Driller: Dead Ringers MC Book 1 Page 6

  “Take her back to the house,” he says to Donovan. “Get her whatever she needs. You’re not going to worry about one fucking thing, you understand? We’ll take care of all the arrangements. Vinnie was like a brother to me.”

  “I appreciate it, but I think I should probably go to the police station. I’m sure they’re going to want a statement or something. I probably am going to have to identify his body.” I gulp at the prospect. Obviously he didn’t go down from natural causes. I wonder what he looks like under that black tarp of a bag. I highly doubt he looks like he just fell asleep peacefully. “I can just crash with Riley when I’m done. Henry can take me. Really, it’s okay.”

  “Just come with me, Pearl. We need to talk. I was there. I think I can help you out more than the police can.”

  I raise my eyebrows and sneer at him. Obviously I’m curious about what he saw. It dawns on me he was probably a witness in the last few minutes of my father’s life. Then it dawns on me that maybe he’s the reason why my dad was murdered to begin with. I know my dad wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who got along with everyone, but he was respected in the community. He had a reputation. People didn’t fuck with him. He stayed out of the beef between the gangs and the clubs and did his own thing no matter how many times Stoney tried to pull him into the MC life.

  This probably wasn’t even about my dad.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say. “I’m going to be fine.”

  I walk away towards the tattoo shop. It breaks my heart seeing the place in shambles like this. I have so many memories, both good and bad. This place was my childhood home. I feel this compulsion to go inside and into the apartment. Nobody is letting me anywhere near my father, but I want to be close to him, even in spirit. Just sit in the easy chair he passed out in so many nights one last time while his soul drifts off to wherever it’s going.

  “Pearl, this is a crime scene,” Henry says. “You can’t go in there.”

  “Even the apartment? Please, this place is my home,” I plead.

  “The more people coming in and out the building the harder it’s going to be to collect evidence. Do you really want to get in the way of that?”

  What I want and what’s logical are two entirely different things. Nothing’s making sense right now. I just need to go somewhere private and collect myself. Being amongst my dad’s stuff seemed to be the best place to do that.

  “Come on, Pearl,” Donovan says. I have no idea when he snuck up behind me, but I’m not exactly at my most coherent right now. Not exactly in a position to make good choices. “You had a long trip. There’s nothing you can do here tonight. Come back to the house. We’ll get you some food and a safe place to sleep. I’ll take you wherever you want to go in the morning.”

  I’m hearing his words, but they aren’t making sense, because all I can see is the blood. So much blood, like every ounce of life in my father was drained out onto the floor in front of his station. The lights the investigators use only illuminate it even more. For a chick that works with needles in flesh you’d think I’d have that phobia under wraps, but I feel sick to my stomach, my knees growing weaker.

  “Yeah,” I say, not really sure what I’m agreeing to. All I know is I need to get away from this horror scene before I completely pass out. “Whatever.”

  Chapter Nine

  Driller

  The ride home is silent. I take my dad’s truck because the thought of getting my tore up arm pelted by this freezing rain just sounded like a bullshit plan.

  I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her. I don’t even know why Uncle Stoney thinks it’s a good idea to bring her back to the house. She obviously wants nothing to do with me, and that’s alright. I don’t like seeing her upset, but I can’t blame her. I’m pretty shook myself.

  “You were in there,” she finally says. I nod, keeping my eyes on the road. I could tell her every gory detail, but I don’t exactly think that’s something that’ll make her feel any better.

  She looks so broken right now, her curly hair drenched from standing out in the rain, makeup all over her face, and she’s clutching her arms to her chest and shivering. Nothing like the way I’d picture her, wild and free, going to art school, living like a hippie without a care in the world. I don’t like this version of her. Makes me feel like somehow I’m personally responsible for all this shit, for making her this way.

  “You cold?” I ask, fidgeting with the heat.

  “I don’t know,” she says.

  So much for polite conversation and trying to make her comfortable. I guess that shit just ain’t gonna happen tonight.

