by K E Osborn
But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe with me being jobless, I can find a new cause in life. Something new to work toward. Something better. Something that will make a difference. I don’t know what my goals in life are now, but I will find something to strive for, to work toward. I know I will find a place in this crazy life I’m now engrossed in.
Lift and I walk to his bike. He glances at me. “You’re quiet. You feeling okay?”
“I’m feeling better than okay.”
Handing me a helmet, he plants a kiss on my cheek. “I’m happy you’ve decided to stay on at the clubhouse, Lily.”
“Me, too, Lift. Me, too.” I yank on my helmet as does he, and we slide onto the bike to head back to the clubhouse.
The mood in the clubroom is somber. I wasn’t expecting a welcome-home party, not in the slightest, but I guess I wasn’t expecting this either. In all fairness, they’re burying a brother today. I have to cut them some slack.
As we walk through, brothers, club girls, and old ladies mingle quietly, all wearing black and club cuts. I feel awful for even being here. If it weren’t for me, this wouldn’t be happening.
Lift filled me in on Raphael’s vengeance on Howard. I had no idea Howard was Raphael’s father. I guess it makes sense, though. Why would Howard take on a practically unwinnable case? Because Raphael is family, that’s why. Even if Howard didn’t want people to know, he still had some semblance of responsibility for his son. It makes me wonder if Howard has any other bastard children out there I don’t know about.
But that doesn’t concern me anymore. I’m no longer part of Howard’s law firm. I quit. And now I have no prospects, no references, and no damn hope of finding anything at another law firm. I’m out on my own, and I have no idea where to start, but that’s not what I need to worry about today.
Today’s about Scratch, and as we step over to the bar, I notice Tiny. Her tight brown curls frame her round chocolate face as she sits at the bar drinking heavily. I grimace. That’s not a good sign.
Tiny isn’t alone, Medic’s by her side. The two worked at the hospital together for a long time, and so their friendship is forever. It’s only natural he’s helping her through this difficult time.
Guilt flows over me.
Lift must notice because he wraps a supportive arm around my waist pulling me to him. “You good?”
“Everyone is so…” I shrug, trailing off.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a tough day. For all of us. Including you.”
“How will this all work?” I ask.
Lift moves me to sit on a barstool. “The ceremony will start here. Then Scratch’s body will be taken in a procession to the cemetery where all our brothers are buried. Then we’ll all come back here and drink… a lot.”
“It’s going to be hard, isn’t it?”
Lift pauses for a moment. I think I see his eyes mist briefly before they clear again like he’s pulling his shit together. “Yeah. Yeah, baby, it is.”
He called me baby.
“Well, I’m going to be here for you through the whole thing. Whatever you need, Lift. Anything. I’m here. I’m yours.”
Lift presses his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. “You’re mine,” he whispers.
LIFT
The time has come.
It’s never easy to say goodbye. But saying goodbye to a brother who’s had your back for years, fuck, that’s nothing but agony.
All of us mingle in the middle of the clubhouse knowing the time is upon us. Torque walks to the center of the room, his eyes tell the story each of us is feeling.
Sadness.
Grief.
Misery.
We’re all right there with him.
“C’mon, brothers… time for the handover.”
No one says anything, but that same ache that develops in the pit of my stomach every damn time I hear that phrase finally appears. I know this has to be done. I know Scratch needs to be laid to rest. It’s time for the handover, but fuck if this doesn’t hurt like a motherfucker.
We slowly make our way out to the yard. The compound hasn’t looked this way for years. We haven’t had a club death since Zoe and Guinness all that time ago. Sure, we’ve had a couple of hang-arounds die in firefights in times past but nothing that requires this level of respect. Scratch’s casket sits on stacks of motorcycle tires. On top of his casket, his cut is laid out respectfully with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a picture of Scratch and Tiny laughing placed near the foot.
The three things in this world he loved most.
His club, his booze, and his woman.
