It Ain't Me, Babe

She gasped and placed her hand on her heart. “Blasphemy! There is only one true God.”

I shrugged and pulled out a smoke from the back pocket of my jeans and lit it. Religion didn’t play any part in my life, and I couldn’t give a shit who I offended. Bikers weren’t exactly the kind to conform to what society wants. In fact, it’s the f**kin’ polar opposite.

Mae coughed. “Why do you inhale those things?”

“It… it…” I paused and cleared my throat. “Calms me,” I answered tensely.

Seeing her wrinkled nose, I couldn’t help but smile.

“They smell,” Mae exclaimed.

I laughed. “You th-think so, b-babe?”

She nodded with certainty, her beautiful face comical. I threw the stogie to the ground and turned back and tapped the end of her nose. “And that’s why you’ll n-never start smoking this shit. R-right?”

I was being nice… playful. Shit! Ky would rip me a new ass**le for this.

“Right.” Mae agreed and watched me for several seconds before inching back along the bench, shifting closer to my outstretched arm. “You were talking about the Greeks, Styx.”

Taking a deep breath again, I began. “Ac-according to the ancient G-Greeks, there were th-three god brothers: Zeus, P-Poseidon, and H-Hades. They overthrew their f-father, the ruling g-god Cr-Cronus, in a battle. They d-drew lots to decide what domains th-they would each take ch-charge of, now that Cronus’d b-been ex-exiled.”

Mae nestled closer. “What happened next?”

“Z-Zeus got the p-power of the sky, P-Poseidon of the water, and H-Hades of the underworld—not the j-job any of them r-really w-wanted.” I pointed to the picture of the underworld: dark rivers, fire-ridden levels, morbid as f**k pictures of demons.

“So the underworld is like Hell? Hades was given Hell? How unfortunate.”

I huffed a silent laugh at the way she spoke, like some old-world novel shit with a slight edge of good ol’ Texan twang. “Yes and n-no.”

“How is it different?”

“Underworld h-holds the entrance to ev-everything, all the r-routes that the soul can take at d-death. When a p-person dies, they g-go to the underworld where they’ll b-be judged on their lives and s-s-sent to either the Elysian F-Fields, which is like h-heaven, I sup-suppose. The river of for-forgetfulness, Lethe, where a soul d-drinks to forget their l-life, enabling them to be re-reborn. Or if a soul has l-lived a b-bad life, they’d be sent to T-Tartarus, which is like what y-you think of as Hell, the worst p-place p-possible. Hades r-rules over the whole thing, m-making sure it all g-goes r-right.”

Mae was quiet. I wondered if it was all too much for her to understand again, when she said, “That river on the picture is called the River Styx, yes? It is your club name.”

“That’s right.”

She sat up, studied the large river, then her wolf eyes bored into mine. “If Lethe is the river of forgetfulness, what is the river Styx for?”

I blew out a pent-up breath. “Hate.”

Mae ran her finger over my injured cheek, sorrow in her expression. “They represent such sad things.”

I placed my hand on top of hers, stilling them on my cheeks. “Yeah, b-babe, they d-do. Life’s h-hard. D-Death’s even harder. No use su-sugar coatin’ that sh-shit.”

“Why would your club want to be named after the sorrowful part of the story, the misfortunate—why not after the sky god or water god?”

Her face grew excited, then hopeful. Thought she’d found us a better path, found us redemption—it was foreign to anything I’d heard in a long f**kin’ time. No use though.

“The m-mother chapter—the f-first cl-club—of Hades Hangmen was f-founded h-here in Austin. My granddaddy was f-founding member. He f-fought in Vee-Vietnam. The war f-fucked him up g-good. Couldn’t c-cope with life wh-when he came b-back. Only th-thing he knew was killing and r-riding H-Harleys. Couldn’t hold a j-job for shit. H-he and more vets l-like him created this MC. Been my f-family’s way ever s-since. D-don’t know no different.”

I could see in her face she still didn’t get it. “B-babe, the vets saw sh-shit in that war that k-kept them from sleeping at n-night. Th-they did things that h-had them dreading d-death. No sky god, w-water god, or any god coulda p-pulled them outta that living h-hell. They w-were seen as murderers, r-r-rapists, kid k-killers when they came back to the US. When f-folks h-heard what the war made ’em d-do, they were cast out, r-rejected. Just like H-Hades was. You l-live in hell long enough, b-babe, you b-become a sinner too. Why try and b-be good when f-folks already decided you’re too f-far gone to b-be saved?”