King's Road

by Lane Hart

  The van comes to a stop, and I give a sharp nod as I open my door. I thought I had gotten to know Reese a bit during our time together the last few weeks. While I was certain he was a hard-ass, it seemed as though he had strict convictions he adhered to. His words tonight confirmed it. I don’t know much of anything about his past, but I do know he’s loyal, fierce, and honest. I can trust him to do the right thing.

  Reese hops down from the van and leads me to the rear doors. He opens them both to reveal a large gun safe, which he quickly opens with a numerical code. He lifts the lid and picks up an assault rifle, slaps a clip into it, then slings it over his shoulder by the strap, the barrel pointing towards the ground. Reaching back in, he pulls out two holstered pistols, handing one to me.

  I check the clip while he tucks his into a holster under his arm. I just hold onto mine, since I don’t have anything else to carry. Reese pulls a shotgun out of the box and a belt filled with shells, which he quickly loads into the gun. Once the shotgun is loaded, I think he is going to hand it to me, but instead, he slams the doors on the van and nods towards the woods, already moving away.

  “You want me to carry anything else?” I whisper as we hit the tree line.

  “No,” Reese replies. A few seconds later, he adds, “I’ve never seen you shoot.”

  “I’m decent,” I explain. “Grew up with guns, I know how to handle them.”

  “You are loud,” Reese says in a tone that doesn’t invite further conversation.

  He takes a slight lead, somehow able to easily pick a trail through the underbrush. Only a minute later, a clearing comes into view ahead of us, the sounds of feminine laughter and rougher voices carrying to us in the evening air.

  “How did you get us straight here?” I whisper.

  Reese looks at me and gives a pronounced sniff in reply, his nostrils flaring. Then he taps the side of his nose to make sure I get the point. I take a deep breath and realize that I can smell charcoal burning—the grill Reese told me about earlier.

  We creep right up to the edge of the tree line in their backyard. From there, we can clearly see an older man and woman on the porch, sitting in lounge chairs and drinking beer. A younger man is standing at the grill, using a pair of tongs to flip foil wrapped potatoes as they bake.

  “Just like you said,” I whisper.

  Reese points towards the deck where they’re sitting and whispers, “Tiki torches. The light will blind them to our approach until we step into their radius. Stay out of the light until I whistle. They’ll think the darkness holds more of us. We hold them at gunpoint, explain the situation, and then take corrective action.”

  “Corrective action?” I hiss, but Reese is already striding through the backyard with the shotgun in his hands. In a few quick steps, I fall in behind him, but make sure to hang back as he approaches the flickering circle of light cast into the yard.

  “Brian Lehmann!” Reese roars as he steps into the light at the foot of the porch. The explosive change from his normal tone is so jarring it even startles me, so it’s no surprise that the woman screams and the man beside her falls out of his chair.

  The man by the grill stands frozen in wide-eyed shock as Reese mounts the stairs, racking the shotgun and leveling it at him as he approaches. “Are you Brian Lehmann?” Reese barks, stopping several feet away.

  “Y-yeah,” Brian stutters, raising his hands in the air while still holding the tongs. The older man lying on the porch begins to scramble to his feet, but Reese quickly turns the shotgun on him.

  “Stay down, Mr. Lehmann. Mrs. Lehmann, I presume?” Reese asks the woman, in a more cordial tone. “Please stay seated.”

  The man on the ground rolls to a seated position, and they all raise their hands over their heads. “You…you’re one of those bikers, the Savage Kings,” Mr. Lehmann says from his seat on the porch, as he looks over Reese’s cut. “What the hell do you want? We haven’t caused you any problems!”

  “Of course you have,” Reese replies, his voice lowering to a growl. “They don’t send me for social calls, Mr. Lehmann. I’m not what you would call the ‘face of public relations.’ Your Aryan brothers sent you a shipment of drugs for distribution. You’ve been dealing in our area.”

  “Bullshit!” Mr. Lehmann snorts. “I don’t know how you found out about the drugs, but if this is a shakedown, don’t fucking lie about it. I know better than to sell in Emerald Isle.”

