Jase (26 page)

“I
dunno
about that shit, but that girl is definitely preggers.” Mason laughed.

“The girl…you mean Ruby is pregnant?” Jase drew in a ragged breath of relief…and sadness. “Not DeeDee?”

Mason’s tone sobered. “No, not DeeDee. You’re right; she had the one chick and no chance of others. She wanted a baseball team at one point, right after her and Winger got together. They worked out the names and preferred batting order. Not in the cards, man.” He was silent for a minute, then said, “Ruby’s baby is due
not long
after Mica and Daniel’s son.”

“A wedding and a baby. Slate’s turning into quite the family man, eh?” Jase grinned, knowing Mason couldn’t see him. “Things are changing fast, Mason. Bear working on adopting a passel of kids, he’s got four, right? Plus, Mica’s expecting soon. And I heard Molly’s little boy Tomas is a cutie. You should buy a daycare, man. You’ll make a killing off just the people you know.”

“Maybe I should. I’ll take that under advisement, man. Thanks for the business recommendation,” Mason laughed. “I’ll text you the details for the charity run; it’s for the kids’ hospital there in the Fort. They do cancer research, and we’re trying to raise about twenty grand to donate. Why don’t you hit up the team owners, see if you can get anything out of them.”

“Will do. I’ll see you Sunday.” He tapped the disconnect button and drained the bottle of water. “Ruby’s pregnant,” he mused aloud. “Good swimmers, Slate. Way to go, man.”

***

Never having taken part in an event like this before, Jase wasn’t sure what to expect, but he figured Mason wouldn’t steer him wrong. It was scheduled to be a fifty-mile ride with five stops. There was something called a fifty/fifty at one of them, with a tattoo contest and auction at another.
At least I know what a tattoo is
, he thought with a smile, flexing his arms in his coat.

He looked around at the crowd, seeing what must be about a hundred bikes parked in the lots at
Checkerz
. They were beginning and ending at this bar north of Fort Wayne, with three stops in between. There would be live music later, plus the contests for tattoos, longest beards, and other fun things. He glanced down, twisting the armband he got at registration. He had an entry card too, tucked into the inside pocket of his plain, black leather vest.

The Tridents management had pledged to donate a hundred dollars for every participant who completed all five
stops
and had put up a two-thousand dollar prize for the winner. That gave the Rebels more than half the amount they wanted to raise right off the bat. Mason had slapped Jase on the back when he brought them the news last night at the Fort Wayne Rebel clubhouse.

“Jase.” A voice called his name and he turned his head, seeing Tug walking his way. Straddling his bike, he held out his
hand
for a shake and was pulled into a back-thumping hug. “Damn, man, I wasn’t sure we would see you here today. You looked a little green last night when we were talking about the fun we have on runs.”

“It’s for a charity, right? So, it’s well worth the time,” Jase said. “I didn’t see you last night. You should have come over and said hello.”

“I had to leave, had shit to take care of.” Tug spoke curtly, and Jase dropped it. He had learned that particular tone meant it was all club business and none of his. He looked around, seeing several other faces he knew and raised a hand to wave at Pinto and Pops, two members who spent time with him when he first moved to town.

By the end of the run, Jase had drawn absolute trash cards with no chance of winning the poker hand, but he had a blast riding with his friends. Returning to where they began, he was ready for something to eat, and a chance to sit on a stool for a while. As they were pulling in, he recognized one of the bikes parked next to the building, and his driving became erratic, resulting in him nearly running into Tug in front of him. It was DeeDee’s bike; he had seen it often enough over the past year to know it.
Maybe she’s inside. She has to be inside, right?
As he clumsily parked in his haste to get off the bike and into the bar, he thought,
She wouldn’t just park it here and leave
.

“Tug,” he called and pointed to the bike. Getting only a chin lift in response, he was frustrated, thinking,
What the hell does that mean?
Finally
dismounting his bike, he walked quickly to the bar’s door, looking back when a hand gripped his arm just as he reached for the handle.

