Chapter Sixteen—Mortician #3
CJ had a lot on his young shoulders, different responsibilities than Outlaw had at sixteen but no less overwhelming.
They’d made him the guardian of all the younger kids while maintaining good grades, respecting adults, authority figures, and club members, excelling at football, and graduating college.
No wonder the kid was floundering. Mort was part of that dump-on-CJ club, and his threats over Harley had come back to bite him in the ass.
“He need all the support he can get right now, Grant. You did the right thing. Just don’t push him. Follow his lead.”
“That’s the same thing I was thinking.” Grant fell silent, enjoying his cigarette, before discarding it, half-smoked. “Uh, you know today’s Devon’s birthday?”
Just as Harley’s birthday had flown under the radar in December, Rory and Devon’s would, too. Mort nodded. “Rory turning fifteen in six days.”
“Yeah, and none of us are in the mood to celebrate Dev today, so I was thinking about talking to CJ and planning something for both of them on Rory’s big day,” Grant continued.
“You’ll be back in Boston by then, little dude.”
“I’m extending my time here. Or I’ll fly back to Boston for a couple of days and then come back. I can watch recorded classes and…” He sighed. “As long as I’m there for tests, I’ll be fine. My friends miss classes just to go on vacation. I’ll be fine,” he repeated.
“I’ve never heard of a fucking school like that. If you don’t want to get kicked out, you need to bring your ass to school.”
Knox had accepted Grant’s desire to join the club, but he always thought his kid would be the type of member he was. There by Outlaw’s grace because of Roxanne. Knox performed tasks for the club when needed, but he didn’t participate in other activities very often.
Knox didn’t think much of Grant becoming a Death Dwellers because he expected the little motherfucker to focus on college and then, after graduation, his career. Since CJ’s overdose, and the reason for it, Knox was less-than-pleased at the idea of Grant becoming a member in any capacity.
“Spit it out, kid.”
Grant swallowed. Glanced at Roxanne’s house. Looked at his feet.
A sinking feeling opened in the pit of Mort’s stomach as suspicion welled in him.
“I want to drop out of Harvard,” Grant announced.
And why the fuck not? When one fuck-up happened, why shouldn’t fifty goddamn more follow?
“Knox…” Mort couldn’t even finish the fucking sentence. Ballistic was too mild a word for Knox’s explosion. Whatever else Grant might do, Knox expected him to graduate. That was non-negotiable.
Frustrated, Mortician tossed his cigarette.
“CJ needs me, Mort.”
“Did CJ tell you he need you so fucking much to drop the fuck out of school?”
“No, but he’s my friend. My cousin, for all intents and purposes. He shouldn’t go through all this shit without his boys around him.”
Mort drew in a deep breath to calm himself before he lost his temper, due to overwhelming fuckery and heaps of bullshit.
But Grant didn’t deserve Mort’s bad mood.
The kid needed guidance and understanding, instead of Mort’s annoyance because Knox motherfucking Harrington would have to be punched in the fucking month.
“Grant, you a Harrington. From one of the wealthiest families in the country. You on track to become a hotshot lawyer and eventually join the Harrington firm. You and CJ on two different paths.”
“You’re not hearing me, Mort.”
“I hear you want to drop out of school to stand at CJ side while he get his footing and patch in…”
Grant winced.
Mortician studied Grant, saw the torment in his eyes, and shook his head. “No,” he managed. “No. You can’t be…no, Grant.”
“I want to patch in,” Grant mumbled. “Not like Dad. I want to be a full-time biker. College isn’t for me. The club is. I grew up around it. Just like CJ.”
“Knox will fucking smother you in your goddamn sleep, boy. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Mort—”
“Grant…” He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Maybe, they needed to hold a class on the biker life.
Call it Not Only Pussy and Parties. Fuck, something, because clearly motherfuckers weren’t getting the message that their club was into serious shit.
“You don’t know…Boy, you can end up in prison or a cemetery—”
“I know,” Grant whispered fiercely. “I watched as Outlaw killed Brett.”
“That was one fucking time. I don’t know what possessed that motherfucker to lose his goddamn mind and bring CJ–you–in the fucking meatshack!”
“Who?” Grant shifted. “Er, what motherfucker?”
Mort closed his eyes, drawing in deep breaths.
Outlaw was his president and his friend, and he was going through shit he’d created.
He didn’t mean to show him such disrespect.
“Forget I said that, Grant. I…” He blew out an irritated breath and met Grant’s gaze.
