Both boys busted out laughing.
“No, Pops. It's definitely not a riding club. It's a 1%'er club. The Clubhouse sits on a compound of over a hundred acres. The Clubhouse is huge. Upstairs it has over forty individual rooms for the members each with its own bathroom and ten rooms for officers and anyone visiting the MC. Each of those rooms has its own bath and a sitting area.
“I think there are seven offices, a church, an enormous Great Room that has a bar, three pool tables, couches, chairs, and a monstrous TV. They have a commercial sized kitchen with all the bells and whistles and a dining area. They even have a freaking media room. There are six bedrooms that have individual bathrooms that are on the lower level. Those are for the club girls.” Pred commented. “The girls aren't called club whores in the MC; they are called club girls.”
“Yeah,” Reb continued. “Mad Dog told us right up front that the girls at the Clubhouse were not to be treated like whores. He said that while they are there for the guys to enjoy, that the girls have rights. They can say no if they don't want to do anything, but they can't discriminate against the men. He said the girls trying to pick and choose who they wanted to be with, got shown the door real quick. And each of the girls are there voluntarily, not coerced. The girls all share responsibilities around the Clubhouse, no exceptions.”
“And,” Pred butted in on Reb, “It's a rule that Old Ladies, club girls, girls the Brothers might invite, basically all women that enter the doors of the MC, are to be treated with respect and no Brother is allowed to harm a girl, if he does, he is dealt with harshly.”
Nodding at me, Reb said, “Yeah, we liked that part a lot, Pops. A lot.”
Both of them got quiet for a moment and I knew they were thinking about their friend Elle.
“Fuck this all sounds damn impressive. Like the rule on the girls as well.”
Reb continued, “That's not all, Pops, they have two garages. The one close to the Clubhouse has only two bays, it's for the guys to be able to work on their bikes, but the big Garage is one of their businesses. It sits right off the main road and has five bays. They work on cars, trucks, bikes, pretty much anything. Possum, the VP, runs the garage and several of the guys work at it.”
“And they have a construction company that is run by Mad Dog's brother, Hoss. The majority of the brothers work with him.” Pred commented. “They frame, do siding, install windows and doors, a couple guys do heat and air, and dig footings.”
I had to admit, it sounded like a damn good club.
“The businesses club owned?”
“Yep.” Reb said.
“Guys get paid a fair wage and the profit goes into the club to be used as needed and voted on.”
“Nice.”
I liked what I was hearing.
“How many members?”
“Twenty-three and two Prospects.” Pred replied.
“Not bad.”
“But that's not all Pops. It's not a requirement or anything, but some of the men have built houses on the back part of the club's hundred acres. And something even more impressive is that the land adjoining the club's is owned by some of the founding members. They didn't want anyone coming in on top of them. Said they needed their privacy and didn't want anyone calling the law on them if they had loud parties or if they were target practicing or whatever.”
“Damn, that sounds fucking unreal. You boys sure about all this?”
“Yeah, Pops, we are,” Reb said.
“Well, I can't say I blame you any for wanting to join. Do you know any of their bylaws?” I asked.
“We know a few, there are several of them.” Reb replied.
Reb, “Ride an American made motorcycle.”
Pred, “Members are not to do drugs, period. Nor are they allowed to sell them. If a member does happen to do drugs, he will be given a probationary period to get himself clean. The club will help, but if he doesn't get clean, he's removed from the club. However, they say pot is a gray area, the guys can smoke it, but not inside the Clubhouse, nor in front of the children. But Dog doesn’t want the guys to smoke it and ride.”
Reb, “Show every Brother respect.”
Pred, “Attendance to Church is mandatory. The Prez or VP are the only ones who can excuse a member from having to come to Church. Church is also weekly. Every Friday night at six.”
Reb, “Be able to handle a gun.”
Pred, “Be ready to ride at a moment's notice if called upon.”
