Shea & War

Chapter 10

Painful And Surreal Homecoming

War

Three days ago I got messages from Dev, Hack and Rider. All three told me to get back home and be at the club on Thursday morning at 11:30 am, no earlier, no later, after the meeting I'm to leave immediately, and never return. So I guess it's safe to say that they're finished with me. I knew this day would come, I've been both dreading and expecting it but it did take me by surprise by how much it hurts. I kind of thought I was totally emotionally numb by this point. In some fucked up way, I thought they'd want me back, maybe try and convince me to return. But honestly, they all stopped trying to do that over a year ago. The last time I spoke with Rocky and Jax, they were fuckin livid, telling me how bad Shea was doing, and that I was fucking her up. I know they're right, but that was the last call I took from either of them.

Something must be going on, but I have no idea what.

Shea left me a phone message a few months ago, but I never listened to it, I don't even read her texts anymore, too fucking painful. I see her beautiful broken face every day, crying as she sees the rancid cunts video, crying as she learns we lost our baby, crying as she watches me leave her hospital room. I also see her laughing at her high school graduation, hearing me tell her I love her the first time, and giggling when I called her 'Mrs. Warren' after we got married. She's in my dreams and nightmares, my daydreams and daily reality. Honestly, she's always with me. I'm sure by this point she's moved on, probably found a new guy, someone good for her. I sure fuckin wasn't. I broke that girl in all ways that matter, I'm sure as hell not man enough to put her back together.

I've been all over the country, doing work for the national club. Oblivion isn't just our, or I guess 'their' club in Northern California, it's in several states across the country. And I've been all over the country, doing the down and dirty ugly work, the dangerous shit, the soul sucking shit that good men shouldn't have to do. Trying to save my club brothers, the good guys, from having their souls stained with the shit I've been doing. It's all good, I'm shit, trash, no soul, my soul and life are with Shea, far away from me.

Before I left home I signed everything over to Shea, so if I die, she gets my life insurance and whatever the club settles on her. She fucking deserves more than that for dealing with my sorry ass. All the other shit we owned I deeded over to her when I left town, so officially, I'm worth more dead than alive to her.

The guys were pretty specific about letting me know when to come by the club, down to the day and exact time, so I'm guessing they're trying to get me there when Shea won't be around to see me. The club has always loved her, she's pretty much everyone's little sister, and according to Stoner the last time I talked to him, they are all protecting her as well.

I get the most intense painful and the same time, amazing feeling of fucking déjà vu and home as I turn in off of the main road. At the front gate I get stopped by a couple of prospects I don't recognize. They obviously know who I am, they've been expecting me and don't seem to care too much for me. I drive in, park my bike, and look around before I walk in the door, again I'm hit by the raw and vivid memories, it's like a train ran into my chest of the most amazing times we shared. Beautiful memories of Shea and me, fucking around and laughing, our first kiss, the first time I told her I loved her, when I made her my Old Lady, and when we left from this very spot to drive to Las Vegas and get married.

Entering the club, I head over and wait a bit and look around, heading over to the bar, I ask for a beer, and I realize that it's Stoner behind the bar, I smile and nod my head. He just glares at me, no words, not a smile, nothing. He sends over a beer and walks away.

Guess I earned that.

Two club girls I don't know walk over and start to flirt, I just want to fucking get out of here, and they aren't getting the hint, they just keep sitting there and trying to make something out of nothing. I don't look at them, talk to them, acknowledge them, I don't fucking care.  If they only knew the last woman I touched was my wife, when I left her broken in a hospital bed, they would probably run the other way.