by Hazel Parker
That, I didn’t know, but it was a welcome addition to the day. Marcel patted me on the shoulder as he walked by, squeezing my shoulder for emphasis, before moving past. But just before he got into the room, he sighed and faced the crowd once more.
“For many of you, this is family,” he said. “Just remember what matters most.”
My brother. My good brother, right now.
Fitz and Niner, standing by the door, walked inside. I looked back out on the crowd of members and prospects. They looked to me as if waiting for the OK to move.
With a sigh, I made way for the office. Just remember what matters most.
My brother.
But Lilly…she might someday.
Maybe you should say something.
It was much, much later than I should have sent something. But I supposed it was better late than never. Quickly, I sent a text off, telling Lilly, “Sorry for silence. Uncle is dead. Dealing with a lot. Let’s meet soon, though.”
It was a lot of weight that I was carrying on my shoulders, and the last thing I needed was for her to feel like she had to carry any of it as well. I didn’t know if what I did would do any good in keeping her at enough ease to know I was thinking about her, but hopefully it was better than nothing.
I then walked into the office and shut the door halfway. Inside, Marcel sat in a chair and collapsed back as if it had taken all of the energy of the week for him to just deliver that speech. I returned the favor and patted him on the shoulder, but I don’t think either of us had much in the tank to converse.
“Good speech,” Fitz said.
The fact that Marcel just gave a half-nod instead of responding with words confirmed it. We were both exhausted.
Niner, eventually, stood up, went over to the refrigerator, grabbed four Bud Lights, and passed them out. We all cracked ours open before Niner held his out.
“To Uncle,” he said. “Helping make this possible.”
“Amen that,” I said.
A brief silence came as we all took a sip of our beer. Someone had to break the ice in talking about Uncle. If all the members and prospects just heard a room of complete silence, no one was going to come up and say a word, let alone converse and talk with us.
“You know…”
Fitz started to speak, pausing, I think, to make sure no one else was going to say anything. When I motioned for him to continue, he did so.
“I first met Uncle when I was just out of college. I was a fresh kid, thinking I could conquer New York City. Uncle was about fifteen years my elder, and damn, he was the same way then that he is now.”
Some polite chuckles came. Most noticeably, Marcel emitted a short laugh. I smiled, but that was expected of me; Marcel expressing emotion was encouraging.
“But true to form, he took me under his wing. He introduced me to the realities of the world. I can remember one time, maybe at the end of my first month on the job, he took me out for drinks. Just the two of us. We got hammered as hell. And Uncle, at one point, grabs me and goes, ‘If you ever think any of these banks are gonna make you rich, fuck ‘em and fuck yourself for thinking that. If you happen to get rich, great. But they’ll look to cut you to save money as soon as they can.’ That moment was probably one Uncle just forgot, but for me, it made me save my dough and start to look for what I really like. Which…well, that’s why I’m here.”
“Salute to that,” Marcel said. “Uncle could be a real shithead, but he was always a real honest shithead.”
“Yep,” I said. “You ever remember how he and Dad used to get into fights?”
“Oh, shit, are you kidding me?” Marcel said with a laugh. “It’s a goddamn miracle that we didn’t take after him!”
I laughed, trying not to say out loud the fact that Kyle, unfortunately, probably followed in the footsteps of our father and Uncle. But this wasn’t the time to think about Kyle; this was the time to think about Uncle and all that he had done for us.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to forget him coming and agree to help fund the club,” Marcel said once he had quieted down. “I think I was at your place, Biggie. I’m not sure, but I can tell you why I’m not sure. The asshole came barging in just at the crack of dawn and told me I needed to get my shit in gear. Kept telling me that starting a club like ours had no operating hours; it had no closing time. It just was open and that was it. At the time, I thought he was just being a fucking prick, but now, I think I see what he means.”
“He was a wise man,” Niner said.
That was probably going to be the extent of Niner’s eulogy. That just left me.
Uncle was someone that I’d always had complicated feelings about. Saying he could rub people the wrong way was like saying that boiling water could scald skin. It was just a fact. There was also little doubt that even when Uncle was helping people, he tended to do so in such a way that ensured they would never ask him for help. I couldn’t think of a better example than Uncle trying to reach out to Kyle.
But I wasn’t one of those people who could bury the dead with the truth. I had to bury the dead with the good memories. I was no man of honesty when it came to eulogies. Perhaps that was a mark against my character, but it’s not like failing to speak ill of Uncle would somehow have a detriment to the club.
“You know, Marcel,” I said, leaning back in my chair, letting a small, nostalgic smile cross my face. “When you were in prison, Uncle kept talking about how someone needed to kick your ass. But he’d do so while he went to check in on Lilly. He’d do so while making sure I could take care of myself. He’d do so while making sure that you had something waiting for you when you got out of jail. I don’t think he ever imagined it would be an MC like we have, but I can promise you he wasn’t going to let you just starve.”
“Really,” Marcel said, although I suspected he knew more than he was letting on.
“Yeah. And that’s what made Uncle great. He was always working behind the scenes, doing whatever was needed to get certain tasks taken care of, no matter what. He wasn’t going to let anything get by him, even if he couldn’t physically be present.”
