HOPE TRILOGY: Sacred Sinners- Texas Chapter

by Cummings, Bink

  Mouse’s head ducks completely behind his knees before he whispers a faint, “Yes.”

  “That’s really fuckin’ cool,” Kade praises without a hint of mockery. What in the hell has gotten into him?

  Before my brother can ask the kid twenty questions about his skill set, I interrupt their little… whatever this is. “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.” This comes out clearer than anything he’s said yet. Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.

  “Why did you join that piece of shit motorcycle club?” I shoot off next, not givin’ him much time to deliberate.

  A half shrug. “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “M-my mom left me with m-my eighteen-year-old brother when I was t-twelve. He was a pr-prospect at the t-time. Less than a year after she left, I had to s-start stealin’ food and money to get by. It didn’t take long to realize I was good at it. B-by the time I was fifteen my br-brother had me stealin’ small time stuff for the club on the side.”

  That was way more than I expected him to say. As a club, we’d never have some kid workin’ for us. That’s a disaster in the making.

  “Did you wanna do it?”

  Mouse shakes his head. “No.”

  “Then why did you?” I test.

  “I dunno.”

  “Yeah ya do.”

  “W-why do you care?”

  “Consider me curious.” Which ain’t a lie.

  “Well, there’s not much to tell. Jonny was k-keepin’ a roof over my head, and I got to s-stay in school. I felt like I owed him.”

  “And you decided to join the club when you were eighteen for the same reason?”

  Another half shrug. “Pr-pretty much.”

  “Did your club brothers care that you’re gay?” Kade asks outta fuckin’ nowhere, shocking the shit out of me. I swing my eyes to him, wonderin’ where that came from. I’m… What the… Has he lost his damn mind? Nobody’s talkin’ about gayness.

  “I-I’m I’m I’m n-not a fag,” the kid squawks, face beet red, eyes bulging. His hold around his shins tightens as he locks his fingers, knuckles blanching.

  Knowing this is plain horseshit, I address Kade with venom tinging my voice. “That was fuckin’ uncalled for.”

  Kade shakes his head with two stiff jerks. “No, it ain’t.” He points to Mouse. “He’s queer. If he can’t be honest with us about that, how can we expect him to be honest about anythin’ else? Maybe he’s playin’ us. You ever thought about that?”

  “Of course I have,” I snarl, glaring at the dipshit. Where is all of this comin’ from? Nobody said anything about Mouse bein’ a gay kid. He might be pretty, if he put on twenty pounds. But that don’t mean jack. I’ve seen plenty of pretty men bang bitches.

  “Then ask him why he can’t admit he’s gay.” Kade’s dead serious. There’s no humor in the blue eyes that battle against mine.

  “I ain’t no fag!” Mouse screeches, thick with emotion.

  Kade arches a questioning brow at me, head dipped in a way that says, ‘Really? You’re buyin’ that?’ “He is, Ryker. He’s got bottom boy written all over him.”

  “I… I… I… I don’t like boys. I… I like girls. Tits. P-pussies. All… all of it.” Mouse ain’t lettin’ this go without a weak fight. It’s the first time I’ve seen him get riled up, albeit with watery eyes and a shaky voice. He doesn’t fight when he thinks we’re gonna kill him. But he’s upset when Kade declares he’s homosexual? None of these puzzle pieces fit in the right slots. The picture ain’t clear. Kade must know somethin’ I don’t. If he’d been forthcoming before we came in here, I wouldn’t have to question who’s right and who’s not. I hate mind fucks.

  Before I get a chance to question my brother about his accusation, he’s tappin’ on his cell phone. Then he stows it away and stands smugly against the wall keepin’ his lips sealed.

  Who did he message?

  Less than a minute later my question’s answered when Pops and Ghost’s voices and heavy footfalls carry down the hall.

  “Why are they here?” I whisper hiss.

  Kade juts his chin, expression unreadable. “He seems to have a problem. So, we’re gonna clear that problem up.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  My eyebrows furrow, an impossible headache forming in my frontal lobe.

  Is Mouse gay? Or is Kade testin’ to see how he feels about gay men by accusing him of preferring the D? None of this makes a lick of sense, and that’s not the meds talkin’. This is legit confusing.

