The Dust and the Roar Page 13

  “Halloween’s on a Saturday this year,” said Willy. “We could have the Haunted House the night before on Friday. That way, we won’t be interfering with people’s trick or treating and party plans.”

  “That night we’d be the only game in town. Might work,” said Kicker.

  I rubbed Isi’s thigh. “You’d do that for us?”

  “I think we should all come together to help each other and make a difference,” she said, and my arm tightened around her body. “I could donate decorations and some candy from the store. You could ask the other businesses in town to donate pop—keep it simple. When they know it’s for little Noah, that will encourage them to pitch in and donate, making it—”

  “More inclusive,” said Mick.

  “Exactly.” Isi grinned.

  “That’d be good, ‘cause we don’t got much money to spend in general,” said Mick.

  “Well, this is what club dues are for—for club events as well as general expenses,” said Willy. “Isi’s right. This is a good idea and an opportunity to show our good side and get connected with the town.”

  “We’re fucking nothing but good side, man,” said Mick, patting his hand on his bearded face, laughing.

  “We got to make them see it, Mick,” I said. “Make them believe it. That only comes by doing. Doesn’t have to be complicated. This family needs help, and we can do something to get them what they need. Whenever we did pitch in to help out in town, they were grateful. Meager’s a good town. If we’re looking to stay here, that will only help us in the long run.”

  “What, you gonna run for mayor one day?” asked Jump, grinning from ear to ear.

  “No, but I’d rather have the town folk be cool about us and not up in arms about every little thing we do.”

  Isi got the okay from her family for us to use the old factory, and we came up with ideas for the Haunted House. Isi, Willy, and I went to the firehouse and asked them to inspect the building for us before we opened. They were impressed.

  Isi and Georgia and a couple of the friends came up with a plan of attack for the candy and food and drinks, designed a flyer, had photocopies made. We passed them out at Marla’s, Drake’s Cafe, Tibbet’s, and hit them up for small donations. Georgia and her husband decided to set up a table offering drinks and Drake’s Cafe cupcakes to the crowd.

  Reading the flyer I’d handed her, Ms. Marla was in tears at her counter after hearing me out. “This is … this is so wonderful of you all. My little grandbaby, he’s—”

  “There’s hope for little Noah though, right? That’s what’s important. We can do this.”

  Two weeks later, we were setting up the haunted house at the old factory.

  “If I have to carve one more pumpkin, I’m gonna fucking spit,” muttered Jump as he wiped a wet hunting knife on the grass. “I’m gonna use ‘em all for target practice when this is over.”

  “I got you something,” said Isi holding up a garbage bag.

  “Hey, you.” I kissed her. “What’s this?”

  “Open it.”

  I pulled a dingy silver candelabra from the plastic bag. “It’s giving me the Vincent Price vibes.”

  “Right? I found it in the store’s warehouse. I thought it would make the perfect entryway decoration. We could wire it with fake flames and small electric lights, cover it with fake cobwebs. If you want to use real candles, we could keep it outside by the entrance.”

  “Babe, are you kidding me? This is silver—”

  “It’s only silver plate. Kind of bent and dented in a couple of spots. Stained. It’s been sitting in that warehouse since Great-Grandma Ellie threw it at her third husband when he came home drunk. He’d bought it for her to make up for his last binge, and she’d thought it was real silver, but it wasn’t. That’s when she got rid of it, along with him. One of her kids saved it, though, and it got stashed at the warehouse.” She laughed. “I like it. What’s the point of having lovely old things if you don’t ever use them? Otherwise, they take up space, collect dust, and make messes. But see, you never know when something interesting like this might be useful again. You should use it. You should also not turn away a gift from me. Like, ever.”

  We kissed, and I lifted her up in my arms, and she hooked her legs around my waist. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I want you to know that,” I whispered in her ear.

  She squeezed me in a tight bear hug. “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispered back.

  The kiss got deeper, needier. Damn how I wanted her.

  Now.