Reb, “If members fight, be ready to be brought before the Prez and/or VP and be prepared for whatever repercussions that they deem might need to be made.”
“So basically, pretty standard to most clubs is what you're telling me.”
Both boys nodded.
“The constitution is pretty fair as well.” Pred said. “It's not the dictatorship that SoS pretty much is. Some votes are majority rules, others have to be unanimous.”
“Damn sounds exactly like what we've always talked about and how we wanted a club to run.” I received nods to my comment. “Well I can't say I blame you one bit on wanting to prospect there. And I'm gonna tell you both to go for it. Reb, we are gonna have some problems with Devil because he expects you to come back home and prospect, but I'll try to figure something out. Think I might be a little envious of you boys.”
“But Pops, they invited you to join as well.”
I stared at them in shock. “You mean they're willing to take someone who has been in another 1%'er club for over twenty years into their club?”
“Well,” Reb spoke up, “we told Mad Dog about pretty much everything that has gone on, Pops. And that you've only stayed because of me. I've told him how fucking crazy Devil is and that I will have to figure out a way to get away from SoS, and he said he would help anyway he could.”
“I'm telling you, Pops,” Pred interjects. “Mad Dog is fucking awesome. He is a really good Prez and he cares about his Brothers. He's willing to go the extra mile.”
I sit back for a moment. Up until the boys said that, I had been planning on getting Reb safely away, then resigning my VP spot and from that point on, always watching over my shoulder for any possible trouble that might arise. The possibility of actually leaving SoS for good and being able to be in another MC had never even crossed my mind, but now that it has, it's damn intriguing.
“What do you think, Pops?” Reb asked.
“I need to do some serious thinking on this and possibly meet Mad Dog and talk to him.”
The boys called Mad Dog when they returned to base after their leave and told him they thought I was interested in possibly joining the MC as well. That in turn had resulted in a phone call from Mad Dog to come to Arkansas and visit the MC. I was still honestly shocked that another 1%'er club would even think about taking the boys, much less me. And when Mad Dog called, I stated as much.
His reply had been straight to the point, “Truthfully, Viper, never thought I would make an offer like that to anyone. But after having the boys come out to visit for the last couple years, I've seen the caliber of men that they are; and it takes a pretty damn good man to raise his sons the way those two have turned out, especially considering the MC they have grown up around.
“And after learning how you managed to get them out of there and how you've pretty much spent your whole life trying to keep Rebel safe, well that shows the true colors of a man. I respect the hell out of you for that. I would personally like you to come down and sit and have a chat with me and some of the older Brothers here at the MC and let's see what we can come up with. What do you think about that?”
“I think I need to make plans to come to Arkansas. Give me a month or so to try to plan something that doesn't look suspicious to Devil or any of the other Brothers. Fuck. That statement actually sounded bad. I've been living with this shit for way too long and truthfully if there is any way of making this work, then I would be one very happy motherfucker.”
Mad Dog laughed and said, “As soon as you have your timeline ready,
let me know and whatever we need to do to make this work out, we'll do it. Until then, watch your six, Viper.”
“Will do. Same to you.”
~***~
Chapter 8
The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it.
~Albert Einstein~
Viper
January 24th, 1998
That conversation with Mad Dog led to our 'mini vacation'. I had known that I would really need to keep the trip as inconspicuous as possible. So, I shopped around out of state and found an old truck body to buy, plus several parts for it and for another truck that I was restoring for Jace. I planned out a circuitous route that covered a few different states. I let everyone know that because of the amount of parts that I would be hauling back, that our whole family was going to go and take two vehicles with trailers. And while we were at it, we were taking a mini vacation at Branson. I didn't try to lie about where we were going, because we were honestly going to be going through all of those states.
However, we didn't stay at Branson for any length of time. We left our vehicles at the house I rented there, along with my 'regular' phone, and drove the vehicle that Mad Dog had rented down to Arkansas to the Angel's Rebellion MC Clubhouse, which was located right outside a little community called Elk, south of Beaver Lake.
