by K. Ryan
"I have some more questions, if that's okay."
Caleb's eyes flicked ahead of us, probably to gauge whether or not we had enough privacy to be having a conversation like this out in the open and then nodded as he looked back to me. "Ask me whatever you want, Iz."
"I'm still trying to work out how all this...hierarchy works. I don't know if that's the right word, but I feel like I'm at least starting to wrap my head around the ranking with the women here in the clubhouse. I mean, your mom is way up here," I raised my hand high above my head to emphasize my point, "and Lex is about here," I lowered my hand down about six inches, "I think I'm about here," I lowered my hand down another six inches.
"Actually, babe," Caleb interjected softly and his fingers closed around my hand to lift it up a few inches higher. "I'd say you're about here."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," he nodded. "Everyone knows we're serious. Like I told you before, that's not something we take lightly around here and it's not something I'd push you into if I didn't really feel that way about you. I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but you gotta know that because you're standin' next to me, you've got status in the clubhouse. The only reason you've got Lex that far up above you is because she's been around a lot longer than you. Your status as my old lady follows my patch, so when I'm VP, that'll move you ahead of Lex. And you gotta own that too, Iz."
The idea of having that kind of status in this world and knowing what to do with it on top of that...I didn't know where to begin even considering it, let alone have it be my reality.
I blew out a deep breath. "I'm not really sure how to do any of that."
He just lifted a shoulder like he hadn't really thought about it before and that's probably because he'd never really needed to. "You'll figure it out. You know my mom and Lex will help you with whatever you need. Show you the ropes, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. So, I guess that means if I'm here," I gestured with my hand in the air again, "then Becca's here too, right?"
Caleb shook his head and chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. "Nah. I'm not really sure why, but my mom doesn't think too highly of her."
"Huh," that was certainly new information, "So, then..."
He took my hand and lowered it another six inches. "Becca's here and everyone else," he brought my hand all the way past the table, "is right about here."
"Okay, I guess that makes sense. But what about the club? I mean, where do the Horsemen rank with all this..." I gestured out to the rowdy celebration under way yards in front of us.
Caleb held his hand up, mimicking my gestures from before. "The Horsemen are here," he lowered his hand another six inches, "the Lobos are here," he lowered his hand way down past the bench we were sitting on, "and the Cobras are way the hell down here."
I nodded slowly, trying to wrap my head around all this new information. "So if the Lobos are patching-over the Cobras, that means the Cobras are joining their charter, right?"
A wide, proud smile spread across Caleb's face and I knew I was right.
"And if Diego messed up so bad, why are they being patched over then? I know I have no idea what I'm talking about, but even to me, the logic of that just doesn't make sense."
Caleb shrugged and I wondered if he even understood the decision himself. "I guess Ortega needs some more muscle and he's puttin' his faith in Padilla. It's blind faith, that's for sure, but whatever. Doesn't matter all that much to us if the Lobos still hold up their end of the business."
"What do the Horsemen have to do with it then? If you're not the ones patching anyone over, why are you having the party here?"
"Well, the Lobos are based out of Raleigh and the Cobras are right outside of Charlotte, so they're the two closest clubs next to us in the state," he started easily. "We deal with the Lobos the most 'cuz they're our wholesaler and they run muscle for us too sometimes, so we gotta keep them happy. They invited us to the patch-over 'cuz of our history, I guess, and since their clubhouse isn't big enough for all three clubs, we ended up hosting. Besides, this just reminds everyone where they rank in the grand scheme of things, you know?"
Yeah, I got it. The way Caleb explained it at least. Still, the questions just kept bubbling to the surface.
"So when you went on that run last month, why did you go to Pittsburgh? I mean, if you were meeting with the Cobras, and they're in Charlotte, why did you have to go all the way up there?"
Caleb's lips twisted into the crooked smirk that had quickly become one of my favorite things about him. "You're pretty observant, you know that?"
