by Hart, Lane
“No,” Abe says, almost apologetically. “But I’ve never heard of his Savage Kings MC either,” he adds, pointing at me.
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, man, you just run in different circles, that’s all,” T.J. says dismissively. “Now, the MC I’m with has a variety of enterprises up and down the East Coast. The Savage Kings MC has some infrastructure that helps support our businesses. You understanding this?”
“Yeah.” Abe nods. “You get the Savage Kings’ help moving shit around.”
“That’s it exactly! Moving shit around, that makes it sound nice,” T.J. replies with a smile. “Now, since we have a long-standing relationship of trust and fellowship, when certain members of our organizations find themselves indisposed in the prison system, we’ve reached mutually beneficial agreements to assist each other. You still following?”
“He’s just saying that my MC called in some favors and paid some folks to watch my back while I’m here,” I interrupt. “And to keep those meth-head fucking Aryans out of my hair. We’ve had to bloody them up a few times to keep them out of our neighborhood.”
“Well, that explains what just happened here,” Abe says with a frown. “But it doesn’t do me much good. You think those guys are going to keep fucking with me?”
“No,” I tell Abe firmly. “I meant what I said. You’re my cellmate, and if you’re sleeping next to me, I want to trust you. That means I’ve got your back in here, and by extension, so do my friends.”
“Well, now, about that,” T.J. says. “That might require some sweetening of the deal…”
I just grin, then stick out my hand to clasp forearms with T.J. “How about I get a little extra in the deliveries the next few weeks, keep you and your boys in that good grass you love?”
“That is why I love you, boy, you know just how many lumps I like in my coffee. You white boys grow the best damned weed I’ve had since I got back from Colorado. You make that happen, and your big friend can sleep in the arms of angels, just like you.”
“Deal,” I agree. “I’ll make the call tonight, and get it arranged. I appreciate you, man,” I tell him sincerely.
“We appreciate your business, as well, my man. Keep an eye to your backside, though. Those peckerwoods ain’t gonna be happy to be denied a prize like that,” T.J. adds, pointing to Abe before stepping out of our cell and rounding up his crew.
“Chase, man…thanks,” Abe says, still holding the wad of toilet paper to his jaw.
“I owed you one for snapping like that,” I reply. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just…I get a little crazy when I think of her. We’re going to be locked in here together with nothing to do for a while. It will be a lot easier if we can trust each other.”
“I feel better already knowing you and those friends of yours,” Abe admits. “I was scared shitless coming into this place. Everyone must be able to tell just looking at me, that I’ve never been to ‘real’ prison before.”
“We’re locked up in here with hundreds of predators, man, some greater than others. Hell yeah, they can sense that shit, like blood in the water. I’ll show you how to ride straight and true, brother. You just stick close, all right?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Abe agrees, wincing as he peels the wad of toilet paper off of his face.
“You all right, man, you need to see the nurse or something?” I ask him.
“Nah, I’ve had worse lumps on my head than this. I used to do some motorcycle ‘repossessions’ down in South Carolina and dropped a couple without a helmet. This is nothing, really.” Abe chuckles.
“Legal repossessions, or just ‘property transfers’?” I ask him with a grin.
“Both,” Abe answers with a wink.
“So, you can ride, sounds like,” I observe. “You ever think about joining a MC? Sounds like you already live the dream, like the guys I ride with, you just don’t have a family to call your own.”
“Ha! Living the dream, is that what you call this?” Abe snorts.
“You do things your own way, with all the risks and rewards that come with standing on your own. That’s what my MC, my family, stands for. We live how we want and support each other, whatever comes. I think you might just fit in.”
