Rod

by Nella Tyler

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rodney Vinton

  I look on as Jasmine sews my patch into my jean jacket and I wear it proudly, showing off my colors for the whole club to see. I watch as Jasmine repeats the process with Trish’s patch, but includes a front patch that says “Chief Investigator” for her jacket.

  I watch as she dons the jacket proudly and we hold each other tightly. I don’t get an invitation to be present for the officer’s meetings just yet, but I’m okay with that.

  “Hey, are ya coming?” Trish asks me.

  “You know it,” I tell her.

  We screech out of sight on our bikes making our way to Missy’s house. It’s our day to ensure she makes it to school without any issue. We pull up outside of the house and await her exit from the place.

  “Hey guys,” she says as she walks to us. She gets on the back of Trish’s motorcycle and secures her helmet on her head.

  “Ready?” Trish asks her. She nods in response and they speed off to the school. I’m hot on their tails and when we get there, Trish tells her that we will be back at three o’clock in the afternoon to make sure she gets home. She smiles at the idea of getting an escort back and forth to school and I watch as she gets off of the bike and disappears inside the school.

  Trish and I ride back to the Dragon’s Lair and grab a couple of cold ones from the bar. As we sit there and drink, Trish looks emotional.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask her.

  “Sure. I’m just sitting here thinking about whether or not Sasha is ready for what’s to come,” she tells me.

  “I think that is one strong little girl,” I tell her. “She’ll be ready, I just know it.”

  “It just seems like it’s all happening so fast,” she says.

  “Yeah, but when it’s all over, it’ll be totally worth it.”

  “You are absolutely right,” she says and we both take a long swallow of beer.

  Our conversation gets cut off abruptly by the ringing of my cell phone. I take it from my pocket and look at the caller ID. It is identified as the state correctional facility.

  She looks down at the caller ID and asks, “Is that your dad calling?”

  “That’s my guess,” I tell her.

  “Are you going to answer it to see what he wants?” she asks.

  “Should I?” I ask her in return.

  “Sure, it can’t hurt anything to see what he wants.”

  “Alright,” I cave in to her long, brown lashes batting at me as she speaks.

  “Yeah?” I say into the phone after hitting ‘accept’ to take the call.

  A recording plays telling me that the call is from the state correctional facility and the caller’s name is my dad’s voice saying “Seth Vinton”. The recording tells me to press the number one on my keypad if I will accept the call and to disconnect the call to decline. I take my phone away from my ear and hit the one button. Static erupts on the line and it clears up when I hear the voice on the other end.

  “I have about two minutes and thirty seconds,” my father dictates from the other end of the phone.

  “I guess you’d better make it snappy,” I tell him sarcastically.

  “Uh huh,” he says and it sounds like he’s already mad.

  “So what’s up?” I ask, pushing him for what he wants from me.

  “I need you to testify,” he tells me.

  “Oh I’m going to testify, alright,” I reply with a willingness in my inflection.

  “You will?” he asks curiously.

  “Yeah, but not on your behalf,” I tell him, slaying any thoughts of us working together for his release.

  “But you’re my son; my own flesh and blood. You came from me!” he yells angrily.

  “I just can’t believe that it took you this long to get caught for something,” I tell him triumphantly.

  “I gave you life and this is how you treat me?” he yells, his voice is getting raspier with every syllable.

  “Let’s pretend that you didn’t make my life a living hell,” I say into the phone. The recording interjects to let me know that he and I have one minute left on our call.

  “I didn’t know how to be a father, but I can try now,” he pleads.

  “Well you’re right about one thing. You don’t know how to be a father. I hope you rot in there.”

  Suddenly, the line goes dead and I gather that my father doesn’t take too kindly to rejection.

  “What happened?” Trish asks.

  “Can you believe that asshole thought I would testify on his behalf?” I tell her.

  “He what?” she says.

  “He had the nerve to call me up just to ask if I would act as a character witness for him!” I reiterate.

  “Now that’s funny,” she says as she takes a sip of her beer. “What else?”

  “He said that he didn’t know how to be a father but that he would try now,” I relay to her.

  “From where, prison?” she inquires.

  I shake my head in disbelief that he and I could ever see eye to eye, even after he gets eventually released from prison.

  “You’re a strong man, Rodney Vinton,” she tells me as she curls up next to me on her stool.

  “I couldn’t have any of this if it hadn’t been for you,” I tell her in all honesty.

  “Now you’re just being silly,” she jokes.

  “I’m being serious,” I say, trying to convince her of my sincerity.

  “Uh huh,” she says, drawing closer and zeroing in on my lips for a kiss. Her scent is sweet and reminds me of being in a field on a warm summer day.

  “So, court is next month,” I tell her in an attempt to change the subject.

  “Yeah, we’ll all be ready.”

  “Good, because I know my father probably has some cash socked away for a rainy day. He won’t be coming in there with a cheap or inexperienced lawyer.”

  “That’s okay, because the facts on our side,” she tells me. I smile because she’s right.

