by London Casey
Jim stumbled into the kitchen a minute later, looking like death. He looked at me, looked at the stove, then looked at me again.
“I fucked up the bacon,” I said. “Sorry.”
He walked to the counter. He opened a cabinet and grabbed a large container of pills. He dumped out three ibuprofen, poured a mug of coffee, and then took out a plate and slapped a few pieces of the bacon on it. He then sat across from me, sipped his coffee, and took a bite of the bacon. It crumbled into black charred pieces on the plate.
When he grabbed the pills, I raised an eyebrow.
“That’s too many,” I said. “You’re going to hurt your stomach.”
Jim didn’t speak. He put all three pills into his mouth and swallowed without even using a drink.
He took another bite of burned bacon and sipped his coffee.
That’s when he finally spoke.
“Bacon is too crispy.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said.
I stood up and walked to the coffeepot and poured more for myself. I spotted the pan in the sink - the one with the fruit flies and dried spaghetti sauce - and grabbed the handle. I tore it out of the sink and spun around.
“Why can’t you even clean this up?” I yelled. “This sits here for days. It’s disgusting, Jim. Of all the things… why not just…”
Jim finished another piece of bacon. He licked black pieces of bacon off his lips and then rubbed some out of the scruff on his face. He then looked at me.
“You know, this still tastes better than some of the shit I had to eat over there.”
Over there was code for Iraq. Jim never said the word. It was always over there.
I dropped the dirty pan and carried my coffee to the table.
“Is that your way of thanking me for the bacon?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said. He drank more coffee.
“You could have hurt yourself last night.”
“I know.”
“How is that fair to me? I get to come home to that. If I was twenty minutes later you could have choked on your own puke.”
“Isn’t that how rockstars die?” he asked with a shit grin. “I could have been famous.”
“Jim…”
“Well, I guess I’ll never be famous. Even when I got hurt over there, I did it the wrong way. Losing a leg is so twenty years ago.”
I just sat there, refusing to speak to his baby nonsense.
We were in silence again for a few minutes.
“That tree is still out back,” I said. “The one that fell in the storm a month ago. I can call someone…”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jim snapped.
“It’s just sitting there,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about stuff like that, Jim.”
“I’ll cut it.”
“When? You keep saying it.”
“When I fucking feel like it, sis.”
I swallowed hard. “It looks like shit. And that’s my side of the yard.”
Jim grinned. “We have sides?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Wow, if Mom and Dad could see us now. Fighting over the yard they wanted so badly to fill with kids and grandkids.”
I felt like someone sucked the wind out of my lungs. I lurched forward and my eyes went wide. That comment really hit home. Bad enough I had lost my parents, I felt terrible that their later-in-life dreams never came true.
“What?” Jim asked. “You don’t like the truth? Poor thing.”
“Fuck you, Jim,” I said. I stood up. “I’m not bailing you out anymore then. If you don’t want to cut down the tree, I’ll call someone to do it. If you don’t want to do the dishes in your place, I’ll pay someone to come clean. The loudest person ever. Anything to piss you off.”
“Piss me off?” he asked. He showed his teeth. “You’re doing a great job now, sis.”
“Glad I could do something right,” I said.
“I’ll go get an award,” Jim said.
That’s when I had to get out of the kitchen. There was no use in trying to argue with Jim. He would just get nastier until he got what he wanted - which was for me to cry.
I saved the tears for my own privacy.
I went to my part of the house, up to my bedroom, and I took a shower.
After showering and getting dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair, my stomach growling. I was freaking starving and coffee for breakfast wasn’t doing the trick.
I had a text from Maggie.
She wanted to meet up.
I texted her back and said I’d meet her at a diner in thirty minutes.
I walked to the window and looked out at the damn fallen tree. Some random thunderstorm had taken it down. Jim said he’d take care of it. That he’d make firewood out of it. We didn’t get cold weather. We didn’t get snow. We were in California. Having a fireplace was not necessary but my father put one in the house. For the ambiance of Christmas and Santa Claus. More so, we used to have big fires outside.
Not that any of it mattered as the fallen tree was still intact, just fallen.
Jim was outside, staring at the tree. He reached for a thick branch and pushed at it. He took a stuttering step back and grabbed for an ax. He lifted it up and looked wobbly. He brought it down, hit the tree, and then fell to his right. I gasped, thinking he was going to hit the ground. He kept his balance but grabbed at his right leg - his prosthetic leg. Jim was supposed to go to therapy and learn how to use his leg, but he never did. Too stubborn to do that.
He stepped toward the tree and shook a fist at it. Then he raised his middle finger and turned away. I watched him walk back to the house and I lowered my head.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
It was sickly ironic how Jim went to war to protect freedom at home, yet I was the one now at war and stripped of freedom.
Life… sometimes it just didn’t make sense.
five.
(duke)
I opened the door to the conference room and everyone was already at the table. I had been back in my room getting my shoulder patched up again. And, yeah, the reliever might have stayed on her knees for a few extra minutes as I gave her a mouthful of a reward for helping me out.