“She isn’t in there, man,” Tug told him with a shake of his head. “She donated the bike. The auction’s in about thirty
minutes;
that’s why the bike’s here. She ain’t in the bar.”

“Her bike? She’s giving her bike away. What the hell for? Why would she do that?” Jase asked questions frantically, running a hand through his hair, fingers tangling in the
wind-snarled
, too-long ends.

“It’s her old man’s bike. Yeah, she rode Winger’s
scoot
sometimes, but it’s honestly too big for her. She’s got her own ride, lighter and lower, easier for her to handle.” Tug scrubbed
his
hand along his jaw, smoothing his mustache over his chin. “Some brothers wanted to buy the bike, but she wouldn’t choose between them. Said this way it was up to the highest bidder, and has the added benefit of leaving her in the clear. Can’t say she’s wrong about that. Some of the brothers were from other chapters. With
them
not knowing her like we do, they could have taken it wrong if she didn’t
lean
the way they hoped.”

“Anyone I know?” Jase asked, looking around the lot again.

“Birdy wanted the bike in the worst way, but he lowballed his offer,” Tug laughed. “I told her I’d pay her twice what he offered, but she decided to go the auction route.”

“And she’s okay giving Winger’s bike away? I guess I knew it was his, but she looked at home on it. She always patted the tank when she got off like it was a puppy or something.” Jase shook his head, reaching for the door handle again. A thought was beginning to churn in his head, and the more he considered it, the better it sounded. “Can anyone bid?” He turned to Tug as he asked the question, getting a startled, wary look in response.

“Anyone with the money to back it up.” He nodded, and then shook his head. “If you’re gonna do it, make sure to register for the auction at the top bar. Talk to pretty Dixie, the
bar
manager, she’ll take care of you. There’re other things up for auction: some leathers,
saddle bags
, and I think there’re a couple more bikes on the list, too.”

“What do you think it will go for?” Jase asked, striding over to where an attractive, dark-haired bartender was taking down names, using paperclips to attach IDs to notecards.

“Less than it should,” Tug responded, slipping behind the bar and hugging Dixie from behind, tickling her neck with his mustache until she giggled uncontrollably. “Pretty lady, how you been?”

Half an hour later, Jase sat at one of the high-top tables near the stage. The auctioneer was working his way through the things up for bid, and DeeDee’s bike was
apparently
expected to be the big-ticket item, last on the list. He registered and signed an agreement, and now he had to
outwait
and outbid any other interested parties.

He wasn’t sure yet what he would do with a second bike, but the thought of that
motorcycle
—
her
bike—going to some faceless stranger pissed him off. He had ridden beside her for quite a few miles and didn’t want to see anyone else straddling the seat; it was as simple as that.

***

“
Fucking
overtime shootout
rules!
” Jase yelled and punched the boards as he bounced off them. “Goddammit.” The buzzer had sounded for the end of the five-minute overtime period and the Tridents and Mallets were still tied up, three all. If this had been a playoff game, they would move into another overtime, but because it was still regular season, the game would be decided by a shootout.

He looked over at the visitors’ bench, shaking his head. If he knew the Mallets, Dahl would shoot first, then Gary, with Daniel last.
We’ll have to get ahead of it
, he thought, skating over to his home bench and looking at
Lee,
who nodded at him. He knew they were on the same page with this as Lee turned to talk to Coach.

Coming into this third game of the series, they had lost two games, with the Mallets having swept them so far. Jase had run the numbers in his head a dozen times, looking at the fancy AHL website to confirm what he already knew. Even with the point from overtime, if they didn’t win this game tonight, it would take an unlikely turn of events for them to be in the playoffs. Essentially, Cincinnati and Kalamazoo would both have to lose four games in a row, and the Tridents would have to
win
their next four games for them to make the first round of the playoffs. Might as well say toads had to fall from the sky
too,
because it was as unlikely to happen.

Lee waved him over, and as Jase approached, he caught the middle of his conversation with Coach, “…flaws. He’s bigger this year. No more five
hole
on this kid.” Jase nodded, saying, “Dierk put on thirty pounds of muscle over the offseason. Pair that with the fact he’s always been a demon on lofted pucks and you
pretty much
gotta catch him out of position or skim one under his pads. We just gotta put the biscuit in the basket, eh? Light the lamp.”

