Chapter Five
Grizz
The house is quiet when I get home, so I head down the hall to my bedroom and gather clothes for a shower.
Before my brother and his wife moved in, the upstairs was hardly used. My bedroom is in the back of the house on the first floor at the end of the hall. The kitchen and living room are down here, too. Not that I use either of them often, but they see more of me than the upstairs ever has.
We have six bedrooms in this house, and up until recently, I’ve been living here all on my own. I like that the house is getting more use now that they’re here. I even find myself home, more now too. Coming home when people are here is much easier.
When I’m out of the shower and dressed, I grab my wallet, cell, and key to leave.
“Morning.” My brother reaches the bottom step, giving me a tired smile.
“Hey, morning,” I respond, smiling.
“What are you so happy about?” he asks.
I shrug. “Nothing really.”
“Bullshit. You still drunk?”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the pang of hurt that hits my chest.
“No, actually. I haven’t drank anything since yesterday afternoon.”
“Wow, that must be a new record.”
“Fuck off, Tommy.”
He chuckles as he rounds the corner to go into the kitchen.
I take a deep breath and go out the door.
I’m the only one to blame for people thinking I’m a drunk.
I do drink a lot, but it’s not a problem.
Really, it’s not. It’s just part of my lifestyle.
What the fuck else is there to do in this small town?
As I ride to the clubhouse, all I can think about is her.
Her face is burned into my brain like a brand, and I don’t even want to get it out. I like it there. It makes me happy.
I wish I could talk to her right now, but of course there’s shit to do. And I don’t have her phone number, if she even has a phone. Now that I think about it, she probably doesn’t.
When I get to the club, everyone else is already there. I’m usually the last one here, even when I’m sleeping in the bar. I fucking hate waking up in the morning. Mornings suck.
“Look who finally made it,” Rhino says, shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth. I give him the middle finger, then walk over to grab a plate. I fill it with pancakes and sausage, douse it in syrup, and drop between Shark and Rhino.
“What’s the plan for today?” Shark asks.
Though he and Snapper are brothers, with only two years between them, they couldn’t be more opposite. They have similar features, but Shark’s build is more like mine, just a little smaller. Snapper is tall but not as bulky as us.
“I have to go do rounds. Check on the borders and the patrol guys. Heard some rumblings of weird behavior,” I say.
“Such as?” he asks.
As the VP, he has a right to know this. Hell, as a member of the club, he has a right to know this, but I can handle it myself. They don’t need to check up on every little thing I do.
“Showing up late. Disappearing in the night. Probably stupid shit, but I’m handling it.”
Kaison nods, cutting into his pancakes. I don’t know what Spam does to them, or anything else he cooks, but I swear there’s crack in here. It’s all so fucking good all the time.
“Yo, when are you gonna make those burritos again?” I yell out to Spam, who’s flipping more pancakes.
“When you suck my dick.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” I say back as the other guys chuckle. “I’d do it,” I add, nudging Shark.
“No, the fuck you would not.”
“Those things are so fucking good.”
“Good enough to suck cock?” he asks with a raised brow.
“Okay, no.”
He chuckles.
“You all are fucking stupid,” Snapper says as he gets up from his spot at the other end of the table. He tosses his half-full plate into the trash, then disappears down the hall.
“Hey, so he’s having a good day. That was only one swear,” I say cheerily.
Shark shakes his head as he gets up from his seat, throws his plate away, then follows after Snapper.
“You wanna help me when you get back?” Rhino asks.
“I’m not sucking your dick.”
“Fuck you, prick. I don’t want you to.”
“With what?”
“Wiring hopefully. Turn signal has been fucked. Changed the bulb, but it’s still acting up.”
In high school, I focused on electrical and mechanics, so usually when there’s an electrical issue, the guys come to me. It’s one of those things you can’t pretend to know. And not that I know everything, but I know enough.
I take my last bite of food. “I should be back in a couple hours.”
“I’ll be here.”
