Why Slade is so easygoing about a past neither of them seems to think about let alone mention.
“Tasha’s mom, Amy,” Slade begins, “she was older than me and she hung around the guys from the club. Had a bit of a crush on my best friend at the time, Switch.”
My face must mirror the question that is on the tip of my tongue because Slade pauses to gather his thoughts.
“We were all young then, and Amy was a little bit like a mascot of sorts. Switch got his name because he was the electronics wizard. Always fixing anything with wires that broke. But in the end, his name stuck for a different reason.”
I feel my stomach shift. Like maybe I don’t want to hear this after all. But Slade gives me a reassuring look.
No gory details. Just the facts.
“What happened?” I ask, I have to know.
“We’re a motorcycle club, a gang if you will. But we were never outlaw bikers, never got into anything more than what you saw the other day. Just a bunch of guys having some fun…”
Slade’s eyes shift past me like he can actually look into the past.
“Long story short? Amy and me, well we got together and me being young and dumb, I was smitten. But she was using me to get to Switch. And she was using Switch to use all of us.”
He pauses for a breath, and I urge him with my eyes to go on.
“Two things we all pledged when we took our patches, swore an oath to the club and each other. No drugs and no guns.”
I shudder inside, worrying for Slade.
“Well, Switch brought both in, but only because Amy set it all up. She wanted to set herself up as something big, and figured a motorcycle gang would make great security.”
“But?” I ask.
Slade puffs air out from his cheeks.
“But the drugs, guns, and money she ended up with, it was all from the police. An undercover sting operation. Set up to weed out biker gangs before they got dangerous.”
“But what’s that got to do with you?” I ask, defensive over him.
“Switch is… was my best friend. And he wasn’t at the clubhouse the night we got raided. Neither was Amy, funnily enough,” Slade grunts, his eyes narrowing.
“So you took the blame,” I ask but I know it’s just what Slade would do to help a friend. Even if they were to blame.
“I thought it might save Switch from any trouble, he was a little younger than me. But I was so blinded by Amy too… I really thought she’d wait for me.”
“You-You went to prison?” I whisper, feeling tears welling up.
Poor Slade.
“Three years, but I got out early. Good behavior and a few favors were called in by the other club members. Brick’s uncle had some sort of connections, but it was the parole board’s decision in the end.”
We both fall silent for a long time.
“And what about Amy, what about Tasha?” I ask, figuring I’ve come this far.
“Once I got out I made a beeline for Amy’s place. Our old place… She had a baby girl bouncing on her knee and another on the way. She handed me a baby, Tasha, telling me she was mine. She and Switch took off together. Nobody’s seen or heard from ‘em since. Not a single word or a phone call in almost twenty years.”
I’m speechless, not from his story but more from how he can be so calm about it all.
I mean, doing jail time for two people who end up stiffing you again?
Literally, leaving him holding a baby? It makes my blood boil to even think about it.
“My dad was the same,” I murmur absently. “Just upped and left one day. Left my mom all alone with a little baby… me.”
I feel for Slade, and I feel for Tasha.
I start to cry, but only because I know there’s nothing anyone can do now.
Especially me.
Maybe I’m crying a little for myself too. Never having had a dad.
“Tasha has always resented never having a proper mom,” Slade says, comforting me after I explain I’m crying because I love him and Tasha.
“I never knew any of that,” I explain, and Slade nods knowingly.
“She’s a tough girl, but stubborn as a mule and as soft as her old man inside. She hurts easy,” Slade says, heaving a sigh.
“You're a softie inside?” I joke, pawing at his hard chest, feeling it flex under my fingers.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispers and pecks my lips. Musing aloud to himself, wondering what to say to Tasha about all this.
“About us, Abby. Tasha needs an explanation. She deserves one,” he says somberly.
I agree, but I’m hoping it can wait until morning or tomorrow sometime.
Right now I just want Slade all to myself and I tell him so.
“Is it so wrong?” I ask, pouting, as he hooks his arm around me, pulling me closer and covering us both with the tangled sheets.