  “We’ll be right back!” I shouted out to the guys, and Isi whooped. “Such a tramp,” I murmured, and she only whooped louder.

  “Yeah, yeah, go on, get out of here,” said Mick.

  I took my woman to the general manager’s office of the factory, shut the door with a chair under the knob, and laid her down on the old metal desk.

  I tore off her sneakers, ripped down her jeans, yanked down her baby blue panties. “Your brother once warned me to treat you good or else.”

  A sly smile crept over her face as I kicked off my boots, got rid of my work pants. “I’m thinking those weren’t his exact words.”

  “No, they weren’t, but I assured him I treated you good.” I hitched her legs up on the desk. “And now I’m going to treat you real good.” My mouth sank between her legs and her back arched off the desk. She came quickly, her fingers digging into my hair. I licked over her damp skin, her eyes wide holding my gaze, her lips parted, breaths coming short and fast. I knew the signs of her anticipation; she wanted my cock immediately. I let out a soft chuckle and dipped down into her pussy again.

  “Wreck, dammit!”

  Two of my fingers slid inside her, stroking, churning, as I sucked on her secret flesh. Her body trembled in my arms, and she came with a loud cry, her back arching. “Get inside me!”

  I obliged.

  There was nothing like I-need-you-more-than-air-sex, I-fucking-appreciate-you-sex, You-make-me-crazy-sex. There, in the dust and the dirt that neither of us minded, we consumed each other. My forehead sank against hers, and laughing and whispering, we slowed down and made love like we had all the time in the world.

  Because we truly believed we did.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The haunted house was a success and raised a respectable amount of money that we gave to the family. Ms. Marla hugged all the guys and me. Josie cried, and her husband shook all our hands. People started smiling at us on the street.

  And I fell hard for the go-kart factory.

  It would make an amazing clubhouse. The property was a weedy field far from the town center and any houses. We would have privacy and not be a nuisance with our music, our bikes, the parties. The structure was solid and big enough that there would be plenty of room to stretch out in and grow as a club. Plus, it had a go-kart track, that could be upgraded to an amazing track for our bikes.

  “My grandfather gave the feed store to Uncle Walt, and the General Store to my dad. Grandad put the go-kart factory property in his grandchildren’s names.”

  “So you own it?”

  “Me and Leo, Ryan and Georgia. I’ve got Leo’s vote, but we’d have to ask Ryan and Georgia if they’d agree to rent to you. We could all use the money, that’s for sure. The property is just sitting there in the woods, chained up behind a fence. The only interest we’ve had in it over the years is from Hildebrand Realty. They’re after it like they’re after half the Black Hills. We all know they’d raze the factory and build some ugly housing development and charge a quarter of a million each to attract yuppies. Make Meager some kind of suburb of Rapid. Ugh.”

  “Yuppies?” I asked.

  “Young urban professionals.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “All of us are allergic to that kind of thinking,” she said. “But I worry that one day, things will get bad—or worse than they already are, I should say—and everybody will cave and give in. Then Meag
er will be changed forever.”

  “So you think we got a shot with Ryan and Georgia?”

  “I think so.”

  “We’d make improvements—fix the fencing, clean up the property, the interior. Deal with the plumbing and electric.”

  “We’ll never know unless we try.”

  We tried.

  We met with Georgia and Ryan and their dad Walt at their father’s feed store, and Isi and I asked. Georgia and Ryan exchanged stiff glances. They didn’t like the idea.

  “Why would they want to rent it to the likes of you?” Walt spat out. “You’d make a mess of it. Have your wild parties there, attract the baser element of society. Absolutely not.”

  “It is isn’t up to you, Uncle Walt,” said Isi.

  Georgia blew out a huff of air at Isi’s sharp tone. “Is…” Ryan only shook his head and stared at his western boots.

  “I, for one, do not care that you’re dating my niece,” Walt volleyed at me. “No accounting for taste, but that’s her situation, not mine. I will not lie with dogs.”

  “Uncle Walt!” Isi’s face reddened.