  Pops and Ghost silently enter the room and stand shoulder to shoulder beside Kade, forming an impenetrable wall. Their air of dominance sucks most of the oxygen from the room. Apparently, Pops has an ax to grind. Reading his emotions is easy. The age lines crinkling on his face and the hardness of his wide-legged stance is a distinct tell. Ghost’s not farin’ much better. Except his emotions are marginally harder to decipher. If I hadn’t known him this long, I wouldn’t know what to look for, but the tick in the side of his cheek is all I need to see.

  “Are you a fag?” My prez booms.

  The kid shrinks further into himself like a frightened turtle. What in the fuck is goin’ on?

  When Pops doesn’t get a response in a timely manner, his brusque dominance escalates. “I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you, boy.”

  “You better answer them, Mouse,” I cut in. The last thing I want is Pops orderin’ Kade to finish the job he wanted to finish in the first place.

  Face hidden behind his knees, shoulders trembling through quiet sobs, he shakes his head the tiniest bit.

  “Do you like dick?” Ghost is next to speak.

  Hasn’t Mouse already said no plenty of times?

  Is this one of those try to break him into agreeing with you to see if he has guts or not? If he doesn’t relent, you can trust him? Fuck. I don’t get it.

  The kid sniffles.

  I wanna ask what kind of game we’re playing here, but don’t wanna get chewed out.

  “If you ain’t gay, then why in the fuck did we find PrEP in your wallet when we brought you in?” This comes from Kade.

  What’s PrEP? I open my mouth to ask, but Pops beats me to it. “It’s a pill people take to keep from contracting HIV durin’ sex. It’s used mostly by gays. Especially those who prefer to bottom.”

  Like you, I wanna comment, yet think better of it. I prefer to keep my balls right where they are, between my legs.

  The room stills for a good ten seconds before the oddest thing happens. A tear stained Mouse climbs off the cot, shakes his scrawny limbs out like a newborn colt, and approaches us as if he’s walkin’ the damn plank. Louder sobs break from his lips with each shuffle of his pale feet. For some reason I expect my brother to pull out a knife, on high alert, but he doesn’t. All four of us watch in quiet fascination until the kid gets less than a yard from my pops and kneels on the floor at his feet, chin on chest, hands clasped behind his back in a submissive pose.

  “I-I’m r-ready,” Mouse stammers.

  Ready for what?

  I glance at Kade to get a read. He appears about as confused as me.

  Is he waitin’ to die? Is that what he means?

  “For what?” my brother asks, takin’ the words right outta my mouth.

  “T-to die.”

  Ummm… Yeah… Do people really kneel to die? ‘Cause I sure as fuck ain’t gonna kneel at nobody’s feet to meet my maker.

  Pops and Ghost exchange a look that says a million things and nothing all at the same time. It’s their own special language that irritates some, but I’ve always found it cool. Maybe one day, Kat and I will have a similar language.

  Inching forward, Ghost touches the boy’s trembling shoulder. Mouse emits a terrified squeak, going rigid, yet doesn’t pull away. “Your club didn’t tell you much about us, did they?” he tests.

  “N-no, sir. They br-brought me along to show me h-how it’s done.”

  “How what’s done?” Ghost queries all
Zen-like.

  What the shit?

  Did these motherfuckers just do a 180 with their attitudes and I didn’t notice? They must’ve.

  “I d-don’t know. To kill? All I was told was t-to sit back, shut up, and learn.”

  “You didn’t have a gun on you when they brought you in,” Kade remarks as Ghost begins to massage the kid’s shoulder.

  A string of snot runs out of the boy’s nose, close to touchin’ the floor. He doesn’t move to wipe it away. “I’m a t-terrible shot.”

  “You got any family back home?” This comes from Pops, who’s strokin’ his beard, deep in thought.

  “I have no home.”

  Another look swaps between VP and Prez.

  Could this mean good things? ‘Cause I’m starting to hope it might.

  “No family?” Kade asks.

  The timid shake of Mouse’s bed head says everything. “Only my brother. An-and I know he’s d-dead. They already told me.”

  “Were you abused?” I can’t stop the words from leavin’ my mouth. None of this is addin’ together. Not a damn bit. Something ain’t right.

  Mouse says nada, which might as well be a bright neon sign flashing yes.

  Ghost releases the kid, now that he’s quit shakin’ and stands beside Pops. Gathering up a little courage, Mouse lifts his head. When he does a proud smile, I’ve never seen before steals across Kade’s stoic face. This is the goddamn Twilight Zone.

