“How much?” It’s stupid. If I pay him once, he’ll come back. I know this yet I seem unable to extricate myself in any other way.
“Five hundred.”
“Jesus,” I gasp. “That much?”
“Two eight balls.”
“I’m not a user so I’m not hip to your street lingo,” I say sarcastically even though I know exactly what it means. An eight ball is an eighth of an ounce. It’s what heavy users buy. A single eight ball is around 60 hits but by the size of Sean’s buy I’d guess he needs a lot more to get high and sustain his high.
“Give me $500 now and you won’t see me for a week.”
“I’m not paying you $500 a week. I don’t have that kind of cash.”
“Better think about new employment opportunities then.” He takes another step toward me and despite the distance, the smell of him is so strong he nearly makes me gag.
“I don’t have the money on me,” I lie. I have the petty cash in my purse. It’s kept in the safe of the Cut-n-Curl. When Helen called to tell me she was coming over for some of the money, I’d taken it out.
“Hand me your purse.”
I’m not giving Sean my purse. He’d take all of the money. Knowing I’m dooming myself, I reach in and pull out five bills and lay them on the ground, holding them down with a rock. “Don’t come over here until I’m around the front,” I say.
He licks his lips eagerly and nods. It’s as if he can taste the meth in his mouth already. I turn around and see Helen driving down the opposite end of the alley.
Fuck me. Without turning, I call back to Sean. “Get going.”
He laughs at me. “Don’t want to be seen with me or afraid of what I might say? See you later, Chelsea.” His words sound as ominous as he intends.
I jog toward Helen’s car trying to cut her off before she can see who I was talking with. Her car slows down and then stops. Leaning out the rolled-down window, she peers beyond me. “Is that Sean Ellerby over there? What are you doing with that lowlife?”
Against my better judgment, I look over my shoulder. Sean is leaning against his car. The five hundred is fanned in his hand and he’s slapping it against his mouth. Forget Grant, I’m going to find Sean and beat him bloody.
“Nothing,” I say tersely. Helen looks at me with disbelief and suspicion. “Can you drive me home?”
“Sure,” she says drawing the word out slow. Reaching forward, she starts her car.
“How much do you need from the petty cash?”
“Fifteen hundred.” After landing that bomb, she backs out onto the street and guns the engine.
“Are you kidding me?”
“We’re getting a full hog, steaks, corn on the cob, potato salad, desserts, and it all adds up.”
“I told Danilo that we should do a potluck,” I say grumpily.
“Why are you so tight with that money? It’s not yours. Judge told me you had two grand so you’ll still have some left over.” She slides me a glance. “Unless you’ve got your own expenses you don’t want anyone to know about. You should stay away from that Ellerby kid. Drugs’ll kill you.”
I lean my head into my hand. Great. Now the entire club will think I’m doing drugs.
Chapter Four
Grant
“You know you can tell me anything, Chelsea,” Judge says as we’re clearing the dishes.
Chels made tacos for dinner which were great, as all her food is, but didn’t say a word. She’s got worry written all over her face and Judge knows something about it. He’s been talking around the edges the entire night but I don’t think it’s about the two of us because his questions have solely been directed at her.
“I know, Judge,” she mumbles.
“Spoke to Helen today. She said you didn’t give her all of the money she needed.”
Chels explodes. “It’s so wasteful, Judge. We could all bring food without spending a dime. Besides, I gave her five hundred.”
“I okayed fifteen hundred,” he says quietly. “I appreciate you being a good steward of the club’s money but I don’t want you slaving over a hot stove cooking for the party. I want you and all the other folks to enjoy themselves. We can afford to foot the bill for the food and everything else. This is a way for us to celebrate Wrecker’s release and strengthen ties with our allies. The catered food says we are flush whereas a potluck might signal we’re struggling. We need to make sure everyone knows we’re doing well.”
Chelsea clenches her jaw and then gives a short nod. “I’ll give her the money tomorrow.”
“Not to make you more upset, but I want you to give her the rest. The Williston club is having guests and I told them to bring everyone up.”
His words make her pause halfway between the table and sink. Judge is washing up so he can’t see her white face but I do. This fight about the money is so damned odd that I know I’m missing something. Something’s eating at Chelsea hard and I want to get to the bottom of it, but it’s clear she’s not saying a word while Judge is around.
I take the plates from her. “Go on. We’ll finish up here.”
She nods in short jerky movements and then flees to her bedroom. When her door slams shut, Judge and I flinch.
“Are you—”
“When you—”
We both talk at the same time. He nods and says, “Go ahead.”
“Are you really upset with how Chelsea’s handling the petty cash fund for the club?”
He scrubs the plates and rinses them before he answers. “No. Helen called me and said that she saw Chelsea giving money to Sean Ellerby. Must be for drugs.” He’s so wrapped up in his concern over Chelsea’s supposed drug use that he doesn’t notice that I almost break two plates when I hear Sean’s name. “I never saw the signs. When you two were up in Big Stone did you see any signs of it? She must be shooting up under her nails or something cuz I haven’t seen any signs on her arms.”
“It’s not drugs,” I say in a tight voice. I’m trying to keep my anger locked down but it’s not easy.
“How do you know?” He sounds skeptical. He’s really saying that I’ve been gone from the family for three years and I don’t know anything. I open my mouth to tell him that Sean’s likely blackmailing Chelsea but then clamp it shut. She’s not going to want to say anything. I’ve already fucked up by not making Ellerby my first priority when we got home. I underestimated the snake. I thought I’d talk to him this weekend,
take him down to the gulley and beat some sense into him away from the police.
“I just know,” I say. I quickly wipe and stow the rest of the dishes. “I’ve got an errand to run. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
He nods absently, still caught up in his worry over Chels. As I reach the door, I turn back. “If Chels asks, say I went to the club.”
Judge gives me a piercing glare. “You seeing a woman tonight? You be careful, son. Don’t think that the takeout food is better than a home cooked meal.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I shake my head and brush off Dad’s cryptic message. “I’m going to take care of some business with Sean Ellerby.”
He nods slowly and then says, “Take Michigan with you. Chels is club business.”
“Got it.”
•••
At this time of night, Michigan is probably at Rowdy’s, a bar owned by the club. The gravel parking lot is lined with club rides and other bikes. My truck looks out of place but I'm not having Ellerby riding bitch on my bike. I park the truck by the back entrance and circle around to the front of the bar on foot.
I'm taking Ellerby down by the gravel quarry which is across the town line. We don't own the quarry but several of the club members work there. The benefit of taking care of business like this down at the quarry is that it's outside of the reach of Chief Schmidt and there's plenty of rocks and dust to cover up any stains.
There are a few other cars in the lot but those probably belong to the women or prospects who haven't gotten the funds yet to pay for their own bike. One benefit to being a fully patched member is you're given a bike. Course if you ever get kicked out, you give the bike back along with your cut and anything else the club provided. Dad once called it the best unwritten prenup in existence because property rules are enforced with blood and flesh rather than the court of law.
Inside I find Michigan, our club enforcer, leaning up against the scarred wooden bar extending the width of the room. A beer bottle rests at his elbow but I bet if I touched it, the glass would be warm and the beer would taste like warm piss. Michigan doesn't drink outside the club; instead he watches everything and everyone. Not much escapes his notice.