Mace points to the dining table and the four chairs that came with it. It was a thrift-shop find, but I sanded then varnished it so it doesn’t look bad.
“Let’s sit down. Gotta explain some things to you.”
Without argument, my son sits. Mace goes to the chair opposite him, I take the seat in between.
Mace clasps his hands on the table, looks down, then directly at Cas. “How old are you, kid?”
“Fourteen.”
“Fourteen,” Mace repeats. “Grown out of a boy, but not quite into a man. Though I suspect you’ve been the man of the house for a very long time.”
“Since… I was born.” Cas substitutes the last for since Dad left remembering Mace’s initial introduction.
“So I’m going to speak to you as an adult, and I expect you to consider things without simply dismissing them.”
Cas’s chin lifts then falls.
“So, Cas. You gonna listen without fuckin’ interrupting?”
Instead of answering, Cas nods toward Mace and tilts his head to the side. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Mace extracts another dollar and puts it on the growing pile behind him. I wink at Cas, and he…? He winks back.
“Right. Here’s the thing. I said your dad was my friend, he’s more than that. He’s my brother. Not by blood, by choice. He’s a member of our club. All the members are my brothers.”
Cas has gone tense with just the mention of Lizard. He glances at me, then back to Mace.
Mace’s face darkens as Cas opens his mouth, and he says fast, “I said, hear me out.” He waits for Cas to relax before he continues, “Your dad got a serious brain injury, you know that? Well, I did and I didn’t. Only just learned how bad it was. The man I know is good, brave, would give his life and all he owns to the people he loves.”
“He doesn’t love us,” Cas spits out, a wealth of emotion in his voice.
“He doesn’t know you, Cas. He doesn’t know your mom either. He knows us. You know how to become a member of a motorcycle club? No? Well, you need to prospect for a year or more. For that time, you do all the… bum jobs. You clean up shit, puke; you wash bikes. If a member asks you to clean the heads with your toothbrush, you snap to it and do it with a smile on your face. If you do that, you earn the club’s trust. When we know you’ll do absolutely anything, you’re patched into the club.”
“Do you kill people?”
Mace glances at me, then back at Cas. “I won’t lie and I ain’t going to admit it.”
Again, Cas glances at me to see how I’m taking it, but I keep my face impassive. If Mace gets through to my son, I don’t care how he does it.
Mace takes up his thread once again. “Lizard prospected for us, earned our trust and his patch. Became a brother. We judged him for the person he presented to us, not because of anything he’d done in the past. Yeah, he loves us, and we love him back, but it’s been earned, not gained just because we wear the same colours on our backs.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t have to love me because I’m his son?”
“Nope. I’m saying he doesn’t love you because he doesn’t know who you are. He did, before his injury, but kid, that fucked with his head. Way I see it is, if two hangarounds, that’s wannabe members, walked into our club and said they wanted to join up but not prospect, we’d laugh ourselves sick. That’s not the way this works. I expect you already know there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Lizard can’t remember being married, he can’t remember having a wife. He can’t remember fuckin’—that’s a verb not swearing—your mom, nor putting you inside her. He can’t remember you being born or any of that shit. You turning up expecting him to have a come-to-Jesus moment and suddenly fall in love ain’t going to happen. Because he doesn’t know who you are.”
I’ve tried. Tried to explain it. But nothing I said ever made sense. Of course, I didn’t paint the picture that Mace has, nor had the full attention of my son or not when he could keep a hold on his temper.
And I’ll be darned if Cas doesn’t turn to me and hold out his hand. Dubiously, I put mine into it.
He stares at me, his eyes suddenly looking older than his years. “You never stopped loving him, Mom, did you? That’s why you’ve never found another man.” He shakes his head. “You’re hurting too, aren’t you? He doesn’t know you either.”
Tears prick at my eyes. He doesn’t know the half of it. When Cas squeezes my hand then releases it, my fingers curl into my palms, remembering not only doesn’t he know me, but unlike myself, he’s moved on.
My son’s attention has switched back to Mace. “So, how do we prospect for his attention?”
