Sunday Morning: A Damaged Novella by Bijou Hunter Read Free Book Online

books,” she said and then focused her gaze on me.
“Mainly I want you. Beyond that, I don’t really care.”
    Her gaze destroyed my confidence. I ought to be
able to handle a woman like a pro at my age. With Jodi, I felt lost between what
I wanted and what made sense.
    “I’m not getting sappy with you,” I said, trying to
be a dick.
    “You don’t need to. Every time you show up at
school, you’re sappy. Every time you come home early so we can hang out, you’re
sappy. I don’t need the words, Kirk.”
    Being a dick went out the window, and I decided to
be honest. “I want to do right by you.”
    “Why?”
    “I figure someone should.”
    Jodi nodded and lit a cigarette she wasn’t old
enough to buy legally. I was constantly reminding myself of her age to avoid taking
what I wanted.
    “Why do you stay in Chesterfield?” she asked. “Is
it club loyalty?”
    “I should say yes, but most of the guys I run with
aren’t worth my loyalty. They think being in the club is about pussy and fun.
They don’t care about each other. None even asked why I wasn’t hanging around
at night anymore. They should be curious or, at least, paranoid. When I notice
a guy’s pattern change, I wonder what he’s up to. They don’t.”
    Jodi watched me with a devious expression, and I
knew she thought I ought to be in charge. For years, I was relieved not to call
the shots. Now I thought Jodi’s way of thinking might be right.
    If I called the shots, things would be different.
I’d pick better men to run with and then expand our territory. Brotherhood
would matter more than getting laid. The Chesterfield Vandals had money coming
in, but we pissed it away on whores and drugs.
    If I was the president, some of the club’s money
would be invested into the town. I’d buy businesses for more than laundering
money. The club would get involved in the local infrastructure, making us too
important for the locals to purge. If I were in charge, the club would be run
more like the mob and less like common thugs.
    Tapping the table, I took a hit off her cigarette.
“You’re putting seeds in my head that’ll only grow into trouble.”
    “That’s a pretty image you created there.”
    “I’m serious.”
    Jodi rolled her eyes. “You’re smart, but you run
with a dumb outfit. I don’t know shit about clubs, but I do know chaos, and
your club feels that way. I wouldn’t even be able to tell who’s in charge.”
    She paused while our food arrived. I watched her
and wondered if she could handle knowing more about my life.
    “You don’t create fear in people by being scary,”
she said, chewing on a fry. “You need to seem bigger. Endless. Unbreakable.
Make it seem like if some asshole came crashing into the club, they’d hit a
wall of men. Right now, it feels like a flimsy fence. That’s not your fault. If
you were in charge, things would be different because you’re different.”
    I didn’t speak for a while. Eating, I considered
what she said. I knew she was right, but I also knew taking over could be
messy.
    “What if you’re right, and I could change things
up, but I decide to sit on my ass and do nothing? Are you gonna give me grief
like one of those nagging wives who want their husbands to work harder to get a
promotion?”
    “No, I’d be one of those wives relieved you came
home every day.”
    I’d taken the conversation in an uncomfortable
direction. Jodi didn’t mind. She was already seeing us as long term, but I
doubted she could really imagine her life when she was twenty, let alone
thirty.
    When I was young, I had dreams too. I wanted to be
a big shot and run the world. I didn’t want a single fucker ever to tell me
what the fuck to do. I was going to kill anyone who looked at me wrong. I
planned to burn down the world if it stood in my way.
    Older and wiser, I picked my battles these days. I
didn’t run into stupid situations. I killed who needed killing. Fought for what
needed fighting for, but I wasn’t