  She cracks the window and taps a cigarette out of her pack, lighting it up and sucking it in like it’s the only thing giving her breath. She smokes it down to the filter and tosses it out the window, quickly lighting up another one.

  “Why’d they kill him and not you?”

  “Guess that’s a valid question,” I say, trying to put myself in her shoes for a second.

  “I’m sorry,” she mutters, turning to me in her seat. “I don’t wish you dead, Donovan. I don’t wish anybody dead. I’m just really confused and nobody’s giving me any answers. Standing back there, seeing all that blood, all I could think about was how this had to be you and your guys fault. I mean, he pays you for protection and he ends up dead and you’re alright? Doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  She slaps her hand over her mouth, a flash of fear in her eyes. She ducks like I’m about to hit her, and that hurts me worse than the words coming out of her mouth.

  “You don’t know shit, Pearl,” I say. “Vinnie ain’t paid us for protection ever. He’s a friend of the club.”

  Now she just looks confused, like something’s not ringing right.

  “And if you think me and my guys are the type to put their hands on a woman, you have a lot of learning to do.” I’m trying to be decent to her on account of the circumstance, but nobody makes assumptions about the Dead Ringers. Especially not sick ones that like.

  “Noted,” she says, raising her eyebrows.

  Now we’re back to silence thankfully, and as we pull up to the gate at the clubhouse I have this sinking feeling in my stomach that this is a bad fucking idea. I should’ve let her stay with Riley in her little delusional world, letting her think we’re the bad guys and never having to deal with her again. She’s not the kind of girl who belongs here with us.

  Everybody’s obviously on high alert after what went down today. We rarely have prospects guarding the gate, but the chain link fence is lined with guys standing out in the rain. Red Eye swings the gate open, and I roll down the window.

  “I’m glad you’re alright, Driller,” he says. He looks over at Pearl and back at me with confusion. “Only you would be out there picking up dates after damn near getting blown to pieces.” I shoot him a look that could kill and he laughs nervously as I roll up the window and continue down the drive.

  “Driller,” she says with a snotty laugh.

  I pretend like I don’t hear her. I’m really trying hard to be kind to this chick because I know she’s having a really bad night, but her disrespect is over the top. I guess bringing her back here would be a good way to get some answers, that maybe she knows something about Stoney and her dad and why shit is suddenly hitting the fan. I guess the two of us could get to the bottom of this together. Now I’m thinking she’s probably not even worth my time.

  I pull into my parking spot and turn off the truck.

  “Your dad could never afford to pay us for protection. His cash was too tied up in supporting your lifestyle. How’s art school treating you, Pearl? How’s it make you feel knowing your dad was living in filth sleeping on the couch in the shop because he had to rent out his apartment so you could do whatever the fuck it is you do?”

  Suddenly, the quiet little rag doll perched in the passenger seat of my truck perks up. Her back stiffens and her eyes meet mine, and I can damn near feel the rage coming off her.

  �
��Let me the fuck out of here,” she says, reaching for the lock on the door. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

  She opens the door and takes a step out, falling down in the gravel. I rush to her side, reaching for her hand, but she slaps mine away.

  “The only thing my old man ever gave me was a tattoo gun and an inferiority complex,” she says. “You want to be a dick about me judging you and your club, maybe you better get your facts straight yourself. My dad just died today and you’re gonna try and rub some shit in my face? I’m glad I left this stupid town. Nobody seems to ever leave high school!”

  I reach for her hand again. Her words hurt, but I feel like a fucking fool. Something about her is so beautiful when she’s all fired up like this, but the fact that I made her feel this way makes me feel like a piece of shit.

  Betty comes rushing out into the parking lot, her high heels clicking. She’s shooting me a look even scarier than the one Pearl’s giving me.