Mace laughs loudly. “Fuck. Yeah, okay, I’ll put another dollar in. In fact, I’ll put in two. ‘Cause, fuck me, that’s the way of it. Not sure we’ve got much of a plan, but we’ll approach this from two fronts. I want to see my brother right, and if possible, you and your mom back in his life. But I’ll warn you both, Lizard’s brain got scrambled up, that’s obvious. He might want things now he didn’t want before, and those things he used to want, hold no desire any longer. So perhaps all we can hope for is that he’ll do right by you and your mom, even if he can’t be a husband to her.”
“I know that, Mace,” I tell him, remembering what I’d witnessed. “I wish I didn’t, but if he wants a divorce, I’ll give him one, no hassle, no problem. All I want is for him to acknowledge his son and have a relationship of some sort with him.”
Mace nods. “May not know you myself yet, Cas, but what I’ve seen, I like. You’re protective of your mom, sit and listen when you need to. I’d be proud to call you my son. And I think Lizard will, once you’ve ‘prospected’.” He winks. “Now the other front is the medical one. Not sure how far we’ll get, but we’ll make sure Lizard’s getting the right treatment he needs, and the right therapeutic support.”
“If, if his brain’s fucked—verb not swear word,” Cas giggles, then grows serious again, “could it cause him damage if he’s confronted by me and Mom?”
“I’m no doctor, Cas, but yeah. There could be a risk. Might also mean he’ll never accept you or come to terms with it. But I’ll tell you this—club is not going to turn its back on family, and that’s what you and your mom are, however this plays out.” He holds out his fist and Cas bumps it with his. “You’re club.”
We’re club.
Dare I hope we’re not alone any longer? Can I believe this man? Will Cas get the male influences I’ve always wanted for him?
Not sure I want him to hotwire any more cars or to learn more about such things, but hell, it’s better for him to know when and when not to and how not to get caught. I can’t be picky and say a bunch of bikers wouldn’t be good for my son.
Their core values—respect, love, family, and support for each other—well, if Cas learns that much, it can’t do him wrong.
Cas looks at me, then at Mace. Then he stands, his hand resting momentarily on my shoulder. “Well then, I’ve got to go pack. Come on Mother, you’ve got to get your glam on.”
My glam?
Mace winks at me.
“Vanna,” he says, as I start to get to my feet. “It may take a while. I’ve been thinking. I’ll introduce you as a friend of mine. Just a friend,” he adds fast, “no funny business. But I think it’s best for Lizard to be able to get to know you again, no pressure.”
I ask the question I should have voiced way back, saying tightly, “That woman I saw Lizard with. Is it serious? Will I be stepping on anyone’s toes?” Again, my hands clench. “Introducing me as someone to you will sounds right, if,” my voice catches and I try to tamp down the anger I know it’s not right for me to feel, “Lizard is happy with someone else…” My voice trails off as I find it too hard to complete my sentence.
His face tightens and he glances in the direction that my son had gone, making sure he’s out of earshot. “Vanna, I can assure you Lizard hasn’t got a girlfriend, fiancé or wife. But I have got to warn you, the club has girls, they’re there
for one thing only. Sex. Sex without strings or emotions.”
I widen my eyes then close them, picturing the girl who’d had her hands on my husband, then I open them again, having prepared myself, and ask for the confirmation I’m certain I’ll hear. “Lizard… Liz goes with them for sex?”
Mace’s eyes meet mine. “Yeah.”
Yeah.
I stand, walk to the counter and lean over it, feeling my body vibrating with rage. Lizard goes with whores. The good news is that he isn’t taken. The bad? Whether or not he knows it, the fact is, he’s fucked around on his wife. For the first time ever, I have to ask myself, If I get a chance to win Lizard back, do I still want him?
“He doesn’t know you exist, Vanna,” Mace reminds me, correctly interpreting my tense stance. “I promise you that he’s never taken to a particular woman. The girls are there, we use them.”
Him as well? I take it if I asked the question, he’d respond, yes.
My husband has lost his memory, he doesn’t know he has a wife. I know the person he left has changed, and I hope for the better. But the man who left me, has he changed for the worst?
