Licking his bottom lip, Aldo laughed, and replied, “You better believe it, lovey.”
Trey cut away from the bar and headed down another long hallway. Aldo followed behind him at a considerable distance. As he passed through the bar, Aldo’s gaze met Viper’s. Looking at the treasurer with a scrutinizing expression, Viper clearly wanted to know what was going on.
“C’mon,” Aldo said as he jabbed Viper in the arm. “Prospect’s gonna stir up some fun.”
“You know who he’s back there with, right?” Viper asked with a hearty laugh.
“I sure do,” Aldo admitted. “That’s where the fun lies.”
“You are so fucked in the head, you know that?”
“It’s why you love me.”
“Shut up with that L word. Fuck. People will talk.”
“Let ‘em,” Aldo joked as he curled an arm around Viper. Viper wasn’t in the mood for Aldo’s brand of bullshit, though. Gripping his arm, Viper slammed Aldo into the adjacent wall, knocking a picture off of the wall.
“Jesus! I was joking!” Aldo insisted.
Viper still didn’t look amused though so they pressed forward following Larson to the last door at the end of the long hallway. Larson knocked on the door twice, but he couldn’t tell whether or not anyone had responded because of the amount of racket that was coming from the bar.
“Shit,” Larson griped. He debated whether he should knock again, but for some reason, decided against it. Ever so gently, he opened the door.
“Boss…” Larson said as the door creaked open. Still no one answered him, but there was another sound coming from the room. As the door was spread wide open, Larson was left wide-eyed. Aldo and Viper, meanwhile burst into boisterous laughter. Larson, who appeared to be as white as a ghost, stared blankly at Cedro, who had a woman straddled a top him wearing nothing more than a pair of black cowboy boots. The woman, who was very familiar to Larson, bounced up and down atop Cedro’s lap as she screamed in fits of passion.
“Mom?!!” Larson yelled. “Mom what are you doing?!”
Aldo and Viper’s laughter only intensified. Larson’s face was morphing from pale white to bright red with embarrassment as his mother Blanche turned to see who was at the door.
“Spectators!” Cedro yelled out as he laughed at the look on Larson’s face. “Bet you never seen this side of your momma before, huh boy?!”
Blanche didn’t react to Cedro’s comments, though. With his hands locked in her hair, Cedro didn’t bother stopping. Larson didn’t know where to put his eyes. Common sense didn’t seem to be working. He was locked in place. Was he really seeing what he thinks he’s seeing?
“Boy, is there a reason you’re still standing there?!” Cedro barked. “You see I’m busy!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Larson said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, on the floor, on anything but Cedro and his mother. “It’s your car. The engine is shot…”
“And what do you want me to do about that! If you can’t fix it, take it to the fucking shop! It’s not rocket science!”
“Okay.”
“Now get the fuck out.”
“Okay,” Larson replied again, but he didn’t seem to be moving, still shocked from what he had seen. No son should have to see that much of his mother. Not ever. Especially not in that context.
When Larson still didn’t move, Cedro grabbed one of Blanche’s boots and lobbed it at Larson’s head, just missing him by an inch. “I said get the fuck out and lock the door behind you!”
“Yes, boss! Sorry boss!” Larson stammered. As he bolted from his place, he slammed the door behind him, and came face to face with Aldo and Viper. There was a moment of seriousness followed but intense laughter at Larson’s expense.
“Shut up!” Larson spat, not holding his tongue this time.
“Oooh! That hurt!”
“That’s all you got?!”
“I gotta get this car fixed! I don’t have time for y’all!”
As he retreated down the hallway, Larson desperately tried to get rid of the mental image of Cedro banging his mother out of his head, but to no avail, it was permanently seared into his memory.
“Ugh!” Larson yelled as he shook his hands, as if he hoped to shake off the disgusted feeling that had settled within him. As he cut through the bar, Bambi peered at Larson wide eyed, then looked over at Aldo and she too let out a tremendous laugh.
“That’ll scar him for life,” Bambi said to Aldo as she poured him a drink.
“Character building,” Aldo laughed. “Gotta toughen that boy up.”