“I’ve got family,” Abe says in a sad and subdued voice. “A younger brother. I suppose that’s why I never stayed in one place long enough to put down roots. Our mother was an addict, and we got put into foster care. We didn’t get placed together, though. My brother, Gabriel, he’s not…” Abe pauses, like he’s trying to find the right words, before finally just waving a hand down the length of his body. “He’s not like me. He’s not scary. He got placed into a home pretty easy. I didn’t, and ended up running away to follow him around, keep tabs on him. I’d take any work I could find to get money, to help support him, and that’s how…”
“That’s how you ultimately ended up here, huh?” I finish for him.
“Yeah, that’s how I ended up here. Like you said, that’s the life we chose. Big risks, big rewards. You really think…you really think your MC might talk to me?” Abe asks, staring at me hopefully.
“They’re my family. If I bring a friend home and introduce him, they treat him like a guest. Now, if they offered you a chance to prospect, you might have a rough time, but once you’re a full member—”
“Prospect?” Abe interrupts me. “What, like one of those gangbanger initiations?”
I snort and step over to the cell door, looking down at the common area below us. “Not quite,” I explain. “Those street gangs usually require you to kill someone, show loyalty by shedding blood. That’s not how we operate. Prospecting with the Savage Kings is a chance for all of the members to get to know you, and for you to see what we’re about. You’re held to all the same standards as a full member, and you get to use our facilities and come to all our events. What you don’t get is a seat at the table, or a vote in any club-related issues. You’re also expected to take orders from full members, but that’s not really a huge deal. I mean, no one ever forces prospects to eat spiders or wear a dress all day.”
“That’s kind of vague,” Abe observes. “I mean, you’re a member, don’t you have to do what you’re told by guys that rank higher than you anyway?”
“Yeah, I do for now, but my patch is still fresh. I’ve only been with them a few years. As you gain more rank in the club, you become a shot-caller. Doesn’t really matter though, members vote on everything, and all of our profits are split equally after club bills are paid. Even prospects get a percentage, and their own room in the clubhouse.”
“What kind of people do you guys recruit? I mean, do you teach people how to ride a motorcycle if they want to join?”
I actually burst out laughing at that and turn to see Abe looking at me with a raised eyebrow, obviously a little confused. “No, man, we’re a motorcycle club. We do have some standards, and being able to actually ride a bike…” I trail off, then flop back down onto my bunk. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you, man, I was just thinking of this kid who showed up at the club all gung-ho to join and didn’t know how to ride. Some of my brothers fucked with him for a while, before they sent him packing. There is some training while you prospect, but it’s all about your responsibilities as a member. For us, teaching someone to ride would be like having to teach them to lace up their boots.”
Before Abe can ask me any more questions, an alarm buzzes throughout the cell block, and prisoners begin filing by outside our door. “It’s only about five o’clock,” Abe observes. “We going outside or something?”
“Nah man, that’s the dinner bell on D-block,” I tell him as I pull my shirt over my head. “We get to bed early in this house. Come on.”
With a nod, Abe gets up and falls into line behind me. After roll is called for the umpteenth time today, our entire block of inmates file down to the cafeteria. As we wait in line for our trays, I have to force myself to stop chewing on my lip nervously. Anxiety, not hunger, is gnawing at my stomach and
after a moment, I glance back in line to check on my new cellmate.
“Hey, Abe, get in front of me in the line,” I say.
“Yeah thanks, man. I’m starving,” Abe agrees with a grin.
“Stay sharp,” I mutter as he passes me. “Something feels odd in here.”
Abe’s eyebrows lower in a scowl, and he gives me a quick nod before picking up a plastic tray and turning to the food being passed out. I grab a tray, keeping my back to the servers as I try to figure out where to look in a room filled with possible threats.
It doesn’t take me long to figure out what was triggering my apprehension. The Aryans are camped out at a table directly behind the line getting their food, and every one of them has their eyes on me. I see Randy’s lips move just before three of his enforcers stand up and turn towards me.
I lean over to Abe and slap him gently on the arm. “Go get a seat and get out of the way. You don’t want to get dragged into this.”
“What?” Abe says, turning to follow my gaze as one of the three skinheads—a fat, bald man—steps forward.