Everyone at the table rose up and started to applaud me.
I stood there like I had won some fucking movie award or some bullshit.
I walked into the room and Max made a fist and punched me in my good shoulder. Austin patted me on the back and nodded. I stepped around the table and Cade grabbed my chair and pulled it back for me.
“Wait,” Trev called out. He whistled to stop the applause. “Everyone sit but Duke.”
Everyone took their seats except for me and Trev. I felt really uncomfortable. It was goddamn unsettling with all eyes on me. Reminded me of when I got pinned that medal after coming home. My so-called heroic actions of dragging my old buddy out of his blown up convoy, along with returning back on enemy fire to prevent further attacks on the rest of us, helped to save hundreds of lives. Standing there listening to the words being tossed around, a medal pinned on me, people clapping, taking my fucking picture… hell no. I went home that night and never put my uniform back on. I hit the streets, got piss drunk, picked a bar fight with some asshole, and knocked him out cold. I got arrested, tossed into jail, and ended up sharing a cell with Hudson.
That wasn’t quite the start with Back Down Devil though.
That started after I saved Hudson’s ass from getting shanked. Then I got into a fight with him, almost knocking him out too.
“Our crazy brother here,” Trev said, stealing my thoughts, “stood up to the fucking Russians and took a bullet to the shoulder. I couldn’t stop this prick from running his mouth. But Ivan respected it. So did Peter. I got a call this morning letting me know that they send their condolences for shooting you, Duke. But it had to be done.”
“Great,” I said.
“He’s not worried,” Cash said. “He’s eating up all that pity pussy.”
“That’s why he’s late to the meeting,” Tristan said.
“You saw the tits on that new one,” I said.
“Fuck no,” Cash said. He slapped the table. “Cassie? Or was it Katie? Kathryn… maybe Beth… either way, fuck. You hit that?”
“No,” I said. “She just had a mouthful.”
“Now a belly full,” Kye said.
“Fuck,” Cash said. “I was working that one. I’m going to have her drink a bottle of mouthwash before she goes down on me.”
“Shit,” Xavier said, “she goes down on you, Cash, she’s going to need more than mouthwash to clear up whatever she catches.”
Austin, Max, and Trent all laughed.
“Listen,” Trev said. “I wanted to also take a second and personally apologize to Duke for putting him in that position. I shouldn’t have put my trust into their attempt at securing our roads. That’s my fault, Duke.”
“Easy, Prez,” I said. “Don’t be a fucking pussy now.”
Trev grinned. “You don’t take apologies. Okay.”
“It could have been worse,” I said. “We got our shit delivered. We got paid.”
“Now we owe them sixty-five large,” Jasper said.
“We know that the Hell Five attacked us,” Trev said. “So that’s where we go to get our money back.”
“Can I sit the fuck down yet, Prez?” I asked.
Trev gave a nod. “Sure. Just wanted to say thank you, Duke. You saved my life, and Trent’s. You saved Eden’s future. And the baby’s. You saved my family.”
The entire table looked at me again.
I shook my head. I touched the patch on my leather cut. “The club. Nothing else matters.”
Everyone made a fist and slammed it against the table, letting out a yell.
That shit made me shiver from the inside. That’s what we were about. A true brotherhood. Standing side by side, fighting our own war, living the realest freedom possible. Nothing like what it was like when I got back from the hell desert.
Funny thing… I lost my freedom by getting tossed into jail, but when I got out, I got a greater sense of freedom. More than most men could handle.
I took my seat and we got down to business.
The Hell Five.
“They know what they did,” Trev said. “So calling Carlo or Durango won’t do shit. They’ll laugh us off.”
“So what’s the plan, Prez?” Cash asked.
“Did Ivan give us a timeline for his cash?” Jasper asked.
“No,” I said. “He’s looking for our strength in all of this. He wants blood on the money.”
“Shit,” Max said.
The way the Hell Five aligned themselves was this: there were five men in charge of the entire street gang. Those men rotated based on performance or death. Right then, there was Carlo and Durango as the top two. They were the contact points. The other three guys were murderous muscles. They were Dice, Jop, and Leto. They’d made it an entire year without changing names. But stealing money from the MC and the Russians could all but promise that wouldn’t happen for a second year in a row.
“Then we make our move,” Jasper said. “Fuck these guys.”
“Why not just put some blood on the cash and give it to Ivan?” Hudson asked. “That will settle up the Russians and give us time to approach this thing.”
It wasn’t a bad idea.
Except when Ivan said blood on the money he meant something else.
“Then the MC is out money,” Trev said. “That fifty payment helps us a lot. We can shore up some things and have money to bet on some fights.”
“Plus we have to make sure Cash gets his stripper money,” Cade said.
“Cheaper than drugs,” Cash said.
“Not the ones you pick,” Xavier said.
“Seriously?” Tristan asked. “Cash goes for anything. He has no taste.”
“Wrong,” Cash said. “I have taste. Pussy. That’s what I like to taste.”