Tucked away on quiet Beasley Road at Hemlock Lane stood Sam’s Garage. Although located just minutes from Lincoln Avenue, it felt as if it was situated in another world entirely. Set on a quiet dirt road, Sam’s only neighbors were the deli on one end of the road, and Mick’s pub far at the opposite end. There were no lights, no glitz, no quaint little shops intended to lure tourists in with their chic country façade. Back on Beasley Road, what you see is what you get. Blue collar, rough and tumble folk who work hard, play harder, and don’t take shit from anyone. They also don’t take too kindly to anyone trying to change their way of life.
Sam’s garage was set back approximately one hundred and fifty feet from the road. Sitting on an acre of land, the garage had definitely seen better days. It was, however, the best shop within a one-hundred-mile radius. If anything needed fixing, whether it be your truck, your bike, your lawn mower, or your toaster, you brought it to Sam’s, and you could be assured that it would be taken care of… And if Sam can’t fix it, well, you’re just shit out of luck.
Sam’s garage, though popular, had most certainly seen better days. It was run down, and that was putting it lightly. The windows were original with the building. The front door, which was crafted of durable metal, showed signs of distress where someone had attempted to kick it in. The white paint of the exterior was hidden under several layers of dirt and grime and in desperate need of a power wash. The sign, which was hoisted high upon a twenty-five-foot pole, was missing a few letters. The effect, many found to be comedic, because the sign for Sam’s Garage now read simply, “Sam’s rage.” Meanwhile, the American flag that the original Sam had painted on the concrete of the yard back in the 70s had faded so badly that the blue looked grey and the red appeared to be a faint shade of pink. The owners of Sam’s would tell you that the garage had character. Anybody else would call it like they saw it. The place was a glorified dump. That didn’t stop the garage from being the local hang out at night. After hours, when the day was nearing its end, Ryan and Levi Braun would crank up the tunes in the yard, break out the beach chairs and cooler, and enjoy a few brews with their friends and neighbors. It wasn’t fancy or elaborate. It was rough around the edges. It was honest. The crowd that hung at Sam’s after hours were life-long friends with a few new additions added along the way. They worked hard, they partied harder, and they didn’t need a fancy setting to let loose. Levi would crank up the music, Ryan got the cooler ready, and their buddies came prepared with drinks and grub. They’d spend each night talking into the wee hours of the morning, about anything and everything, shooting the shit, and after a few beers, philosophized about the crooked ways of the world.
Mississippi Queen blared from the radio inside Sam’s Garage. Levi Braun leaned against the edge of the garage with his bulky arms crossed over his barrel chest. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Levi stared out at the dirt road. His eyes narrowed as he watched a white tow truck curl around the corner, and ramble up the road some two hundred yards off. Standing tall at six foot one, Levi, the baby of the family, was a big boy. Though he wasn’t much help under the hood of a car, Levi had a special skill set that came in handy around the garage. Though he couldn’t repair an engine to save his life and he couldn’t be trusted with a set of power tools, Levi guarded the garage and kept the people who worked and hung out there safe. With a stern glare shooting from his eyes and a firm jawed expression settling on his face, there were few
people who would dare cross Levi. But in the off chance that they did, they learned that his bark was far worse than his bite. That’s where his brother Ryan came into play. Though, he didn’t cut as imposing of a figure as his brother, Ryan’s temper automatically made him too hot to handle. Standing at a solid 5 foot 8 inches tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, Ryan was nothing to play with. While he was good to the people he loved, often mellow and quiet, when provoked, Ryan could be downright intimidating.
In a town like Clayton, your reputation was everything. And around here, damn near everyone knew, you don’t fuck with the Braun’s. Shit, not even Cedro had stepped a toe out of line with them in years. Since they were kids Levi, Sam and Ryan, followed Rebel Reed and Tug Hanson everywhere they went. They were thick as thieves, and they decided a long time ago, that nothing would come between them. Discard any stereotypes about sleepy, small town life. Clayton, West Virginia’s history is dark, peppered and marred with violence and scandal. The author of Clayton’s treacherous history? None other than Cedro Reed himself. Caught in the vice grip of a powerful MC, Clayton, WV bleeds Renegade red, its soul stained as black as the club’s cut.