“We’ve had enough of you and your apes telling us what to do, Fury,” he says, as he slaps the plastic tray I’m holding to the floor. “You’re going to…”
I never got to find out what I was going to do, because Abe slams his tray into the skinhead’s face, spraying carrots and mashed potatoes everywhere. Abe lets out an ear-splitting roar, then his right leg shoots up in a Spartan kick to the fat man’s gut, sending him sprawling into his buddy behind him. They both slip in the spilled food, crashing to the ground together. The third Aryan looks to his two friends incredulously, before rushing forward and slamming his shoulder into Abe, trying to tackle him to the ground.
I grab the back of the man’s shirt, jerking him away from Abe, then kicked him in the back of the knee. He loses his balance and staggers back towards Abe, who immediately slams a huge fist into his chin, sending teeth and blood flying. Snatching him by the neck, Abe tosses him in a limp heap beside his two friends, who were still trying to get to their feet.
The alarm sounds as the rest of the Aryans’ table leap to their feet. I move closer to Abe so that we could fight together, but then breathe a heavy sigh of relief as the four guards assigned to the cafeteria moved in with their batons drawn. Placing our hands on our heads, we moved back against the wall at their orders.
All of the other inmates in the cafeteria, including the Aryans and my allies in the Outer Banks OG’s, who had been further back in the line, move to stand by the walls while the guards surround the men Abe had knocked down. The sergeant on duty, a broad-shouldered, burly woman, surveys the three Aryans who the other guards are restraining before casting a stern eye on me.
“What the hell happened here, Fury?” she demands.
Before I can even open my mouth, the inmate who had been serving the food pops up from where he had been hiding behind the stack of trays. “I’ll tell you what happened, these fools have lost their goddamned minds! Look at this, look at this, Sergeant! There’s blood in the mashed potatoes, and a goddamned tooth to boot!”
“Benny!” the sergeant barks at the wiry old man, as he slaps his serving spoon into the potatoes, which looks like they had been doused with a line of ketchup. “Get a grip on yourself. What exactly happened here, or to your potatoes?”
I see a hint of a smile on the sergeant’s face as Benny bangs his spoon on the platter again before pointing it accusingly at the Aryans. “This whole damned place has gone crazy! Used to be black boys, white boys, and them Latino boys didn’t like each other. Now I got to deal with these bald peckerwoods trying to attack big ol’ hairy crackers like him! In my supper line, no less! It was them three right there, Sergeant, came strutting over here, proud as you please, and picked a fight with that fish right there.” Benny points his spoon at Abe, before slamming it down once more on the serving platter, looking for all the world as if he had just adjourned the court. With a final nod, he snatches up the mashed potatoes and disappears back into the kitchen.
The sergeant casts a dubious gaze up at Abe, before turning back to me. “Is that the way of it, Fury? Those three try to shake down the fish?” she asks, using the same slang Benny had used, to refer to a new prisoner.
“More or less.” I nod. “He’s a big one, and they want him bald. From the looks of things, he doesn’t share their worldview.”
“All right.” The sergeant gives me a subtle wink. “Get those three down to the SHU. A little solitary will give them time to recuperate,” she orders the guards. “The rest of you get back in line and get your dinner. But if I even hear a dirty word from any one of you, I’ll put your whole unit on lockdown, you hear me?”
Once Abe and I secure fresh trays, we wait for the OG’s to pick a table, then sit down with their crew. We eat in silence, though I catch Abe glancing around nervously as other inmates walk by us.
Once I’ve scarfed down the tasteless mess on my plate, I wait for Abe to finish before breaking the silence. “You handled yourself well back there, man. Especially when you kicked that fat bastard. That was pretty badass.”
“I’ve always wanted to do that ever since I saw that movie 300,” Abe says with a grin. “Remember that scene, where the Spartan kicked that Persian into the big pit? I can’t believe that worked.”
“I’ve never watched all of that movie,” I admit. “Wasn’t it the one with all the naked fight scenes?”