As we head out, Medic has hold of Tiny as he ushers her to the front of the mass of people. The rest of the old ladies stand back. As I walk with my brothers, I glance at Lily to make sure she’s okay. Foxy’s with her, so I know she’s fine as we head for the casket. We all surround it, Surge taking up the lead as we band together—brothers united in grief.
Surge clears his throat and begins, “Brothers, we stand here today to mourn the fallen. To bear witness to the sacrifice that our brother, Scratch, made for us all. He was not only our Road Captain. He was strong. He was tough. He was fair. He was a fucking character.”
We all manage a slight chuckle thinking of the burly man who could always make us laugh.
“More than that, he was a friend. A brother. He was there for us. Always. He loved his bike a little too much.” He glances at Sensei and Sass. A throwback to how they met over the demolition of Scratch’s bike. “He loved his booze way too much.” He glances at Rowdy, and she nods her head. She served him at the bar as a club girl.
Surge’s eyes fall to Tiny, who’s barely holding it together. “He loved his woman so much.” Tiny can’t hold in her sobs as her knees give way, and she collapses into Medic’s arms. He holds her tightly, comforting her by stroking her hair as she sobs into his chest.
The sound of Tiny falling apart breaks something inside of me. The thought of Lily having to go through this is a cross I never want to bear. So, I’m going to do everything in my power to stay by her side. No more dangerous shit for me. Because I don’t ever want to see her hurting the way Tiny is right now.
“Scratch came to us young. He’s been with the club since he was eighteen. He came out of juvie and prospected. He never faltered in his love for Defiance. He never tried to be anything other than what he was to this club. The scar in his eyebrow he got fending an Andretti attack earned him his Road Name, Scratch, and it earned his place at the table. He earned his right to die for this club. You wear the cut, you know you might end up at the handover. It’s a part of this life—our club life. Scratch knew it, too. And in the case of that fact, he left me something to give to Tiny which I will read for you now.”
I raise my brow glancing at Vibe. He shrugs like he had no idea this was coming.
“Tiny, if this is being read, it means I’m gone before I was able to claim you. That fucking sucks.” Tiny sniffles, her eyes glued to Surge as he reads. “First of all, I’m sorry. I’m a shitty boyfriend for up and dying on you. Feel free to curse my name, but just know I will be with you every fucking day of your life. I’ll be watching over you, protecting you. You’re my girl, Tiny. Always will be.” She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “But, by the same token, while I will always be with you, I need you to let me go. I can’t have you moping around after me and losing yourself. You’re too good for that. You gotta find someone. Someone equally as fucking awesome as I am and show him how fucking great you are.”
Tiny lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. “He swears too much even in a note from the grave,” she murmurs.
Surge weakly smiles and continues, “I love you, Christine. I didn’t say that enough. And if I didn’t get to tell you, your Old Lady name was going to be Everest as in the mountain.”
Tiny scrunches up her face as Surge smirks. “Now, I know what you’re thinking… Why the fuck would I call you that? Well, Tiny, you may be small in stature and your nickname is small
too, but your personality is huge. The size of a famous mountain. Not only that, but us getting together was like climbing Everest. We fought it. We thought we hid it well. We thought it was just a fling. But in the end, we climbed the peak, and when we reached the top, the air was so thin it took our breath away.”
Surge grins. “I’m not explaining this right, am I?”
We all chuckle as Surge continues, “What I mean is, you, Tiny, you take me to heights I never thought I could experience. You make me soar higher than I ever thought possible. Thank you for making me see the world differently. Thank you for making me climb that mountain with you.”
My chest squeezes as I glance back at Lily. I understand what Scratch means and feel the same things with Lily. She smiles at me as I turn back to Tiny who’s clinging to Medic.
“My Everest girl, I need you to let the name go with me. You can’t cling to it. Because even though it was going to be your name, if I didn’t give it to you, you can’t use it.”
Tiny scrunches up her face in confusion.