“We got company…” Levi said in a deep timbred voice. He blew smoke between his lips as he dropped his cigarette to the ground. Stamping it out with his work boot, Levi turned to peer at his brother, who was still under the hood of the red Ford F-150.
“You expecting someone?” Ryan asked, not taking his eyes off the inside of the car.
“Nope. Not til later. Looks like a tow job,” Levi admitted.
“Fucking phenomenal. Sam’s gonna be pissed,” Ryan complained as he continued to work on the truck.
“Sure will. Almost quittin’ time.”
Breaking himself away from the truck, Ryan ran one hand through his wavy light brown hair. Eyeing the tow truck as it pulled up outside the garage, Ryan’s eyes took on a more pensive tone. The white tow truck was stamped with the name “Aldo’s Towing.” Aldo, a notorious member of the Renegades, did not mix well with the Braun’s, and that was putting it lightly. There was bad blood, and neither side was willing to apologize, withdraw, or hold back their words or punches. A man was dead because of Aldo’s actions. Everyone knew it, and because Cedro owned the police, filing a report would settle absolutely nothing. They’d have to take matters into their own hands. It was just a matter of time.
Aldo pulled the tow truck into the lot, casting a cruel smile to grow upon Ryan’s face. As if out of gut instinct, Levi threw his arm up to prevent his brother from chasing after him. “I got him. You finish that engine.”
“He steps out of that fucking truck, and that’s it, man!” Ryan snapped.
“You really think he has the balls?” Levi laughed. He walked away shaking his head. “Trust me. He don’t. He’s scared shitless of Sam.”
Levi approached the tow truck with a stern gaze shooting from his eyes. Giving Aldo a cruel gaze, he said nothing, as he waited for Aldo to open his mouth.
“Ah, Renegade rejects!” Aldo said with a smirk to Levi and Ryan, poking fun at the fact that the Braun’s used to be Renegade members, too. That is, until they chose to ex-communicate themselves just six weeks prior.
“Fuck off, Aldo. Whatchu got?”
“Boss’s car needs some repairs. I’ll let the kid explain.”
“The kid?” Levi asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at Aldo.
“Yeah!” Aldo said with a slippery smile. “One of the new prospects.”
“Oh, fresh meat to corrupt.”
“Yeah, right. Kid’s wet behind the ears. He’ll never make it a month.”
Aldo looked like he was about to open his truck door. Tilting his head to the side, Levi gave Aldo a look of warning. “I think it’s best if you keep your feet off of our little patch of dirt.”
“Is that so?” Aldo asked as he removed his hand from the door.
“Yeah. It is. I’ll unhook the car. You stay put.”
“Or what?” Aldo asked with a dark expression in his eyes.
Levi laughed smugly. “I think you know… And you know we won’t hesitate.”
“Y’all still upset over that? Shit…” Aldo said, knowing damn well that he was treading into dangerous territory.
“Drop the fucking boom, and get the fuck out of here, before you get your ugly head blown off,” Levi growled.
Aldo held Levi’s gaze for a moment as his thoughts churned. Then, after a moment, a sarcastic smirk broke upon his face. “So serious. You shouldn’t dwell on the past. It’s bad for you, you know.”
“It’s all jokes to you,” Levi began, his voice rough as rage ripped through him. “But you won’t be laughing when you get your come-uppance.”
Shrugging his shoulder, Aldo let out a little laugh and said, “Heh. We’ll see. Shit’s just getting interesting.”
Without another word, Aldo snapped his eyes off of Levi’s face. He dropped the boom and a pimple faced kid who looked no more than eighteen jumped out of the passenger door. Levi watched the kid closely. The prospect vest swam on his skinny body. Larson met Levi’s gaze and immediately recoiled. He seemed scared shitless. Rushing around to the back of the vehicle, Larson helped ease the case off the back of the truck. As soon as the car was safely on the ground, Aldo pulled off, barreling out of sight with his wheels screeching against the asphalt of the yard.
“Asshole,” Levi spat as he watched Aldo speed off.
“Yeah, he is,” Larson agreed as he gave Levi a sheepish smile.
This caught him by surprise. Usually prospects are up the MC’s ass, Levi thought. Lifting his eyebrows, Levi stared at the kid, trying to get a read on him.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Trey Larson.”
