Page 4 of My Christmas Biker
“Don’t blame ya.” He pulled out a smoke and lit one, dragging nicotine into his lungs before he continued, “I’m droppin’ off a new Harley for my son for Christmas, and then I’ll need a ride to the airport if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Got plenty of room in my truck. I’m haulin’ my Harley up there anyhow.”
I hadn’t decided how long I was stayin’ yet. The club wasn’t doin’ shit until the party on New Year’s Eve. Gave me a few days to relax and plot what the fuck I was doin’ about Butcher.
“Appreciate it, brother.”
THE MORNING DAWNEDcold and bright as the sun peeked over the horizon, lending little warmth to the chill outdoors. I had a fire going, and my place was cozy as I stood and sipped coffee, staring out through the large windows in my living room. I liked the long panes of glass and had a decent view of Mount Charleston. The clear sky and minimal clouds provided a beautiful backdrop I enjoyed year-round.
But that was Vegas. Mostly sunshine and warmer temps with low humidity. I loved it and wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. I’d always love Denver. It was where I grew up, but Vegas had become my home.
Maybe someday I could convince my ma to move here. She still resisted it. Of course, she’d move in a heartbeat if I had any kids.
I packed last night before bed, so it only took twenty minutes to load my truck and strap down my bike on my Stinger Trailer.Dagger arrived as I finished, rolling the Harley that he bought his son up my driveway and eased it onto the ramp. We secured his ride and ensured both bikes were strapped down tight before anchoring a tarp over both to prevent rocks or other debris from scratching or denting our bikes.
The drive to Denver took about ten hours if you obeyed the law and didn’t speed. Me? I reached it in less than eight. We only stopped once to gas up before arriving in Denver a little after three in the afternoon.
I parked outside Dagger’s old place and left the engine running. “Need any help unloading the bike?”
“Yeah,” he responded, casting a glance at the one-story, bungalow-style home he used to live in.
A few years back, the divorce had been ugly, and Dagger didn’t have much to do with his ex. His son? He saw him whenever he could. At seventeen, Chris could live with Dagger but hadn’t made that decision yet. From what I understood, his boy wanted to graduate first.
I helped unload the new bike, admiring the dark blue metallic paint and polished chrome. It was sleek and fierce. Chris had a badass gift from his father for Christmas. I hoped he appreciated it.
Dagger rolled the bike toward the covered porch as I opened my door and slid behind the wheel of my truck. It wasn’t my business, so I didn’t focus on his visit. Instead, I turned up the radio, slightly annoyed when all I could find were various genres of Christmas music.
I wasn’t a Grinch. Not really. I didn’t love the holidays, but I didn’t hate them. The consumer-driven mindset and all the hustle annoyed me. I hated it.
The only exception to this rule was my mother and her endless joy of the season. She loved Christmas, and her house would be decorated with holiday cheer and twinkling lightsin every square inch possible. She baked and sang Christmas carols, and that was the part I loved. Her. Not anything money could buy.
Dagger opened the door and dropped onto the seat, yanking the door shut. “Fuck.”
“Chris?”
“No,” he growled.
Ah. “Audrey.”
“Same shit, man. Never fuckin’ ends.”
I nodded. “How did Chris like the bike?”
His scowl faded. “Loved it. I rocked Christmas for him.”
“He’s gonna be on that Harley every chance he gets.”
“If Audrey lets him ride it.”
“Well, he’s seventeen. She’s gonna have to ease up a bit, or he’s gonna rebel like we did.”
Not only did I grow up with Judge, but Dagger also lived in the same neighborhood. We went to the same high school. Dated from an identical group of chicks. Hell, every bit of trouble we got into, we did it together.
“Shit,” Dagger laughed, “I hope so.”
I did, too. Life was meant to be lived.
“How long we got before you catch your flight?”