Chapter Five
Venom
The Dixie Reapers clubhouse, a place I once knew like the back of my hand, felt strangely alien. When I’d first walked through the door, the changes had been drastic enough to slap me in the face. And yet, a lot remained the same. I scanned the room, my eyes adjusting to the shadows. Faces I once knew intimately were now strangers, their expressions unreadable in the dim light. The low hum of conversation and clinking of bottles, a soundtrack that had been the backdrop of my life for decades, was now a foreign melody.
I ran a hand over the worn leather of my cut, the weight of it both comforting and unsettling. Like an old coat I hadn’t worn in years, it felt both familiar and ill-fitting. My gaze landed on a group of officers gathered around the bar, their patches gleaming dully in the low light. Most of them I didn’t recognize. A few seemed vaguely familiar.
“Torch,” I muttered, my voice rough from disuse. I scanned the area and spotted him a little farther down the bar.
He looked up, a bottle of whiskey raised in a crooked salute. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. You got home from the hospital and then vanished on us. Glad to see you found your way here.”
As I moved closer, I noticed the new faces among the officers. Younger, with fire in their eyes and a swagger in their step. Their youthful energy was a stark contrast to my own weathered presence.
Damn, when did I become the old man in the room ? I ran a hand through my silver-streaked beard. That was hard to get used to seeing in the mirror.
One of the new officers straightened as I approached. “Glad to see you again, Venom. You had us all worried.”
I grunted, unsure how to respond. I’d been in the hospital for months, but for me, more than thirty years had passed.
I felt a twinge of something -- nostalgia, perhaps, or regret -- as I looked around at the changed faces of my brothers. The clubhouse itself hadn’t changed much, still reeking of spilled beer and decades of hard living, but the men within it… that was a different story. And I didn’t see a damn club whore anywhere. Ridley had mentioned they were no longer allowed here, even though I hadn’t gotten the full story behind why something like that had changed.
How much have I missed?
I approached the bar. If I’d ever needed a drink in my life it was now. Laughter and banter filled the air, a cacophony of voices both familiar and strange. I knew my wife was around somewhere. She’d stuck to me for the first little bit, then she’d wandered off. Probably thought if she wasn’t glued to me, I’d go mingle. “Whiskey. Neat.”
As the bartender, a Prospect I didn’t recognize, poured my drink, my gaze swept across the room once more. The weight of memories pressed down on me, suffocating in their intensity. I took a long pull from my glass, savoring the burn. I used to know every damn face in the room. Now I feel like a stranger .
Ridley slid onto the stool next to me, her presence a balm to my frayed nerves. She flashed me a reassuring smile, her eyes twinkling with understanding.
I snorted. “I remember the days you wouldn’t be allowed in here. Now you’re sitting next to me like it’s nothing, and there’s not a naked woman in sight. I can’t figure out where I fit in the present.”
Ridley’s hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with mine. “You fit right here.”
A towering figure approached, his leather cut adorned with patches I didn’t recognize. He’d been among the group of officers I’d spotted earlier. His eyes held a mix of reverence and wariness as he extended his hand.
“Venom,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “I’m Royal. I figured you didn’t remember me.”
“He joined the club about seven or eight years after you and I got together,” Ridley said, helping me figure out the timeline.
I clasped the offered hand, feeling the strength in Royal’s grip. He was younger than me, confident, shoulders squared. I saw the officer patch on his cut: Secretary.
“Royal,” I echoed, keeping my tone neutral.
“When all of you stepped down and handed your positions to new officers, you and Torch decided it was time the club had a secretary. I was honored to be offered the position.”
“Good to meet you, kid,” I said, my voice gruff. “Again. Sorry I don’t remember you.”
“It’s okay. Ridley says they think your memories will come back in time. We’re all here for you.”
I nodded, unsure how to respond.
Ridley’s hand on my arm broke the tension. “Come on, babe,” she said, her voice light but brooking no argument. “Let’s make the rounds.”