  “This here is my pops and our club prez, Bear,” Kade introduces with a simple flick of his hand. “The other guy is our VP, Ghost. What you might find fascinating is that they’re together.”

  The bomb has been dropped.

  The kid glances between them and back again still not processing.

  To speed this reveal along, Ghost hooks Pops around his thick neck and yanks him down for a disgustingly passionate kiss that has them both moaning in milliseconds. Droppin’ my eyes to my lap to give them a modicum of privacy, not that they give a rats ass, I wait for the sloppy makeout sesh to end. Once they get started, it’s oftentimes hard for them to stop. I’ve seen it way too many times to count. At least they have mild restraint whenever we’re with the club brothers. Sons don’t count.

  Kade roughly clears his throat and hisses, “You’re given the kid a boner. Stop.”

  His words don’t penetrate their sex crazed bubble.

  There’s a distinct clang of belt buckles. Kade curses. I sneak a peek to see if what I think is about to happen is. Sonofabitch. I’m right on the money. We’ve gotta move. Fast! These horny bastards are gonna fuck. Ghost has Pops pinned to the wall with his hand down the front of his jeans, strokin’ somethin’ I’d rather not think about.

  A shiver of ick rolls down my spine.

  Trust me, you don’t wanna watch your pops get plowed in the back door by his partner. It’s not a pretty sight. Hairy asses aren’t a turn on, even if it wasn’t attached to my father.

  Kade and I exchange a knowing look. Then I quickly get to my feet and grab my scooter. We’re in the hall with a naked boy in tow within seconds.

  “Do they always gotta do that?” I grumble, trying to scoot as fast as I can so I don’t hear their filthy foreplay banter.

  “They’re dudes,” Kade states as if that explains everything. It kinda does.

  We pause at the bottom of the staircase that I’m gonna have to tackle. Droppin’ my ass on a step to gather strength, I take a load off. Kade leans against the hall wall in front of me as the kid stands awkwardly between us with his hands clasped over an obvious boner.

  “You so like dick, kid,” I chuckle heartily. Today’s been one helluva wild ride. Jealousy, pussy-lickin', shit stain, tortured fat man, and gay boy, what an odd combination. Next, a party. From the sound of the muffled bass vibrations, it’s in full swing.

  “I-Is that okay?” Mouse sways back and forth, shoulders curled forward like he’s protecting himself. His eyes are glued to the cracks in the floor, teeth sawin’ away at his bottom lip.

  “Did you not see our pops about to fuck back there?” Kade asks incredulously.

  A small nod. “I-I did.”

  “Then you should know most of our club don’t give a fuck about gay or straight. We care about character. Some of the brothers are pricks about it, but they’ve learned to keep their mouths closed, or they’ll get fucked up. You can’t go through life scared of likin’ dick. Especially if you’re gonna roll with bikers. We’re a bunch of barbaric assholes sometimes, but ownin’ who you are ain’t a crime. So when I asked you if you’re gay… you’d better say, fuck yeah I am, you gotta problem with that? You don’t fuckin’ lie. You don’t back down. You don’t cower like a bitch. You can’t change that you like dick any more than I can change that I like pussy… Guess the question I should be askin’ ya is… Do you wanna lead a different life? One where I can teach ya to stand up for yourself. This is a club, it ain’t no cake walk. We demand respect, loyalty, and hard work. But you ain’t got nobody, and I’m feelin’ mighty charitable today. So the decision’s yours. Go back to your shit life in the cold as fuck north, or build a new one here. I’ll sponsor ya so you can prospect with the club. If that’s what ya want. But you’re gonna have to be the one to grow a damn backbone, and put in the work. Ain’t nobody gonna coddle your skinny ass.”

  Just when I think Kade can’t surprise me more, he does. This is huge, even for him. He’s not a typical do-gooder. He doesn’t give chances to people he doesn’t think truly deserve them. I’m kinda in awe of him right now. Kat’s gonna be proud.

  Watching the kid’s reaction, I sigh.

  He’s cryin’ again. Fat droplets are fallin’ from his eyes, landing in small splashes on the floor. He’s bloodied his bottom lip from bitin’ it too much. “W-why would… are you doing th-this for me?” he hiccups.

