Fight(19)

We stood there for a little bit.

“At night,” Tripp said.

“What?”

“That’s when we’ll go down and walk around. I promise. I know you want to go down there right now. But I don’t want to risk anything. I’ve been talking to Stoney and he’s had guys around the house for days. No sign.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Do you?”

I smiled. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, we’re going to be seeing him tomorrow anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I have to fight Harlan.”

I heard the words and froze for a few seconds. “Wait. You have to fight Harlan?”

“Yeah. When I was there the first time, he suggested it. He wants to see me fight. I figured it would only be fair. Plus, I haven’t had a fight since…”

I saw Tripp turn his head.

I reached for his arm. “Hey. What happened?”

He pulled away. “Nothing. It doesn’t really matter.”

He started to move toward the door and I scrambled to do anything to keep him near me. My brain ran fast.

“Beer?” I called out.

“What?”

“You and me. Beer. I mean, let’s get something to drink. Beer and pizza? Something to eat? It’s almost the end of the day anyway, right? We can hang out, have a couple drinks, maybe talk?”

“Now you want to talk?”

“If it breaks up this tension,” I said. “I hate this, Tripp. I know you don’t want to be here. Neither do I. So… you can ask me anything.”

“Did you ever f*ck anyone else in the MC?” he asked, so quick and bold, as though it had been burning in his mind for a while.

“No,” I said. “I’m not that kind of person, Tripp. I haven’t been with… I’m not that kind of person.”

Tripp didn’t make a move, didn't change his expression. “I have one more question.”

“Okay.”

“Plain or pepperoni?”

I smiled. “Pepperoni works for me.”

And a side of you, Tripp.





13.


(Tripp)



I threw the crust into the box and let out a groan. I was full. We sat on the floor, my back against the wall, Winter across from me, legs bent, hugging her knees. There was a pizza and a half gone and we were well into our second six pack.

“You can’t waste the crust,” she said.

“Like f*ck I can’t,” I said.

“You must have grown up with parents and money.”

“You grew up on the street?”

“Close enough.”

I took a swig of beer. Seven in and my mind was well beyond thinking logical. The most important thing was that I knew where the gun was. Just in case anything happened.

“Tell me about it,” I said. “You want to be an open book tonight, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Winter said. “I don’t know. My father was the one who tried to raise me. My mother left long before I could remember her. At one point my father tried to convince me she was dead because I guess it’s easier to believe a parent is dead rather than believe that they just abandoned you.”

“Did that work for you?”

“No. I knew the truth. My mother was this phantom and my father never let it go. He was a drunk. He lost jobs every week. We had no electricity. Got kicked out of apartments and houses. There were times when he’d wake me up in the middle of the night and we’d have to leave to avoid paying the rent.”

“What happened to him?”

“What makes you think something happened?”

“I can see it in those blue eyes, darling,” I said.

Those f*cking blue eyes.

They were staring right at me. They were big, beautiful, and goddammit, they deserved something so much better than all this happening.

“He was stabbed to death when I was sixteen.”

“Christ.”

“He got involved with gambling and had some serious debts. He thought he could work cards to make things right. He owed a lot and was killed. Then I found out he was going to offer me as payment. My… innocence.”

“Fucking *,” I muttered.

“So be it,” Winter said. “So I was on my own. I survived. I moved around. I tried not to trust anyone. I made a friend, Angie. She was a stripper and bartender. I started out behind the bar. Then there was a night the owner of the club begged me to help out when he was short a girl. So I took a few shots of whiskey and got up there. It was like one in the morning and everyone was just throwing money around. They wouldn’t remember me if they saw me the next day. I made more that night than I did an entire month bartending.”

“You don’t do that anymore?”

“No. Not for a while. Years.”

“Because of the MC?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

We both finished our beers and I leaned over to the small fridge and pulled it open. I grabbed two more, assuming Winter would need one. Next time I looked at her, she was teary eyed. I told myself I couldn’t comfort her again, not when we were damn drunk.

I twisted off the cap and handed her the beer. She took it and drank half the bottle in one big drink.