Ropes

by Jack Davenport

  “Excuse me?”

  He crossed his arms. “You’ve been ridin’ my ass from the second we walked onto that plane. You bitched about the fact I didn’t put the carryon in the overhead bin correctly.”

  “Everyone knows you put the wheels in first! Jebus, were you raised by wolves?”

  Ropes dragged his hands down his face and I tried to keep myself from completely melting down. We’d been at each other the entire way home, mostly because he was acting like he was on his fucking period.

  “Maybe I should just go.”

  “Maybe you should,” I hissed. “I don’t even care if the door hits you on the ass on your way out.”

  Without another word, he walked out my front door and pulled it shut with a slam. I deadbolted it, then fell onto the sofa in a puddle of frustrated tears. We’d had the best week of our lives and everything had fallen apart the second we’d gotten off the boat. It was becoming evident to me that we might not be cut out for this, and that rocked me to my core.

  I allowed myself twenty minutes to enjoy a private pity party and then decided it was time to haul my ass off the couch and do some laundry. I had a client at the tattoo parlor in the morning and then a late shift at Sally Anne’s. I knew my sleep clock was going to be off due to the time difference, so I figured I’d get as much shit done as I could while I still felt somewhat lucid. Plus, I needed to tattoo someone before I crawled out of my skin. Art had always been my escape. My earliest memories are of hiding under the dining room table with paper and crayons. Drawing for hours while my mother was passed out on the couch, or God knows where else.

  I threw my suitcase on the bed and started yanking my clothes from it, coming across various bits of memorabilia from the cruise. I sat and thought about everything Ropes and I had already gone through in the short time that we’d been together, and the waterworks started again.

  Lordy, I loved this man, but I just couldn’t figure out how to climb out of the pit of irritation we’d both dug. Or how to fill the hole in and never dig one again.

  Since I couldn’t do anything to fix it presently, I went about getting sorted for tomorrow’s grueling schedule.

  The problem was, the more I thought about the fight, the angrier I became. I had a feeling we had one more knock-down-drag-out fight on our horizon.

  Ropes

  WHEN I ARRIVED at the Sanctuary for Church, I was burnt-out and in a shitty mood. I’d been riding the biggest high while on the boat, and now that I was back on dry land, I felt completely disconnected from the authors and readers that I’d felt so close to all week. I also felt, for the first time, that Devlin and I weren’t on the same page. I hated the way we’d left things and knew the conversation at her apartment was far from over. If she still wanted to talk at all.

  How the fuck could I expect any woman to deal with my shit, let alone someone who was clearly working through a pile of her own? Why would such an amazing and independent woman put up with a biker and author? Especially after the drama on the high seas she’d just been a part of?

  As draining as the cruise was, the last thing I wanted to do was put my kutte on and ride to the Sanctuary. Doing so only pulled me further away from the insulated world we’d just been enveloped in, but it was Sunday, and that meant Church. No matter how tired I was, no matter whatever personal shit I was going through, club business had to come first. As much as I wanted to be Clay Morningwood right now, I needed to be Ropes.

  I reached the gate and Little Pecker buzzed me in. Recruits and new patches would rotate security shifts at the Sanctuary, and today must have been his day. I parked my bike and made my way inside to find most of the Portland chapter members already there. I didn’t see my Road Captain anywhere and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed was shit from Wolf. I caught up with Sweet Pea and Clutch for a few minutes before Minus spotted me and motioned me over to him.

  “We’ve been freezing our asses off here and you come waltzing in looking like George fuckin’ Hamilton,” he said. “How much fuckin’ time did you spend by the pool, drinkin’ on my dime?”

  “The way my ass is dragging right now, that feels like a million years ago.”

  “How the fuck can you be tired? You just had a week’s vacation.”

  “I wish. Book signings are exhausting. At least, this one was. Honestly though, it was amazing.”

  “You think you’re gonna be able to make a nickel at this?” Minus asked.

  “We’re going to find out. The signing went well, and I sold out of just about everything and made a lot of great contacts. We may not get rich overnight, but I feel confident about our plan.”

