2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Sweet
The serious talk ended, and we all felt the need to release the tension that had been building since the meeting had started. Discussing past actions that caused injuries to some of our club members was nerve-wracking and added dissension among us. We most often overcame these arguments and today was no different. We remained a tight-knit club, and we would die for one another. Some already gave that ultimate sacrifice.
Every last one of us had a story behind the reason for joining, but none of us cared much for talking about it. Whatever they were, tragedy or triumph, was kept secret within the Sinners. Those secrets were considered sacred.
We were all sinners, Serpent Sinners to be exact.
The tension broke when Doc and Rod, twin brothers, began to argue.
“It’s your turn to buy the damn brews,” Rod announced, bouncing a fist off Doc’s shoulder.
“No damn way! I bought last time. Your skinny ass is buying. You always try to weasel out of shit, and I’m damn tired of it,” Doc tossed back with an elbow to the gut.
“I’m the fucking baby brother. It’s your job to take care of me,” Rod declared with a smirk.
“I’m eight minutes older than you. Eight fucking minutes! That doesn’t mean shit. I served in the army. You should be honoring me,” Doc retorted.
“I was there, too. You can’t hold that up as an excuse.” Rod supplied.
“I was a medic! I saved lives while you worked on vehicles. A mechanic ain’t no hero.”
These men were in their forties, far too old to be having this argument.
I tried to appear stern and not laugh when I scolded, “Both of you shut the hell up or I’ll have to kick both your asses. If you go to our bar nobody has to pay. You’re acting worse than the kids I see at Friendship Mentors.”
“He started it!” they said as one unit.
I did laugh then.
“Come with us,” Rod offered as we reached the bikes. “Have a couple of drinks and stare at the ol’ lady wannabes. Half-naked sluts rubbing up against our cocks sounds like a good way to spend the rest of the day to me.”
“The invite’s solid, but I have to turn it down. I’ve got obligations elsewhere.”
“Not the kid again!” Rod complained for the second time this week. “You’re actually dragging your ass to play games with a kid instead of practically fuckin’ on the dance floor with a willing woman. You’ve grown soft.”
“The kid needs a mentor, and I made a fuckin’ promise,” I growled.
Doc chuckled. “You? A mentor? You look more like a felon than a mentor. Tats everywhere, shaved head, six foot five, and arms as big around as a woman’s waist. You’re more likely to scare the kid than help him.”
“The kid doesn’t give a damn what I look like. It’s irrelevant as long as I’m helping him. And who the hell says men like us can’t be mentors? Maybe some Karens out there assume I’m a felon, but I passed the drug and criminal screens with flying colors.”
I smirked, knowing the criminal record was entirely luck. The Sinners knew how to hide our fuck-ups.
“Irrelevant? You sure picked up some big ass words hanging around at that place,” Rod continued to poke at me, following me to the door.
“Don’t you know what it means, old man?” I shot back.
He bristled, but replied, “I know what it means, asshole. But it wouldn’t seem so irrelevant if they knew what some of those tats mean.”
I stared him in the eyes until he flinched. I was his superior, and he was close to shaky ground.
“The offensive ones are covered by my t-shirt. I’m not a fool,” I said through clenched teeth.
“He’s just a big softie,” Stretch, a thin man who was actually several inches taller than me teased. “can’t help himself. He’s gotta use all that love somewhere, and he ain’t got an ol’ lady.”
I took a menacing step toward him, but Flame intervened. “Leave him the fuck alone! It’s okay to be caring and have machismo at the same time. It makes Sweet a real man, not some prick. Los ninos need more like him. I’m proud of him,” she declared.
I was shocked by her outburst and her solidarity.
I was even more surprised when Ditch added, “If I’d had a mentor like Sweet my life in foster care wouldn’t have sucked so much. He’s doing good. Knock off the razzing shit.”
I gave a thankful nod and then walked out. Though, Rod followed. As I swung my leg over my ride, Rod came up and thumped me on the back. “You know we don’t mean nothin’ bad by it, don’t ya? We’re just having some fun.”
I took a deep breath and released my anger. I honestly knew that the teasing was a way to let off steam and that these guys would always have my back whether they understood what I was doing or not. “I know. I’m not ashamed of what I do.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Rod looked over his shoulder and then leaned close like he had some damned secret to the universe. “But can you tell me exactly how you’ve managed to get Flame not only to notice you but to like you? I can’t get her attention at all. Please don’t say it’s your work with the kid. That’s not me at all.”
I rolled my eyes and answered truthfully, “I don’t have a clue.” Poor Rod. We all knew he had the hots for Flame.
I started my bike, a sign for Rod to back off, and then I rode it out of the compound.
The Friendship Mentors were having a fundraiser at the park.
I parked my bike in the farthest corner of the parking lot to keep its roar from disturbing the children, some of whom had PTSD from traumatic home lives.
I checked to be sure I appeared as normal as possible and discovered I still carried a lethal blade in its sheath at my waist. I removed it and put it in the leather bag where I’d stowed my cut. I applied the locks that kept large and small hands from getting access to my belongings and strode toward the park.