We moved through the clubhouse, the scent of leather and old beer growing stronger. Old faces emerged from the crowd, weathered and worn but achingly familiar.
Torch approached. His silver hair gleamed in the dim light, his gray eyes full of mischief and melancholy. We’d spoken briefly, but it hadn’t felt the same. At least, not the way I remembered things being between us.
“For me, I just fought beside you a few months ago. But for you… guess it’s been a lot longer. You doing okay? I mean with all this.” He waved a hand at the room in general. “You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would. Figured you’d have been overwhelmed by now and gone home.”
My chest tightened. “Yeah. Just taking it one day at a time. Or in this case, one hour at a time. Ridley is helping a lot.”
“She’s always been good for you,” Torch said.
We exchanged stories, Torch filling me in on club business and family news. I listened, nodding and grunting at appropriate intervals, but my mind whirled. I recognized some of the events Torch spoke of, but they felt distant, as if belonging to someone else’s life. Fleeting memories – there, then gone again.
“Your boy’s doing well,” Torch said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Dawson’s got your fire, that’s for damn sure. That club of his isn’t like ours, but they’re good men.”
Pride warred with a sense of loss in my gut. I’d missed so much of my son’s life, of all my children’s lives. The realization left a bitter taste in my mouth. I hadn’t even had the chance to meet any of them yet.
We moved on, and Bull’s massive form loomed before us. My father-in-law regarded me with a mix of affection and wariness.
“Welcome home,” Bull rumbled, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug.
I returned the embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of motor oil and cigars that clung to Bull’s cut. When we parted, I saw the questions in his eyes -- questions I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer.
“Good to be back,” I said, the words feeling hollow even as I spoke them.
As we continued our circuit of the clubhouse, I felt the weight of eyes upon me -- some curious, some wary, all assessing. I squared my shoulders, determined to project the strength and confidence that had once come so naturally.
But inside, doubts gnawed at me. What would happen if my memories never returned? Would I still have a place in this world?
Ridley’s laughter, bright and clear, pierced through the fog of my thoughts, yanking me back to the present. Her eyes, sparkling with mischief, held me captive as she leaned in close, her breath like a warm summer breeze against my ear.
“You’re looking like you’re trying to solve world hunger, old man,” she teased, her fingers trailing playfully down my arm. “Relax those eyebrows before you scare off all the Prospects.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, the tension in my shoulders easing with each playful stroke of her fingers. “Old man, huh? I’ll show you old later, darlin’.”
Ridley’s cheeks flushed, her grin widening. “Promises, promises,” she purred, loud enough for the nearby members to hear.
The response was immediate -- a chorus of good-natured whistles and catcalls erupted around us. A surge of possessive pride filled me as I wrapped an arm around Ridley’s waist, pulling her close. Her presence was a grounding force, a steady anchor in the sea of uncertainty that was my life.
“Venom! Get your ass over here!”
The gruff voice belonged to Tank, one of my oldest friends in the club. The biker sat at a corner table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey his only companion.
“Go on,” Ridley urged, giving me a gentle push. “I’ll mingle a bit. Come find me when you’re done catching up.”
I made my way to Tank’s table, sinking into the chair opposite my old friend. His face was more lined than I remembered, his beard also going gray like mine.
“Christ, you look like shit.” Tank grinned, pouring a generous measure of whiskey for me.
“Speak for yourself, you old bastard,” I retorted, raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a sip.
“Since you’re missing your memories, how about I catch you up on few things?” Tank asked.
I nodded and he launched into one tale after another. A conflicting mix of emotions washed over me. But as I glanced across the room, I saw Ridley chatting with the other old ladies. It still blew my mind so many of us had settled down. I caught Ridley’s eye and I felt a different kind of pull. The life I’d left behind called to me, but so did the future I was building with Ridley.
I turned back to Tank, forcing a smile. I raised my glass. “To the Dixie Reapers.”