  “Good. I look forward to hearing more about the cruise later. To be honest with you, I’m also kinda looking forward to the next Clay Morningwood book,” Minus said, under his breath.

  I laughed. “No shit?”

  “You tell anyone and you’re a dead man.”

  “I can keep a secret,” I replied.”

  “That I know, without a doubt,” he said, before checking his watch. “Where the fuck are Wolf and Big Pecker?” he growled softly.

  “Little Pecker buzzed me in, and usually where you find one Pecker, you find the other.”

  “Not today. Wolf split early this morning with Big Pecker, Hoss, and Diamond Dan. They’ve been gone for hours, and no one knows where they are.”

  “Maybe they’re holding open auditions at the Pink Priest,” I replied.

  Minus suppressed a laugh. “Well, I’m not waiting around anymore. I’ve gotta get this meeting started, so I’ll chew Wolf’s ass out later.”

  Minus called the meeting to order and the officers, sans Wolf, took their seats around the table. The rest of us found our places, and Minus began.

  However, ‘Good morning Brothers,’ was as far as he got, as the roar of pipes caught the attention of everyone in the room. It sounded like at least a dozen bikes passing through the Sanctuary gates, which was very strange since only a few members weren’t present when we started. Moreover, the bikes’ engines weren’t cut once the bikes were inside but continued to rev, beckoning us to come outside, which we did.

  Wolf, along with the other MIA Saints, and ten or more members of the Gresham Spiders were seated on their bikes, and they were all wearing Spiders kuttes. Little Pecker, who’d obviously let them through the gates, stepped out to join them and Wolf handed him a kutte before killing the engine of his bike, which the other Spiders then did.

  “What the fuck is this, Wolf?” Minus shouted.

  “Since you’re such a business man these days, I guess you’d call this my formal letter of resignation,” Wolf said, sneering.

  “You’d have to be literate in order to write a letter,” Clutch said.

  “You’d better tell your fuckin’ lap dog to heel before he gets bit,” Wolf said with a sneer.

  “This isn’t how leaving the club works and you know it,” Minus growled.

  “Maybe not for you or the Saints, but it’s working just fine for me. I’m not playing by your rules anymore, Minus, in case you haven’t noticed.” Wolf extended his arms to the rows of bikers on either side of him.

  “How’s it gonna work with you wearing both a Spiders’ kutte and Saints ink?” Minus asked.

  “I’ve told you before, Minus. If you feel strong enough to come at me with the brand then take your shot, bubba.”

  “You know I can’t just let you walk.”

  “You can, and you will,” Wolf said. “Me, and any Burning Saint that wants to join me.”

  “Ain’t fuckin’ happening, you piece of shit traitor,” Clutch said, as he pulled his piece and leveled it at Wolf’s head.

  “What he said, motherfucker,” Warthog said.

  “You wanna start a war by killing a chapter President, then go ahead,” Wolf replied. “But we both know you’re out of the blood business and ill-fuckin’-prepared for battle.”

  “What do you mean, ‘President’?” Minus asked, side-stepping Wolf�
�s other statement.

  “Char isn’t getting out of the pen anytime soon, and he knows it. He’s decided to run the Spiders from inside the joint and he’s patching me in as the Gresham Chapter President. He’s giving up his local seat in order take the club national.”

  “You’re making a big mistake by turning traitor, Wolf.”

  “Who’s the fucking traitor, Minus? You and all this corporate bullshit goes against everything the outlaw biker code stands for.”

  “Does your code include betraying your club and poaching its members?”

  “You betrayed this club when you told us how we can and cannot earn. When you and Cutter put forth your little mandate about being law-abiding citizens. I’m doing something you didn’t. I’m giving the Burning Saints a choice. A choice to either go along with your candy-ass plan to play it safe, or patch-in with the Spiders, and live like real bikers again.”

  “I think Minus made himself pretty clear,” Clutch said, his gun still pointed at Wolf. “You and your traitor trash need to get the fuck outta here before I put an extra hole in your empty fucking skull.”