~*~
June 1997
I have to admit, driving up to the Angel's compound impressed the hell out of me. The roughly sixty acres of land that paralleled the road was fenced with barbed wire, as was the twelve hundred or so feet up the driveway to the compound. But once at the end of the driveway, it was a totally different story. The gates were roughly ten feet tall with towers on both sides that were about four feet higher than the gates. The barbed wire was connected to a chain link fence. The chain link fence was the same height as the gates, plus the top of the gate and fence was wrapped in razor wire. It looked like the bottom of the fence was concreted in the ground. And if I wasn't mistaken, an electrical fence ran throughout the chain link. I’m sure they didn’t have it on all the time, but the MC definitely had the ability to have an electrical current run through the fence if needed. These guys were fucking serious about not letting anyone get in. It made me think that illegal activities were going on here and the boys just didn't know anything about them.
There was one Prospect on guard, and he climbed down out of the tower as we approached the gate. As I stopped, he called out, “Howdy, can I help you?”
l leaned my head out the window and said to him, “Here to see Mad Dog.”
“Your name?”
“Viper.”
The Prospect smiled at us and walked over to the left tower and lifted a metal box up. It appeared there was a keypad there and he was entering a code. As he stepped away from the tower wall, the gates slid back allowing room for us to drive through. I drove forward and stopped by the Prospect, stuck out my right hand and said, “Viper, nice to meet you.”
The young man reached up, shook my hand and replied, “Axel, nice to meet you too, Viper.” His gaze slid over everyone in the Suburban.
“Let me introduce you to everyone, the two beautiful women are my Old Ladies,” I saw his eyes widen at that and I smirked at him, “the boys are my sons and the red headed hellion in the very back is my daughter.”
To which a “Dadddd, come on,” was heard from Jemma.
I watched the Prospect carefully, I wanted to see how he reacted to Jemma. She looked just like Mia and was fucking gorgeous and she looked a couple years older than she actually was. He glanced at her, smiled and looked back at me and said, “Go on up to the Clubhouse and park on the left side of the door. Bikes park on the right. I'll call and let Mad Dog know you're here.” With that, he walked over to the tower and climbed back up inside it.
I looked around as I drove the six hundred or so feet up to the Clubhouse. There were picnic tables scattered here and there around a sectioned off area, the grass was freshly mowed, showing an overall pride of club ownership. There were four bikes parked to the right of the front door, all Harley's, men after my own heart. As I was putting the Suburban into park, the door to the Clubhouse opened and one of the biggest fucking men I have ever seen walks out.
“Holy shit,” whispered Caleb. “He's the biggest motherfucker I've ever seen.”
“Caleb Andrew Davis, watch your language.” Jennie scolded Cale.
“Sorry Mom, Dad's fault.”
“Jeez, thanks there, buddy, for throwing me under the bus.” I said to him.
A wicked grin was sent in my direction, one I was all too familiar with since I have seen it in the mirror often enough.
“Truth, Dad.”
And sadly, I couldn't refute him. I cussed like a sailor, always had and always would. I stepped out of the Suburban and approached the man I presumed to be Mad Dog.
The man stepped toward me with his right hand out and said, “Howdy, I'm Mad Dog and I'm guessing you're Viper.”
I reached out, shook his hand and with a smile on my face replied, “Your guess is correct.”
I turned at the sound of doors opening and said, “And this is the Davis crew.”
“Y'all get out and come inside, we'll get you something to drink and show you around.”
Not having a shy bone in her body at all, Jemma ran up to us, looked up at Mad Dog and said, “Damn, Cale is right, you’re a big motherfucker.”
My head drops and I shake it slowly. Fuck. Me. My damn kids. I am paying for my cussing in spades. My mama always told me it would bite me in the ass one day and she was right once again.