“They weren’t bare-ass naked,” Abe scoffs. “It wasn’t gay porn.”
“Well, you have to admit that it was at least, how do you say it…homoerotic?”
“It was not!” Abe replies. “Trust me, my little brother Gabe made us watch the old He-Man cartoons growing up. You know the one, with Prince Adam, who wore the pink vest and tights? I never realized it when I was kid, but He-Man couldn’t have been gayer if he shot rainbows out of his ass. Now that was homoerotic. 300 is just a masterpiece.”
I snort and laugh, loud enough that the OG’s turn to look at me and see if I was choking. “You all right?” T.J. asks from across the table.
“Yeah, man, just having too much fun tonight. My fruit cup was on point, and we even got a show with our dinner.”
“Yeah, your new buddy can handle his business. Keep that one close and maybe my boys can relax a little.” T.J. stares at me for a moment, searching my face. “I gotta say, man, it’s good to see you laugh at something. You’re all right, but you can be a grumpy motherfucker, you know that?”
This time, Abe snorts and grins at me. I stand up and pat him on the shoulder before I reply. “I might have heard that a few times. Thanks for everything today. I’ll make that call we discussed later. Come on, Abe, let’s go line up and get out of here.”
Once we get escorted back to our block, Abe and I head to our cell. “I didn’t want to bring it up while we were out there with everyone,” Abe says as we sat down on our respective bunks. “But it seemed like that guard didn’t ask many questions and let me off pretty easy. I ain’t mad now, but the way she acted made it seem like she knows you.”
“She’s a friend,” I reply. “Not a personal friend of mine, but she knows my uncle. He asked a few people to keep an eye on me, that’s all.”
“You’re all about friends and family, aren’t you?” Abe asks with a shake of his head.
“It’s not so strange when you break it down. My step-sister Jade is a cop. She told me one night when I called her that a lot of the officers actually like the brothers in the MC.”
“Like you? Christ, man, what do they do, sneak in here at night and rub you down?” Abe asks in disbelief.
“Nah, man, not ‘like us’ that way. I mean, some may, but I was talking more about what we do. My MC has charters all over the place. And in the areas we operate, we help keep the peace. Anytime someone does something on our turf that, say, infringes on our interests, we handle it. Usually without involving the judicial system.
“No cop will admit to liking vigilantes
, but they operate within a strict set of rules that can sometimes tie their hands. We don’t have that problem. I told you earlier what landed me in here. All the officers working here know what I did, and if you asked them when they’re off the clock, every one of them would tell you if it had been them, they would have done the same damned thing.”
“So, as far as the criminals in here go, they’ve got you pegged as one of the ‘good ones,’ is that it?” Abe observes.
“Yeah, exactly. Like you said, man, the Savage Kings are all about family and friends.”
Abe lays down on his bed, staring at the ceiling in thoughtful silence. After a few minutes of consideration, he looks back over to me. “You mentioned prospecting if someone wants to join the Savage Kings. Tell me more about it.”
I shift around to get comfortable on my bed, trying to decide where to start. “It’s a different process for each candidate, really,” I begin. “I suppose the best way to explain it would just be to tell you about what I went through. You know, give you an idea of what sort of things we get asked to do, and kind of get a feel for my brothers. I wasn’t always the badass you see today.” I chuckle. I pause a moment, gathering my thoughts, then I ask him, “You sure you want to hear all of this?”
“You got something else pressing to do?” Abe jokes.
“Ha! Good point. Well, first of all, you have to be eighteen. My eighteenth birthday came just after Christmas…”
Chapter Two
2008
I look up when I hear the gravel crunching in the driveway. Seeing my Uncle Deacon’s oversized Ford Bronco pulling into the yard, I straighten and hang the towel I was using to polish my bike over the handlebars. Climbing the porch steps as he gets out of the truck, I peer into the front window to see if my stepmom has set breakfast out on the table yet.