  “Do it, and you’re all dead men. The Spiders outnumber the Saints two-to-one, even more with our new recruits. Plus, Minus has made it very clear that the Saints are no longer one-percenters.”

  “Put your gun away, Clutch,” Minus said calmly.

  “What the fuck?”

  “I mean it. Wolf is right.”

  “So, we’re just gonna let him take our members and ride outta here?”

  “You take who you rode in here with and we won’t have any trouble today. Tomorrow is another subject entirely,” Minus said. “You try to take any more of my members and I’ll cut you down myself, and you know I’m not lying.”

  Wolf laughed. “Tsk, tsk. A president should lead by example, and here you are threatening violence at your first test.”

  “Don’t push me.” Minus spat back. “You’ve made your intentions clear, now let me tell you mine. I’m gonna let you leave the Sanctuary in one piece and you and I can settle this later. Test me further, and I’ll let Clutch do what I know he wants to do.”

  “You’re right about one thing, Minus, this ain’t over between us. Not by a long fucking shot.” Wolf turned his attention to the rest of us. “Last chance to be real men, and ride with a real club.” Not a single remaining member so much as flinched.

  “Looks like you’ve got your answer,” Minus said.

  “And you got my message,” Wolf replied. “The Spiders are calling the shots in Portland now, and we’re coming for you and your little club of pretenders.”

  “I thought you were smarter than this, Wolf.”

  “And I thought you had balls.” Wolf started his bike.

  He then cranked his bars to move his bike in closer to our line. Wolf stopped directly in front of Sweet Pea, who was four or five Saints down from me. He spoke to my brother for several seconds, and Sweet Pea listened patiently. Due to his distance and the volume of his pipes, I couldn’t make out what he said, but I saw my brother smile briefly, drop his head down, and then cold cock Wolf with an uppercut that sent him flying backward off his bike. I immediately ran to my brother and by the time I’d reached him, a single blast from something much bigger than Clutch’s side arm caused me to hit the dirt, face first.

  “Nobody fucking move,” I heard Kitty bellow over the ringing in my ears.

  I turned my head to see Kitty holding a Barrett .50 cal rifle, the barrel still smoking.

  “Get back on your bike, Wolf, or I’ll mow you all the fuck down,” Kitty shouted. “I ain’t patched in with the Saints, and I don’t gotta live by their code, but I swear I’ll kill you all myself if you don’t ride outta here now.”

  Wolf got to his feet, wiping the blood that was pouring from his mouth, before righting his bike. “You’re a dead man,” Wolf sneered through his bloody teeth at my brother, who stood seemingly unphased.

  Guns on both sides were holstered and the Spiders began to file out of the Sanctuary grounds, with Wolf riding out last in a cloud of dust.

  Minus, without taking his eye off the gate as it closed, coolly but firmly said, “Kitty, Sweet Pea, Clutch, and Ropes in my office now. Everyone else, Church is dismissed. Lay low until you hear from me.”

  What the fuck had I done? As far as I could see, I was the only one of these knuckleheads that kept his cool.

  We filed into Minus’s cramped office and he used what little space he had to slam the door before composing himself.

  “I want you all to listen to me very closely, I want every gun you possess in this office by midnight, and I mean every single gun.” Kitty began to speak, but Minus cut him off. “I’ll get to you in a moment. I’ve already told Ropes that he’s being promoted to Treasurer and I’m making it official as of right now.”

  Sweet Pea gave me a ‘what the fuck’ look, and I mouthed back ‘sorry.’

  Clutch congratulated me, and Minus turned his attention to my brother. “Sweet Pea, the Burning Saints no longer require your services as a soldier.”

  I began to protest, but Clutch gave me a look that shut me up. Minus’s eyes darted to me and then back to Sweet Pea, who stood motionless and expressionless.

  “See, that’s it,” Minus said. “Cool, calm, and collected as always. Unlike your hothead brother.” Minus motioned toward me. “It makes me wonder what Wolf could have said to make you hit him, knowing full well that it was going to start an all-out war.”

  Sweet Pea stood like a statue.

  “You’re out as a soldier, because if we’re going to war, I need you as a Road Captain.”