Guess I’m going to find out.
I remind myself, I never set out to regain the man who’d been so sincere the day he said his vows. What I need first and foremost is a man who’ll step up and be a dad for my son.
Chapter Eight
Lizard
“Do you have to get them, you know,” Wills bumps my arm with his, “hard?”
“Nah. So,” I try to get back to my story I’m relating to Sparky and Wills.
“How do you do it then?”
Rolling my eyes, I explain, “You stretch it out and wrap it around your fist or over a block.”
“Ew.”
Seems I’ve shut him up for the moment at least having planted that visual in his mind. “So, I asked him if he was a shower or a grower.” I chuckle, thinking back.
“Does that make a difference?” Wills interrupts yet again.
“Yeah,” I explain as patiently as I can. “If he’s a shower then what I draw will stay basically the same erect or not. If he’s a grower, that shits going to stretch. Think of a three-hundred-pound Marilyn Monroe.”
“I’d rather not,” Sparky butts in. “So, what was he?”
“Well he looks down and says he doesn’t know. I glance at his goods myself and can barely see a bulge in his pants. So I surmise and tell him he must be a grower. Then, I have to explain that means it gets bigger when he’s about to fuck.”
“And?” prompts Wills.
I chuckle again. “And he says it stays the same, hard or soft. He wanted me to adorn his three-inch dick.”
“Oh, man. So he’s got something to impress with?”
“Not just that.” I struggle to get the words out, the chuckles streaming from me. “He’d brought in a pic that wasn’t going to fit, no matter how much I resized it.”
“Did you tell him there wasn’t enough of a cock to tat?” Sparky’s roaring with laughter. “What the hell did he say to that?”
“I thought he was going to punch me in the mouth until I suggested a piercing instead. Thought it might give some poor woman a bit of pleasure at least.”
“Hey, Nails,” Wills shouts out to the prospect who’s bartending at the moment. “What would you have tatted on your dick?”
Quick as a flash he responds, “A nine-inch nail of course.”
I think as one, we all lean over the bar and peer over and down.
“Grower,” Nails says smartly, before moving off with a wink.
“So,” Wills prompts.
“So what?”
“Did you pierce his dick?”
I crease my eyes having lost the thread of this conversation. “Sorry, I was distracted by Nail’s nine-inch dick.”
“So he says.” Sparky starts, looking around. “Hey, Dirt!” When he catches our other new prospect’s eyes, he yells, “Has Nails got a nine-inch dick?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Dirt calls back, the sack he’d been using to collect empties dangling from his hand.
“You live with him.” Sparky’s unrelenting.
“Yeah, but we don’t compare dicks.”
“Hey, I’m a grower as I said. Dirt doesn’t get me hard.”
“Prove it!” Beef slaps a twenty down on the bar top. “That says it’s not nine inches. Come on man.”
Nails is a prospect. If he wants his patch, he’ll do whatever is asked of him. It’s always a good laugh teasing a newbie.
We all start slapping our money down, Beef starts recording bets which currently go from three to ten inches. The longest was a joint bet from the club girls who I think are just optimistic. I stare at Nails, trying to read the man, before placing down my own two tens.
“Nine,” I say, hopefully, thinking of a shit job I can give him if he’s lying. Shittier than taking down his pants and getting himself hard in the middle of the clubroom.
I can tell the man’s reluctant as cries start to go around of ‘drop ‘em, prospect’, and ‘does that man want his fuckin’ patch’, and ‘who’s got a ruler to hand’—the phrasing of the latter causing a few laughs. Beaver, I notice, is smirking at the other end of the bar. As a prospect who’s been here a while, he’ll be appreciating the heat is on someone else now.
With a sigh and a glare at the VP, Nails comes around the bar, and starts unzipping his pants.
“Hey, I’ll help.”
“Prospects don’t get whores’ hands on them,” Bomber snarls at Breezy. “Let the man handle himself.”
Again, we all crack up.