I felt suspicious eyes on me as I searched for Jackson. I didn’t blame the crowd for looking at me that way. If I saw a huge man with biker tats and a bald head hanging around a park filled with innocent kids, I’d be on alert too.
I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I smiled and nodded, trying to appear harmless. I doubted I was succeeding.
I heard Jackson before I saw him. He was arguing loudly with a pudgy, red-faced boy who was getting in his face while others stood around gawking. I didn’t intervene. It sounded as if Jackson was holding up his end of the argument just fine, and besides, the fight was about me.
I grinned because I knew he was going to win the fight as soon as the other kids caught sight of me.
“Kirk is huge, man! He could take the Rock down with one hand tied behind his back. His biceps are as big around as a bowling ball. He’s got all kinds of tattoos, even on his head. There’s a big snake that winds up his neck and around his ear. It’s awesome!” Jackson described.
I winced when he used my real name. Few people used it anymore, but it was a necessary evil here.
I bit back the words to correct him and continued spying.
“You’re a liar, Jackson. No mentor looks like that. You just want us to think you’re special. Well, you’re not. You’re jealous that my mentor bought me a brand-new bicycle, so you’re making stuff up,” the boy spit in Jackson’s face.
“No, I’m not! He’s big and scary. I swear! He’ll kick your ass if you don’t shut up. I don’t lie or make shit up. I don’t have to. I don’t care about your damn bicycle either!” Jackson shouted.
“Jackson,” I rumbled as I stepped in with my hands on my hips and my best glare. I flexed my arms as I admonished Jackson, bringing all eyes to their size and the tats covering them. “We discussed the cursing issue. It’s not appropriate at your age, and there’s no need to be rude. There are better words to use.”
The boys stumbled backward. Clearly, they feared the monster I appeared to be. It made my traitorous heart leap with joy. The little shits deserved to be afraid.
“Mom’s not here,” Jackson grumbled, looking at me instead of the boy he’d been arguing with. Thank goodness there was no such fear on his face.
“It doesn’t matter. Good manners should be used everywhere. Besides, I’m exactly as you described. I’m big and scary, and I’ll be happy to fight anyone who says differently, especially anyone who dares to call you a liar or spits in your face.”
Every kid had his mouth hanging open in shock. I definitely didn’t look like the other mentors. Some were in suits, others in sportswear. None came close to being my size, and if they had any tats, they were hidden under the polos and khakis.
For the benefit of the kids, I growled at the fatty and said, “Is the Rock here? I’ll take him on if you want proof of how scary I can be. We’ll see who’s the bigger man. Is he your mentor?”
“No, sir,” he whimpered. “My mentor is the man at the hot dog stand in the plaid coat.”
The man he pointed out was a tub of lard. I held back a rude comment and a laugh. Fighting him wasn’t what I’d have considered fun. One punch in that soft belly and he’d go down, tossing up the hot dog he was currently chowing down.
“Well, if we don’t have to worry about a fighting match, then let’s get to raising money. Where are we all supposed to be?” I asked.
“I signed us up for the strong man booth. You have to arm wrestle and swing the big hammer to ring the gong. Anyone can challenge you for two bucks. We’ll make a ton of money!” Jackson explained.
He was right. At first, the men stayed away, intimidated by me. But once they saw Jackson and me joking with the administrator and him arm wrestling with me, they came in droves. There was a line all afternoon.
My arm was growing sore when I spied her. She had curves that would have made her a fortune in any strip club and long black hair that hung to her fine ass, which was covered in skintight jeans. Her swaying walk was enough to make me drool, and she was headed directly for us.
As she drew closer, I saw the look in her eyes, and it wasn’t in the least bit friendly. If looks could really kill, then I was a dead man.
“Mijo, it’s time to go. You’ve got a doctor’s appointment,” she stated, not greeting me at all.
The beauty was Jackson’s mother. It took me a moment to process that information and tamp down my desire. She was off limits, and still, my cock was in serious need of deflating.
“Mom, I can’t go to the stupid doctor. We’re raising tons of money for the club. I’ve gotta stay,” Jackson whined in a way I’d never heard before.
“It’s almost impossible to get a Saturday appointment, mijo. We have to go. You know I work all week and can’t take you then. Come on or we’ll be late.”
“I wanna stay,” Jackson whined again.
“We’ve made more money than anyone else, Jackson. Probably double. Obey your mother. You owe her respect. We talked about that, or have you forgotten?” I chided.
I held a hand out to her and said, “I’m Kirk, Jackson’s assigned mentor.”
She ignored the hand, gave me a curt nod, and replied, “We’re late.”
She grabbed Jackson by the hand, and they walked away. Her body was tense. Her hips no longer swayed. I’d been thoroughly rebuffed, and I didn’t understand why. Surely, Jackson had told her about my appearance, so she wasn’t surprised by it. What the hell was the matter with her?
And why the fuck did it bother me so much?