"I was raised around lawyers my whole life. What do you expect?"
He just chuckled and leaned into me. "Alright, smartass. Alright. We ran the shipment to the Warlords, that's another MC we do business with. They're the ones who are in Pittsburgh. We normally make the drop on our own after we pick it up from the Lobos, but like I said, Ortega wanted to give Padilla and his boys a test run."
"And by shipment, you mean...?"
Caleb nodded tightly, catching my drift right away. "Guns."
Something coiled up in the pit of my stomach and that sick feeling flamed out all the way up to my throat. Well, at least now it was finally confirmed: the Iron Horsemen really were an outlaw and illegal MC. I'd always known it; I'd just never had the concrete evidence until now.
And now the questions just didn't stop.
"What exactly happens on a run then?"
Caleb's jaw clenched just enough to let me know I'd stepped into some murky waters, but there was nothing else about his demeanor that signaled I'd gone too far. In fact, all I saw in those glimmering blue eyes was resolution to give me whatever I needed.
"We transfer guns to business contacts. It's not always the same contact every time, but we switch up the day, place, and time just to keep from getting tracked. It's usually a pretty quick transaction. We're out in the open when we make the exchange, but it's always in some place where no one can spot us."
My mind was whirling in circles now. "Has a run ever gone bad? Could you get hurt?"
He smiled softly and squeezed my shoulder. "It can and I could, but that hasn't happened in years, babe. Everything we do has the potential to go bad, I guess, and if our contact wants to stir shit up, that's one thing, but we're always careful. The club has been doin' this for way longer than I've been alive, you know? We got it down."
My teeth sawed across my bottom lip in thought. "What happens if a run does go bad or if one of your...business contacts decides to stir up shit?"
Caleb didn't miss a beat. "The club goes on lockdown. All the old ladies, kids, friends of the club, whoever might be in danger, they all stay in the clubhouse until everything's sorted out."
This was all starting to feel pretty heavy and part of me wondered if Caleb wasn't sugarcoating this just a little because he didn't want to scare me.
"But why do you run guns though? I mean, couldn't you guys make money some other way that wouldn't get you in trouble? You've already been arrested once—why would you want to put yourself at risk like that? I'm sorry...I just don't understand why that's the only option."
Something flickered across his face that I couldn't place. We'd talked about his arrest record before and it wasn't like it was exactly a secret in the town, especially since he was the one who'd done most of the bragging. When they were 16, he and Dominic had swiped some beer and weed from the clubhouse, got wasted and high, and then had stormed the streets of downtown Claremont to lay claim to it.
They were arrested about two hours into their little escapade for public intoxication and disorderly conduct—not to mention nailed for underage drinking too—all in the name of proving their general bad-assery and manliness to the rest of the club.
Needless to say, they came to school that next Monday riding high and acting like they owned the place, Caleb in particular. Even though at the time I'd been embarrassingly scandalized by those kind of antics, after talking to Caleb and observing the club
house, I got what it really was: a rite of passage and, probably, an initiation of sorts, too.
But that didn't explain why he'd suddenly clammed up on me now.
He cleared his throat and frowned down at me, "I don't really know why or how it started to be honest with you. We've just always sorta done it this way. We've got the shop and the strip club right out of town, but that doesn't really give us enough to survive as a club, at least not comfortably. I think if we ever decided to buy up more of the Oval Office, we'd be doin' better, but Marcus isn't really interested in that right now. Guns get us fast cash and a lot of it too, so I guess I can see why he wouldn't want to jeopardize that."
"How much do you make then?"
I wanted to clamp my hand around my mouth. Stupid word vomit. Now, I'd definitely overstepped.
But when his mouth twisted into that crooked, lopsided grin again, I knew I wasn't completely out of line. "At the shop? With the club? Or just in general?"
"With the club," I affirmed.
"Depends on the job and how much extra income we have comin' in on the side. Every month is a little different, but it can be anywhere from 3K to 8. It'll be more when I get the VP patch."