Still shaking my head, I turned back around to apologize for my daughter's uncouth manners and heard Mia's gasp of shock and then, “Jemma Elizabeth Davis, for the love of all that’s holy, where are your manners.”
As I looked up and opened my mouth to apologize, I saw Mad Dog bent over laughing his ass off.
“Oh damn, Pred warned me about her and he's absolutely right. She's a little pistol. He said she has no filters at all.” He managed to get out through his laughter. “Little girl,” he said. “You and I are gonna get along real well.” And he keeps laughing as he hears Jemma mutter, “I'm not a little girl. I'm fourteen.”
He looked at me and said, “Man you got your hands full, I can already see that.” He slapped me on the shoulder as he continued, “Let's get this crew inside and after the tour I'll show you where you’ll be staying.”
I motioned my family to follow him and I'm thinking to myself, Fuck, Cale and Jemma are right, he is the biggest motherfucker I've ever seen. Thankfully though, the words don't fly out of my mouth.
~*~
As we walked into the Great Room of the Clubhouse, I looked around and it's exactly as the boys described it. The whole area looked lived in, but it's been kept in excellent shape. The walls looked freshly painted and have motorcycle memorabilia adorning them, the furniture and pool tables have that well used but taken care of look to them. The bar that sits about five feet in front of the back wall is made of natural wood and has a high gloss to it. Attached to part of the wall behind the bar are shelves filled with various kinds of liquor. Interspersed on the walls surrounding the bar were a few neon beer signs. The bar stools were a classic chrome tubular frame with a round stool with the Harley bar and shield logo on them.
There was a jukebox and dance floor located on the left side of the room and across from that on the right side of the room were three pool tables. Scattered between the dance floor and pool tables were tables and chairs to sit in. In the far-left front corner of the room was a massive TV attached to the wall with a couple couches and a couple of chairs around it. Overall, the atmosphere was that of a nice bar that made having a beer mandatory. It was impressive.
“Damn nice Great Room,” I told Mad Dog.
“Thanks. I figured I don't want to hang out in some shit hole, so it might as well look good and be a comfortable space t
o throw back a few in.” He replied. “Y'all gotta be thirsty after your trip, what's your poison and Streak here will get it for you.”
“What can I get for ya?” Streak looked over at my Old Ladies and asked.
“Do you have any bottled water?” Jennie inquired, to which Streak leaned down and grabbed her a cold bottle of water.
“Same,” Mia murmured.
As Streak was handing Mia her water, he looked at Jemma and asked, “What can I get'cha, little lady?”
Jemma giggled and I looked at her, only to find her staring at Streak like he was a piece of her favorite chocolate candy. Oh. Hell. No. I shifted my gaze to Streak ready to give him my death glare, but the young man wasn't looking at Jemma in any way other than a questioning one.
“Coca Cola,” she told him among her giggles. I looked over at my Old Ladies and both have their eyebrows arched and are staring at Jemma like she has gone crazy. Jemma hasn't shown the least bit of interest in boys at all and now when she finally does, it's for a fucking grown man. Needless to say, that is one young Prospect that will be heavily watched.
He handed Jemma her cola and looked at me and said, “Sir, what can I get for you?”
“Name's Viper.” I replied to him. “A cold beer sounds good right now.”
“Any preference?” he asked.
“Nah anything is fine, Streak, except light shit.”
He twisted the top off of a bottle of Coors and handed it to me. I grabbed it and took a long swallow.
Streak looked at the boys and asked, “And for you, guys?”
And damned if all three of my sons don't say at the exact same time, “Beer sounds good.”
“Nice try, boys,” I said amidst the laughter of Mad Dog and Streak. Mia and Jennie shook their heads at the boys and Mia silently mouthed to me, “Your sons.” Yeah, they were fucking exactly like me and if given an inch, they would take a damn mile.
All three then muttered, “Dr. Pepper.”
I shook my head laughing at them.
Viper (Angel’s Rebellion MC: #1) (Angel's Rebellion MC) Page 9