  His sour gaze fizzed over Isi like acid. “That’s the truth of it, young lady, and you need to get your head out of the clouds and stop dilly-dallying. Get yourself to school and become a teacher like you promised your mother.”

  “I don’t want to be a teacher, dammit. I’ve never wanted to be a teacher,” she said.

  “You’re too busy having your good time with these down-and-outs,” Walt hissed.

  Isi’s jaw stiffened. “Wreck is not a down-and-out! Now you’re being rude, Uncle Walt. Anyway, we don’t need your approval. That factory property is in the cousins’ names, not yours. If we want to rent it out, we will.”

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Dad’s right, Is. I don’t feel comfortable being the one to give a bunch of outlaws a place to call home in my own town. I mean, come on. I’m local law enforcement. What did you expect me to say?”

  “Sorry, Is. I have to agree,” said Georgia, her eyes darting at me and back to Isi. “I’m sorry.”

  “There you have it,” added Uncle Walt.

  Isi shifted her weight. “You could give them a trial lease, for a few months, see how they behave if that’s your concern—” Her voice grew louder. She was irritated. She had a temper on her.

  “A lease? Really, Isadora?” her uncle’s voice jeered. “Do you really think they would honor a contract? I seriously doubt that. Who knows if they’d even be able to come up with the money every month. Dirty money is what that is.”

  “Mr. Dillon, our money is issued by Uncle Sam and is as green as yours,” I said. “And it isn’t any dirtier than anyone else’s around here.”

  Ryan cleared his throat. “I can’t agree to this,” Ryan shot me a pointed glance. “Sorry, Is. I got to get back to the station.”

  “I have to pick up the girls from school,” Georgia murmured and followed her brother out the back door of the store.

  “Honey”—Walt leaned into Isi—“you won’t be young forever. You got to get on with your life. ”

  “I am getting on with my life, Uncle Walt. “But you don’t like the way I am. And yes, it is my life. My definition of getting on with it is vastly different from yours. Mine’s not a connect the dots or a color by numbers. It never was.”

  “You and your brother, cut from the same cloth.”

  “You leave Leo out of this.”

  “I’m sure he’s agreed to rent to these bikers, hasn’t he? He’d probably take up residence with them and—”

  “Uncle Walt!” Isi’s voice flared.

  “Your boyfriend is bad news, young lady!” Walt shook a finger at me. “He’ll toss you aside like the other one did. If you had any sense—”

  “That’s enough,” I cut him off and took Isi’s hand firmly in mine. “You have a good day, Mr. Dillon.” We left the feed store and strode down the sidewalk toward my bike, my boots stomping on the cement.

  Isi fumed. “So ridiculous. He—”

  “What the hell was that about you being tossed aside? Who the hell was he comparing me to?”

  She came to an abrupt stop. “My ex-husband.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Ex what?” My mind reeled.

  “Can we not discuss this here in the middle of Clay Street?”

  “How come you haven’t said anything before about—”

  Isi gripped my arm. “Can we get out of here? Please, Wreck.”

  We got on my bike. I could have gone back to my apartment, but my bike didn’t take me there. I didn’t want to go there. I had to keep moving. It was the only thing that helped me swallow this information, and still, it stuck in my throat like a solid bar of acid. The knowledge that I had a full tank of gas had me hurtling down the road faster, weaving through cars, passing other bikes. Isi’s grip on my waist got tighter.

  We were on the road leading to the next town over, Pine Needle, where the prairie grasses transformed into neat packets of farmland. Thick, rolling seas of wheat flanked either side of us, meeting the deep-blue stretch of sky. Under the glare of the sun, the wheat’s color shimmered from green to golden. The tall stalks shuddered in the wind that had kicked up. Golden green waves rolled endlessly with no shore to hit. I let out a breath at the sight. I waited for her to tell me whatever she wanted to tell me. Was it hard for her? Would it be hard for me to hear?

  “I got married right out high school,” she said finally.

  “First love?”

  “First boyfriend, first everything.”

  “That’s when you’d left Meager?”

