"Go away Frankie!" I yelled.

Frankie tugged my toe again and I ripped my headphones off my head and glared down at him.

It wasn't Frankie.

Except for his hair, which was now thick and sandy blonde and hung down to his shoulders, he looked exactly the same.  Still devastatingly beautiful.

He grinned his multi dimpled grin.

"Heard you were around here somewhere, darlin'.  You remember me?"

"Deuce," I whispered, staring at him.  "From Riker's."

He burst out laughing.  "I'm not actually from there.  Home sweet home is in Montana.  I was just visitin' my old man, same as you.  Remember?"

I nodded.  "Reaper.  I liked him."

His smile slipped.  "He's gone now.”

I never knew what to say to people who had lost their loved ones.  Nothing ever sounded right.

But seeing the faraway look in Deuce’s icy blue eyes, I had to say something.

"He had a great smile," I said softly.  "Just like yours."

His eyes shot to mine and he smiled.

And I smiled.

"You know," He said as he pulled a thin gold chain out of his dirty white tee shirt and lifted it over his head.  "You should have this."

He grabbed my hand and placed the chain in it.

"It was my old man's," He said.  "Ain't no one ever said nothin' nice ‘bout that bastard.  Ever.  Not even his own mother.  Not until right now.  Figure that makes it yours."

I held the chain up and studied the small, round medallion hanging on it.  The Hell's Horsemen's insignia was on the front.  The words, “Hell’s Horsemen”, encircled a hooded grim reaper straddling a Harley and holding a scythe.

On the back it read, "Reaper".

"That day seven years ago was the first time I'd seen that asshole smile.  It was also the last."

I didn't know what to say.  So I didn't say anything, just slipped the chain over my neck.

"Thanks," I said and tucked the medallion under my Jimmy Hendrix tee shirt.  "I like it."

Nodding, he looked off into the distance.

"Gonna take a walk through them pumpkin's darlin'.  You wanna join?"

I hung my headphones around my neck, clipped my walkman to my jeans pocket and hopped down.

I didn’t give it much thought, just slipped my hand into his like I would with my father or Frankie.  He glanced down but didn’t pull away and his thick, warm fingers curled around mine and we started walking.

As we walked, Deuce stared up at the cloudy gray sky, chain smoking, not speaking.

“Are you sad?”  I asked.

He glanced down at me and his brows furrowed.  I bit my lip.  Had I said the wrong thing?  Maybe he hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was sad.  My heart started beating faster and faster, I felt my palm grow clammy, and because my hand was in Deuce’s hand, I became embarrassed and started sweating even more.

“Little brother died, darlin’.  Few days ago.”

I stopped walking and threw my arms around his waist, squeezing as hard as I could.  “I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered.

Deuce sucked in a breath. “Darlin’.”

Then he fell to his knees and squeezed me until I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t care because it felt so nice and I knew he needed it.

“You’re a good kid, darlin’.  A good, sweet kid,” He whispered in my ear.

He pulled away and looked me in the eyes.  “Promise me you’ll stay that way, yeah?  You and me kid, we were fuckin’ born in the life, reared by the road and the wheel; it’s what we know and where we belong but that don’t mean it won’t take its toll.  So you promise me, no matter what you see, no matter what sort of fucked up shit happens to you.  Don’t let this life turn you bitter.”

I stared into his icy blue eyes, entranced by the safety and comfort blanketing me, warming me.  I couldn't look away.  I wanted to tuck this feeling in my back pocket, take it home with me and keep it safe under my pillow to have when I needed it most.

Eventually, when I remembered what he’d said, I nodded.

He brushed his knuckles down my cheek and stood.  I slid my hand back into his and we resumed walking, Deuce resumed smoking and I began pointing out unusually large pumpkins.

“You ever watch, "It's the great pumpkin Charlie Brown”," Deuce asked.  “Stupid fucker makes me laugh.”

I decided I too really liked that stupid fucker Charlie Brown and made a mental note to watch everything featuring Charlie Brown as soon as I got home.

"You gonna dress up for Halloween, darlin'?"

"I haven't decided," I told him.  "Halloween is very tricky.  Once a year you get to dress up and pretend you're something or someone entirely different then you are.  There’s nothing else quite like it.  You don't want to mess that up, you know?  It's important to pick carefully that way you have no regrets only fabulous memories."

Deuce stopped walking and stared down at me.

"What are you thinkin' you might wanna be?"