“I’ll cheers to that,” Marcel said.
We all took a sip of our drinks.
With the burden of having everyone speak, the words started to flow more freely. Marcel and Fitz, especially, seemed to have an endless supply of stories. Niner, not surprisingly, didn’t have any, but me not speaking was a bit of a surprise to the others. I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
A couple hours in, I was starting to feel a little drunk and a little buzzed. The laughter came much more easily, and the smile stayed a little bit longer.
“I can tell you this much!” Marcel said, feeling a little more upbeat than I was. “If Uncle knew he was going to die, and he saw how we’d react, he wouldn’t have told us to whine and cry over him. He’d tell us to do exactly what we’re doing right now.”
“Get drunk and have a good time?” I said, finally letting loose something that resembled my usual, loud laugh.
“Amen,” Marcel said. “To having a good time in Uncle’s memory.”
Again, we clinked glasses. But this time, just before we took a sip, a club prospect came in. He looked wide-eyed, though not necessarily distressed. I didn’t know his name—he was one of the newest additions.
“You guys,” he said. “Come look.”
We all nodded and rose at once. We got out to the repair part of the shop when the garage door opened.
What followed was something unlike anything I had ever seen.
In the front, a row of bikers, all wearing the Savage Saints cut, with patches across their chests, stood, their arms folded. I recognized some of them from the time that the Vegas Saints had come to collect their cuts.
Behind the Vegas group, about a dozen men stood. Behind the other group, about two dozen men stood.
Every single Savage Saint in America was standing there before us.
Richard and one other man, a young, muscular
but lithe guy about my age, walked forward.
“Gentlemen,” Richard said. “This is Trace, president of the original Savage Saints.”
“I heard what happened to Uncle,” Trace said, stepping ahead of Richard. “When one Savage Saint falls, we all suffer for it. Whoever has done this is going to suffer the full wrath of the Savage Saints. You have my word that we will not leave until the person responsible for this is also dead.”
Marcel and Trace shook hands. I couldn’t shake my eyes from the army of bikers that I saw in front of me. I didn’t know how they’d all gotten here or where they were staying, but one thing was for sure.
We weren’t just a club anymore. We were an army.
And Kyle was done for.
Chapter 14: Lilly
“Sorry for silence. Uncle is dead. Dealing with a lot. Let’s meet soon, though.”
I stared at that text message for what felt like an hour, my cheeks still stained from the tears that I’d shed earlier. I tried not to fault Jack for the lack of communication and the too-concise message. I tried not to feel mad at him for what I had gone through with his little brother.
But damnit, my emotions were running high too. I had to run away from Kyle by hailing a cab and telling the cab driver to just drive away, as far away as I could get, from the younger Stone. Kyle had almost certainly killed his uncle, and while I wasn’t sure if Jack knew, he sure seemed nonchalant about the fact that he wasn’t talking to me.
It was late. I knew that it was unlikely that Jack would come over right now. But I was scared to leave my apartment, especially considering that Kyle wasn’t some out-of-town dalliance who would fly home tomorrow. If Jack was serious about wanting to be with me, then he needed to see me now. At the very least, I needed some acknowledgment that what I was going through was one of the most fucked up things possible, something that no sane person had to go through.
“Jack, I need you here now. Please.”
I had much more I wanted to say—why I needed him now, how much sorrow I felt for him, how much confusion I felt—but I just needed to get to the point. Besides, the more I said, the more Jack might find a reason to keep asking questions that would delay his arrival. I was a little fucked in the head, but it could never be said authors weren’t a little bit crazy.
Thankfully, Jack started responding immediately.
“Hey, give me ten minutes and I’ll head over. You OK?”
No, I’m not OK. Your brother found out I’m dating you, hates the world because of it, and tried to chase me down. I think he’s going to come and do something cruel and horrible to me or to someone else, and I don’t want anything to do with it. And if I tell you all of this via text message, you’re going to think I’m fucking crazy and you’re never going to want to see me again.
“I’m fine for now. Please come as quickly as you can.”
I then put my phone far away from me, on the kitchen counter, and went and sat on my couch. I turned on the TV and started watching a baseball game, but it did little other than provide a small measure of distraction. The distraction didn’t even work that well, anyway; every little noise, every little comment, every little abnormality made me think that Kyle was on his way.
That was the worst part about this whole deal with Kyle. If you asked me what the objective chances were that he would try anything more than to speak to me in person, I would say under ten percent. I could see him maybe trying to corner me or say something cruel, but I didn’t see him being the type of guy who would rape me, hurt me, or kill me.
But subjectively? If you asked me what my fear believed? Oh, one hundred percent, Kyle was going to do something cruel and evil to me. It was going to be awful, scar me forever, and prevent me from ever functioning normally again. Oh, and I’d have to say goodbye to Jack.
I didn’t want Kyle to rule my life from a distance. I didn’t want to let this affect me beyond tonight, maybe the next couple of days. But I had a terrifying feeling that, at a minimum, I’d have to start looking for a new coffee shop sometime soon.
