The one person who is keeping me in this town is the one I’m sneaking around with, tearing at my own soul. It’s my fault, really. I agreed with his crazy idea, even if now I’m not sure that the outcome won’t still be the same. For the most part, most of the men affiliated with Diamondback MC don’t have much of a family outside of the club. Whether it’s by personal choice, them being gone, or never really having one. Hunter hasn’t ever mentioned anything about his family, making me think that maybe the club is his only family.
If that’s the case, there’s no way I’d want Hunter to choose me over the club, and I’m no idiot, that’s what it’ll come to.
“What has you lookin’ like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?” My dad walks up beside me. I’m sitting in the break room eating a snack and sucking down coffee. It’s not even good coffee either.
“I’m wondering if I should have stayed in the town over after college. I love you, Dad, but the constant noise of hearing about how hot your dad is for his age… A girl can only take so much.” He chuckles. It had to be hard to raise a girl on your own in your late twenties. Not that those women are wrong. He does look good for his forty-eight years— he’s in good physical shape, only a smattering of gray mixed in with his jet black hair, and the lines etched around his face don’t show that he’s closer to fifty. Even with the life he’s led, there’s a reason women flock to him. I guess I’ve been lucky that if he’s had a woman in his life, he’s never flaunted it in front of me.
“Yeah, but then who would hang out with you in the dead of night?” He kisses my forehead and makes himself a cup of coffee.
“True. Are you off at seven or working longer?” I ask him.
“I’m off at seven. Getting too old for workin’ all these graveyard shifts.” When I was younger, he took all the night shifts he could, so he’d be home to take me to school and pick me up.
“It’s not like you don’t have seniority here. Ask them for day shifts.” Unlike me, where I’m pulling my weight and picking up even more shifts on top of that.
“Might have to, especially now that you’re older. These hours aren’t a necessity for me anymore.” I’m reading between the lines. The club needs him more than ever.
“I don’t know how you drink your coffee black. It’s like watered bean coffee.” I try to lighten the subject matter, feeling guilty about more than just Hunter right now.
“Talk to me in about ten years. We’ll see what you think then.” We talk for a few minutes until my break is over. Dad stays behind while I’m needed back on the floor. I still have more questions and fewer answers.
Three
Cannon
“Yo, Cannon, you got a minute?” Razor asks. Shovel is right beside him. Since Monroe picked up a graveyard shift, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing her this morning, not until she got some sleep at least. The fact that she still lives with Doc puts a damper on a lot of things. We sneak around as much as we can around the club, something that’s getting harder to do with more brothers bringing their family around. My apartment in town isn’t the greatest, but it’s where I’ve called home for years. I have a plot of land closer to the clubhouse sitting vacant, the only thing that’s done out there is the bush hogging to clear out a lot of the brush that has overgrown since I had the land cleared. There was never a need for a place to land, until now.
“Sure.” The MC dabbles in a few things. Owning a strip club franchise is one of them. The other is our motorcycle shop, where I work as well as a few of the others. I’m not usually here this early in the morning. Most times, I’m not getting started until noon and working into the night. Today was different since Monroe’s picked up a shift.
“Wanna talk to you about yesterday.” This comes from Shovel. His arms are crossed. My mind is trying to figure out what he’s talkin’ about knowin’ full well Monroe and I have been beyond careful.
“What about it?” I ask, putting my tool down, grabbin’ a rag to wipe my hands.
“You have any issues dropping off that load?” Shovel elaborates, a light bulb goin’ off in my head.
“Not at all. Took Bennett with me. I got a name for him though, one that will stick when we make him a member.” We had to make an exchange, except we needed to make sure it wasn’t a trap. With the shit that keeps comin’ our way, none of us were taking any chances.
“What’s that?” Razor asks, a grin tugging on his face.
“Shadow. Boy was in and out, had the correct count on how many guys were there, seeing as the Russians all came out, leaving no one behind. They took the guns, the money was counted up front, and all is well.” Just because I’m a tail gunner in the MC doesn’t mean I don’t have to answer to my President and Vice President. Fuck, the rate things are going with Monroe and me, I’ll be doing a fuck of a lot more.
“I dig it. We’re patching him in this Friday,” Razor responds.
“That’s good. Might have you and him continue workin’ with the Russians. I got a call from Vladmir, their Pakhan. Seems his Capo has nothing but good things to say. You opposed to that?” Shovel states.
“I got no problem with that. Since I got you both here, wanted to let you know I’m gonna be building. Just got the final draft back from the builder.” In all the time since I’ve been with the club, I’ve never felt the need to have a home besides the clubhouse, until Monroe slithered her way into my existence.
“About fuckin’ time,” Razor is the first to say. Shovel nods his head, lips tipping up, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s seeing through my bullshit. Which only means Monroe and I need to get on the same page fast.
Four
Monroe
“Hey, Monroe, blowing this popsicle stand so early?” Jeremy, a paramedic, asks as he’s wheeling in a patient into the ER as I’m walking out.
“Hey, yeah, I worked all night. Hopefully today won’t be too hard on you.” Hell, last night was utter boredom. It was a slow night, which is weird, but that usually means the weekend will more than make up for it.
“See ya later.” He waves. I do the same, finally getting a fresh breath of air once I make it outside. I love my job, every aspect of it. Well, maybe not every single thing. The helplessness sucks hair balls. Thankfully, that’s only happened a few times. I’m not ashamed to say those times you could find me in the shower, sitting on the floor, bawling my eyes out. Sometimes being empathetic and compassionate really sucks. I’m almost to my car when there’s a text message alert on my watch. I glance at it, seeing Hunter’s name appear on the face. My stomach is riddled with butterflies even if it is just a standard greeting.
Hunter: Hey, trouble, call me when you’re off work.
He texted me when I know it’s damn early for him, when we got to see each other yesterday, which was after he worked the night before and then rode all morning to be back for the club. What he was doing I’ll never know. Being born and raised around the club, you learn not to ask questions. So, I didn’t. Instead, I cherished the couple of hours we got together then snuck out, went home, changed for work, and now here I am, tired but wired to hear his voice.