Levi thrusted his hand out to the kid. “Levi. Who’s car?”
Larson shook Levi’s hand then pointed back to the car. “Boss’s. Engine is shot.”
“We’ll have Sam take a look at it.”
“If I go back without his car, Cedro’s going to kill me,” Larson admitted with fear in his eyes.
Levi laughed darkly as he walked back towards the garage. Peering back over his shoulder, he stared at Larson with a charged expression. “There’s more truth to that statement than you probably realize, kid. C’mon. Take a load off while I go find Sam.”
“Who’s Sam?” Larson asked. He had apparently not seen the sign right outside of the family owned and operated establishment.
Levi turned on his heel a little bit, and glared at the kid. “You must be shittin’ me. Sam’s the poor bastard that’s gonna save your sorry ass and fix that hunk o’ junk. C’mon. Keep up.”
Picking up his pace Larson followed close behind Levi trying to walk in line with his fast gait, but his legs were too short for the challenge, and he had to take four strides for Levi’s every two.
“Aye Sam!” Levi cried out as he pounded a fist on the hood of an ancient rusted Oldsmobile.
Sam didn’t reply to Levi’s call. Levi turned around and gave Larson an agitated expression. Rolling his eyes, he pointed down to the floor at a pair of legs that were sticking out from underneath the car. Larson’s eyes fell upon a pair of dirty blue jeans with grease stains and tears in the knees. A pair of black Doc Martins adorned the mechanic’s feet. Larson could hear the sound of metal clinking together, and the faint sound of AC/DC’s Back in Black wailing from a pair of headphones.
“Aye Sam!” Levi cried out once more, getting more impatient by the second. But when again Levi did not get a response, he kicked the mechanic’s foot with a hard nudge. “Yo Sam, you deaf?!”
As quick as lightning crashing through a dark stormy night, Sam slid out from under the car on a dolly rendering Larson utterly speechless.
“No, I ain’t deaf!” Sam barked back at her brother. “I’m workin! Exactly what you should be doin’ too, if I might add!”
Levi’s lips curled up into an amused smile as he looked down at his sister. Wearing d
irty jeans, an even dirtier white wife-beater tank, and the grimiest pair of Doc Martens he had ever seen, Samantha Braun was the best mechanic alive that Levi ever had the pleasure of knowing, coming in only second of all time to the original Sam Braun, their grandfather. She had her long auburn hair pinned up under a navy blue bandana. While Larson didn’t know a damn thing about Sam’s prowess under the hood, he had to admit, that even with grease smeared across her face, she was just about the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes upon. That is why the following exchange shocked him so terribly.
Sam looked up at Levi, who was smirking at her, and at Larson, who was gawking at her. Raising her right eyebrow and pursing her lips at the pair, Sam was becoming increasingly agitated over being interrupted at her work. She had a pair of noise cancelling headphone cups over her ears, and as her music bumped in her ears.
“What are y’all lookin’ at?!” Sam demanded to know. “Act like you ain’t never seen a woman fix a tranny before!”
“Well, um…” Larson said, stuttering at he spoke. Levi, however, did not say a word. He was too busy howling in laughter like a hyena. Bending over himself, Levi was clearly finding amusement from the exchange.
“She’s a… She’s a woman?” Larson asked in shock. “The mechanic that’s gonna save me is a woman?!”
Still sitting upon her dolly, Sam unfolded herself, rising to her feet. Rolling on the balls of her feet, Sam crossed her well tattooed arms over her stomach. She glared at Larson with attitude oozing from her pretty hazel eyes. Then she shot a sharp look over at her brother.
“Are you shittin’ me with this dude?” Sam asked. “Where’d you find this one at? Idiots R’ Us? Fuck! Don’t be a chauvinistic pig!”
Sam rolled her eyes as she broke her gaze off of Levi’s face. But instead of getting an answer, Sam was met with bellowing laughter breaking out of her brother’s mouth and a deadpan stare from Larson’s deer in headlight. Wiping her dirty hands off on her tank top, Sam looked back up at Levi and Larson and the expression of angst and aggression in her eyes intensified. Tapping her boot impatiently against the cracking concrete floor of the shop, Sam slipped her thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans and glowered at Larson.
Rebel's Cut Page 3