The game went through three innings before a knock at my door made me jump up in surprise. I slowly went over to the peephole and stared out. It was most definitely Jack. I quickly opened the door, ushered him in, and shut it and locked it behind me.
“You OK?” he said. “What happened?”
“Jack…” I said. I hated to say the following four words, knowing how much men feared and loathed them, but there was no better way to say it. “We need to talk.”
His shoulders sagged, and his Adam’s apple rose with a swallow. He put his hands in his pockets, shuffled awkwardly, and nodded.
“OK?” he said, more of a question than an answer.
“Come, let’s sit,” I said. As soon as we had, though, I had nothing else preventing me from spilling the beans. “Jack, this is not a breakup talk, just to be clear. But it is a ‘we need to be aware of everything around us’ talk.”
That at least got him to relax, the fearful expression on his face ameliorated somewhat. But it wasn’t like he went from that to cheerful and jocular.
“Before we went on our date, I had a date the night before with someone that you know. It was not a good date in the slightest, and I never, ever intend to see that person again. Unfortunately, though, I did see that person again. It was a pity meetup, a feeling that I didn’t want him to suffer badly. You can criticize me if you want; I criticize myself enough.”
“No, please, it’s OK,” Jack said. “We’ve all made bad decisions.”
Not like this. Not like what you’re about to hear. It’s not like you dated my non-existent sister who wound up killing my mother.
“Well, the pity meetup was a disaster in every sense of the word. And…Jack, I just have to tell it to you straight. The date was with your brother, Kyle.”
Jack’s expression immediately went dour. His head collapsed forward, his breathing intensified, and his hands trembled. I couldn’t tell if he was about to explode, cry, or just scream in confusion. I wouldn’t have blamed him for any of the reactions, frankly.
“How did this happen?” he finally said, still refusing to look up.
“I don’t know,” I said. “No, that’s not a good answer. I know. I was at a coffee shop recently and we just bumped into each other serendipitously. Coincidence, nothing more than that. Your brother…when we were in school, he got picked on a lot. Bullied. Said…I don’t know that I believe this anymore, but at the time, he said you and your other brother picked on him at home a lot. I didn’t like him romantically, but I felt sorry for him. So I protected him.”
“That’s…”
Jack didn’t finish speaking. He was connecting the dots from previous conversations that we had had. I didn’t think that this was going to get any better; in fact, it was probably going to get a lot worse.
“Anyway, I didn’t think much of the encounter. You know, you run into an old classmate, you make small talk, you say you’ll catch up, and then you never do. That’s exactly what I imagined would happen. Except, a few days later, right after I met you, actually, I saw Kyle across the street. At first, I just assumed it was coincidence. After all, I knew we both lived in Brooklyn, so it wasn’t so far out there for me to see him twice in a few days.”
But then…it all went to shit.
“However, shortly after, he came and saw me. He asked me to go out. I didn’t know you two were brothers at the time, but I sure didn’t want to have to deal with the sight of you seeing me talking to another man. So I just said yes to get him to go away. I regretted it, but it got him away, and I figured I’d just be polite, have one drink, and then let him down.”
“That never happens with Kyle,” Jack said.
At least he had some morbid, tiny sense of humor. I didn’t think Jack was going to explode and take out his rage on me.
“Yeah, I found that out Saturday,” I said. “When I encountered him, it was the worst date ever. You know, the whole ‘nice guy who thinks he deser
ves things because he’s nice?’ That was Kyle. He basically said I owed him a date. I told him to fuck off when that happened. I thought that was the end of it.”
“It never is with Kyle.”
By now, he was looking at me, although the perturbed expression on his face was certainly not something I wished to see in the slightest.
“He emailed me late Sunday night, asking me to see him. I was…I’m sorry, but I was just frazzled by your sudden leaving last night. I said he could meet me before I started work.”
“Let me guess. It was fucking terrible.”
“He followed me out of the shop. I had to get a taxi cab to get away from him. And now, I haven’t left my apartment since.”
Laid out like that, it was some wonder that I was even here with Jack right now. Then again, it wasn’t like Kyle didn’t know.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you two now, but Kyle knows that I’m going out with you, Jack.”
“Shit,” he muttered, although he didn’t seem surprised by it.
“Was he the one that killed your uncle last night?”
The look on Jack’s face said it all.
“I’m not a cop or the state. I don’t have concrete evidence to say anything for absolute certain. But as his brother? As someone who interacted with both him and my uncle? Oh, he absolutely fucking did it. One hundred percent he did it.”
“Jesus…”
Now I wasn’t just scared about being stalked. Suddenly, that objective fear that had pegged his potential for violence at under ten percent sure seemed a lot higher.
“If you’re asking me if he pulled the trigger, I don’t think so. I think it’s much more likely he got one of his fucking goons from the Bloodhounds to do it—”
“The Bloodhounds?”
“A rival MC,” he said. “Founded and given support by Kyle.”
Jack just laughed at that point. It was a sarcastic, dry laugh.
“Fucking figures,” he said. “This isn’t your fault at all, Lilly, but you’re in serious danger.”
“I’m well aware,” I said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that to be so harsh. I’m just beating myself up for letting Kyle so close to me.”