“Not because I don’t want you to, but because it’s a link to me. And any link to me will hold you back. Let me go. Live your life. Stay at the club. They will love you. Support you through this and keep you safe. If you find love with another brother, know I will be happy for you. Just don’t fall down Everest. Live. Live your fucking life… promise me.” Surge folds up the piece of paper.
Tiny sniffles, wiping her face. “I promise,” she mumbles as Surge hands the paper to her.
She holds it to her chest and nods at him, then mouths ‘thank you,’ and he exhales.
That was hard to hear. I can only imagine how difficult it was for Surge to say out loud. Surge signals to Finn and Dax, and they walk over with a metal box. My heart begins to rapid-fire as I wait for the handover to begin.
Surge picks up Scratch’s cut carefully and hands it to Dax. The distress in his eyes is clear as he takes the cut and begins cutting off Scratch’s nametag from his vest. Finn opens the metal box, the red velvet lining on show as Surge places the picture of Tiny and Scratch in the bottom.
Tiny scrunches her face as Dax folds the cut neatly then hands it to Tiny. She finally let’s go of Medic, who walks with her to the box. My body’s numb as I watch Tiny place Scratch’s cut inside the velvet-lined box where it will always stay. She kisses the tips of her fingers and places them on the cut one last time before Dax shuts the lid, locking it.
Tiny cries as we all walk over to the memory wall.
Our fallen brother’s cuts are placed in here.
No one talks about it.
We rarely come to this part of the clubhouse—it’s too painful.
The many cuts are stored here of the fallen.
Finn unlocks the hole that’s reserved for Scratch, and Dax slowly slides the metal box inside.
My chest squeezes tight as we all bring our fist up to our chest in a show of respect.
Finn closes the outside protective door locking it, and Dax places Scratch’s name badge into the protected slide.
We all stand back watching as Scratch is added to the wall of fallen brothers.
Scratch died in my arms.
I hate he’s gone, but there’s nothing that can be done except to show him this respect.
His tatty hair, the scar in his eyebrow, his stupid ass jokes—yeah, I’m going to miss them all.
A lone gunshot goes off in the background, signaling the end of the handover, and a collective exhale is let out by all.
I stand back shaking my head as I think of the events still to come.
This was only the start of the celebration of Scratch’s life and death.
He was a good man, a loyal brother, and we need to get this funeral procession underway.
LIFT
The weight of the casket is hoisted up on my shoulder. The load of it is nothing compared to the heaviness bearing down on my chest. I stand at the front. Vibe behind me. Ace behind him. Directly opposite me is Trax, then Sensei and Pyro. The six of us carry Scratch from the tires to the sidecar in the compound parking lot.
As the procession starts, Torque leads the way with Tiny and Medic behind him. We walk in bitter silence from the back yard to the front, carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders. Brothers file in behind us as we take our fallen brother to the sidecar, so he can be driven to the burial plot by Surge.
Torque nods to Surge who starts the bike, revving the engine. Torque gives the signal, and we all head to our rides, our women all moving with us. Lily steps in beside me. Her chin on her chest, but she doesn’t say anything as I slide onto my ride, handing her a helmet.
The roar of engines seems even louder if possible. It’s like the bikes are mourning the loss of Scratch too.
Torque pulls out first. Gatekeeper opens the gate, and my eyes widen as I see a row of bikes at the opening leading down the access road. My eyes glisten as I see Zero, president of the Houston Defiance, with his men, but that’s not what has me wrecked. It’s Chains, Chills, Luc, and Ruby. Our old members who patched over to Houston, all front and center paying their respects to their brother. I glance around at all my brothers who are as taken aback as I am.
Torque nods to the Houston club on his way out. A clear sign of comradery and respect between our brother charters.
Surge takes off.
Scratch is on his way while the bikes hum their farewell song as he moves past them.