  Sweet Pea’s eyes widened, and my jaw dropped.

  Minus continued, “You threw the first punch, so I’m gonna expect you to help get us out of this shit, without spilling blood.” He eyeballed everyone in the room. “I mean it, no violence, unless…”

  “Unless what?” Clutch asked.

  “Unless absolutely fucking necessary, and I’ll be the one to say when that is. I mean it.” Minus turned to Kitty. “As for the other fucking lunatic giant in the room, If you weren’t officially my problem before, you are now. Consider yourself patched into the Burning Saints. We’ll have an official party for all of you once I get my head wrapped around how I’m gonna keep us all alive.”

  “Wait a fucking minute,” Kitty protested. “I didn’t ask to be in your club.”

  “Look, Kitty, if Sweet Pea threw the first punch, you clearly fired the first shot.”

  “With a fuckin’ tank,” Clutch added, with a chuckle.

  “Laugh it up, Sergeant, because he’s your fuckin’ Deputy now,” he said before turning back to Kitty. “I appreciate what you did back there, and I think we’ve done pretty good by you up until now.” Kitty nodded. “I know you want back in with the Dogs of Fire, and I respect your path to redemption with them. I won’t even stand in your way if they ever invite you to patch over, but for now, you’re a Saint, you understand?”

  Kitty nodded and he and Minus exchanged a forearm handshake.

  Minus sat down at his desk with a heavy thud. “Alright, now get the fuck outta here and let me figure out how to keep us all alive.”

  Devlin

  I HUNG UP and went back to pacing and sulking.

  ‘I’ll be right there Devlin.’

  I screwed up my face as I mocked Ropes’s macho bravado. He’d called me to say he wanted to talk about our argument and I told him I wanted some time. He disagreed and said he’d be ‘right there.’ I didn’t want him to be ‘right there.’ I wanted him to stay away so I could be pissed at him in private.

  Who the hell does he think he is?

  My attempt to wind myself up again was cut short by three knocks on my door. Ropes had arrived earlier than I’d expected. He must have been speeding like crazy to get here so quickly, another thing I’d have to chew his ass about.

  I unlocked the front door and swung it open wildly. “Exactly how fast were you—”


  A meaty hand clasped tightly around my throat and a rag was placed over my mouth and nose. Consciousness faded and I felt arms guide me to the floor.

  * * *

  Coldness on my face had me jerking awake and I found myself seated on the chair in the corner of my living room. I call it my flu chair because it’s the only place I want to be when I’m truly sick. I can spend hours curled up in this overstuffed monstrosity, shit-faced on Thera-Quil (my own completely unregulated and non- doctor recommended mixture of various over the counter cold meds), and binge-watching Twilight Zone episodes. If I was sick enough and medicated enough, I’d pass the time by knitting a horrible scarf or ill-fitting mittens. From the way my head was pounding, and the nausea was threatening to spill, I thought, just for a moment, I was sick and I’d hallucinated being knocked out by a giant biker.

  “Wakey, wakey,” a deep voice said as I struggled to focus. “How much of that shit did you put on that rag?” he asked.

  “The normal amount, I guess. How the fuck should I know?” another man answered.

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘I guess’?”

  “Excuse me for not being an expert in knocking out chicks with chloroform. I don’t have a problem getting dates.”

  “Cause you pay for ’em.”

  “Fuck you, Slammer.”

  My head turned toward the direction of the second man’s voice.

  “See? She’s fine. She’s waking up.”

  “Good, because I want Juliette awake when Shakespeare gets here.”

  Who the fuck are these idiots?

  I continued to struggle to wake up but noticed I wouldn’t need to struggle against restraints. Neither my hands nor feet appeared to be bound.

  “Time to wake up,” the large man bellowed, close enough to feel his hot, rancid breath on my neck.

  Just then, I heard Ropes’s voice outside my front door, “Baby, it’s me,” followed by two loud thumps. My eyes finally opened fully, to see the front door handle turning.

  * * *

  Ropes

  Between the battle at the not-so-fucking-okay corral and the constant bickering with Devlin, I felt like I’d been hit in the head with a blunt object.