful in the worst way possible. Everything had fallen on Razor, King, and Moon, and those two lazy assholes, Gamer and Party.

Nanci was right; our brothers hadn’t died for this.

“You okay?” Razor asked as we exited church.

“Nope. I’m guiltier than ever. Brother, I left you to struggle,” I said with shame.

“Yeah, you did. Ain’t you lucky I can forgive that?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Well, you’re my brother and human. You make mistakes. Sober up, Chill. It’s easy to wallow at the bottom of a bottle. You forgot something in your grief. They died, and we lived. We owe it to them to live life to the fullest. That’s why I got treatment and fought the cancer. Not because I particularly wanted to suffer this shit, but because they needed me to. What they can’t experience anymore, I can for them. Understand?” Razor said.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Then make each day worth something. When I’m on my knees praying to the toilet Gods and puking my fuckin’ soul up, I smile because I recall Trip doing the same. When I’m so tired I can’t get up, I remember when we tipped Poison out of bed. Certain things remind me of the good times. The last time I saw them is embedded in my memory, just like you and Inglorious. But that doesn’t define who our brothers were, and it won’t define me.”

Razor held my gaze, and there was hope that his message was getting through.

“Not one of them would ask you to swap places,” King said from behind us, and we turned around with a frown.

“Weren’t here long; six months before the war broke out. But I witnessed the bonds you had. They’d be overjoyed that you’d survived, even if it cost them their lives. Same as you’d die for them, they felt the same. That’s something else you forgot, Chill. You were too deeply entrenched in grief to understand that simple truth. None of them would change a single thing,” King continued.

“Brother, we might wish they’d lived and not us, but that does them a disservice. Psych shoved you out of the way. Brother knew he was going to die and saved you. Gonna be blunt, but you shit all over Psych’s actions with the booze. That’s nothing to take pride in. Waking up each day and staying sober, Psych would appreciate that,” Razor added.

“Some harsh home truths there,” I murmured.

“Ain’t nothing you don’t deserve, Chill. Be the man my brother saved. Seth wouldn’t give you the time of day right now,” Nanci threw out as she watched us.

I chuckled. “Every time you call Psych Seth, it makes me pause.”

“He was Psych to you, Seth to me. Seth may have been your club brother, but he was my blood. You weren’t alone in your grieving. Make no mistake, I hated the UBMC and blamed Inglorious for Seth’s death, and a part of me still does, but Seth was never walking away. Never in a month of Sundays. That’s my reality I need to accept…” Nanci fell quiet.

“Psych’s last words were, ‘Tell Nanci I love her’. I’m sorry, I lacked the courage to tell you. Didn’t want you blaming me when I carried enough,” I blurted.

Nanci’s eyes welled with tears. “Seth remembered me in the end?”

“Yes. You were Psych’s final thought before the bomb exploded.” I nodded.

“Thank you. That helps a little.” Nanci turned away, and I guessed she was going to cry. And that was just fine.

I stared at the big bastard in shock.

Hercules has returned and taken an enforcer role. How the hell was Nanci getting them to return? He, like Vortex, had sworn never to set foot here again. Taking stock, I sat down with an orange juice in front of me. The Unwanted Bastards had gone from three members to eight in two weeks. Inglorious, Razor, and me, obviously. Then Nanci came along, with Vortex and Hercules, and promoted King and Moon. How many more would she find?

I had to respect her determination. Nanci was dragging us back from the brink of disaster, piece by piece.

Nanci was interviewing for a cook today. That was a good idea considering she’d also restarted the dreams we’d had for Merritt. We’d planned to turn the old mining town into a Wild West resort, and Nanci was gung-ho about making that happen. I was taking out the trash when a stranger entered. There was nothing special about her, but she caught my attention.

“Meadow,” Nanci welcomed warmly.

About forty years old, Meadow greeted Nanci with a warm but cautious smile. That alone spoke volumes. Meadow’s eyes were tired, but such a clear blue they captivated me. When I looked closer, I noticed her greying hair and the tension in her body. She was rounded, thinner than my usual women, but a few good meals would put the curves I liked back on her. Meadow was well put together, but her clothing was cheap, and it showed.