  “You are right again, as usual,” I tell her.

  “You know what we need to do?” she says rhetorically.

  “What’s that?” I ask her.

  “We need to make a schedule for each one of our reliable members to escort Sasha back and forth to school each day. That way, the workload is spread out among all of us.”

  “Trish, you’re a genius,” I tell her as I near her face with mine. I plant a kiss on her soft lips and caress her cheek.

  “I’ll come up with something and then I’ll present it to my father,” she says as she’s obviously planning it out in her head.

  “Sounds good,” I tell her.

  Hours pass and Trish comes into the club with a bag of stuff in her hand. I finish up my fourth beer and walk over to her.

  “What’s in the bag?” I inquire.

  “It’s some calendars,” she tells me.

  “Calendars?”

  “Yeah, for Sasha’s schedule. Right now, our club has a total of thirty-two members. If everyone takes a day to take her back and forth to school, it’ll be less work for everyone.”

  “Great,” I tell her with a grin on my face. “Isn’t it already past three? Shouldn’t we have gone to her school to take her home?”

  “I already did that,” she says confidently.

  “Gotcha,” I say.

  “So, we’re going to talk to my dad first and get the okay for cleared members to do the run to Sasha’s school and then we’re going to let everyone know to check the calendars for their days.”

  “You are a double threat, Trish.”

  “A double threat? How so?” she asks me.

  “Not only are you smart, but you’re beautiful, too.”

  “Kiss ass,” she says jokingly.

  “I’d like to kiss your ass,” I tease her with a devious grin on my face.

  She slaps my chest playfully and I point to her father’s office with a question on my face.

  “Yeah, let’s see what he says.”

/>   We walk over to Ronan’s office and she taps on the door.

  “Come in,” he barks from the other side and I wonder how receptive he’s going to be to her idea.

  “Oh it’s you guys. Come on in and have a seat,” he tells us pleasantly.

  “Hi dad, I just wanted to run something by you,” she tells him.

  “What’s up, honey?”

  “You know that we have a lot of members in this club that have been vetted and we trust, right?”

  His face looks like a puzzle.

  “Yeah?” he asks.

  “Well, I was thinking that I could split my runs back and forth to Sasha’s school with the other members. You know, to make it easier on everyone.”

  He smiles and says, “I don’t see the problem with that, just as long as it’s members that we fully trust.”

  “Good, because I’ve already bought calendars and I’m gonna get started on setting up the schedules.”

  “Alright, sounds perfect,” he tells her.

  Trish and I both stand and he offers his hand forward to shake hers and mine. As we walk out, I say quietly, “You’re a triple threat!”

  “A triple threat?” she asks.

  “Yeah, not only are you smart and beautiful, but you’re amazingly confident.”

  She flashes a giant smile at me and in my heart, I feel like I want to be the only one she uses that smile on.

  Trish takes the rest of the day to set the schedule up and I go over it with her.

  “This looks really good,” I tell her. “But do you really want to have Alex Maple take your sister back and forth to school?”

  “What’s wrong with Alex Maple?” she asks me curiously.

  “Nothing, if you can overlook the fact that he has only offered to blow up Lester Samson’s house five times.”

  She laughs and I interject, “And that’s just this month.”

  We both share a laugh, but she insists that Alex is a loyal member of the Dragons.

  “Wouldn’t it be unfair to exclude him?” she asks.

  “Yeah, you’re right. He might look at it like he’s not trusted.”

  “Alright, then he’s in. Anyone else we should look at?”

  “I think this is good just the way it is,” I tell her as I slide the calendar over to her.

  “Good, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna show this to my dad and see if he agrees.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait right here.”

  I sit there in silence drinking a beer when I feel the pangs of hunger in my stomach.

  Moments pass and she returns to the stool from whence she came.

  “He loved it. He said I could put it into effect at our next meeting,” she says.

  “When’s that?”

  “Next Thursday,” she says in response.

  “Oh, okay,” I tell her. My stomach begins rumbling all over again.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asks.

  “Nope, my stomach is telling me that it’s dinner time, though.”

  “Wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat?”

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  We walk out of the club and she offers to take us since I have been drinking for the bigger part of the day. We haul ass to the Corkscrew where we sit at the bar and order food. She orders up a well-done cheeseburger with some French fries and I order steak and eggs.

  “This isn’t breakfast time, weirdo,” she jokes.

  “I love steak and eggs,” I say in my own defense.

  “I’m just messin’ with ya,” she tells me.

  We get our drinks and sit back to wait for our food to be placed in front of us. I feel as hungry as a hostage and I yawn.

  “Do you think that’s the last time you’ll hear from your dad?” she asks.

  “My guess is no,” I tell her.

  “That sucks. Do you think he’ll stop at nothing to get his way?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” I say.

  “I hope he leaves you alone and lets you live,” she says.

  “One can only hope.”

  Waiting for twenty minutes causes my stomach to rumble furiously. Before I can ask about our food, the waitress slides it in front of us, apologizing for the wait.

