Of course, Blackie decided to get high in a bar owned by the Corrupt Bastards MC.
“Bathroom is out of order,” I growl.
“Move the fuck out of my way before I whip my dick out and piss on your boots.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Listen here, you little prick—”
“What’d you call me?”
“A little prick,” he repeats. Glancing at the two men next to him, he lets out a chuckle. “You hear this fuck? Who does he think he’s talking to?”
Ignoring him, I look behind me as Blackie stumbles forward.
“Shit,” I hiss.
I’m about to leave the three stooges in the hallway when the beast’s fucking fist collides with my cheek. The force of the punch knocks me back a few steps, but I quickly find my balance before turning to face him. Rearing my fist back, I forget about the man I’m supposed to be babysitting, and my knuckles slam into the bastards face repeatedly until I hear the bones in his face shatter.
Blackie, like the bionic man he is, pulls me back, and the cocksucker drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Spitting blood, I clench my jaw and stare at the other two fucks.
“You might want to bring him to a hospital.”
“Jesus fuck,” Blackie mutters. “We gotta get the fuck out of here.”
“Nice of you to return to the land of the living,” I mutter, stepping over the bloody bastard. Blackie grabs the back of my cut, yanking me towards the back door. Pausing, I shrug his hands off me and turn back to the Corrupt Bastards, watching as they try to lift their brother from the floor.
“Who’s the prick now?”
“Bones!” Blackie orders.
Flipping the three fucks the bird, I turn to Blackie and follow him out the back door. In the parking lot we hurry towards our bikes and just before I straddle mine, I stare at him.
“Bones?”
“Been wondering what we were going to call you,” he says, reaching for his smokes. “You crushed that guys face, seems fitting we call you Bones. You got a problem with that?”
Five minutes ago, this guy couldn’t stand straight now he’s giving out honorary nicknames. Even if I was tempted to argue, something tells me it wouldn’t be wise.
Instead, I revved my engine and kissed Eric Nicholson goodbye.
I’d later learn that along with my new name I would also become the muscle for the Satan’s Knights or rather, the bone crusher.
A job my fists would come to take very seriously.
Three
Six months had come and gone since Blackie had given me my road name and I still wasn’t a patched member of the Satan’s Knights. However, our vice president decided to check his ass into rehab which entitled me to a promotion of sorts. Instead of tailing Blackie on his quest for poison, I was now Wolf’s shadow. The treasurer of the club may not be addicted to drugs but he sure as fuck has a thing for cold-cuts.
I went from barhopping to pork store hopping. The man is on a mission to clog his arteries and discover who makes the best fresh mozzarella. So far, Leoni’s in Brooklyn is in the lead but tomorrow we’re heading to Arthur Avenue so that could change.
“C’mon,” Wolf says, snapping his fingers.
This shit is getting old.
Like, really fucking old.
“Did I stutter, Bones?”
Dropping the pool stick onto the felt table, I sigh and reach for my cut.
“Where are we headed?”
“It’s that time of the month,” he growls.
“You on the rag?”
“I gotta deliver child support to three ex-wives. I might as well be,” he mutters. “Now, get your pretty ass on your bike. If you’re a good little prospect, I’ll treat you to a hero.”
“Man, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”
“Did I ask for your two cents?”
“No, no one ever does.”
“Then shut your pie-hole and let’s roll out. Patty will get her panties in a twist if she misses a sale at Nordstrom’s.”
As I follow him out of the clubhouse and watch him lift his falling jeans, my phone rings. Reaching into my cut, I grab it and glance at the screen. Robert’s name flashes in front of me and my thumb hovers as I debate on whether to answer the call or not.
I can count on one hand how many times I’ve spoken to him since I left Connecticut. It’s not for lack of trying on his behalf. I’m the only one to blame for the loss of contact and I don’t even have a valid excuse. I can lie and say I’m too busy but really, what am I busy doing? Following a bunch of grown outlaws around? That doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse to piss on nearly two decades of friendship.
The truth is, the last time we spoke, I told Robert about the club and he all to eagerly asked if he could come to visit. Sure, I wanted to see the weird fuck, but he had a good thing going up in Connecticut. In two years, he would graduate with a degree and I’d probably be still putzing around after Wolf. Robert was going places and I wasn’t. Call me selfish, call me a bad friend—but, I was tired of living in his shadows.
I was tired of hearing about the fancy fucking parties at the country club and all the sweet internships he was being offered. I was mostly tired of hearing about the girls—one girl particularly. Joss and Robert had remained close, which wasn’t a surprise.
They went to the same college.
Had the same group of friends.
It was only a matter of time before he got the girl.
Before he got my girl.
“You going to answer that or are you gonna keep staring at it?” Wolf questions.
“Nah,” I say, silencing the phone. “Let’s go.”
I’m about to shove the phone back inside my cut when a ping of dread punches me in the gut. Without even realizing it, I swipe my thumb across the screen and accept the call, lifting the phone to my ear.
“Yo,” I answer, watching Wolf roll his eyes as he fits his helmet to his head and adjusts the chinstrap. When Robert doesn’t answer immediately, I check the phone to make sure he didn’t end the call. “Hello? Rob, you there?”