“Ivan wants blood,” I said, killing the stripper and pussy talk. “He wants us to make a statement. He’s not going to let us fuck around on this. I say we do the same thing they did to us.”
“Ambush?” Trev asked.
“Go right to their bar. Walk right the fuck in, order a shot, down it, and start a fucking fight.”
“That’s pretty bold,” Jasper said.
“Then what?” Trev asked.
“Walk the fuck out and leave. Then, Prez, you call up Carlo and start talks.”
“Or attack them and rob them clean,” Austin said. “Finish the fight, clear out the registers…”
Trev put up a hand. He nodded slowly. “We just went through hell with the O’Nuall family. With Night Soul. We have to watch our backs carefully with them. The PD is all over us because of what happened with that grenade. We’re on thin ice.”
“To be fair, Prez,” I said, “we do live in California. Not much ice here.”
I smiled.
Trev half laughed. He rubbed his chin. “From war to war…”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Jasper said. “Hell Five attacked because they figured we were weak from everything else going on. Face it, Trev, you’re the new President up here. Every single enemy is going to take their shot to test you.”
“That’s what I was worried about.” Trev grabbed the gavel. “Take a vote. We crash the Hell Five bar, like Duke said. Start the fight. But I want to do what Austin suggested. Clean out the registers and the safe. Make a real statement. We’re not going to get sixty-five large out of their bar, but we’ll make a clear statement.”
We took the vote.
Not a single nay.
Trev smacked the gavel and the meeting was over.
We convened to the bar where I ordered a shot of whiskey and an ice cold beer.
Cash was on my right. Hudson on my left.
After I downed my shot, I turned and saw Trev standing with Eden. The poor woman was huge. She had her hands on her belly and looked uncomfortable. Trev touched her back with one hand, his other hand on the front of her swollen stomach. He kissed Eden and then kissed her belly.
Fucking romance.
“What do you think?” Cash whispered to me. “Trev still hitting it when she’s this big?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I whispered to him.
“I mean, if he’s getting one of the relievers on the side or not,” Cash asked.
“That’s not our business.”
“I’d still go after her,” Cash said. “Doggie style. I’d hold those tits and squeeze until my hands were full of milk.”
“You need help,” I said and walked away.
I smiled when Eden looked at me. Then I kept going.
When I got to my room, the woman I had left there was still there. And, yes, her name was Cassie. She was on the bed in nothing but bra and panties. I put my beer on the dresser and grinned.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“We have unfinished business.”
“My shoulder is patched up. You sucked my cock. I think we’re solid.”
She rolled to her back and opened her legs. Her right hand slipped right into her panties. “Nope, we’re not done yet, Duke. I’m still wet.”
I grabbed my jeans and tore down my zipper.
It was my duty to make sure Cassie didn’t leave my bedroom without what she came for.
And trust me… she was going to come.
Cassie shut the door and I took a deep breath. I smelled her perfume and hot sex. The bed was destroyed, pillows on the floor, a lamp knocked over, the blinds above my bed looking like someone had tried to escape.
That was just how things went with me.
I sat on the corner of the bed in nothing but jeans, finishing off my then warm beer. I grabbed for my phone and looked at the phone number that had called me just before Peter shot me.
It looked damn familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it though.<
br />
There was one easy way to find out.
Call the fucking number back.
I meant to do it early but after being shot I was rushed to a friend’s house where his wife helped to patch me up. She was a doctor and they were trying to climb out of some bad financial decisions from the housing crash and turned to the MC for little favors here and there. We helped them when we could and they did the same for us.
Liquored up, I was on my back, staring at a poster of some fucking boy band that their teenage daughter loved as the doc ripped into my shoulder to get the bullet out. Lucky for me I didn’t need any further treatment. Just to be patched up a couple times a day.
Soon enough we’d be riding to the Hell Five bar and raising a little hell of our own.
Before that, I needed to figure out who called me. Because the phone hadn’t gone off once. Whoever the fuck wanted me called me four times in a row.
I hit the call button and put it on speaker.
It rang three times and the second I heard the voice, I dropped the phone to the floor.
It was a call from the only woman I loved for more than one night.
It was fucking Belle…
six.
(belle)
The big news wasn’t all that big of news.
Maggie slept with her ex last night.
Shocker.
He called right after we left the restaurant and she blamed the wine for the decision. I called bullshit on her but she didn’t want to hear it. So when her ex - Al - called her, she let him come over. She slept with him. He spent the night. Then he said he had to work early. Al left and sent a text five minutes later saying he had been seeing someone and felt guilty for sleeping with Maggie.
By the time I left the diner I made up my mind that all men were assholes.
There was only so much I could help with Maggie and her relationship issues.
I drove back home, sat in the driveway, refreshing my email, waiting for something to come through. I had two projects that were moving along slowly. Nobody worked on Sunday, which was fine, but for me I didn’t want to be home.
With my phone in my hand, it started to ring. I jumped and touched the screen just as I realized it was a number and not a contact.
“Hello?” I asked.
I heard a shuffling sound and a thud. Then I heard fuck and more shuffling.
