Chapter 3
Cage - Age Twenty-Five
I press the joint to my lips before inhaling and I hold the smoke in my mouth for a few seconds before blowing it out and I relax as the weed hits me like I want.
Cotton drops down before me seductively.
Her back is to me and she looks around with a smirk on her face as she unties her top, using one arm to cover her generous tits.
I know from experience they are real and she drops her top completely, making a show out of it.
She stands slowly, pushing out her ass that is covered by her G-string near my face.
Men around me cheer, Trixie on another stage doing the splits upside down on the pole, showing her cunt off to every man nearby.
I keep my eyes on Cotton, knowing I’ll be fucking her in a minute while doing a line of cocaine off her tits.
My cock twitches with anticipation, making me smirk before I take another hit of my joint.
Carnage Angels Strip is the club's strip joint that my friend, Blaze, manages and I fucking love this place.
When I’m not inside, this is where I come to get my dick wet before going to my dump of an apartment two towns over.
I don’t have any personal belongings there, most are in the large three-story home that Dad had built for me behind club property.
My apartment is just a place to lay my head while I work at Carnage Tats.
The brothers bombarded me to work there when I got released from prison two months ago.
I haven’t stayed on the straight and narrow over the years, if anything, I got fucking worse.
My last stint was because I was caught with a kilo of coke, which, in hindsight, was not my proudest moment. I drunkenly told the cop it was for personal use after he pulled me over for doing sixty over the legal limit.
I take another hit of my joint as Cotton slowly slides her body down the pole and spreads her legs as she hits the bottom. I smirk as I catch her cunt now on display and glistening with need.
After my last stint, I half expected the brothers to wash their hands of me.
I half expected my dad to disown me. When Whit lashed out at the bunnies again when they complained they never got to ride on my cock, I thought for sure I was a goner.
But nope, instead I became the club informant on the inside.
I know they are slowly trying to integrate me within the club, it’s why they forced me to take the job at Carnage Tats.
I swallow hard and take another hit of the weed, which is doing fuck all to quiet my thoughts and I know I need a line. Before Angie died, that shop was my dream. Now… now I can’t even stomach it.
Angie has been dead seven years today, seven years since I killed Toya, who killed my baby, then my sister, all because she wanted a patch I never even indicated she would get. The same patch I was handing in to protect my child.
Seven years since I started failing my family. I’ve continued to fail as the years go on, fuck, I think I’ve only been outta prison for five months tops in the past seven years.
“Fuck, it’s a shame they don’t allow men to pay extra to fuck the women here, they’re fucking hot as shit,” some guy groans behind me, and I raise a brow.
“It’s not a fucking brothel, you want shit like that then go to the Charger’s whorehouse. The women there are forced to fuck the men, the Carnage boys don’t force shit like that here,” another man snaps just as a body sits down beside me and I tilt my head before locking eyes with Blaze.
He never grew up inside the club, though we did go to school together. It’s how we got close and became good friends. Blaze grew up in a trailer with his mom, who preferred drugs to him, so he had to fend for himself.
One day, at a school event, Killer, the club's current road captain, came to support us club brats and bumped into Blaze. Safe to say, the fucker was shocked because while Killer has brown eyes and brown hair, Blaze is his double in facial expression and jawline.
He instantly knew Blaze was his son, but Blaze, although he is a part of the club, it isn’t for Killer. Killer is still trying to get his son to speak to him. Blaze is a part of the club for his blood brother.
Turns out, Killer told his mother, Candice, to get an abortion when she claimed she was pregnant. He thought she was lying because she was drugged up, that, and Alice, Killer's wife, didn’t know he fucked someone else right before they got married as a last hurrah like an idiot.
Blaze and Crusher are half-brothers, something both were shocked at learning despite the fact the fuckers look alike.
As far as I’m aware, they are still close just like they were in high school.
Alice has even come out saying she wants to know Blaze.
Blaze… doesn’t want to know her and Crusher won’t get involved anymore to show him loyalty.
I take another hit on my joint. Blaze ended up being born twelve weeks early and was lucky to survive despite of the number of drugs his mom did while pregnant. Killer was none the wiser because he thought she aborted his son and now the man wants fuck all to do with his dad, not that I blame him.
“Brother,” Blaze says deeply, and I sigh.
Fucker.
“I’m not a brother,” I remind him for the hundredth time as I pass him my joint.
