The Rampage MC #3: Atlas and Joy

Chapter 9 (Joy): Spotless

"We never even said a word, we just walked out and got on that bike, and we rolled, and we rolled clean out of sight." ~Roll Me Away, Bob Seger

As soon as breakfast was over, I told Kit to wash all of the dishes -- and maybe I dirtied a few more than were strictly necessary -- and I rolled right on over to Beard's office. After knocking and being told to enter, I braked in front of Beard's desk, arms crossed over my chest and glared at him.

"You know why I'm here."

"Yeah, I knew you'd come talk to me about it. And if you really don't want him in the kitchen with you, I'll make him do something else and give Max back to you." 

Just as I opened my mouth to demand Max back, he held up a hand. 

"But let me give you something else to chew on before you decide. He fucked up with you. Big time. I'm also somewhat sympathetic to him since I fucked up with someone and am doing fuck-all right as I'm trying to fix it. Atlas thinks I went easy on him, and maybe I did since, given what I did to someone, I'm really not in any position to be judge, jury and executioner with him, other than the part where he disobeyed a direct order from me." 

Beard's unblinking eyes were boring into mine. 

"But you sure as fuck are. You're the injured party here. Judge. Jury. Executioner. You could release him from kitchen duty, and I could find some other way for him to make up for disobeying a direct order from me. Or you can keep him in the kitchen, work out your anger on him and watch him suffer. You're the cook, so I'll leave it to your imagination to find ways to make him hate life, make him regret every single bad decision and choice he made. And let me tell you, Joy, don't underestimate the pain of regret. Remorse can kill a man, eat him up from the inside until it makes him fucking insane, and he doesn't know which end is up. Nothing worse for a man who wants to right a wrong and he can't."

Hmmm, seems it wasn't Beard talking but the Voice of Experience.

"Like I said, I'll leave this decision up to you. Don't need an answer right now. Just let me know."

For a minute, I just thought about the options Beard had laid out for me. Weighed them. Considered them. Then I made my decision.

"Kit can stay. Atlas, I mean. He can be my kitchen help. I'll let you know when I'm done with him."

Beard said nothing, choosing to give me a nod in acknowledgments. 

"And, Beard, just saying, if you're not making any headway with a certain someone, maybe it's because you're approaching her the wrong way. Try something new if the tried and true isn't making a difference."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he raised an eyebrow at me. "No idea what you're talking about."

I almost laughed, but just managed to hold it in. It was no secret that Emily was giving Beard fits, but if he wanted to pretend otherwise after just implying he was having problems with her, who was I to push the subject?

"Oh, by the way," he said, as I wheeled around toward the door, "for tomorrow night's dinner, plan for at least twice as much as you usually make. Got a nomad dropping by for a week and all the brothers will be at dinner to see him."

"A nomad?"

"He's a member of a club -- not the Rampage -- but he isn't a member of a specific charter of the club. He travels around, and sometimes he'll stop by other clubs that his club is friendly with. He never stays around here too long, a week at the most. But while he's here, expect more people at dinner."

Beard hadn't been kidding. Right around dinner time the next night, a stranger walked into the clubhouse and was immediately surrounded by all of the brothers clapping him on the back. I heard variations on Stian, good to see you, man from them.