  “That’s right. I got married to get out of the house, mostly. After my older brother died, my mom never snapped out of her grief. She checked out. Leo went off to college, and I picked up the slack at home, kept up my grades, worked at the store.

  “I felt like I was living in a plastic bag at home. No air, slowly choking. Marrying Tommy and moving to Rapid seemed like the way out of all that into something that was my own. Something … fun. But it was a bad choice. You figure that out pretty quick once the going gets rough. Suddenly all the little things you’d skimmed over about a person jack the volume up real loud on what’s wrong with the whole situation, and there’s no ignoring them anymore. They hurt, they leave stains on you.”

  How did he hurt her?

  Isi continued, “He ended up getting arrested for robbery and went to jail. Lucky me. In the meantime, my mom had a heart attack and died. I got a divorce and ended up back home.” She let out a short, dry laugh. “Everything had changed, nothing had changed.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Four years.”

  I dug my boot heel in the soil. Clouds pushed overhead, casting a long, moving shadow over the golden wheat, making their color darker. “Is he still in jail?”

  “Yes. I haven’t seen him or talked to him since the trial.” She pressed her lips together. “As you heard, Uncle Walt and my aunt aren’t too thrilled with my life choices, and my dad doesn’t have too much to say anymore. I want to live my life now. After all, we only get one.”

  “Yep, only one.”

  She turned and cast a long glance over the wheat field, the stalks a brassy gold under the streaking sunlight. “I don’t want any regrets. Even Uncle Walt said ‘you won’t be young forever.’ I don’t want to look back one day and say oh, I should’ve done this, shouldn’t have done that. Should’ve had the guts to—”

  “Me neither.”

  She pinned her gaze on me. “I know. That’s why I went for it with you at that biker party.”

  “Hold up, Isadora Dillon. You pulled a knife on me and cut me with it. Is that your definition of going for it? The rough shit right up front?”

  She laughed. “I was about to shove you off me and kick you in the balls, but—”

  “But what?”

  “I’ve been attracted to you from that first time we spoke at Dead Ringer’s years ago. You were funny, ni
ce. Thoughtful. The things you’d said about my singing, they stayed with me. Except for Leo, no one’s ever talked to me like that about my singing. Like I was worth something.”

  “Not even the husband?”

  “Oh, definitely not the husband.”

  “Oh, Is, you’re worth—” I took in a deep breath looking skyward. “You’re the sun, baby.”

  “You saw me.”

  “What?” I turned to her.

  “You looked at me and saw me. It was electrifying. I’d just gotten off the stage after having such a blast performing. I’d snuck out that night, Georgia and Leo had helped me lie to my parents and to my boyfriend. Every moment at Dead Ringer’s that night was so damn precious. There I was enjoying a soda and my afterglow, and you saw me. You’d heard me. That was everything. It meant so much.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “And I never forgot it.”

  We held each other’s intense gaze, the stalks rustling around us.

  “Before I left Meager, I’d see you riding through town on your bike from the window at the store, or when I’d be sweeping the sidewalk. To me, you were freedom. You were a force, a presence. You were the wind, and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to be swept off inside it. Years later, when I came back to Meager, I’d see you cruising down Clay, and yes, you were still that force, that dream to me.

  “When I stepped in to save your ass with Ms. Marla, I took it. When I got the chance to kiss you, touch you, I took it. To ride on your bike with you … oh, that was a piece of magic just for me.”

  She was my piece of magic. That day. Now.

  Her teeth grazed her lip. “And then at that big biker party in Nebraska, suddenly there you were, saving me from a jerk, gripping my arm like a caveman, looking at me like you wanted to take a bite out of me. And all you asked for was a song. And that’s when I said to myself—you’re being given what you’ve been wanting for years.”

  I reached for her hand and threaded our fingers together. “What did you want?”

  “To kiss you. But this time, to really kiss you. To be held by you, to be in your wind. And there you were. Looking all wild and sexy and angry. I wanted to taste all of that in your kiss. Taste it in more than a kiss.”