  “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, and I know you’re having a bad day, but get this girl inside. Honey, come on,” she says, reaching her hand out to Pearl. The two rush for the door and she looks over her shoulder at me. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  I really am having a bad day. Bad week. Bad life. It don’t matter that I’m damn near forty. When mama Betty scolds you, you turn right back into an eight-year-old boy all over again. Not only that, but I’m pretty sure Pearl’s never gonna speak to me again. Not only that but my arm fucking hurts and my bandage is getting all wet.

  My dad appears in the doorway, waving for me. “Son, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Trying to figure some shit out,” I say, hanging my head.

  “Suit yourself.”

  The door closes behind him, and I kick my truck tire. This is what I fucking get for trying to be a good guy and trying to keep my club safe, and yet the only thing I can think about is what I’m gonna do to make things right with that woman who obviously hates me.

  Chapter Ten

  Pearl

  I’ve known Betty since before I could even walk.

  She was a staple in my dad’s shop when the club used to come around for parties, and her arms are covered with some of his best work. I guess way back in the 70s she was an actress in cheesy B horror movies, and even in her late fifties she’s still a knockout. Why she settled down with this group of idiots is beyond my comprehension.

  “Stoney said you were coming. I had the girls clean up the spare room for ya.”

  I’ve never been in the Dead Ringer’s clubhouse before. Every time my dad had to stop over here when I was a kid I stayed out in the car. Sometimes I’d sit there for hours and hours waiting for him, too afraid to fall asleep. I never dared to go to the door and see what was going on. I imagine it was probably vastly different than what I’m witnessing right now.

  Everything seems so somber. Guys dressed in their leathers are sipping whiskey, but nobody’s really talking. Everybody’s hanging their heads like they lost one of their own. As we walk through the room, people reach out to me, telling me they’re so sorry. I don’t like seeing all these people sad, but it almost makes me smile knowing how much my dad was loved.

  “Leave the poor girl alone,” Betty scolds, walking faster. “She isn’t here to make any of you feel better about yourselves, you selfish bastards.”

  “It’s really okay,” I say with a half laugh, stopping to look around the room. These faces are all so familiar to me, only much older than I remember. “It’s not like I’m the daughter of the year. This is actually making me feel better about myself.”

  I’m still seething a little about what Driller said, and I wonder if everyone in this room thinks of me the same way he does, that I’m some spoiled princess who was mooching off my father.

  “You want a beer?” she suggests. “Or something harder?”

  “No thanks. I think I just want to go get cleaned up and call it a day.” If I was going to get drunk today would be the day, but I’m just exhausted. I don’t feel like being social. I just want to go to sleep and wake up and deal with the things I need to deal with in the morning, hopefully leaving this place behind.

  She nods and we walk down a long hallway. The place isn’t exactly nice, but I will admit it’s a lot cleaner than I expected. It’s also a lot quieter.

  “This is it. I know it ain’t much. Probably not what you’re used to, but you’ll be safe and I’ll make sure nobody fucks with you,” she says as she swings the door open to the last bedroom.

  “Trust me, it’s a lot nicer than the dump I was living in,” I say with a laugh. “Even with the naked chick posters on the wall.”

  I can’t put my finger on the feeling of this room. The carpet is damn near threadbare and the curtains don’t match the quilt on the bed, but it looks like somebody put a lot of care into it. Homely maybe. The little vase of fake flowers on the shelf looks out of place, and I realize maybe somebody put those there for me. I feel like maybe I was being a little too harsh towards Driller.

  “You don’t even want to know what that poster’s covering up. Don’t worry, child, everything’s been bleached down and sanitized. Sheets are even clean. We knew you were probably going to be in a bad way. Didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable amongst us dirtballs.”

  I laugh a little bit and she grabs a stack of clothes off the top of the dresser and hands them to me.

  “I don’t know what all’s here, but hopefully you can find something. I’m sure you didn’t really have time to pack before you got the news.”

  For all I knew my landlord was already selling everything I owned out of my apartment. That or he was wearing my panties around the place.