“Shit,” he hisses. “Eric,” his voice cracks. “I’m so sorry.”
That ping of dread spirals into a tidal wave and I find myself clenching my jaw.
“What’s the matter?”
“I swear to God, I didn’t have more than one beer.”
“Robert, what the fuck are you talking about,” I demand.
“Someone had to slip me something. I would’ve never gotten behind the wheel.”
Putting two and two together, I draw in a ragged breath.
“You were in an accident? Okay, fine, you’re okay because you’re calling me. Where the fuck are you?”
“They locked me up,” he stammers. “DUI and possession.”
“You had drugs on you?”
“No,” he whispers.
Running my fingers through my hair, I try to wrangle in my patience and make sense of what he’s trying to tell me.”
“Look I can’t get into it on the phone but, my mother is leaving me in this fucking shithole and I need to get out of here. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“Who?”
“Joss, Eric! Joss was in the fucking car with me and no one here is telling me if she’s okay.”
At the sound of her name, my body freezes and I drop the phone. My mind starts to race, and I envision the two of them in the car together, her screaming and him hitting the brakes. The sound of skidding tires and steel crushing rings in my ears as Wolf bends to retrieve my phone.
“Who is this?” he says into the phone.
Playing back Robert’s words, sweat beads on my brow as I start to fill in the blanks. If the drugs weren’t his and they were the only two in the car, they must’ve belonged to Jocelyn. At the revelation, my fists ball at my sides as I slice my gaze back to Wolf and watch him pocket my phone.
“Alright, let’s go.”
&n
bsp; “I have to go to—”
“I know where you gotta go, boy,” he mutters. “On the way there you can tell me who the fuck Robert Montgomery is and why he’s taking the rap for some girl.”
“She’s not just some girl.”
“Yeah,” he says, tipping his chin. “Gauging your reaction, I get that much. You can tell me all about her after we spring the kid on the phone out of the slammer.”
The kid in the slammer is going to meet my fist.
Fucking Robert.
He had one job.
One fucking job—looking out for Joss—and he fucking failed.
Four
The entire ride up to Connecticut I plotted how I was going to kill Robert. By the time we arrived at the precinct, I had decided where I was going to bury the evidence. However, all that changed when we stepped into the station and my eyes connected with Jocelyn’s.
She was even prettier than I remembered and as a result; I lost my ability to do anything but stare at her. Thankfully, Wolf seemed to notice my immobility and quickly the sodium addicted biker, sprang into action. I don’t know who moved first if she ran to me or if I ran to her but we threw our arms around one another and hung on for dear life.
“Eric,” she murmurs against my chest. “I thought I’d never see you again,” she cries, tightening her hold on me. Reveling in the way she feels against me, I brush my hand over her silky hair and breath her in.
She smells just like a remember… like honeysuckle and peaches.
“I’m here,” I assure her, huskily.
“Robert is in a lot of trouble,” she whispers, pulling back. Lifting her chin, her brown eyes meet mine and I’m thrown by the beauty of them. Red and swollen, they are still the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. In the time since I has last seen her, I’ve had my share of girls and none ever compared to her. It didn’t matter that I never slept with her. Joss gave me more with her eyes and her heart than any club troll could give with their body.
Like Blackie got lost in drugs, looking to forget the girl he lost, I fucked to forget the one I lost. They were cheap imposters and after I was done with them, I felt worse about myself than I did before I took them to my room and fucked them senseless.
Nothing could compare to the girl I was never good enough to have and every morning I woke up and stared at my reflection in the mirror, I reminded myself of that.
“Did you hear me?” she questions, gnawing on her lower lip. “You have to get him out of here. This wasn’t his fault.”
“He was driving under the influence,” I reply.
“I don’t remember him drinking,” she says. “I would’ve never asked him to drive me home if I had.”
“What about the drugs?”
“They’re not his.”
“So, they’re yours?”
“No,” she whispers, tearing her eyes away from me.
“Hey,” I call. Placing a finger under her chin, I lift her head and force her eyes to mine. “You can tell me,” I say softly. “If they’re yours we—”
“They’re not mine,” she snaps, closing her fingers around my wrist. Her eyes drift over me, taking in the leather cut before slicing towards the front desk where Wolf stands arguing with a police officer. “Who is that?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I take in Wolf as he swipes his hand across the desk and sends papers flying around the room.
“That’s Wolf,” he says.
“An odd name for a man, no?”
“Are we going to sit here and discuss my brother’s name or—”
“So, it’s true? I thought Robert was blowing smoke when he said you were joining a biker gang.”
“It’s not a gang,” I defend. “It’s a club. I didn’t ride all the way up here to discuss my choices with you.”
“Of course, you didn’t,” she fires back. “You make your decisions with no help of anyone. You don’t care about consequences or who you hurt, you do what you want when you want.”
“Where the fuck is this coming from?”
“This is coming from the girl you left behind and never bothered to call. The girl you claimed was your friend. The girl who thought you loved her.”