  “It’s no biggie,” Trish reassures her.

  The waitress offers us a smile and then heads out to the floor to tend to her tables.

  Our food disappears after ten minutes goes by and I rub my stomach and tell her how full I feel.

  “I feel like a walrus,” I joke.

  “You’re going to be just fine,” she assures me.

  I whip out my wallet and pay our tab, leaving a nice tip for our waitress. We walk out of there and I realize that my bike is sitting at the Lair.

  “Let’s head back to the Lair so I can get my bike and then we can do whatever,” I tell her.

  “Alright, get on,” she commands me.

  “You know how I love it when you take charge,” I say.

  She grins and we put our helmets on. She speeds off with me on the back of her back and we take the winding dirt roads back to the club.

  I hop off of her bike and see mine sitting there by Ronan’s exquisite piece of machinery.

  “Your dad is still here,” I tell her.

  “I see that. I should go in and talk to him. You can go ahead and head home if you want,” she tells me.

  “Alright, but I’ll see you in the morning bright and early to run Sasha to school.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She plants a wet kiss on my lips and I long for more. She disappears inside of the Lair and I get on my motorcycle to head home.

  A week passes before my phone rings with another call from my father. The usual recording plays, asking me to press one on the keypad to accept the call, but to hang up to decline it. I consider declining it, but decide to see what he wants.

  “Yeah?” I ask into the phone.

  “Rodney, is that you?” he asks.

  “Yeah, it’s me. What do you want this time?” I say with an annoyed tone in my voice.

  “That’s an awfully rude attitude toward the man who raised you to be the man you are today,” he chides me.

  “Yeah, you raised me by showing me what not to do. Now what do you want?”

  “That’s harsh, son,” he says as his raspy voice seems to echo in the phone.

  “What is it? I don’t have all day,” I remark unkindly.

  “I wanted to see if there was any way that you would change your mind. I could make it worth your while.”

  “Are you really trying to offer me money to help you?”

  “Well you are my son. It would be beneficial for the both of us if I didn’t have to sit here in prison,” he tells me with a hoarse voice.

  “Stop asking, old man,” I tell him. “I will not go to bat for you.”

  “Fuck,” he says as the line goes dead.

  I sit there wondering what kind of defense he’s going to mount in the kidnapping case. I know there are people in his motorcycle club that will speak up on his behalf, but he pesters me relentlessly.

  As another week passes, the court dates draws closer. Instead of calling me directly, my father has taken to leaving the question of helping him to his lawyer. Mr. Greanleaf, a noted legal eagle, calls me up constantly berating me for not helping my father in his time of need. He assures me that my father’s appreciation will not go unnoticed. I fend off his questions and pleas for help, but it frustrates me to no end that he pushes me about it.

  An unknown number graces the caller ID and I quickly answer it and say, “Listen, stop calling me, asshole. I will not help him!”

  “Hello?” man on the other end says quietly.

  “Hello?” I reiterate his question.

  “Is this Rodney Vinton?” he asks.

  “Yeah, and who is this?”

  “This is Harry Fletcher. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I’ve got a proposition for you.”r />
  “Hear from you? I don’t even know who the hell you are,” I exclaim.

  “I’ve been one of the Deathdealers, but like you, never liked the criminal element,” he explains.

  “Which one are you?” I ask him.

  “Harry Fletcher,” he tells me again.

  “No, I mean what do you look like?”

  “I’m a taller guy with red hair and a matching beard,” he says describing himself. “Black glasses and the combat boots.”

  “Oh yeah, Red, I know you,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, I probably should’ve said that first, huh?”

  “So, what’s going on in your neck of the woods?” I ask him.

  “Things have really been shaken up since your father was put in prison.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, it’s like chaos over there. I was thinking that we could meet up to talk about it,” he tells me.

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  “I was asked by some senior members who are also like us, to reach out to you for some direction,” he says.

  “Direction?” I say in complete disbelief.

  “Yeah. They said that it would prove to be beneficial for all of us. We could get a truce in place.”

  “A truce, huh?”

  “If you want, we can meet in a neutral place like Hinton Heights?”

  “Sure, Hinton Heights sounds good. When?” I ask.

  “How does tomorrow at two sound?

  “Sounds good. Where at?” I inquire.

  “This little place on Sunrise Boulevard called Black’s Deli,” he tells me.

  “Sounds like a plan. See you then, and no funny business.”

  “Later Rod,” he says as he disconnects the call.

  I ponder for a moment that it could be a setup by my father from his prison cell, but I decide to risk it.

  I let the hours pass as I wait for the new day to be upon me. Fulfilling all of my daily obligations to Trish and the club, I lay my head down and drift off to sleep.

  The next morning, I fix myself some breakfast and decide whether or not I should talk to Ronan or get some backup for my meeting with Red. I decide against it, remembering that Red is a puny dude that I could easily take out.

  At one thirty in the afternoon, I walk outside and hop on my motorcycle. I put my helmet on and race off to Hinton Heights for our meeting.