Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
KING
My mother’s home hasn’t changed.
I’m not sure why I thought they had moved since I left. I should have known better. They don’t have any money to do shit. To move, to do anything. Unless they get thrown out, they’ll probably die in that shithole.
It’s almost as if, standing here in front of their house, time has completely and totally stood unmoving. It’s the exact same as it was the day I walked out that front door two decades ago and never looked back.
“You sure you want to do this? It’s just money, and we wrote that shit off on our taxes with that party,” Gnaw murmurs. “It’s not worth it if it’s going to upset you.”
There is silence, mainly because I don’t respond immediately. Instead, I continue to stare straight ahead at the house. Then, slowly, I turn my head and look at Gnaw. Giving him my attention for a moment. He’s watching me, the concern clear on his face. Smiling, I shrug a shoulder.
“Don’t give a fuck about taxes, but the party was good. And I feel great. This is about them trying to get away with something they damn well should not have. Again. Enough is enough. It’s time I stand up for myself and, most importantly, my club.”
Without another word, I take one step forward, then another.
I don’t stop until I’ve pushed open the unlocked front door and waltzed inside my childhood hell.
The house hasn’t changed even a bit. There is still shit everywhere.
Boxes of trash, bags, and the furniture is still ratty and a fucking mess.
And then there are my mom and stepdad.
They look old as fuck, haggard and tired, sitting in the exact same positions they always have. My stepfather’s body makes a dent in his recliner and my mother’s ass makes an indent in the corner cushion of the floral sofa.
Not a single thing has fucking changed.
Slowly, almost as if they physically move in slow motion, they simultaneously turn their heads to face me.
Their eyes find mine, and I watch as recognition, then hatred, crosses their features.
Though they have no reason to hate me, that’s who they are.
They don’t make a single move further. Their eyes just remain focused on mine.
“So you lost the bar?” I ask.
“Who the fuck wants to know?” My stepfather asks, his tone sounding almost accusatory.
I smirk. “You know who I am, so cut the shit. I got three kegs that couldn’t be delivered, and you didn’t have the decency to call your vendors?”
My mother shrugs, then decides she’s going to stand to her feet. She takes a step forward, then another until she’s just out of reaching distance from me, but if I wanted to lunge forward, I could get to her, especially since her reflexes are slow as fuck.
“We lost our bar, our livelihood, and you come in here to rub our noses in it. You’re the same selfish little fuckhead brat you’ve always been, aren’t you?”
“Rub your noses in it?” I ask. “Fuck no. I honestly don’t give a fuck what you do. What I give a fuck about is my money.”
My mother’s eyes narrow, and her face screws up into an expression that I know well. She’s about to tell me exactly what she thinks of me, and she’s going to do it in a way that will bite and hurt my feelings, at least, she thinks it will.
In reality, this cunt hasn’t been able to hurt my feelings since my balls dropped and I walked out of her life. It’s been so long since I’ve even been this close to her that I don’t recognize her. She’s a fucking stranger, so whatever she is preparing to say, I don’t give much of a fuck about.
“You’re a selfish prick,” she seethes. “You care about money, and we live in poverty. You don’t care about your family. You are worthless. No wonder you’re still alone. No kids. No fucking life.”
I cross my arms over my chest, dipping my chin slightly to look down at her. “That’s rich coming from you,” I say. “I’d rather be alone with no kids than neglect and abuse the ones I have like you did. But I don’t give a fuck what you think about me. I want to know where the fuck my money is.”
My words grow louder as I say them, and by the time I get to the end of my sentence, I’m shouting.
That’s when my stepfather decides to rise to his feet and attempt to stand up to me.
Dipping my chin, I look down into his weak, weathered eyes.
I can tell he’s attempting to be a big man, but he’s just not that anymore.
He doesn’t intimidate me, and in fact, with the way he appears, I feel sorry for him more than anything.
“You ain’t gettin’ no fuckin’ money,” he growls. “You ain’t even my fuckin’ kid. Thank fuck for that, too. I would probably kick my own ass if you were. Selfish prick you are.”
I let out a bark of laughter. This fucker thinks he’s funny. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times, then shake my head and clear my throat.
“You’re paying one way or the other. You choose, Glenn. Do I take it out on your ass, or are you gonna give me cash?”
Piston clears his throat, obviously not liking the fact that I just challenged a weak old man, but what he doesn’t know is that this weak old man took a lot out on my ass for over fifteen years, and now it’s my turn.
“Fuck you,” my stepfather grinds out, spittle flying everywhere.
Shaking my head, I flick my eyes so that my gaze meets his. “No, Glenn. Fuck. You.”
And I ball my fist, reach backward, and slam it right into the side of his face. My mother halfway screams, but I ignore her. I watch as the asshole falls to the ground and I crouch down in front of him.
“You don’t fuck with me and my money, asshole. I’m glad your bar failed, and if I were you, I’d find a way out of town and take that no-good woman with you.”