But Breezy does help, though in a hands-off way. She lowers her top so her tits are hanging out and fondles them, while licking her lips. Nails pulls out his cock and starts tugging on it, then fists one hand around it, fondling his balls with the other.
“Don’t you dare come,” yells Dirt. “I ain’t cleaning up your shit.”
Nail’s head goes back and fuck me, well that cock swells and lengthens. Quite impressively actually.
“Is that it?” Rusty asks. “Here, Liz.”
As I turn, he hands me a fucking ruler. “Why me?”
“’Cause you’re used to handling dicks. Come on. Go measure it.”
With a grimace I step forward. “Don’t you dare go off, Prospect. You get cum on me and you won’t get your patch.”
“Well for fuck’s sake hurry,” Nails gasps.
I place the ruler against his dick, pressing it against the root making him gasp.
“Hurry up!” His voice is tense.
“Nine inches!” I announce in delight, seeing the size of the pile on the top of the bar.
“Hey, let me check.” Beef comes over.
“Man, hurry the fuck up.”
“Hold it there, Nails. Yeah, Liz, I think you’re right. Good call, Brother. Anyone else want to take a look?”
Seems they all do. Nails is going red in the face. “Jeez, I’m—”
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Thunder’s loud voice booms.
Eventually Beef takes pity on the man both fighting to maintain his erection and trying hard not to come. “Okay, put it away now, Nails.”
Then we all stand watching him try to get his very erect and reasonably long cock back inside his pants.
“Can I take five?” he asks, sounding desperate.
“Who’s serving fuckin’ drinks?” Judge bangs the bar top. “I want a beer.” He shakes his head at Beaver, warning him to stay where he is.
As a result, Nails doesn’t get his five minutes, instead he has to hobble stiffly back around the bar to pour our drinks.
I’m just reaching to collect the pot of money lying on the bar when the main door opens and I automatically swing around to see that it’s Mace, with a woman and teenage boy in tow. It’s the bitch who was here yesterday, and I wonder why she’s back. The boy is staring at me as I count up the money. I turn away, not knowing him from Adam. Not my business, or nothing
more than idle curiosity as to why we have strangers in the club.
But as they walk past, I hear the boy ask Mace in a loud voice, “Do they swear a lot here then?”
Mace snorts and looks over at the money I just picked up.
“Just a bit, little bro,” he answers the kid. “Yeah. Just a bit.”
Then he’s taken them over to the stairs which lead to the bedrooms. Has Mace picked himself up a woman? If so, she’s quite a pretty-looking bitch, though older than the ones he usually goes for. Wonder if he’s going to share her? Hmm. Probably wouldn’t mind that. Would have to ditch the kid though.
Well I had me some entertainment at the prospect’s expense and earned myself a hundred bucks to boot. Good times. I stand with a beer in my hand, wondering which sweet butt I’ll get to warm my bed tonight, thinking once again this is the fucking life. I’ve got everything I want and need here. There’s nothing missing at all. Nothing at fucking all.
For some reason, I think of the kid who just walked in. He reminded me of me for some reason. Strange to think I was once a pimply brat his age. Christ.
As usual the blast of pain hits me by surprise, coming on with no warning. I place my elbows on the bar and put my head in my hands, trying to massage my temples.
“You okay, Bro?”
I breathe in deeply, let it out slowly, then do it again. Then again. After the third time, the pain’s receded sufficiently for me to speak. “Fuckin’ headache, Mace. Must have overdone it today.” While I’d been bent over with pain, Mace and at least one of his visitors had obviously come back downstairs.
“You know what causes them? You’re getting them more often it seems.”
“Yeah. Pretty certain it’s my age. Reckon my eyesight’s going. All that close work I’m doing, concentrating and shit. Probably eyestrain and I need glasses. I’ll go see the optometrist when I get time.”
“My mom sometimes gets migraines when she has a period.” The voice isn’t one I recognise, it’s squeaky as if half-broken.
I raise my head to see the young boy standing next to Mace. “Yeah? And how do you know about fuckin’ periods, kid?” Did I know someone who got bad when they were bleeding? Can’t place it if I did.
Devil's Spawn: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #6 Page 7