Lily tightens her grip on me at the sheer noise as I take off in the procession. As I exit the compound, bowing my head at Chains, I see the line of bikers goes on for as far as I can see. All of Houston is here, and when that club ends, another one appears. I ride slowly, trying to keep my shit together, and as we pass each bike, they rev their engine in a salute to Scratch. It’s only now I realize what brotherhood truly means. If one of us falls, we all fall—every single one of us. We are a band of brothers.
I ride past Crest from the Notorious Knights MC, Sparx’s father’s club, who we deal with from time to time. His entire chapter is here too, revving their engines as we ride past. This show of respect for one of Chicago’s finest is nothing but heartwarming.
But it doesn’t end there.
I glance up. There stands Bianca Andretti with her Mafiosos, their telltale pinstriped suits looking impeccable. Torque nods as they bring their clenched fist to their chest, much like we do. The sight nearly breaks me.
Lily squeezes me hard. It’s like she knew I needed her comfort. We get to the end of the access road, the emotion becoming too much. This show of respect is everything for our fallen brother. But as we round the corner for the main drag, a police siren turns on as it pulls in front of Torque to lead the precession.
I don’t have to see who’s in the car to know who it is. I am thankful they’re here. Brody and Grier have been through so much with us. Having them supporting us means absolutely everything. The police lights flash causing cars to stop and make way as the procession slowly heads toward the cemetery. Passersby stare, some take pictures like the disrespectful assholes they are, but we ignore them.
Houston, The Knights, and the Andrettis all follow as we enter the small cemetery that’s about to overflow with bikers. The roar of Harleys fills the street as I find a place on the curb to park my bike and kick out my stand. Lily slides off, and I follow, feeling a little lighter for having everyone here. Her eyes are wide like she had no idea this was going to be so damn huge.
Honestly, I didn’t either, but I should have known Torque would let everyone know. It’s what he does. Lily hands me her helmet, and I place both of them on my seat and take her hand. A mass of bikers, Mafiosos, and two policemen walk over to the sidecar motorcycle where Surge pulled in.
The pallbearers line up again.
I take a deep breath preparing to take my final walk with Scratch.
We carefully lift him out of the sidecar. There are bikers everywhere, but the minute Scratch is on our shoulders, the line forms. It’s long. It’
s quiet. There are so fucking many of them, and I don’t know if I have it in me to look at them all individually.
We start from the back as the whistling of the wind sweeps through the trees making a howling sound. It’s like Mother Nature is crying with us. The air turns bitter as tiny droplets of rain begin to fall, one by one hitting my bald scalp. The rain falls faster, the droplets becoming bigger, heavier as we step toward the opening in the ground. It’s like the sky is openly weeping, and the rest of us are right there along for the ride.
We reach the place where Scratch is going to rest. This all seems so final. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it as we slowly lower him onto the pulley system. My stomach churns as we stand back either side of his casket looking down while everyone moves in surrounding us.
“Brothers, old ladies, everyone from all walks of life… bikers, mafia, police… who are joining us today from across the country. No matter what grudges or problems we may have had in the past, today we stand together. United. Today is not only to mourn but to celebrate, to celebrate a life. The life of a man, a brother, a friend, a lover, but also, to celebrate the ties that bind. To celebrate loyalties and lasting legacies. Scratch loved his club. He died fighting for his club till the bitter end. And there’s no way any of us wouldn’t do the same.”
Surge moves to the pulleys and switches them on. The casket slowly descends into the earth, and I watch my friend, my brother, fall for the last time.
“Goodbye, Scratch,” Tiny mumbles from behind me.
The sound of a revving bike in the distance echoes through the chilly air. Rain pummels around us making this seem even more painful if that’s even possible.
“Into the earth you belong now, brother. From Defiance to divinity we deliver you. Ride in peace.” Surge opens the bottle of Jack Daniels and begins to pour its contents over his casket.
I smirk knowing that Scratch would fucking love that his body will be doused in his favorite nectar.
“Ride in peace,” everyone repeats while watching the casket finish its journey. The sight—a fucking asshole of a thing to witness. The finality of it all is a reminder to cherish every damn day you’re lucky to be here on this earth.