  Kade’s right about the backbone thing. He needs to toughin’ up. It’s hard enough clashing with club brothers when you’re straight. Bein’ gay adds a whole new layer of watery crap you gotta wade through. Just ask Pops and Ghost; they’ve been livin’ the small-mindedness for years. It ain’t easy to handle. Not when you’re weak. Kade’s got his work cut out for him. Glad it’s not me. I’ve got enough shit to juggle.

  Kade extracts a small pocket knife and picks his nails with the tip. “’Cause people deserve second chances. ‘Cause I see a scared kid who’s been dealt a shitty hand, who deserves to stand on his own two feet. And I’ve got a best friend who’d put my dick in a meat grinder if I didn’t.”

  This is true. Kat totally would.

  Ready to get this day over with so I can get back to my old lady in the mornin’, I wrap my fist around the railing and use it to get to my feet. Shovin’ my scooter at Mouse to carry, I wave Kade over so he can help me hop up this flight of stairs. It’s gonna be a bitch. But the sooner we’re up there, the sooner I can drink, and Kade can get some clothes on this naked kid. I’m sick of seein’ other dudes floppy cocks and pale asses tonight.

  Thirteen

  Ryker

  I’m d-r-u-n-k-k-k. Three sheets to the wind and lovin’ it! No aches. No pain. Not a thaaang. Sure, my brain’s fuzzy, my eyelids droopy, and I’m buzzy warm from pecker to ear tips. It’s per-fuckin-fect. Almost better than sex. Almost. I can’t remember the last time I consumed this much drankkk. A beer and pain med cocktail ain’t good for my liver, kidneys, or other vital organs. You think I give two good goddamns about that? Nope, Kemosabe. I needed this.

  Head tipped back, I melt into the soft leather of the couch. Arms spread on either side of me, manspreading as I bask in the chill party. The sweet scent of Mary Jane perfumes the air. Classic rock pulses, making the windowpanes rattle. The only thing that could make this night better is Kat bein’ here, sittin’ on my lap, kissin’ on this mouth that aches to consume hers. Instead, I’m watching two naked babes, standin’ less than six feet away; finger each other, as they make out in a mess of sloppy lust. It's normal. Nothin’ outta the ordinary for the clubhouse. Two
of my fellow brothers are shamelessly droolin’ over the display with woodies tentin’ their jeans. The chicks do nothin' for me. Can’t say it’s not a little hot to watch two chicks goin’ at it. Who doesn’t love a bit of chick on chick action? But, the mister in my pants ain’t twitched or nothin’. It could be from my drunken state of this-is-fuckin’-heaven. Though, I think it’s got more to do with Kat than anything. Her voodoo pussy put a spell on me. And now I’m hers.

  A long-haired sexpot with huge jugs flounces around the edge of the sofa, comin’ straight for me. Without sayin’ a word, she straddles my good leg, restin’ her thong wrapped cunt on my thigh. Both of her manicured hands lay on my shoulders as she leans in close to talk above the music.

  “Hey, Ryker,” she purrs, her eyelashes fluttering. The scent of alcohol tinges her breath.

  “Sup?” My head lolls to the side, and I grin halfcocked, bein’ friendly.

  The babe drops a hand to my johnson and squeezes it through the denim.

  I chuckle. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. My dick’s under new management.”

  Blondie’s bottom lip juts into an exaggerated pout. On my little Tiger, it’d be adorable. On this chick, not so much. She needs to get up. I’m not in the mood to play games, get a lap dance, nor pry her greedy paws off my dick. The same dick that she’s trying to wake up by strokin’ him earnestly outside my jeans. Did this bitch not hear me? This ain’t a strip club. I didn’t come here to get fondled. I came here to be with my brothers and get lit. If I wanted pussy, I’d go home to get it.

  Refusing to give up, she presses those bare tits to my chest and mouths my jaw. Yeah, that’s enough. I’ve been nice. Didn’t wanna be an asshole to her, but she’s pushed too far. You don’t put your lips anywhere near my face unless I give you permission.

  “Hey!” I twist my head away so she’ll get the hint. “Get. Off.” I nudge her shoulder, tryin’ hard not to shove her onto the floor like an insensitive prick.

  My words don’t penetrate.

  She ain’t listenin’.

  That glossy mouth of hers attacks my throat, and I see red.