  “Does he?” Reese asks, turning the gun back towards Brian, who is visibly trembling.

  “Dad, I didn’t know,” he whispers.

  “What?” his father yells as he scrambles to his feet. “What the fuck did you do?”

  Reese lets out a sharp whistle, and I immediately jog forward with my pistol leveled on the elder Lehmann.

  “Easy now, Mr. Lehmann,” Reese hisses. “Moving too quickly might cause some of my brothers’ fingers to twitch.”

  All three of the Lehmanns stare at me in shock, then cast terrified looks at the darkness around the home. “Oh Jesus,” Mrs. Lehmann murmurs, before her voice becomes shrill. “I told you to get away from them, told you not to mess with this shit!”

  “Shut up!” Reese snaps. “Brian has been selling those pills you acquired at the local schools, haven’t you, boy?”

  Brian glances at his father, then nods. “I didn’t know,” he repeats. “Dad, I wanted to help, prove I could earn. I wanted to be a part of…”

  “Shut up,” Mr. Lehmann growls, before turning to Reese. “Look, the boy fucked up, and I’ll pay you whatever you need to make this right. We can work this out…”

  “It’s too late for that,” Reese says. “A high school girl died tonight. Died after taking whatever tainted shit you sold her. The police were called. They know where she got the drugs. They’re on their way here to collect you, Brian.”

  “Oh my god.” Mrs. Lehmann gasps, before bursting into tears. “What have you done?” she shrieks.

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Mr. Lehmann whispers. “They told us they were trying to manufacture ecstasy, but that some of the pills weren’t right. They never said anything about…”

  “As I said, it’s too late for excuses,” Reese interrupts. “Where’s the rest of the shipment?”

  “It’s in the house,” Mr. Lehmann admits, waving towards the sliding glass door behind him.

  “Step into the yard,” Reese orders the family, motioning with the shotgun. “Remember, my associates are covering you,” he adds as they file past him, coming down the stairs to stand in a line a few feet away from me. Mrs. Lehmann is sobbing while wrapping her arms around her son. She whispers something that sounds like ‘stupid little shit’ to him before she chokes up and becomes incoherent.

  Reese places the shotgun over his shoulder, then slides open the door at the back of the house. “Anyone in there?” he turns and asks the family.

  “No, no one else,” Mr. Lehmann says. “No one will surprise you if you want to check the house.”

  “Any pets?” Reese asks, surprising everyone.

  “Pets? No, no pets…” Mr. Lehmann trails off as he sees Reese pick up a bottle of lighter fluid sitting on the porch railing, which he pops open and then tosses inside on the carpet. “No, oh no,” he continues to groan, as Reese walks back over to the charcoal grill.

  “Don’t worry,” Reese says. “The police will be here soon to pick up your son. If the fire has time to consume your drug stash, I may even be doing you a favor.” With that, he kicks the grill over into the home, sparks flying as the charcoal clatters across the carpet. I can’t see the fire at first, only a stream of smoke drifting around Reese that quickly begins to thicken. A moment later, flames race up the curtain by the sliding glass door and are soon licking all around the doorway.

  Reese walks back down the steps and joins me, both of us staring at the Lehmanns for the next few minutes, as the fire spreads throughout this side of the home. Other than Mrs. Lehmann’s sobbing, no one makes a sound until Reese finally
breaks the silence.

  “That will do.” He nods. “Remember our laws, Mr. Lehmann, if you intend to do further business with the Aryans. I don’t like repeating myself.” Slapping me lightly on the arm, Reese backs away into the darkness and then leads me towards the tree line.

  We don’t speak as we move quickly through the woods, circling back around to the side road where we left Eddie. Reese breaks into a jog once we’re clear of the trees, heading straight for the side door of the van. He opens it up and jumps inside, then waves me in and pulls the doors shut, the van already in motion.

  Reese begins carefully unloading his guns, placing magazines on the seat between us while shotgun shells go into a cupholder. As Eddie guides the van back up to the main road, he pauses at a stop sign, looking back at us. His gaze drifts out the rear window, where the night sky is beginning to glow from what appears to be a fire in the near distance.