There were other questions simmering underneath, questions I didn't have the stomach to ask, questions that involved drugs and violence and what would happen to him and to us if he was ever caught transferring a 'shipment'. I didn't think I was ready to hear the answers to those questions yet.
As if he could read my thoughts, Caleb pressed his cheek into mine to hug me into his shoulder. "Anything else you wanna know, Iz?"
This was probably all my brain could handle right now. If I tried to shove any more information in there, the whole thing would short circuit.
I shook my head, swallowing back those lingering questions and the answers to those questions that I wasn't so sure I'd be able to handle. He'd answered everything honestly, or at least, it seemed like he had, minus that weird moment when I mentioned his arrest. He'd been forthcoming, hadn't really hesitated, and had answered every question in surprising detail, too. There wasn't much more I could ask from him.
"You think you're ready to head back to the party now?" I asked, choosing to be ignorant to those lingering questions for now.
Caleb's lips curled into that familiar smirk and he leaned forward to kiss me, his hand ghosting underneath my skirt and up my thigh just enough to send shivers sliding down my entire body.
. . .
The grounds surrounding the clubhouse provided amble space for some interesting activities. Okay, interesting wasn't exactly the right word. Surprising? No. Shocking? Yeah, that was probably a little closer to the truth.
As we rounded the corner, a makeshift boxing ring was already in full-swing, surrounded by a loud crowd yelling and cheering as they raised their beer bottles to the action in front of them. I'd only ever seen a boxing match on TV before, but as we stepped closer to the crowd, it was clear this wasn't exactly an average fight.
Both men were bare-chested and bare-knuckled, with only their back tattoos as club identifiers and they swung viciously, aiming for any shot to the organs possible. The sick crunch of knuckle on bone, bloody sweat and spit dusting the air...it was gross.
"What is this fight club or something?" I murmured in Caleb's ear.
Despite the roar of the crowd, I could still hear Caleb's chest rumble with laughter.
"Now, Iz, you know the first rule of fight club is that you don't talk about fight club," he shook his head with a grin. "But you gotta admit, it's an easy way to entertain and make some extra cash though, don't ya think?"
A loud roar erupted from the crowd when one of the fighters swung his fist and connected with the other guy's jaw, sending a wet trail of phlegm and blood sky-high into the night air. My uneasiness and discomfort must have colored my expression because Caleb was already leading me away from the crowd and back towards the clubhouse's main doors. A high-pitched whistle had Caleb's head jerking to the side and a Horsemen I recognized as ZZ, with his sharp buzzcut and covered from the neck down in technicolor tattoos, was waving Caleb over.
"Yo, Sawyer! You wanna get in on this?" ZZ held up a particularly menacing tattoo gun with a wide grin and gestured to the empty chair next to him.
There was no hesitation. No second thoughts. Caleb just shrugged and called back, "Sure. Let's do it."
He was already heading towards the designated area, which was far enough off to the side and away from the major action of the party to allow ZZ to do his work. Apparently, they were giving away tattoos at this thing like they were party favors, and it was at this point that my brain finally caught up to what was really about to go down here.
"Wait. What?"
I tugged on his arm a little to get his attention and he frowned back at me. "What?"
"You're just gonna..." I held a hand out towards where ZZ was waiting. "Just like that?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"I don't know."
What I couldn't find the words to say was that I didn't understand how someone, even him, could just impulsively decide to get something forever tattooed on their body without much thought or consideration. Maybe that was because spontaneity and I were casual acquaintances more than anything and the only tattoo I saw myself getting in the near future was the one that forever linked me to Caleb. The idea of getting a tattoo just because didn't compute.
If anything, this was all just one more glaring reminder of how different this world was than the one I'd grown up in and how much I still had to adapt.
"It's not a big deal, babe. I've been thinkin' about gettin' more ink anyways," Caleb was reassuring me now even as he plopped down in ZZ's empty folding chair.