Without another word, I straighten and turn my back to them. I shouldn’t have come. I knew they didn’t have any money, likely having drunk it by now, if they had any at all. Gnaw and Piston follow behind me but don’t say anything as I walk to the truck and climb inside.
Piston shifts the truck into Reverse, then pulls away from their home in silence. We’re a few miles down the road when he clears his throat and speaks.
“You think we need to worry about retaliation?” he asks.
“They do, they’re dead,” I snap.
He dips his chin in a single nod, then clears his throat. “You prepared for that?” he asks. “Truly?”
I hum. “Yeah, I really fuckin’ am. My dad should have done away with them a long-ass time ago anyway.”
We have five kegs in the back of the truck, and we take them out to be delivered. The rest of the deliveries go well. We hit the strip club in town last. I need to have a goddamn drink and unwind before I go back to the clubhouse. What a fucking afternoon.
SHAWN
With the sheets washed, dried, put back on the bed, and the rest of the room picked up, cleaned, and organized, I look around the room and am really proud of my work. When I’m finished admiring everything, I glance at the clock on the small nightstand and frown.
It’s late.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I stare at that clock and wonder what I should do next. He told me to go downstairs and have a drink in the bar, but I’m not sure if I really should. I don’t know anyone down there except for that Poison woman.
I don’t have anything else to do in this room.
It’s clean clean now and not just picked up.
I actually found disinfectant and wood cleaner.
It even smells good in here. But I don’t have anything else to do.
I didn’t bring a book, and I was in such a rush my e-reader wasn’t charged completely yet, but it is plugged in.
My stomach growls, and I let out a sigh.
I guess I need to go downstairs and find something to eat.
Although, I’m not really sure there will be anything in this place.
I feel like these guys are mostly drinking and smoking their dinner and not so much eating it.
.. although, the way they inhaled my cupcakes earlier, maybe they do like food, too?
Leaving the bedroom, I slip out into the hall and start to make my way downstairs. I can hear the music grow louder with each step I take, along with the voices. When I appear in the room, my eyes widen at the sight in front of me.
There is a girl with her knees on the pool table, her entire body completely exposed and naked, with a man behind her… just going at it. I know that Poison said this would be happening, but holy crap, I didn’t really expect it.
I try to look away, but I can’t. I’m stuck in my spot, frozen, with my eyes glued to the way this guy is screwing this girl in the middle of the whole bar. Except I’m the only one staring at them. Nobody else gives a single shit about what’s happening around them.
They’re all just doing their own thing. In fact, some of them are doing the same thing but in different positions. I’m not quite sure what to do. Where to look or where to go.
“It’s mayhem, but you’ll get used to it,” a deep voice says beside me.
I turn my head and tilt it back to look up at him. I recognize him from when I dropped the cupcakes off the first time I was here, but I haven’t officially met him, and I don’t know his name.
Sucking in a breath, I clear my throat and start to say that I don’t think I could ever get used to anything like this, but I decide against it. Pressing my lips closed, I clench my jaw and let out my breath through my nose.
“I’m the president of the club. They call me Atomic.”
Smiling, I nod my head once. “Shawn,” I exhale.
He hums. “You wanna get something to eat? We ordered takeout tonight, and there’s a bunch left over.” My stomach growls again, and he lets out a chuckle. “Come on,” he says.
Atomic jerks his chin toward a door before he turns and begins to walk away from me. I follow. He opens a door and waltzes inside. I enter behind him and stop once I’ve made my way into the room.
It’s a kitchen and not just any kitchen—it’s a professional one.
My jaw drops at the beauty of this kitchen. Everything is new, practically untouched. I don’t know why they have a full kitchen with some of the nicest appliances I’ve ever seen, but they do, and I want to get my hands on all of it. I want to bake in here. The counter space is to die for.
“Hope you like spaghetti, breadsticks, and salad,” Atomic calls out, his face buried in the fridge.
“I do,” I reply, my eyes still taking in the whole place. The kitchen is out of this world.
He pulls the containers out of the fridge and then opens a cabinet and takes a plate out with some bowls. I watch him for a moment, then decide I need to help. Standing beside him, I help him plate the food, and then we start to make the salads.
I’m not sure what we’re talking about. He asks me about where I grew up, says he doesn’t recognize me from town, and we make small talk when I hear someone clear their throat. Atomic does the same, and then he chuckles.
“Welcome back, King. You want some spaghetti, too?”
Slowly, I turn to face Elvis, who is standing with his shoulder against the jamb of the door, his eyes focused on mine and his jaw clenched so hard that I actually see a muscle jump in his cheek.
“No,” Elvis grinds out. “I don’t.”
I’m not exactly sure what’s happening here. I can tell that he is pissed off, but he left me here all day long, and I’m starving, so I ignore him and continue to heat up the food and take it over to the large bar area that has stools.
King stays exactly where he is and watches me.
And I eat because… food.