"Maya Angelou," I replied immediately, "Or Eleanor Roosevelt."

He started choking.

"But," I hurriedly continued, “In order to dress up as Maya Angelou I’d somehow have to make my skin black without insulting the African American community.  I will probably end up as Eleanor Roosevelt.  Not that I mind.  She was an amazing woman.”

"How old are you?"  He asked roughly, pounding on his chest with his fist.

"Twelve."

"Twelve?"

Looking bewildered, he shook his head.  "Thought you were a pretty smart kid when I first met you, now I know you are."

I blushed.  Deuce, President, according to his cut, of the Hell's Horsemen, thought I was smart.  How cool was that?

"How old are you?"  I asked.

"Thirty, darlin'."  He looked down at me and wrinkled his nose.  "Old, yeah?"

I shrugged.  "My dad's thirty seven.  And he's still pretty cool."

His eyes bugged out of his head.  "Lemme get this straight.  You're twelve years old, you’re probably gonna dress up as Eleanor Roosevelt for Halloween and you think your old man is cool?"

I nodded.

He shook his head again, smirking.  "Damn."

My stomach dropped.  He was making fun of me.

I ripped my hand out of his and crossed my arms over my chest.  "I know I'm weird.  Everyone at school always tells me that.  Everyone except my best friend Kami.  They hate my music because it's old.  They hate my clothes cuz they're boy clothes.  They think I'm a freak!  So go ahead and say it!  You think I’m freak, don’t you!"

Deuce knelt down in front of me.  "Darlin' you ain't weird.  You're twelve.  An those kids don’t hate you, not even close.  The girls are jealous cuz you're so damn pretty and the boys are just bein' boys tryin' to flirt but not havin' the first clue how to go about it."

You're so damn pretty.

"I'm pretty?"

His lips twitched.  "Only twelve and already fishin'.  Yeah, darlin', you're pretty.  Gonna be beautiful someday.  Gonna make some boy happier than a pig in shit."

I grinned.  Who would have thought the words "pig" and "shit" used in the same sentence could make a girl blissfully happy.

“There it is,” he said quietly.  “That’s what I like to see.  Nothin' better than a pretty girl smilin'.”

I stared up at him; he stared down at me.  His hard eyes gentled and I felt my body go butter soft.  Something was happening to me, something important, monumental even.

The shift from child to teenager.  Although I wouldn't understand this until I was much older, what had happened and why it had happened, standing there in the middle of a pumpkin field I’d known I was irrevocably changed.  And that I'd changed because of and for this man.

"EVA!  WHAT THE FUCK!"

I swiveled around.  Frankie was storming towards us, kicking poor innocent pumpkins out of his way.

"Great," I groaned.  "Frankie found me."

"Your man?"  Deuce asked watching Frankie's temper tantrum with marked interest.

My eyes bugged out of my head.  "Ew!  He's my fake brother!"

Frankie's long brown hair was flying all over the place and his dark brown eyes had darkened further with burgeoning anger.  Only fifteen and he was already six foot tall with the body of a quarterback.  He wasn’t as big as Deuce was but he would be someday.

"I know you?"  Frankie hissed, stopping only inches from Deuce.

Deuce's eyebrows popped and he smirked.  "No kid.  Fraid' we haven't had the pleasure."

Frankie hated being called a kid, especially in front of me.  I watched as his hands clenched into fists.

Deuce wasn't smiling anymore.  "You're gonna wanna reel that in.  I don't take shit from grown men and I'm sure as shit not gonna take shit from an asshole who's pretendin' he's grown cuz he wants down a girl's pants."

I closed my eyes.  Deuce didn't know Frankie therefore he didn't know that Frankie wasn't trying to impress me, this was just the way he was all of the time. Before he could throw a punch and get his butt kicked by Deuce, I pushed in between them and wrapped my arms around Frankie’s middle.

“I missed you,” I said hurriedly.  “I've been looking everywhere for you and couldn’t find you anywhere.  I asked Deuce to help me look for you.”

Frankie’s arms wrapped around me and his hard body sagged against mine.  One of his hands fisted in my hair and the other held tight to my waist.

"Sorry," He muttered.  "I just thought…I don't know…you gotta stay close to me.  I can't fuckin' protect you if I don't know where you are.  If somethin’ happened to you baby, I would kill myself.  Can’t be in this world without you.  Fuck, I can't even think 'bout you bein' gone, makes me fuckin' crazy."