Resurrecting Ghosts (Kings of Chaos 4)

“What are you seeing right now?”

“Them sitting in the rocking chairs they used to have here. A pitcher of fresh sun tea resting between them. Grandma was originally from the south, and she held onto a lot of their customs.”

“That’s where you get those impeccable manners I found so out of place, given your environment.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that was all her. She beat them into me, literally at times.” I use the key to open the front door and we step inside.

The house is dated with its quirky fifties era furniture. The kitchen has black and white squared tile, and the cabinets were the same teal they’d always been growing up. An oval table with black chairs with white stripes down the middle sat as a centerpiece.

“Oh my God, this house is amazing,” Ruthie says.

I can’t help the pride that wells up inside me. “Yeah?”

“Yes, thank you so much for sharing it with me. I know this is a special place for you.”

“I wanted you to see where I come from, so you can understand more about who I am.” I scratch the nape of my head, uncomfortable with the spotlight being cast on me.

“Can I see the rest of the place?”

“Yeah.” I lead her down the hallway of the three bedroom with a Jack and Jill one-bathroom split in the middle to function as two. Cherry hardwood runs throughout the house. Pictures of me from infancy to my later twenties line the walls.

“Oh my God, you were so damn adorable!” Ruthie gushes stopping at my baby picture. “I hope bean looks just like you.”

“Uh-uh. They need to have your eyes and this hair.” I give her ponytail a playful tug.

She wrinkles up her upturned nose. “No, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. They’ll be teased relentlessly and burn in the sun.”

I chuckle. “Grass is always greener.”

She snickers and continues her journey. She touches the frames carefully, treating them with a reverence that sears her name on my heart. She gets the shit I can’t say. I trail behind her, a living shadow. Her eyes glow with happiness. I did that. It feels good to finally get something right when it comes to her. She’s a complex woman. I’m used to superficial things who want clothes, money, and prestige.

With Ruthie, I have to dig deeper and think things through. It’s like using a muscle you didn’t realize you had. The growing pains as I build up strength and endurance have led to some crazy altercations. Today feels like the first step of an upswing.

“Why don’t you live here?”

“It wasn’t where I wanted to be. After I moved out, got my own place and started doing my own thing, it was always nice to come back and visit when they were alive. Once they passed, it felt wrong to be here by myself. Plus, I wanted to be in the thick of the debauchery with my brothers.

“Somehow, I think it was more the latter.” Her eyes twinkle at me.

I shrug. I’ve always been the type to live to the fullest because I knew firsthand how quickly the ride could end.

“Tell me more about growing up here.”

“Honestly, it was pretty all American. I played sports, went to church, and kept my grades up. My grandparents were very old school.”

“Then how the hell did you end up with KOC?”

“I didn’t want to do the school route, so I did the trade route. It paid my bills, but I wasn’t happy. Then I did some work for the KOC clubhouse and we just clicked. I hung around for about two years before they put me on as a Prospect. I just really connected with their way of life. And no, I’m not talking about the women. They look at things differently than most people. They have their own code of justice and civility. I’d been missing that in the real world. People are all for themselves and so wrapped up in meaningless shit, they waste their life away. Here, I’m helping maintain a brotherhood meant to last. If I go, I’ll be remembered. It’s a worthy cause. We help keep things safe around here too. We’re doing a service.”

“That’s a pretty incredible way to look at it,” she says.

“You think I’m wrong?”

“No, you guys are the most stand-up people I know. You get a bad rap most of the time. You can’t judge every M.C. by a few who are more…vocal.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice way of saying it.”

She pauses in front of my grandparent’s old room. The main bedroom was painted a soft lilac. The white lace curtains were an heirloom. “This is beautiful.”