Nodding, Coach pointed to
Pavelza
, a forward who skated second shift, then Jase, saying, “One, two,”
pointing
to Lee, “three.”

Dahl and
Pavelza
’s shots were both denied, leaving the shootout zero all.
Gary skated next and he slapped a pretty top shelf shot around the Tridents’ goalie and into upper right-hand corner. He looked as comfortable as if he were at home pegging pucks at a freezer in the back of the family garage.

Jase’s gut tightened as he stepped out and skated
up
ice to his goalie, gliding past and tapping the kid’s pads with the blade of his stick in encouragement.

The puck was waiting for him at center ice and he approached slowly, hearing Dierk chirping and catcalling from the crease at the other end of the rink.
Focus
, he told himself, pushing everything else out of his mind. The sounds of the arena
faded
as everything not in front of him moved away, becoming unimportant.

He watched the young goalie’s body language, noting what appeared to be a favoring towards the right side of the net. Picking up the puck on the blade of his stick, he skated down
ice
slowly, legs moving on muscle memory from side to side, hands loose and comfortable on the stick.
Tape to net
. The thought passed swiftly through his mind.
Light the lamp
.

Feinting right, as if he was going for the fake favor, he dragged the puck behind him, and then tapped it between his own legs. He gave it a quick toe drag to the side before he slapped it towards the goalie, deftly avoiding the quick poke check Dierk attempted.

He saw the puck pass straight between Dierk’s legs, the goalie’s dropping to the ice too slow to block the shot. Jase smiled in triumph as the red light lit up behind the net, indicating he had been successful in scoring a goal.

Dierk reached
around
the edge of the net as Jase skated from behind and tapped him with his stick, saying, “Pretty one, old man.”

“Yeah, you’ve slowed up since you lost me, kid,” he responded, and they grinned at each other.

Exiting the ice to the accolades of his teammates, he looked across to see Daniel stepping onto the sheet, intent eyes focused on their hometown goalie. “Poor kid,” Jase murmured. “He’s fucked.”

Within ten seconds, Daniel had scored and was skating back to his bench, bumping fists with the team as he glided past the bench to the access door. Shaking his head, Jase watched Lee as he skated towards the puck at center ice, trying to read the goalie waiting in the net at the end of the rink. “Come on, Cap’n,” he muttered, his fists pounding the top of the short wall in front of him. “Come on, Lee. Get it on
net
.”

The team watched as the shot left the
stick
and saw it batted out of the air by the glove Dierk wore on his off hand. That was it, game over. Mallets
won,
four to three. The rest of the Tridents team turned to walk up the alley towards their locker room, but Jase stayed in the bench area, waiting for Lee and their goalie. Punching them in the shoulder, he said, “Good game, boys. Left it all on the ice, didn’t we, eh?”

He turned to follow them to the locker room and a voice called his name. Looking up, he saw Mason standing at the wall
above
the alley, looking down at him. “Hey, man,” he called with a wave of his glove.

“We’re going to Marie’s. I want you to meet us there.” With a chin lift, Mason turned and stalked up the steps towards the main concourse. With a snort and a shrug, Jase walked down the tunnel. He guessed he would be going to
Marie’s,
since the man hadn’t given him a chance to say no.

He sat on the bench in front of his locker, looking around at the somber and quiet team. Everyone had probably done the same calculations he had, and now they were probably tallying up the money they wouldn’t earn if they didn’t make the playoffs. Elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands for a minute, trying and failing to find his
usual
, clownish, locker room persona.

“Hey, listen
up,
” Lee said from across the room, and he looked up. Coach was standing behind him and they motioned for Jase to stand. Slowly, he did so, looking around at the rest of the team. “I’ve never seen anyone work as hard to come back from a debilitating injury as this guy has, and he did so with one hell of a positive attitude.” He reached behind him, taking something off the shelf in his locker, and walked over to Jase.