After our toast, I got up and wandered through the crowd again, finding a spot at the bar.
The laughter and clink of bottles, once jarring, now washed over me like a comforting wave. Leaning against the bar, my hands clasped around a cold beer, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease.
Torch was only a few spots away, and he started regaling me with funny things I’d missed -- or rather, couldn’t remember.
“So there I was, ass-deep in mud, bike sputtering like a dying cat,” Torch exclaimed, gesticulating with his usual flair. A chuckle escaped my lips, rusty but genuine.
“Let me guess,” I surprised myself by saying, “You tried that shortcut through Miller’s Creek again?”
Torch’s eyes widened with delight. “Hell yeah, brother! How’d you know?”
I shrugged, a half-smile tugging at my lips. “Some things never change. I learned that lesson the hard way back in ‘89.”
The group erupted in laughter, and a warm glow of belonging spread through my chest. Across the room, I caught Ridley’s eye, her smile igniting a different kind of heat within me.
As the night unfolded, old memories bubbled to the surface, flowing effortlessly in the rhythm of conversation. The camaraderie I’d once taken for granted now felt like a precious gift, one I was determined to savor. I’d nearly lost all this. Even though I might not remember the last thirty plus years, at least I was here. Alive. They’d said I’d died twice. If things had gone down differently, I could be six feet under right now.
Later, Ridley tugged on my arm, leading me to a quiet corner of the clubhouse. The party’s muffled sounds faded as she leaned in.
“You’re doing great, you know,” she murmured “They’ve missed you. We all have.”
I exhaled slowly, my fingers tracing the curve of her hip. “It’s different,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m trying to wear an old skin that doesn’t quite fit anymore.”
Ridley cupped my face, her touch soft yet firm. “You’re still you, Venom. Fierce protector, loyal brother -- that hasn’t changed. The rest? We’ll figure it out together.”
Her words were a balm, soothing the raw edges of my uncertainty. I pulled her close, burying my face in her hair, letting her unwavering faith anchor me.
“One last look,” I murmured, letting my gaze linger on the weathered wood of the clubhouse walls, the worn leather of the bar stools, the faded photographs of past members that lined the walls. It was a scene etched into my memory, a haven I’d feared lost forever. Things had changed, yet a lot still remained the same.
The familiar sounds of the clubhouse -- the laughter, the clinking glasses, the murmurs of conversation -- washed over me, a comforting symphony that resonated deep within my bones. It was the music of belonging, a melody I’d worried would be gone forever.
“Ready to head out?” Ridley’s voice, soft and warm, interrupted my reverie. Her hand rested on the small of my back, a gentle reminder of her presence.
I straightened, a newfound resolve settling in my gut. “Yeah, darlin’. Let’s go home.”
As we walked toward the exit, I felt the weight of gazes on me. Some were curious, some respectful, all acknowledging my return. It was a reminder that my place here wasn’t gone, just… transformed.
“You know,” I said as we stepped into the cool night air, the scent of pine and asphalt filling my lungs, “I think I might have some ideas for the club. Things we could do differently, maybe even better. Of course, it’s possible those things are already in place and I just don’t remember it.”
Ridley’s laugh, rich and melodious, echoed in my ears. “There’s the Venom I know. Always plotting, always three steps ahead.”
I grinned, feeling a sense of myself returning, a piece that had been missing since I woke up and realized I’d missed out on the last thirty years of my life. “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart.”
We walked to my bike, hand in hand. The moon cast a silver glow over everything. As I swung my leg over the seat, Ridley pressed against my back, her arms wrapping around my waist.
“Ready for the next chapter?” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear.
I revved the engine, feeling the familiar rumble beneath me. “With you? Always.”
As we roared out of the parking lot, the cool night air on our skin, a surge of hope filled me. The road ahead might be uncertain, but with Ridley by my side and the club at my back, I was ready to face whatever came our way. The future stretched before me, a blank canvas waiting for us to paint our own story. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that it would be a story worth telling.