I clean up my mess and head out. I take my time getting to the road that leads to the border because it’s a nice day and I’m enjoying the ride.
It’s one of my favorite things in the world, getting on my Harley Fat Bob and just going.
Lately, I haven’t been in the mood to just ride though.
Today is different. Today, I want to enjoy my bike and the fresh air.
So I ride around longer than I should, considering I told Rhino I’d be back in a few hours to help him with his bike.
When I turn onto the dirt road, I slow to carefully veer around rocks and pot holes.
It’s not an official road, just one we made to get to the border and check on our guys.
People of the town know not to come down this road because it’s none of their business what goes on over here. Most of them listen.
We do what we need to keep them safe from the assholes who try to come through and use our town for themselves. It’s our job to make sure nothing goes badly.
We don’t traffic women or smuggle guns. We don’t bring drugs into the country. We sell them dumb shit and make money off it. Now and then, they sell us stuff that we resell.
We make sure the douchebags stay far the fuck away so our town is safe, and we get a little something while we do it. It ain’t always pretty, but someone has to do it, and that’s us—ever since our granddads started up the Maine Chapter here in Pinehaven, it’s been our duty.
The rumble of my engine isn’t quiet, and I’m sure the guys hear it echoing through the woods.
Each of the spots are marked in the trees with a flag hanging from a branch.
Nothing too bright or obvious, but you’ll see it if you know what you’re looking for.
We pay men to patrol the border 24/7 on our side, while the Canadians handle their own side, but we do work together.
If we keep people off our side, it keeps them from going over and giving them a hard time and vice versa.
We’re helping each other out. Plus trading goods on the down low is nice, and the guys who patrol usually get first dibs.
Canada has the best fucking chips I’ve ever had in my whole fucking life called All-Dressed Chips.
I could live off that shit, I swear. They don’t understand my obsession, the same way I don’t understand their obsession with Twinkies.
I mean, they’re good but they aren’t as good as they say.
I stop my bike a few miles down the road, as the trees get denser, to the spot where the guys hide their ATVs or bikes. Cars don’t get this far down here, so if they ain’t riding something, they’re walking.
Worth the money though, especially since they barely have to do shit but make sure no one is walking up on the border.
Each point is labeled with a letter. The closest to the road being A.
We’ve got a guy at K who’s been working with us for years—Jim—and he’s the one I want to talk to.
So I hop off my bike and walk the half mile to his spot.
It takes a bit to find him, since they’re all out here scouting and not just sitting in an office, but when I finally spot him, he smiles.
“Long time no see, brother,” he says, going in for a hug and patting me on the back.
“That’s a good thing.”
He huffs a laugh.
“Yeah, but you’re here now.”
“I am,” I say with a nod, looking out at the bushes and trees. “How’s things been?”
“Quiet, as usual.”
“I heard there’s some shit going on? Further down the line?” I ask.
He sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I heard something about that.”
“You know who it is?”
“Nah, I didn’t hear a name. One of the other guys, I think his name is Ken. He works nights down by T. Said he saw someone walking down the road, and could have sworn it was the guy from U.”
U is our deepest point.
“That’s it? Just one instance?”
“That’s all I heard.”
“Can you hear some more?”
He grins. “You know I’m good for it.”
I slap his upper arm in a friendly way. “It’ll be worth it for you. How much time you need?”
He looks around as he thinks. “A week or two should be good. I don’t know these guys’ schedules, and I don’t want to be obvious about it.”
“Of course, of course.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “It really is beautiful out here, huh?”
“I love it. This shit is so peaceful.” He holds his arms out. “And I don’t have to worry about sunburns, but the winter is a bitch.”
Obviously, we have a whole different set-up in the winter.
I listen to the wind blowing the trees and the chirping of crickets. Bees buzz and birds tweet. It is fucking nice out here, I won’t lie. But I’d get bored. There’s nothing to do out here.
“That it is,” I say. “So, I’ll see you in a week?”
“I’ll be here.”
I turn and head back to my bike.
Simple.
This is why I love my fucking job.