“Joss—”
“The drugs aren’t Robert’s and it’s not fair he takes the blame,” she interrupts.
“Jocelyn!”
Before I can turn to see who is calling her name, she brushes past me and hurries into the arms of another guy. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a fitted button-down, the guy lifts Joss into his arms and spins her around. It’s a fucking scene from a Hallmark movie and it makes me want to rip the fuckers arms out of their sockets. The torture doesn’t end there though, and I watch Joss take his face in her hands. A moment later her lips find his and she kisses him just the way I dreamed she’d kiss me every day since I fucking left.
“Eric,” Robert calls.
“Bones,” Wolf says at the same time.
The two of them look at one another and I tear my eyes away from Joss.
“Who is Bones?”
“Who the fuck is Eric?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name,” Robert says, swiping his hand over his polo shirt. “I’m Robert Montgomery.”
“Fucking stupid name.”
“Well, yes, I agree,” Robert says.
“Wolf,” he growls, sliding his hand into Roberts. “Now, can we get the fuck out of here? Police Stations give me the angina.”
“Angina? You have heart trouble?”
“For fucks sake Montgomery—”
“Who is that?” I ask, pointing a finger at Joss. Thankfully, the display of public affection is over. Instead, she stares dreamily into the fucks eyes as he signs some paperwork.
“That’s Tom Higgins.”
“Another fucking ridiculous name,” Wolf grunts.
This coming from the guy whose name is Alfonse Scotto yet goes by the name of Wolf.
Talk about fucking ridiculous.
“Why is she all over him?”
“Because he’s her boyfriend,” Robert reveals, pulling a pair of sunglasses from his front pocket. Fitting them to his face, he shoves his hands into his pockets and shakes his head. “He’s a spoiled fuck with a bad habit and the drugs they found in my car, were more than likely his.”
“She’s covering for him?”
“It’s not the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last,” he says, turning to Wolf. “Thank you, Mr. Wolf. Of course, I will reimburse you as soon as they release my impounded car and I can retrieve my checkbook from the glove box.”
“That’s a stupid place to keep your checkbook, Fancy. In the meantime, why don’t you show me where I can get a cheeseburger?”
The two of them go back and forth about where Wolf can fill his belly as I stare daggers at Tim Higgins. Robert is wrong. This motherfucker won’t get a chance to play Joss again because I’ll be taking care of him tonight before I drag my pipes back to Brooklyn.
Boyfriend.
What a fucking joke.
That night, after, Robert, Wolf and I shared a top-notch steak dinner funded by the Montgomery dynasty, I took care of Tom Higgins and made it clear he was never to go near Joss again.
Five
Two days after I returned from Connecticut, my life changed drastically. I was called into the chapel and for the first time; I took a seat at Jack Parrish’s beloved table. At first, I thought I had done something wrong, that Wolf had shared my shenanigans with the rest of the club and they had decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. Little did I know, twenty minutes before I was summoned to church, they had voted on whether I should receive my colors or not.
I became a full-fledged member of the Satan’s Knights that day and when the sun went down, we partied like fucking rock stars. Pulling out all the stops, the Knights welcomed me into the fold with top-shelf booze and a smorgasbord of woman.
When a ginger wrapped her lips around my cock, I didn’t give Joss a thought. I was done living in
the past. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t riding on the bottom of the totem pole. I might not be a fancy fucking computer whiz like Robert and I may never make millions but, I was finally in a place where I belonged, where I felt as if I was surrounded by my equals.
Life was good.
It was fucking great.
But isn’t that the way of the world?
Everything is perfect before it turns to shit.
A week after I got my top rocker, I went to visit my mother. Since I started prospecting, I spent most of my nights at the clubhouse, something my mom wasn’t a fan of. Still, she didn’t break my balls. As long as I showed up for dinner every Tuesday, she kept her opinions to herself.
I should’ve known something was off when she opted for take-out instead of cooking dinner herself. Twenty minutes after the Chinese food arrived, she pushes her plate aside and reaches across the small table. Taking my hand in hers, she reveals she has brain cancer.
Brain cancer.
I barely have a chance to process the news before my phone rings. I can honestly say, I’ve never been more grateful for a reprieve. It could be a brother, a telemarketer or even a Jehovah’s witness and I would take the fucking call. Anything, just as long as I didn’t have to deal with the fact my mother is terminally ill.
It’s none of those people.
Starring at the phone, I sigh when I see Robert’s name. Deciding any drama, he’s calling with is better than what I’m dealing with at the moment, I accept the call.
“My man!!!” he shouts into the phone.
“Robert?” I ask hoarsely as I watch my mother pick at her Lo-Mein. “Now, really isn’t a good time.”
“Fuck that,” he boasts. “I’m in New York!”
“You’re in New York? What are you doing here?”
“I did it, Eric. I fucking did it!”
Leaning back in my chair, I listen as he slurs his explanation.
“I quit school, told my mother to shove her money up her ass, and I fucking left. I left man!”
“Where are you?” I question, raking my fingers through my hair.
“Fuck if I know…. Hey, buddy, what’s this place called?”
Detours and Dead Ends Page 2
