Chapter Fifteen: Making Up
Smoke
Nothing worked out frustration quite like swinging a sledgehammer, which was why I was happy to be at work. Someone had bought an old apartment building and wanted it taken down to the studs to be remade into a six-story office building that could be rented out. It was a big project for the construction company and the demolition would take a while.
No problem with me. I just looked at it as job security. And of course, it was a good way to work out my issues.
Gripping the sledgehammer with two hands, I brought it down on a bathroom vanity in an apartment on the first floor. A purely masculine feeling of satisfaction rushed through me as the sink cracked into three pieces and the particle board from the cabinets beneath basically fell apart. I repeated the action on the walls, knowing they weren’t load-bearing.
My mind was on Naomi the whole time. I was torn between being mad at her for what I considered to be an overreaction, and being upset about the fact that we were having our first official fight so soon after things had started to go somewhere between us. I’d hoped for a longer honeymoon phase.
In hindsight, I could see why she might be concerned about Gavin being on the back of the bike. I had just been looking at it as an opportunity to bond with my son. I knew I was a safe rider, always obeying state law by wearing a helmet and keeping my attention on the road, but some of the responsibility for being safe fell to the passenger too, and Gavin was probably too young for that. If he fidgeted around too much or didn’t hold on tight enough, that could be a problem.
Still, I didn’t like her attitude about the whole thing. She made me feel like less of a parent than she was, which was just an unpleasant reminder of how I hadn’t been around for so much of his life. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t care about him or his safety.
I wasn’t sure of which side to land on with all of this, but I knew I wasn’t happy with the situation. The invisible bubble of happiness that should have been around us as we started to explore our new relationship had burst. The worst part of it was that I was worried about how it would affect my relationship with Gavin.
Naomi had a point when she said this was complicated, but I still wanted to pursue things with her, I suddenly realized. I wanted to work this out, I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.
When break time came, I was sweaty, but calmer. I knew what I wanted now. I wanted to make up with Naomi, I just had to figure out my next step.
“You’re kicking ass today,” Coyote said as we sat together in the courtyard of the building with open lunch pails on the picnic-style table between us.
Coyote and I had worked on the demolition crew together for years. It was how we met, and I had ended up sponsoring his membership in Rebel Saints. We were paired up on this project, tearing through apartments on the ground floor while the other guys went through the ones above us. We had a twelve-person crew.
“Just working through some stuff,” I said vaguely.
Coyote nodded, “Yeah, I get that. I can’t stop thinking about Ink either.”
I immediately felt bad about the fact that I wasn’t thinking about Ink today. He still remained in a coma at the hospital, and we were all eagerly awaiting for news that there had been an improvement.
As Ink’s closest friend, Coyote was taking it harder than anyone. “I still can’t believe this happened,” Coyote said. “I had just talked to him the night before when he took me home after I drank too much. If I only knew...”
“I know. We need to figure out what happened to him.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking, what if the attack has nothing to do with Rebel Saints?”
“You think it’s something from his personal life?”
“Maybe we should go check out his place after work,” Coyote suggested. “I have his spare key.”
“Let’s do it,” I agreed. It would be nice to feel like I was doing something productive to figure this whole thing out. Being in the dark just exasperated me.
So, we went back to work for the next four hours. We finished the apartment we were working on. The dumpster was full and the place an empty shell when we left for the day. It felt good to accomplish so much, very satisfying.
Coyote needed to run home to get his key to Ink’s apartment, so I went back to my place as well, taking a quick shower. When I got to Ink’s apartment, Coyote was already there, poking around the kitchen.
“You find anything that might give us a clue?” I asked.
“Not yet. But I’m not even sure what to look for.”
“I guess we’ll know it when we see it.” I went to the living room, scanning the bookshelf and entertainment center. Nothing unusual here. I checked the couch cushions and even sorted through the biker magazines on the coffee table.
Hitting dead ends everywhere, I wandered into the bedroom. It was messy, but nothing stood out in here either. I was starting to think we were wasting our time when something on the nightstand finally caught my eye. It was a matchbook, which wasn’t too unusual, but the familiar logo on the front sent a chill down my spine. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
“What’s that?” Coyote asked from the doorway.
I answered him without looking up, “A matchbook from that strip club, Sweet Spot.”