  “Decide on a bit of arson tonight?” Eddie asks.

  “It was convenient,” Reese agrees. “The boy, Brian, was only about the age of the Prospect. He’s young and stupid. When he realized what he had done, he was broken. The fire is a reminder to the father. The police, the courts…they can handle the rest.”

  “Aren’t they going to tell the cops we were there? That we did this?” I ask Reese.

  “Probably not.” Reese shrugs. “If Mr. Lehmann does, he’s admitting that his home was burned due to the drugs he was keeping. The police will find evidence of them, almost certainly. That will cause him much more problems than an ‘accident with the grill.’”

  “There are lots of other reasons he’ll keep his mouth shut,” Eddie interjects. “You don’t worry about that none, boy. Did he do all right out there?” he asks Reese, jerking his head at me.

  “Fine,” Reese grunts. “Get us back to the clubhouse. Our alibi is that we never left. We were in the back the entire time.”

  I hand the pistol Reese gave me back to him once he’s done with the other weapons. Remembering that I need to text Sasha, I pull out my phone and send her a quick note.

  “Hey sweetheart, just wanted to say good night. I’m going to crash at the clubhouse tonight. I’ll have one of the guys drop me off at school in the morning. See you then. I love you.”

  I hit send on that message, then send another one to my parents, telling them roughly the same thing. After that, I stare out the window in silence, trying to fight the gnawing anxiety in my belly. The night has been exhilarating, horrifying, and exhausting. Sasha and I proclaimed our love, a friend of mine killed a girl, and I helped burn down some skinhead drug dealer’s home.

  Eddie kills the lights on the van as we creep up a backroad to come in behind our clubhouse. Once he parks, we all pile out, quietly shutting the doors and going in through the back entrance. Eddie and Reese both go immediately to the massive industrial refrigerator in the kitchen area and pull out bottles of beer, which they crack open and then tap together before drinking. I walk past them and head on into the main room to see if Robbie is still there.

  The main room has been cleared, and from the way the lights are turned down, I assume that Deacon has closed up the clubhouse to any non-members for the evening. He and Rubin are sitting at the bar, a bottle of whiskey between them.

  “How’d it go, kid?” Rubin Brady, the club’s VP and founding member, asks as I pull up a stool beside Deacon.

  “Anyone else here?” I ask before I answer his question.

  “Nah, I wouldn’t ask if there were,” Rubin replies.

  “Nothing to it.” I shrug. “We found them on their back porch, having a cookout. Reese talked to them about what had happened. The father didn’t know the kid had been dealing locally. He was pissed. When we told them the drugs killed a local, the kid broke down and his momma held him while she chewed him out.”

  “You kill anybody?” Rubin asks.

  “Nah. Reese set their house on fire and we left.”

  Deacon downs a shot in front of him then pours another one out of the bottle on the counter. “Good,” he says. “Police arrested your friend, that kid, Robbie. He was already telling them everything before they even asked. Poor kid ain’t got a hair on his sack, does he?”

  I snort, but then shake my head sadly. “He was just looking for a good time. He asked me to get him some weed, but I told him no way.”

  “He didn’t mention that part. That’s good, that he kept your name out of his mouth,” Rubin says.

  “Yeah, yeah it is. I’m going to miss that dumb son-of-a-bitch, though.”

  “You’ll see him soon enough,” Deacon says. “He was partly responsible, but if he helps them nail down the dealer, they’ll go easy on him. Here, Chase.” Deacon slides the shot glass over to me. “Knock that back and go get some sleep. You got school tomorrow, don’t you?”

  I nod, then pick up the shot glass and toss it back with a grimace. It stings my nose and burns my throat, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t also ease the knot I had in my stomach. “Thanks, Deacon,” I say, as I slide the glass back to him. “I’m going to go find my pillow and warm it up for a few hours. I’ll see you boys in the morning.”

  “I’ll be up here about half past seven, and take you to school,” Deacon says. “Your woman dropped you off here, right?”

