The Biker Next Door by Glenna Maynard

Author:Glenna Maynard [Glenna Maynard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

“When you asked if I wanted to go for a drink, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Stella gestures around us at my family’s cemetery.

“My old man’s buried here. I come here when I feel lost.” I spread out the blanket I had rolled up in one of my satchels. I pop a squat not far from my father’s grave. Figured he’d get a kick out of me bringing a smoking hot chick here.

“Are you lost now?”

“I’m finding my way back.”

“Good.” She snatches the bottle of liquor and rips the protective wrap off the cap to take a hearty swig before passing it to me. “Back there. I’m sorry. That’s not like me. I don’t know what it was about her, but she brought out this jealousy and anger in me. Like everything bubbled up, and I took it out on your friend.”

I suck down some Coke and hand the liquor back to her. “I mean, you don’t owe me an apology. I get it. People have said shit about my dad in the past that fucking sucked. But most of it was true. He was a gambler, and he loved women and the club more than anything. None of that changed that he was my father and that I loved him and wanted him to be proud of me. Good people can do bad things.”

She leans against the big oak tree I used to try to climb as a kid when my father would bring me up here while he cut the grass and shit. “So, you’re saying that I have my sister on a pedestal?”

“Maybe. I want to be honest with you, but I need to know that I can trust you.”

“And trust is earned, and you don’t know me.”

“You get it.”

“I do, but we are talking about what really happened to my sister. Not you feeding my fish for a weekend when I’m out of town.”

“You have fish?”

“Can we stay on subject?”

“Fine.” I hold up my palms. “I get it. You want me to tell you that she was this great girl who had sunshine coming out of her ass and that someone I know fucking snuffed that out? I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to lie to you.”

“I don’t want you to pretend anything. It’s hard for me to accept and acknowledge those bad parts that she didn’t share with me. It’s like there’s two different versions of her and now I wonder which was the real her.”

“Fair enough. Though maybe neither of those sides of her were who she really was. Sometimes people try so hard to be what everyone needs them to be that they lose sight of who they really are. Or both versions could be smaller or bigger parts of who she was.”

“I miss her, you know. Like things happen in my life and I want so badly to send her a text message and tell her everything.”

We trade the bottle of liquor back and forth, trading shots and truths.

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