Three
Romeo
Two years later.
“Kevin, the Prez is pleased that you’re doing good Prospecting. I’m good with you patching in if this is what you want, but I want you to finish your online classes,” Dad says, cleaning his gun.
“Dad, I should be done in a few weeks.”
“Great, so you’re still getting the Associate degree in Graphic Design?”
“Yes, and I like it.”
“So, now that you’ve done some kickboxing fights, are you still going to continue?”
“I don’t know. I liked the kickboxing fights, but I need to train longer and more often. I don’t have the time to train. I rather prospect.”
“Right, that makes sense. What about Cherry?”
“What about Cherry?”
“Son, I’m your Dad, so don’t play dumb. You’re avoiding her,” Dad says, raising his brow.
“Yeah, I don’t want Mama Bear to get pissed at me.”
“Why would she?”
“Mama Bear asked me to take care of Cherry.”
“Yeah, so what’s the problem,” Dad asks, gathering his brows.
“She’s MC royalty.”
“Yeah, and you’re going to be the Satan Warrior. So, what’s the real problem?”
“We’re young, she’s young. I want to wait and see if she really loves me.”
“That girl loves you, Son.”
“I don’t know, maybe she did, but I’ve been ignoring her, pushing her away. She might hate me now.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, but I’m afraid to fuck up with her.”
“Son, get your head on straight and don’t fuck up with her. Make her your Old Lady, or don’t touch her.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m staying away because I’m not ready. I want to patch in, get a job.”
“Sounds good. Now, let’s get some grub because I have a run to do tonight.”
“Hell yes, I’m starving.”
We walk out of our room, down the hall, into the main clubhouse.
"Killer, where are you going," Brute yells, holding the pool stick.
"Getting some grub with Romeo, talk later," Dad yells.
The club whores are dancing for the Brothers playing pool. We walk down the hallway and out of the clubhouse. It's the middle of the week, so the clubhouse is not packed with hangarounds. We get on our bikes, pull on our helmets, and turn them on. The bikes roar to life, making my heart pound. I love the powerful feel of the bike and the vibration as it roars. We ride down the driveway and onto the road to our favorite Mexican restaurant, Rico Taco. Yeah, I love their tacos.
"Hell yes, these are so good," I say, taking the last bite.
"Damn straight," Dad hums, grabbing the beer.
Dad's cell beeps, and he pulls it out, swiping his finger over the screen. He looks at the text.
"Son, I have a run."
"Right. I'm done. Where to?"
"Fiery Strip Club."
We push off the chairs and walk out of the restaurant to our bikes. We gear up, turn the bikes on, and pull out of the parking lot. We ride down the roads and pull into the Fiery Strip Club, a square building in the industrial area. We turn off the bikes, take off our helmets, and slide off. We walk to the back of the strip club, entering through the back door. Dad stops at the black office door. He opens it, and we walk inside.
"Bubba, what's up," Dad says, walking over to stand in front of his desk.
It's the money that needs to be put in the clubhouse safe. I stand at the door, crossing my arms.
"It’s all good; the crowd is rowdy as always,” Bubba says, pulling at his red beard and leaning back into the chair.
The Brother is huge, built like a tank. He’s from the south, so he’s Bubba. He’s one of the original Brothers.
“Yeah, it sounds like it,” Dad says.
Then gunshots ring out over the loud music.
“What the fuck,” Bubba yells, pushing off his chair.
“Let’s kill some fuckers,” Dad shouts.
We rush out into the main room; the girls are yelling and running. The Brothers working the strip club are scrambling to take cover behind the bar and turn some tables.
Dad shoots back at the fuckers and runs behind the pillar. I pull out my Glock from my back and look around. I take cover behind a chair.
I look at their jacket, the white letters. The Herd Boys. Motherfuckers are trying to take over our turf.
Fuckers!
I take cover behind the chair, and I start shooting. I hit one fucker, and he falls. I keep shooting at the bastards.
Fuck!
It takes a few minutes for us to kill them. I stop shooting and look at my Dad. He’s walking over to look at the fuckers. The clients run out of the strip club. The girls are hiding in the back. The tables are turned, the mirrors are smashed, and glass and beer are all over the floor. I follow Dad and look at the fuckers on the floor. They look dead; one is on top of the other one. Dad looks at the two fuckers, and takes a step. I see the fucker on the bottom lift his hand, ready to shoot at Dad. I shoot at the bastard, hitting him in the head. His fucking brains splatter on the floor.
“What the fuck,” Dad growls, shooting the two fuckers.
“Thanks.”
“I’m calling Prez,” Bubba says, walking over.
“Yeah, we need clean up here and the Prez to call the police chief,” Dad says, walking over to the other fuckers and shooting them.
Yeah, making sure that they’re dead.
A few days later.
The rain is falling hard, and the sky is black and white. The cold chill runs down my spine, and I grind my molars.
My soul is cold, numb.
I can’t believe it.
It happened so fast.
One minute, he’s here with me being a good Dad, and then he’s not.
Dad is gone.
I stare at the dirt covering the casket, turning into mud. My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. My Dad is gone and now I’m all alone. I wipe my face on my long-sleeved black t-shirt. I’m wiping the tears and the fucking rain.
I can’t fucking believe that he’s gone.
The po-po raided the MC’s bar. My old man was moving his hand to pull out his cell phone to call the Prez, and the po-po fired.
Of fuckingcourse, Pops fired back.
Fucking pussies.
Of fuckingcourse, I went after the motherfucker that shot him. It was a fucking setup, so I had to take my own justice. The best part was that the pig was working with the Herd Boys, a gang that’s stirring up shit in our turf. Now he’s dead.
So, it was a win-win on two counts.
“Romeo, let’s get gone,” Fiend says, looking at me.
I look at him, trying to be strong.
“Yeah, I need a drink.”
We walk to our bikes and turn them on. We ride out of the cemetery with the roar of our bikes.
I walk into my room, and of fucking course, Cherry is waiting for me.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry for your loss,” Cherry says, walking to me.
I hug her tight, burying my face in her neck and inhaling her special scent. It’s like coming home, anchoring me from the spinning in my mind.
“He’s gone. Cherry, my Dad is gone, and I’m all alone.”
“Hell no! Baby, you’re not alone. I’m here with you. Always! Forever!”
“Stay with me, please.”
“Yes. I’m staying here with you.”
I kick off my boots and pull off my Cut, placing it on the chair. Cherry climbs onto my bed, and I slide in next to her. I pull her in my arms and bury my face in her hair. She gives me peace, quiets my mind, and lights my soul.