  I nod, then grin like an idiot at the thought of ‘my woman.’ As I head downstairs to my room, I pull my phone out and see that Sasha has replied to me.

  “Goodnight, Chase. I love you. You loaded my bases tonight, and I expect you to clean them up soon.”

  I manage to fall asleep easily with that beautiful thought in mind, visions of Sasha sweeping away the ugliness of everything else that had transpired.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Deacon drops me off outside my shop class the next morning, I’m surprised to find that Sasha’s Mustang isn’t parked right up by the building in its spot of honor. I’m a little later than normal today, but since Mr. Aikens is still sitting out on the step, smoking his pipe, I don’t think too much of it. I’m sure she’s just running a little behind after the night we had.

  I sit down beside Mr. Aikens and pull out a fresh pack of cigarettes I snagged at the clubhouse. Lighting one up, I lean back on the stairs and look over to my teacher, who is eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Morning, Mr. Aikens. How you holding up today?” I ask him.

  “Other than my bowels feeling like they’re welded shut? I’m fine.” He puffs at me, the sweet-smelling smoke enveloping both of us. “I was wondering if anyone was going to show up today. Your friend Robbie isn’t here, a couple of other guys are out. Oh, and your girlfriend showed up looking as though you two were still on a date.”

  “What?” I say, taken aback. “Sasha is already here? Where’s the car?”

  “Beats me.” Mr. Aikens shrugged. “She came up the sidewalk in heels and this little white flowery dress. Look, Chase, I need you to talk to her. We’re going to be doing some work with the grinders today, and I can’t have her in the shop with so much, uh…so much skin exposed.”

  I stare at him in shock, not really knowing how to respond. Finally, I take a drag off my cigarette before grinding it out on the step. “I’ll talk to her,” I say, then throw the butt away before adding, “I think Robbie might be out for a bit. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

  I stomp inside the building with my heart racing, unable to anticipate what surprise Sasha may have pulled out for me today. When I see her over by the drafting board, I stop short in my tracks. She is bent slightly forward, and the loosely flowing floral dress she’s wearing is short enough to draw the eye of even the most stoic of monks. One of my classmates is over by the tools on the far wall, but his head is about to twist off his neck as he strains to see if the dress rises any further.

  “Hey!” I yell at him, practically snarling as his gaze snaps to me. He ducks his head and blushes furiously before turning back to the wrenches he was pretending to examine.

  Sasha turns at my call too, and
breaks into a huge smile when she sees me. Her heels practically spark on the concrete floor as she saunters over to me, the sway of her breasts and the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric clearly indicating she is going braless again today.

  I don’t realize I’m slack-jawed until she’s face to face with me and leans in for a kiss, grinning impishly the entire time. She presses herself into me in a hug that is positively indecent, rubbing the entire front of her body against me as my cock strains mightily to rip out the thigh of my pants.

  “Well, you’re happy to see me, aren’t you?” she whispers into my ear. “I think I overheard Mr. Aikens say I couldn’t do any grinding today. Are you going to listen to him? Or are you going to let me”—she rubs herself against me again before finishing—“grind?”

  “Where?” I whisper hoarsely as I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her so tightly her breasts flatten against me. “When?”

  “I’ll show you the answers to those,” she says. “But if you ask me how, Chase Fury, I’m going to be disappointed in you.”

  “All right, break it up, you two,” Mr. Aikens says, as he pulls the door closed behind him. “Come on, let’s go take roll and get this test knocked out. Chase, did you get a chance to, er…”

  “Ah, yes, we discussed that very thing,” I tell him, while still staring into Sasha’s eyes.

  “Good, good. Well, you two just hang back while we’re doing lab later on, after we finish up the classwork. Come along now.”

  Mr. Aikens walks past us without another glance. Sasha grabs my hand, and together we head over to the classroom, where everyone else is already seated. The test doesn’t take us long to complete, and once we’ve all handed in our papers, Mr. Aikens leads the class back out to the shop floor.

  “Come on,” Sasha says, pulling my arm to hang back as the rest of the class follows the teacher. Once we’re behind the rest of the group, she leads me out the rear door and down the back steps.