ZZ barely looked up from prepping that glinting needle on his gun. "What you thinkin', bro?"
Caleb pointed at me with a nonchalance he might use if he was ordering a beer. "Her call."
If I'd been sitting, I would've fallen out of my chair.
"What?"
"You heard me, Iz," he smirked up at me. "Sketch somethin' out for me."
I blinked. And then I blinked again. "Are you sure? I mean, it's not like you can just erase it if you decide you don't like it."
"If you're askin' me if I want somethin' you sketched permanently on my body, then the answer is yes."
ZZ wordlessly stood from his chair, dug around in a backpack, and then tossed me a pad of paper and pencil. I don't know how my numb limbs worked long enough to catch it.
"I can trace whatever you put on there," he told me in a gravelly voice, nodding with his head towards the pad in my hands.
When I looked to Caleb, stunned into immobility, all I could see staring back at me was complete trust and confidence. There was no doubt creeping in, no flicker of indecision. This was what he wanted and even though I didn't fully understand how he could act on a whim like this, I sat down in the chair ZZ rustled up for me to get to work.
"Okay," I started carefully. "Where would you want it?"
Caleb pushed up his flannel's long sleeve, flipped his arm over, and patted the inside of his left forearm. "I was thinkin' right here. Somewhere I can see it right away."
ZZ rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You sure you don't just wanna get her name there instead, bro? Save your girl a lot of time."
"Nah," he shrugged. "Not yet. Soon though, Z. You'll get to do that ink when she gets mine."
Caleb winked at me from where he sat and then tipped his chin to the pad of paper in my lap, signaling to me that it was time to get going. The pencil tapped against my chin almost immediately as my mind began to wander, skirting over every possibility. Soon, the cheers, yelling, cursing, music, and even Caleb and ZZ's easy chatter next to me completely tuned out until it was just white noise. My pencil skimmed across the paper, curving and pulling, dancing across the empty space until the vision in my head stared back at me.
It had to be something special. Something he'd immediately understand and something he also
wouldn't get sick of looking at. Something timeless. Something understated, but saturated with meaning.
When I held the sketch out to them, both Caleb and ZZ leaned in at the same time to get a closer look. I knew the second the significance clicked into place for Caleb because his eyes flicked back up to mine, radiating with the warmth and the unconditional love I was starting to feel confident I couldn't live without.
"Your girl's good," ZZ murmured as he slid the pad from my fingertips.
"Yeah, she is," Caleb agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips.
ZZ got to work just as quickly and transferred what I'd just sketched seamlessly onto the tracing paper. But when he moved to set the paper against Caleb's exposed forearm, I shot up from my chair.
"Wait! It actually goes like this," I took the trace from ZZ and gently turned the paper so the compass was facing down. "When anyone else looks at it, they'll think it's upside down, so they wouldn't be able to use it. But when you look at it..."
"It'll be right side up," Caleb finished for me, his voice low and hoarse in a way I'd never heard before.
"So you never lose your way again," I added, my lips curling into a smile and now, it might as well have just been the two of us sitting out here in the parking lot.
ZZ ignored the moment, taking my direction and rubbed something on Caleb's skin before tracing my design onto his forearm as instructed. He paused just long enough to let both Caleb and I inspect it before setting the used tracing paper aside and then the crowd's roar completely died out as the buzzing tattoo gun aimed right for Caleb's forearm.
As the needle grazed over Caleb's skin, I had to sit on my hands just to keep from covering my eyes. My gaze locked on the movement that permanently etched the old-fashioned, upside-down compass onto his arm with the needle's hot scratches. Caleb barely even flinched, not even a crease in his forehead from concentration. I guess this was what high pain tolerance looked like.
Now, as the tattoo began to take clearer shape, I was suddenly struck by the weight of what Caleb had just done. It hadn't really hit me before, but now that we were sitting here, he'd done nothing tonight but show me unrelenting trust.