He takes a hit of it before passing it back and after he blows out the smoke he rasps, “If you’re not a brother then neither am I because last I checked. I’m here for you and the rest of the club brats, for my little brother, and if you’re not going to be my Pres then I won’t be the road captain.”
I roll my eyes and take another hit of my joint.
It’s the same story every fucking time that I have gotten from all the brothers who are due to take over from the older generation.
If I don’t take my rightful place, they’ll all walk. It isn’t lost on me how none of them have taken their fucking spots, yet when they should have a few years ago.
They’re waiting for me when they shouldn’t.
I’m a fuck up. I spend more time inside a cell than I do out in the open. I can’t seem to keep myself outta trouble. Fuck, I’m ready to start a fight now, the day is slowly fucking drowning me.
Seven fucking years and I can’t shake off the guilt I feel for what I’ve done to my sister. Bringing that bitch into our lives will haunt me for the rest of mine.
Blaze sighs when I don’t reply to him, and he says, “Follow me, I have something to show you,” I raise a brow just as Cottom saunters over to us, butt fucking naked.
Fucks sake, she’s now going to be placed on probation.
“Hey, Cage baby,” she husks as she twirls her light pink hair in her finger. Blaze snaps, “Cotton, go and get some fucking clothes on before I show you the door! I’ve told you several times not to walk around fucking naked if you’re not on the stage!”
Cotton freezes, clearly not having seen her boss, before the fucker turns to me and growls, “Fucking move it, Cage, before I drag you!”
Okay then… someone’s moodier than I thought.
Huffing, I put out my joint, my buzz definitely gone, and I stand and salute Cotton. I’ll probably come find her in a bit, my plan isn’t getting derailed by Blaze and whatever shit he needs me to see.
Blaze opens his office door and gestures for me to go ahead, and I sigh, but do as he asks before stopping just in the doorway, and I groan out loud.
Son of a…
The officer brothers, along with the soon-to-be officer brothers, all stand inside ready for an intervention, and I shake my head.
The fact that Killer is here looking at me with determination just fucking proves how adamant Blaze is about me getting my patch. There is no way he’d willingly be in the same room as his dad otherwise.
Blaze shoves me slightly, getting me inside before he follows and shuts the door. The fucker leans against it, making me scowl at him, but he just smirks before a throat being cleared echoes.
I turn, ready to snap, but I freeze at the person who cleared their throat.
My mom’s teary hazel eyes lock with mine, and I tense up because they’ve brought in the fucking big guns.
Seven years and I haven’t seen or spoken to my mom. I refused when I was inside. I haven’t been to the clubhouse in seven years, haven’t even seen the property Dad had built for me, hoping to bring me home.
I killed her daughter, she shouldn’t want to be around me.
“Seven years,” she chokes, and I flinch.
“Seven years since I lost not one but two kids,” she continues, ignoring my flinching, and I fist my hands, “I had to bury one while watching another self-destruct from a distance. Seven years later, and you still blame yourself, you are still cutting us, your family, out of your life. Sweetheart, I can’t cope anymore. I want my son back.”
“You need to listen, son,” my dad says firmly, “We’re all struggling without you, and I want my child back, your mother wants her son back, and it is time you come home!”
I turn sharply, ready to rip him a new one, but I freeze at the leather he’s holding up, the one I tore off and threw on the floor seven years ago today.
“You are going to put this back on,” he demands, and I open my mouth to tell him he’s fucking crazy, but he quickly continues, “And you are going to go for a ride, for a whole year.”
I frown, “You want me to go nomad?”
Dad nods and confirms, “I think it’ll be the best thing for you, to get out of town and try and find yourself again.
Find the man you were before we lost your sister.
Going nomad means you are still apart of the club, you just need a breather.
In a year, you are going to come home and accept your responsibilities back, you are going to become Pres while your brothers will already have a year under their belts waiting for you.
Today, Trick, Knuckles, Crusher, Crash, and Blaze will be taking their places as officer brothers.
I’ll keep your seat warm for when you return. ”
I shake my head instantly denying him because no, it isn’t happening, and before he can snap at me, two soft hands cup my stubbled jaw.
I lock eyes with my mother, and her tears fall, most likely seeing the vacantness I have going on right now.
I swear I almost fucking break with the pain that radiates from her.
“Please, Bellamy,” she chokes, “Please do this, I’m begging you, don’t let me watch you get locked up again, don’t let me lose another child.”
Fuck.