  “Yeah, I didn’t even think. I just got in the car. It’s just all been a blur. I’m not even thinking right at this point,” I say. “Thank you for being so kind, Betty.”

  She pulls me in for a hug, and again I feel the tears starting to turn. I need to stop doing this. Every time somebody hugs me I go back to feeling like that poor little girl who lost her father.

  “You know I loved your dad a lot, Pearl. I love you too, babe. Anything you need, you let me know. I’ll sit here all night with you and keep ya company. Got nowhere better to be.”

  “You really don’t have to,” I say. “No offense, but I kind of just need to be alone for a little bit to gather myself.”

  “No offense taken. However you need to be tonight, we’re all here to accept that. The bathroom is through that door and the TV remote is in the nightstand. Wi-Fi password is dickhole. Welcome to hotel dirtbag,” she says with a giggle. “I’ll be back with a plate for ya in a little bit. You didn’t go all vegan down there did ya?”

  “No, I’m still on the meat.”

  “Atta girl.” She gives me one of those sad smiles that hits me right in the heart, reminding me how shitty I’ve been acting since I got the news. Betty and the rest of the MC have been better to my father than I ever was. They love him just as much as I do, and here I am pointing fingers at them like they’re all to blame.

  “Can you do me one tiny favor?” I ask.

  “Anything,” she says.

  “Tell Driller I’m sorry. I don’t think we got off on the right foot. He wasn’t exactly a hundred percent to blame for what happened out there in the parking lot.”

  She shoots me a wink. “Ain’t no hurt in letting him think he is for a minute. Nobody ever rattles that boy. Might as well be you.”

  She’s grinning from ear to ear like I’m standing on the outside of some weird inside joke she’s already made up in her mind. “Just tell him I’m sorry. I’m not here to rattle anybody. I don’t even know what I’m doing here to be honest.”

  “You’re getting some rest. Refilling your well. You might not like it, Pearl, but you’re a part of our family. Can’t run away from that.”

  Just because my father is friends with the president does not a family make. I don’t have the heart to tell her that, though. I ki
nd of like the idea of a good night’s sleep. I definitely like the idea of a hot shower.

  “Hit the deadbolt when I leave. Ain’t saying nothing is gonna happen to you, but this bedroom is kind of a crashing place for anybody and everybody. Try not to think about it too hard. I’ll be back in a little bit”

  I cringe, knowing whatever air of hominess this room has, it’s probably also seen a lot of really fucked-up shit. For now, it’s mine though.

  She closes the door behind her, and I secure the deadbolt. I didn’t realize the first wave of silence was going to crash over me so hard. I’m used to spending time alone. I enjoy my own company, but right now the chatter in my head is so overwhelming my ears ring. All my regrets. All the mean things I said and did to my dad. All the times I didn’t accept him for who he was, even though he did the same thing to me.

  The sadness fills the room, like it’s a thing, like it’s replacing the air I’m trying to suck into my lungs. I drag my weary body to the shower, hoping I can steam whatever this feeling is out of this room.

  Chapter Eleven

  Driller

  I knock on the door of the spare bedroom with my knee. I have a plate in one hand, a six-pack of beer in the other, and a scowl on my face. I don’t know why I’m on Pearl duty, but I know she’s not going to be exactly thrilled to see me, even though I do have some of the best fried chicken I’ve ever tasted in my life in tote.

  “Coming,” a sad voice bleats from the other side. I hear the bed groan from the other side, hear the deadbolt unfasten, and she opens the door slightly and frowns. “I didn’t realize it was gonna be you.”

  She has her hair up in a towel and she’s wearing a pair of sweatpants about three sizes too big. The tank top she has on is about three sizes too small, and it’s hard not to notice she’s not wearing a bra. Any other circumstance I’d probably be rock-hard in two seconds. She’s standing there exactly how I like my women. In their natural state, stripped down to the studs, not giving a fuck about hair or makeup or anybody judging how they look.