“One motherfucker with a bullet between the fucking eyes is nothing. Usually, you have to scoop up the motherfucker yourself for the meatshack. Even then, you have to earn the fucking right to go in there. Wait…fuck…” A horrifying thought rose in Mort’s head and he narrowed his eyes.
“Fuck, Grant, you turning into Johnnie? You like blood and gore?”
“What? No! And don’t you like it if you’re the Enforcer?”
“Only from enemies. From myself, my family, or friends? Not at all.”
Grant’s eyes widened. “And it doesn’t matter to Johnnie, er, Uncle Johnnie?”
“Fresh blood is fresh blood to that insane fuckhead.”
Grant opened his fucking mouth to ask more questions, but Mort raised his hands and shook his head.
“You not a club member, little dude. I shouldn’t have said all that I did. My concern caused temporary insanity.”
Amusement lighting his eyes, Grant snickered. “I’ll drop that subject, but not my determination to join the club. I’ve been there for a lot since Uncle Christopher brought CJ onboard. This world, your world, CJ’s world, is where I want to be.”
CJ might not be in this fucking world, if Outlaw went through with his threat.
“Please? Help me.”
Convincing Knox that Grant joining the club would be a good thing required focus and patience.
But, maybe, if CJ built his own support system with the same aspirations of joining the club, he would have an easier time.
The boys were getting to an age where mimicking their fathers wouldn’t be enough. They’d have choices to make.
Mort believed CJ truly wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. He also believed the kid more than capable. But he needed to depend on the boys who were serious about the Death Dwellers and understood he should be president.
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
“Anything, Mort.”
“Finish the semester.” That should be enough time to knock sense into Knox.
“But—”
“Extend your stay this time. When you come home for summer break, shit should be settled.”
“The summer?” Grant cried. “That’s almost three months away. Not only don’t I want to go back to school at all, I don’t want to go back to Boston for awhile.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Prez had lost his fucking mind. Johnnie was on the loose. CJ was floundering. Bailey was distant. Red was distraught and Meggie was devastated. Did he really need to add Knox was in a coma for the bullshit that motherfucker would hand him? “Have you talked to Roxanne?”
“Dad and Granddad didn’t consult Roxy or Grandma for my college choices, Mort. I tried to include them, especially Roxy. That’s my mom, but Dad they wouldn’t understand the deep meaning behind the Harrington traditions.”
“Did Knox say that to Roxy or Hal to Joan?”
“Fuck no! Dude, they’re still alive, right?”
“You right,” Mort said, joining Grant in laughter.
“Roxy’s smart, though. She knows I want to come home. She’s been dropping hints to Dad, but it’s going over his fucking head.”
That tracked. “What kind of hints? Maybe, they not strong enough?”
“Try: Knox, maybe, Grant should withdraw this semester because he’s home more than he’s away. And: Knox I miss Grant. Maybe, he needs to start fresh in the fall semester. If she flashed a fucking banner in front of him, he wouldn’t get a clue.”
“That don’t mean she knows you want to join the club. Even if she did, I don’t think she’d encourage it.”
“Roxy loves me and accepts me as her son, no matter what I want to do.”
“Hey, kid. I know Knox a little clueless, but he love you, too.”
“Will he still love me when I tell him what I want?”
Judging by the anxiety in those words, Grant truly feared losing Knox’s love and support. Roxy would beat that motherfucker until he changed his mind.
“He’ll be angry, Grant, but he’ll come around. He love you.”
“Okay.”
“Prospecting not easy,” Mort confided. “It don’t matter who you affiliated with.
The shit fucking torture. Awake for days at a time.
Jumping to do the bidding of the members.
Whatever it might be at whatever hour. You need a Harley.
” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And, Grant, you don’t only have to watch a motherfucker die.
You have to kill a fuckhead to earn your patch. ”
“Just a random person?”
“An enemy. If you don’t have access to none locally, you have to hit the road and take out an op. One of the most dangerous times. A motherfucker can get the jump on you or you can fuck up and end up locked away for life.”
“Has that ever happened before to a probate?”
Mort nodded. “Three and one.”
“Three guys killed and one locked up?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you take me under your wing?”
“We got to tell Knox first, Grant. As much as I empathize with you, I can’t disrespect him and start teaching you shit.
For that matter, we need to talk to Outlaw.
And I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but Roxy might not be too happy about your intention to become a full-time biker.
She don’t want nothing to happen to you.
You her boy as much as you was for Callie. ”
“Aunt Meggie doesn’t want anything to happen to Diesel and CJ.”